diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:51 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:15:51 -0700 |
| commit | 57e644125e8c27b512e64aac4fec39f40494acf0 (patch) | |
| tree | ca1add9e3f3cf618a363687c1fd84bb7be23c934 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 794-0.txt | 9431 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 794-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 169580 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 794-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 179955 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 794-h/794-h.htm | 11468 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/794-h.htm.2018-01-07 | 11467 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/twbgd10.txt | 9811 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/twbgd10.zip | bin | 0 -> 167121 bytes |
10 files changed, 42193 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/794-0.txt b/794-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..77aeca7 --- /dev/null +++ b/794-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9431 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wouldbegoods + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Posting Date: August 6, 2008 [EBook #794] +Release Date: January, 1997 +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher + + + + + +THE WOULDBEGOODS + +BEING THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS + +By E. Nesbit + + + + TO + My Dear Son + Fabian Bland + + +CONTENTS + + 1. The Jungle + 2. The Wouldbegoods + 3. Bill’s Tombstone + 4. The Tower of Mystery + 5. The Waterworks + 6. The Circus + 7. Being Beavers; or, The Young Explorers (Arctic or Otherwise) + 8. The High-Born Babe + 9. Hunting the Fox + 10. The Sale of Antiquities + 11. The Benevolent Bar + 12. The Canterbury Pilgrims + 13. The Dragon’s Teeth; or, Army Seed + 14. Albert’s Uncle’s Grandmother; or, The Long-Lost + + + + +CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE + + + +Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you can’t +stand them all over the shop--eh, what?’ + +These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us feel +very young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by calling him +names to ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say nasty things, +because he is not nasty, but quite the exact opposite when not +irritated. And we could not think it ungentlemanly of him to say we were +like jam, because, as Alice says, jam is very nice indeed--only not on +furniture and improper places like that. My father said, ‘Perhaps they +had better go to boarding-school.’ And that was awful, because we know +Father disapproves of boarding-schools. And he looked at us and said, ‘I +am ashamed of them, sir!’ + +Your lot is indeed a dark and terrible one when your father is ashamed +of you. And we all knew this, so that we felt in our chests just as if +we had swallowed a hard-boiled egg whole. At least, this is what +Oswald felt, and Father said once that Oswald, as the eldest, was the +representative of the family, so, of course, the others felt the same. + +And then everybody said nothing for a short time. At last Father said-- + +‘You may go--but remember--’ + +The words that followed I am not going to tell you. It is no use telling +you what you know before--as they do in schools. And you must all have +had such words said to you many times. We went away when it was over. +The girls cried, and we boys got out books and began to read, so that +nobody should think we cared. But we felt it deeply in our interior +hearts, especially Oswald, who is the eldest and the representative of +the family. + +We felt it all the more because we had not really meant to do anything +wrong. We only thought perhaps the grown-ups would not be quite pleased +if they knew, and that is quite different. Besides, we meant to put all +the things back in their proper places when we had done with them before +anyone found out about it. But I must not anticipate (that means telling +the end of the story before the beginning. I tell you this because it is +so sickening to have words you don’t know in a story, and to be told to +look it up in the dicker). + +We are the Bastables--Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Alice, Noel, and H. O. If you +want to know why we call our youngest brother H. O. you can jolly well +read The Treasure Seekers and find out. We were the Treasure Seekers, +and we sought it high and low, and quite regularly, because we +particularly wanted to find it. And at last we did not find it, but +we were found by a good, kind Indian uncle, who helped Father with his +business, so that Father was able to take us all to live in a jolly big +red house on Blackheath, instead of in the Lewisham Road, where we lived +when we were only poor but honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poor +but honest we always used to think that if only Father had plenty of +business, and we did not have to go short of pocket money and wear +shabby clothes (I don’t mind this myself, but the girls do), we should +be happy and very, very good. + +And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house we +thought now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries and +pineries, and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and replete +with every modern convenience, like it says in Dyer & Hilton’s list +of Eligible House Property. I read all about it, and I have copied the +words quite right. + +It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no casters +off the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the silver not dented; +and lots of servants, and the most decent meals every day--and lots of +pocket-money. + +But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the things you +want most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them frightfully; but +when I had mine a week or two, after the mainspring got broken and was +repaired at Bennett’s in the village, I hardly cared to look at the +works at all, and it did not make me feel happy in my heart any more, +though, of course, I should have been very unhappy if it had been taken +away from me. And the same with new clothes and nice dinners and having +enough of everything. You soon get used to it all, and it does not make +you extra happy, although, if you had it all taken away, you would be +very dejected. (That is a good word, and one I have never used before.) +You get used to everything, as I said, and then you want something more. +Father says this is what people mean by the deceitfulness of riches; but +Albert’s uncle says it is the spirit of progress, and Mrs Leslie said +some people called it ‘divine discontent’. Oswald asked them all what +they thought one Sunday at dinner. Uncle said it was rot, and what we +wanted was bread and water and a licking; but he meant it for a joke. +This was in the Easter holidays. + +We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays the +girls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to the Prop. +(that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot rather during +term; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of riches in the vac., +when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes and things. Then there +was the summer term, and we swotted more than ever; and it was boiling +hot, and masters’ tempers got short and sharp, and the girls used to +wish the exams came in cold weather. I can’t think why they don’t. But +I suppose schools don’t think of sensible thinks like that. They teach +botany at girls’ schools. + +Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again--but only for a +few days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something, and did not +know what it was. We wanted something to happen--only we didn’t exactly +know what. So we were very pleased when Father said-- + +‘I’ve asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two. You +know--the kids who came at Christmas. You must be jolly to them, and see +that they have a good time, don’t you know.’ + +We remembered them right enough--they were little pinky, frightened +things, like white mice, with very bright eyes. They had not been to our +house since Christmas, because Denis, the boy, had been ill, and they +had been with an aunt at Ramsgate. + +Alice and Dora would have liked to get the bedrooms ready for the +honoured guests, but a really good housemaid is sometimes more ready to +say ‘Don’t’ than even a general. So the girls had to chuck it. Jane only +let them put flowers in the pots on the visitors’ mantelpieces, and then +they had to ask the gardener which kind they might pick, because nothing +worth gathering happened to be growing in our own gardens just then. + +Their train got in at 12.27. We all went to meet them. Afterwards I +thought that was a mistake, because their aunt was with them, and she +wore black with beady things and a tight bonnet, and she said, when we +took our hats off--‘Who are you?’ quite crossly. + +We said, ‘We are the Bastables; we’ve come to meet Daisy and Denny.’ + +The aunt is a very rude lady, and it made us sorry for Daisy and Denny +when she said to them-- + +‘Are these the children? Do you remember them?’ We weren’t very tidy, +perhaps, because we’d been playing brigands in the shrubbery; and we +knew we should have to wash for dinner as soon as we got back, anyhow. +But still-- + +Denny said he thought he remembered us. But Daisy said, ‘Of course they +are,’ and then looked as if she was going to cry. + +So then the aunt called a cab, and told the man where to drive, and put +Daisy and Denny in, and then she said-- + +‘You two little girls may go too, if you like, but you little boys must +walk.’ + +So the cab went off, and we were left. The aunt turned to us to say a +few last words. We knew it would have been about brushing your hair and +wearing gloves, so Oswald said, ‘Good-bye’, and turned haughtily away, +before she could begin, and so did the others. No one but that kind +of black beady tight lady would say ‘little boys’. She is like Miss +Murdstone in David Copperfield. I should like to tell her so; but she +would not understand. I don’t suppose she has ever read anything but +Markham’s History and Mangnall’s Questions--improving books like that. + +When we got home we found all four of those who had ridden in the cab +sitting in our sitting-room--we don’t call it nursery now--looking very +thoroughly washed, and our girls were asking polite questions and the +others were saying ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, and ‘I don’t know’. We boys did not +say anything. We stood at the window and looked out till the gong +went for our dinner. We felt it was going to be awful--and it was. The +newcomers would never have done for knight-errants, or to carry the +Cardinal’s sealed message through the heart of France on a horse; they +would never have thought of anything to say to throw the enemy off the +scent when they got into a tight place. + +They said ‘Yes, please’, and ‘No, thank you’; and they ate very neatly, +and always wiped their mouths before they drank, as well as after, and +never spoke with them full. + +And after dinner it got worse and worse. + +We got out all our books and they said ‘Thank you’, and didn’t look at +them properly. And we got out all our toys, and they said ‘Thank you, +it’s very nice’ to everything. And it got less and less pleasant, and +towards teatime it came to nobody saying anything except Noel and H. +O.--and they talked to each other about cricket. + +After tea Father came in, and he played ‘Letters’ with them and the +girls, and it was a little better; but while late dinner was going on--I +shall never forget it. Oswald felt like the hero of a book--‘almost +at the end of his resources’. I don’t think I was ever glad of bedtime +before, but that time I was. + +When they had gone to bed (Daisy had to have all her strings and buttons +undone for her, Dora told me, though she is nearly ten, and Denny said +he couldn’t sleep without the gas being left a little bit on) we held +a council in the girls’ room. We all sat on the bed--it is a mahogany +fourposter with green curtains very good for tents, only the housekeeper +doesn’t allow it, and Oswald said-- + +‘This is jolly nice, isn’t it?’ + +‘They’ll be better to-morrow,’ Alice said, ‘they’re only shy.’ + +Dicky said shy was all very well, but you needn’t behave like a perfect +idiot. + +‘They’re frightened. You see we’re all strange to them,’ Dora said. + +‘We’re not wild beasts or Indians; we shan’t eat them. What have they +got to be frightened of?’ Dicky said this. + +Noel told us he thought they were an enchanted prince and princess who’d +been turned into white rabbits, and their bodies had got changed back +but not their insides. + +But Oswald told him to dry up. + +‘It’s no use making things up about them,’ he said. ‘The thing is: +what are we going to DO? We can’t have our holidays spoiled by these +snivelling kids.’ + +‘No,’ Alice said, ‘but they can’t possibly go on snivelling for ever. +Perhaps they’ve got into the habit of it with that Murdstone aunt. She’s +enough to make anyone snivel.’ + +‘All the same,’ said Oswald, ‘we jolly well aren’t going to have another +day like today. We must do something to rouse them from their snivelling +leth--what’s its name?--something sudden and--what is it?--decisive.’ + +‘A booby trap,’ said H. O., ‘the first thing when they get up, and an +apple-pie bed at night.’ + +But Dora would not hear of it, and I own she was right. + +‘Suppose,’ she said, ‘we could get up a good play--like we did when we +were Treasure Seekers.’ + +We said, well what? But she did not say. + +‘It ought to be a good long thing--to last all day,’ Dicky said, ‘and if +they like they can play, and if they don’t--’ + +‘If they don’t, I’ll read to them,’ Alice said. + +But we all said ‘No, you don’t--if you begin that way you’ll have to go +on.’ + +And Dicky added, ‘I wasn’t going to say that at all. I was going to say +if they didn’t like it they could jolly well do the other thing.’ + +We all agreed that we must think of something, but we none of us could, +and at last the council broke up in confusion because Mrs Blake--she is +the housekeeper--came up and turned off the gas. + +But next morning when we were having breakfast, and the two strangers +were sitting there so pink and clean, Oswald suddenly said-- + +‘I know; we’ll have a jungle in the garden.’ + +And the others agreed, and we talked about it till brek was over. The +little strangers only said ‘I don’t know’ whenever we said anything to +them. + +After brekker Oswald beckoned his brothers and sisters mysteriously +apart and said-- + +‘Do you agree to let me be captain today, because I thought of it?’ + +And they said they would. + +Then he said, ‘We’ll play Jungle Book, and I shall be Mowgli. The rest +of you can be what you like--Mowgli’s father and mother, or any of the +beasts.’ + +‘I don’t suppose they know the book,’ said Noel. ‘They don’t look as if +they read anything, except at lesson times.’ + +‘Then they can go on being beasts all the time,’ Oswald said. ‘Anyone +can be a beast.’ + +So it was settled. + +And now Oswald--Albert’s uncle has sometimes said he is clever at +arranging things--began to lay his plans for the jungle. The day was +indeed well chosen. Our Indian uncle was away; Father was away; Mrs +Blake was going away, and the housemaid had an afternoon off. Oswald’s +first conscious act was to get rid of the white mice--I mean the little +good visitors. He explained to them that there would be a play in the +afternoon, and they could be what they liked, and gave them the Jungle +Book to read the stories he told them to--all the ones about Mowgli. +He led the strangers to a secluded spot among the sea-kale pots in the +kitchen garden and left them. Then he went back to the others, and we +had a jolly morning under the cedar talking about what we would do when +Blakie was gone. She went just after our dinner. + +When we asked Denny what he would like to be in the play, it turned out +he had not read the stories Oswald told him at all, but only the ‘White +Seal’ and ‘Rikki Tikki’. + +We then agreed to make the jungle first and dress up for our parts +afterwards. Oswald was a little uncomfortable about leaving the +strangers alone all the morning, so he said Denny should be his +aide-de-camp, and he was really quite useful. He is rather handy with +his fingers, and things that he does up do not come untied. Daisy might +have come too, but she wanted to go on reading, so we let her, which is +the truest manners to a visitor. Of course the shrubbery was to be the +jungle, and the lawn under the cedar a forest glade, and then we began +to collect the things. The cedar lawn is just nicely out of the way of +the windows. It was a jolly hot day--the kind of day when the sunshine +is white and the shadows are dark grey, not black like they are in the +evening. + +We all thought of different things. Of course first we dressed up +pillows in the skins of beasts and set them about on the grass to look +as natural as we could. And then we got Pincher, and rubbed him all +over with powdered slate-pencil, to make him the right colour for Grey +Brother. But he shook it all off, and it had taken an awful time to do. +Then Alice said-- + +‘Oh, I know!’ and she ran off to Father’s dressing-room, and came back +with the tube of creme d’amande pour la barbe et les mains, and we +squeezed it on Pincher and rubbed it in, and then the slate-pencil stuff +stuck all right, and he rolled in the dust-bin of his own accord, which +made him just the right colour. He is a very clever dog, but soon after +he went off and we did not find him till quite late in the afternoon. +Denny helped with Pincher, and with the wild-beast skins, and when +Pincher was finished he said-- + +‘Please, may I make some paper birds to put in the trees? I know how.’ + +And of course we said ‘Yes’, and he only had red ink and newspapers, and +quickly he made quite a lot of large paper birds with red tails. They +didn’t look half bad on the edge of the shrubbery. + +While he was doing this he suddenly said, or rather screamed, ‘Oh?’ + +And we looked, and it was a creature with great horns and a fur +rug--something like a bull and something like a minotaur--and I don’t +wonder Denny was frightened. It was Alice, and it was first-class. + +Up to now all was not yet lost beyond recall. It was the stuffed fox +that did the mischief--and I am sorry to own it was Oswald who thought +of it. He is not ashamed of having THOUGHT of it. That was rather clever +of him. But he knows now that it is better not to take other people’s +foxes and things without asking, even if you live in the same house with +them. + +It was Oswald who undid the back of the glass case in the hall and got +out the fox with the green and grey duck in its mouth, and when the +others saw how awfully like life they looked on the lawn, they all +rushed off to fetch the other stuffed things. Uncle has a tremendous +lot of stuffed things. He shot most of them himself--but not the fox, of +course. There was another fox’s mask, too, and we hung that in a bush to +look as if the fox was peeping out. And the stuffed birds we fastened on +to the trees with string. The duck-bill--what’s its name?--looked very +well sitting on his tail with the otter snarling at him. Then Dicky had +an idea; and though not nearly so much was said about it afterwards as +there was about the stuffed things, I think myself it was just as bad, +though it was a good idea, too. He just got the hose and put the end +over a branch of the cedar-tree. Then we got the steps they clean +windows with, and let the hose rest on the top of the steps and run. It +was to be a waterfall, but it ran between the steps and was only wet and +messy; so we got Father’s mackintosh and uncle’s and covered the steps +with them, so that the water ran down all right and was glorious, and it +ran away in a stream across the grass where we had dug a little channel +for it--and the otter and the duck-bill-thing were as if in their native +haunts. I hope all this is not very dull to read about. I know it was +jolly good fun to do. Taking one thing with another, I don’t know that +we ever had a better time while it lasted. + +We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails on +to them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They got away +somehow, and before they were caught next day they had eaten a good +many lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry for this. He rather +likes the gardener. + +Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no use +our telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He thought we +were kidding until we showed him, and then he said, ‘Well, never mind’, +and got the girls to give him bits of the blue stuff left over from +their dressing-gowns. + +‘I’ll make them sashes to tie round their little middles,’ he said. And +he did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One of the +guinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the tortoise when we +had done his shell with vermilion paint. He crawled away and returned no +more. Perhaps someone collected him and thought he was an expensive kind +unknown in these cold latitudes. + +The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty, +what with the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and the +waterfall. And Alice said-- + +‘I wish the tigers did not look so flat.’ For of course with pillows you +can only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready to make a spring +out at you. It is difficult to prop up tiger-skins in a life-like manner +when there are no bones inside them, only pillows and sofa cushions. + +‘What about the beer-stands?’ I said. And we got two out of the cellar. +With bolsters and string we fastened insides to the tigers--and they +were really fine. The legs of the beer-stands did for tigers’ legs. It +was indeed the finishing touch. + +Then we boys put on just our bathing drawers and vests--so as to be able +to play with the waterfall without hurting our clothes. I think this was +thoughtful. The girls only tucked up their frocks and took their shoes +and stockings off. H. O. painted his legs and his hands with Condy’s +fluid--to make him brown, so that he might be Mowgli, although Oswald +was captain and had plainly said he was going to be Mowgli himself. Of +course the others weren’t going to stand that. So Oswald said-- + +‘Very well. Nobody asked you to brown yourself like that. But now you’ve +done it, you’ve simply got to go and be a beaver, and live in the dam +under the waterfall till it washes off.’ + +He said he didn’t want to be beavers. And Noel said-- + +‘Don’t make him. Let him be the bronze statue in the palace gardens that +the fountain plays out of.’ + +So we let him have the hose and hold it up over his head. It made a +lovely fountain, only he remained brown. So then Dicky and Oswald and +I did ourselves brown too, and dried H. O. as well as we could with our +handkerchiefs, because he was just beginning to snivel. The brown did +not come off any of us for days. + +Oswald was to be Mowgli, and we were just beginning to arrange the +different parts. The rest of the hose that was on the ground was Kaa, +the Rock Python, and Pincher was Grey Brother, only we couldn’t find +him. And while most of us were talking, Dicky and Noel got messing about +with the beer-stand tigers. + +And then a really sad event instantly occurred, which was not really our +fault, and we did not mean to. + +That Daisy girl had been mooning indoors all the afternoon with the +Jungle Books, and now she came suddenly out, just as Dicky and Noel had +got under the tigers and were shoving them along to fright each other. +Of course, this is not in the Mowgli book at all: but they did look +jolly like real tigers, and I am very far from wishing to blame the +girl, though she little knew what would be the awful consequence of her +rash act. But for her we might have got out of it all much better than +we did. What happened was truly horrid. + +As soon as Daisy saw the tigers she stopped short, and uttering a shriek +like a railway whistle she fell flat on the ground. + +‘Fear not, gentle Indian maid,’ Oswald cried, thinking with surprise +that perhaps after all she did know how to play, ‘I myself will protect +thee.’ And he sprang forward with the native bow and arrows out of +uncle’s study. + +The gentle Indian maiden did not move. + +‘Come hither,’ Dora said, ‘let us take refuge in yonder covert while +this good knight does battle for us.’ Dora might have remembered that we +were savages, but she did not. And that is Dora all over. And still the +Daisy girl did not move. + +Then we were truly frightened. Dora and Alice lifted her up, and her +mouth was a horrid violet-colour and her eyes half shut. She looked +horrid. Not at all like fair fainting damsels, who are always of an +interesting pallor. She was green, like a cheap oyster on a stall. + +We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were. We rubbed her hands +and let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her unconscious brow. +The girls loosened her dress, though it was only the kind that comes +down straight without a waist. And we were all doing what we could as +hard as we could, when we heard the click of the front gate. There was +no mistake about it. + +‘I hope whoever it is will go straight to the front door,’ said Alice. +But whoever it was did not. There were feet on the gravel, and there was +the uncle’s voice, saying in his hearty manner-- + +‘This way. This way. On such a day as this we shall find our young +barbarians all at play somewhere about the grounds.’ + +And then, without further warning, the uncle, three other gentlemen and +two ladies burst upon the scene. + +We had no clothes on to speak of--I mean us boys. We were all wet +through. Daisy was in a faint or a fit, or dead, none of us then knew +which. And all the stuffed animals were there staring the uncle in the +face. Most of them had got a sprinkling, and the otter and the duck-bill +brute were simply soaked. And three of us were dark brown. Concealment, +as so often happens, was impossible. + +The quick brain of Oswald saw, in a flash, exactly how it would strike +the uncle, and his brave young blood ran cold in his veins. His heart +stood still. + +‘What’s all this--eh, what?’ said the tones of the wronged uncle. + +Oswald spoke up and said it was jungles we were playing, and he didn’t +know what was up with Daisy. He explained as well as anyone could, but +words were now in vain. + +The uncle had a Malacca cane in his hand, and we were but ill prepared +to meet the sudden attack. Oswald and H. O. caught it worst. The other +boys were under the tigers--and of course my uncle would not strike a +girl. Denny was a visitor and so got off. + +But it was bread and water for us for the next three days, and our own +rooms. I will not tell you how we sought to vary the monotonousness of +imprisonment. Oswald thought of taming a mouse, but he could not find +one. The reason of the wretched captives might have given way but for +the gutter that you can crawl along from our room to the girls’. But +I will not dwell on this because you might try it yourselves, and it +really is dangerous. When my father came home we got the talking to, +and we said we were sorry--and we really were--especially about Daisy, +though she had behaved with muffishness, and then it was settled that +we were to go into the country and stay till we had grown into better +children. + +Albert’s uncle was writing a book in the country; we were to go to his +house. We were glad of this--Daisy and Denny too. This we bore nobly. We +knew we had deserved it. We were all very sorry for everything, and we +resolved that for the future we WOULD be good. + +I am not sure whether we kept this resolution or not. Oswald thinks now +that perhaps we made a mistake in trying so very hard to be good all at +once. You should do everything by degrees. + +P.S.--It turned out Daisy was not really dead at all. It was only +fainting--so like a girl. + + +N.B.--Pincher was found on the drawing-room sofa. + + +Appendix.--I have not told you half the things we did for the +jungle--for instance, about the elephants’ tusks and the horse-hair +sofa-cushions, and uncle’s fishing-boots. + + + +CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS + +When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we felt +it was rather good business, because we knew our being sent there was +really only to get us out of the way for a little while, and we knew +right enough that it wasn’t a punishment, though Mrs Blake said it was, +because we had been punished thoroughly for taking the stuffed animals +out and making a jungle on the lawn with them, and the garden hose. And +you cannot be punished twice for the same offence. This is the English +law; at least I think so. And at any rate no one would punish you three +times, and we had had the Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; and +the uncle had kindly explained to us that all ill-feeling between him +and us was wiped out entirely by the bread and water we had endured. And +what with the bread and water and being prisoners, and not being able +to tame any mice in our prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it up +thoroughly, and now we could start fair. + +I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but I +have sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell you what +you truly want to know. However, dull or not, here goes--because you +won’t understand anything unless I tell you what the place was like. + +The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a house +there since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on having a +house on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt down once or +twice in ancient centuries--I don’t remember which--but they always +built a new one, and Cromwell’s soldiers smashed it about, but it was +patched up again. It is a very odd house: the front door opens straight +into the dining-room, and there are red curtains and a black-and-white +marble floor like a chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, only +it is not secret now--only rather rickety. It is not very big, but there +is a watery moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to the +front door. Then, on the other side of the moat there is the farm, with +barns and oast houses and stables, or things like that. And the other +way the garden lawn goes on till it comes to the churchyard. The +churchyard is not divided from the garden at all except by a little +grass bank. In the front of the house there is more garden, and the big +fruit garden is at the back. + +The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big one +with conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on the top, +and he left the Moat House. And Albert’s uncle took it, and my father +was to come down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, and Albert’s uncle +was to live with us all the time, and he would be writing a book, and we +were not to bother him, but he would give an eye to us. I hope all this +is plain. I have said it as short as I can. + +We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see the +big bell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging to it went +right down the house, through our bedroom to the dining-room. H. O. saw +the rope and pulled it while he was washing his hands for supper, and +Dicky and I let him, and the bell tolled solemnly. Father shouted to him +not to, and we went down to supper. + +But presently there were many feet trampling on the gravel, and Father +went out to see. When he came back he said--‘The whole village, or half +of it, has come up to see why the bell rang. It’s only rung for fire or +burglars. Why can’t you kids let things alone?’ + +Albert’s uncle said-- + +‘Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They’ll do no more +mischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of the things +to be avoided in this bucolic retreat.’ + +So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not see +much that night. + +But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to have +awakened in a new world rich in surprises beyond the dreams of anybody, +as it says in the quotation. + +We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was breakfast-time +we felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room we had breakfast +in was exactly like in a story--black oak panels and china in corner +cupboards with glass doors. These doors were locked. There were green +curtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. After brekker my father went back +to town, and Albert’s uncle went too, to see publishers. We saw them to +the station, and Father gave us a long list of what we weren’t to do. It +began with ‘Don’t pull ropes unless you’re quite sure what will happen +at the other end,’ and it finished with ‘For goodness sake, try to keep +out of mischief till I come down on Saturday’. There were lots of other +things in between. + +We all promised we would. And we saw them off and waved till the train +was quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy was tired so +Oswald carried her home on his back. When we got home she said-- + +‘I do like you, Oswald.’ + +She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be nice +to her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over everything. +It was a glorious place. You did not know where to begin. We were all +a little tired before we found the hayloft, but we pulled ourselves +together to make a fort with the trusses of hay--great square +things--and we were having a jolly good time, all of us, when suddenly a +trap-door opened and a head bobbed up with a straw in its mouth. We knew +nothing about the country then, and the head really did scare us rather, +though, of course, we found out directly that the feet belonging to it +were standing on the bar of the loose-box underneath. The head said-- + +‘Don’t you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay, +that’s all.’ And it spoke thickly because of the straw. + +It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can hardly +believe now that once we really did not know that it spoiled hay to mess +about with it. Horses don’t like to eat it afterwards. + +Always remember this. + +When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we turned +the handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got hurt, though the +head HAD said we should cut our fingers off if we touched it. + +And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice clean +dirt that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was room for +hung their legs down out of the top door, and we looked down at the +farmyard, which is very slushy when you get down into it, but most +interesting. + +Then Alice said-- + +‘Now we’re all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for a +minute, I want to have a council.’ + +We said what about? And she said, ‘I’ll tell you.’ H. O., don’t wriggle +so; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs.’ + +You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable as +anyone else. + +‘Promise not to laugh’ Alice said, getting very red, and looking at +Dora, who got red too. + +We did, and then she said: + +‘Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisy too, and we have written it +down because it is easier than saying it. Shall I read it? or will you, +Dora?’ + +Dora said it didn’t matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and though +she gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. This is what +she read: + + + NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN + +‘I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound mind +and body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that jungle day, +we thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we made our minds up +to be good for ever after. And we talked to Daisy about it, and she had +an idea. So we want to start a society for being good in. It is Daisy’s +idea, but we think so too.’ + +‘You know,’ Dora interrupted, ‘when people want to do good things they +always make a society. There are thousands--there’s the Missionary +Society.’ + +‘Yes,’ Alice said, ‘and the Society for the Prevention of something or +other, and the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Society, and the S.P.G.’ + +‘What’s S.P.G.?’ Oswald asked. + +‘Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course,’ said Noel, who +cannot always spell. + +‘No, it isn’t; but do let me go on.’ + +Alice did go on. + +‘We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer and +secretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we’ve done. If that +doesn’t make us good it won’t be my fault. + +‘The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great and +unselfish deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up people +and to perform prodigies of real goodness. We wish to spread our +wings’--here Alice read very fast. She told me afterwards Daisy had +helped her with that part, and she thought when she came to the wings +they sounded rather silly--‘to spread our wings and rise above the kind +of interesting things that you ought not to do, but to do kindnesses to +all, however low and mean.’ + + +Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times. + + ‘Little words of kindness’ (he said), + ‘Little deeds of love, + Make this earth an eagle + Like the one above.’ + +This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle does have +wings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls had written. But +there was no rest. + +‘That’s all,’ said Alice, and Daisy said--‘Don’t you think it’s a good +idea?’ + +‘That depends,’ Oswald answered, ‘who is president and what you mean by +being good.’ + +Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself, because being +good is not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper to talk about, +especially before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemed to like +it, so Oswald did not say exactly what he thought, especially as it was +Daisy’s idea. This was true politeness. + +‘I think it would be nice,’ Noel said, ‘if we made it a sort of play. +Let’s do the Pilgrim’s Progress.’ + +We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to anything, +because we all wanted to be Mr Greatheart, except H. O., who wanted to +be the lions, and you could not have lions in a Society for Goodness. + +Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books about +children who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he told me +afterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in Sunday school, +and we did not wish to be unkind. + +At last Oswald said, ‘Well, let’s draw up the rules of the society, and +choose the president and settle the name.’ + +Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. She was +secretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money. + +Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these: + + + RULES + +1. Every member is to be as good as possible. + +2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. +(Oswald and Dicky put that rule in.) + +3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a suffering +fellow-creature. + +4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like. + +5. We are to do good to people we don’t like as often as we can. + +6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all the +rest of us. + +7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the world +except us. + +8. The name of our Society is-- + +And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora wanted +it called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the Society for +Reformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, No, we really were not so bad +as all that. + +Then H. O. said, ‘Call it the Good Society.’ + +‘Or the Society for Being Good In,’ said Daisy. + +‘Or the Society of Goods,’ said Noel. + +‘That’s priggish,’ said Oswald; ‘besides, we don’t know whether we shall +be so very.’ + +‘You see,’ Alice explained, ‘we only said if we COULD we would be good.’ + +‘Well, then,’ Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the chopped +hay off himself, ‘call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods and have done +with it.’ + +Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make himself +a little disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to disappointment. For +everyone else clapped hands and called out, ‘That’s the very thing!’ +Then the girls went off to write out the rules, and took H. O. with +them, and Noel went to write some poetry to put in the minute book. +That’s what you call the book that a society’s secretary writes what it +does in. Denny went with him to help. He knows a lot of poetry. I think +he went to a lady’s school where they taught nothing but that. He was +rather shy of us, but he took to Noel. I can’t think why. Dicky and +Oswald walked round the garden and told each other what they thought of +the new society. + +‘I’m not sure we oughtn’t to have put our foot down at the beginning,’ +Dicky said. ‘I don’t see much in it, anyhow.’ + +‘It pleases the girls,’ Oswald said, for he is a kind brother. + +‘But we’re not going to stand jaw, and “words in season”, and “loving +sisterly warnings”. I tell you what it is, Oswald, we’ll have to run +this thing our way, or it’ll be jolly beastly for everybody.’ + +Oswald saw this plainly. + +‘We must do something,’ Dicky said; ‘it’s very very hard, though. Still, +there must be SOME interesting things that are not wrong.’ + +‘I suppose so,’ Oswald said, ‘but being good is so much like being a +muff, generally. Anyhow I’m not going to smooth the pillows of the sick, +or read to the aged poor, or any rot out of Ministering Children.’ + +‘No more am I,’ Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head had +in its mouth, ‘but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let’s begin by +looking out for something useful to do--something like mending things or +cleaning them, not just showing off.’ + +‘The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy tea +and tracts.’ + +‘Little beasts!’ said Dick. ‘I say, let’s talk about something +else.’ And Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jolly +uncomfortable. + +We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played draughts +with Daisy and the others yawned. I don’t know when we’ve had such a +gloomy evening. And everyone was horribly polite, and said ‘Please’ and +‘Thank you’ far more than requisite. + +Albert’s uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us stories, +but he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what blight had fallen +on our young lives. Oswald could have answered and said, ‘It is the +Society of the Wouldbegoods that is the blight,’ but of course he didn’t +and Albert’s uncle said no more, but he went up and kissed the girls +when they were in bed, and asked them if there was anything wrong. And +they told him no, on their honour. + +The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the morning +sun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms of his dear +little brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on top of his head and +was snoring like a kettle when it sings. Oswald could not remember +at first what was the matter with him, and then he remembered the +Wouldbegoods, and wished he hadn’t. He felt at first as if there was +nothing you could do, and even hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny’s +head. But he soon saw that this could not be. So he chucked his boot and +caught Denny right in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began more +brightly than he had expected. + +Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before, +except that when no one was looking he polished the brass candlestick in +the girls’ bedroom with one of his socks. And he might just as well have +let it alone, for the servants cleaned it again with the other things in +the morning, and he could never find the sock afterwards. There were two +servants. One of them had to be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane and +Eliza like others. She was cook and managed things. + +After breakfast Albert’s uncle said-- + +‘I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate my +privacy before 1.30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant the +intrusion, and nothing short of man--or rather boy--slaughter shall +avenge it.’ + +So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we ought to +play out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have played out of +doors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that. + +But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald-- + +‘I say, come along here a minute, will you?’ + +So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlour and shut +the door, and Oswald said-- + +‘Well, spit it out: what is it?’ He knows that is vulgar, and he would +not have said it to anyone but his own brother. Dicky said-- + +‘It’s a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be.’ And Oswald +was patient with him, and said-- + +‘What is? Don’t be all day about it.’ + +Dicky fidgeted about a bit, and then he said-- + +‘Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. And +you know that dairy window that wouldn’t open--only a little bit like +that? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whip cord and it opened +wide.’ + +‘And I suppose they didn’t want it mended,’ said Oswald. He knew but too +well that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things far different +from what we would, and you catch it if you try to do otherwise. + +‘I shouldn’t have minded THAT,’ Dicky said, ‘because I could easily have +taken it all off again if they’d only said so. But the sillies went and +propped up a milk-pan against the window. They never took the trouble to +notice I had mended it. So the wretched thing pushed the window open all +by itself directly they propped it up, and it tumbled through into the +moat, and they are most awfully waxy. All the men are out in the fields +and they haven’t any spare milk-pans. If I were a farmer, I must say +I wouldn’t stick at an extra milk-pan or two. Accidents must happen +sometimes. I call it mean.’ + +Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, first +because it wasn’t his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing boy. + +‘Never mind,’ he said kindly. ‘Keep your tail up. We’ll get the beastly +milk-pan out all right. Come on.’ He rushed hastily to the garden and +gave a low, signifying whistle, which the others know well enough to +mean something extra being up. + +And when they were all gathered round him he spoke. + +‘Fellow countrymen,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have a rousing good time.’ + +‘It’s nothing naughty, is it,’ Daisy asked, ‘like the last time you had +that was rousingly good?’ + +Alice said ‘Shish’, and Oswald pretended not to hear. + +‘A precious treasure,’ he said, ‘has inadvertently been laid low in the +moat by one of us.’ + +‘The rotten thing tumbled in by itself,’ Dicky said. + +Oswald waved his hand and said, ‘Anyhow, it’s there. It’s our duty to +restore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here--we’re going to +drag the moat.’ + +Everyone brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was interesting +too. This is very uncommon. + +So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the moat. +There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did not take +any till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. Mrs Pettigrew +said, ‘Law! I suppose so; you’d eat ‘em anyhow, leave or no leave.’ + +She little knows the honourable nature of the house of Bastable. But she +has much to learn. + +The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We sat +there in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny said, +‘How DO you drag moats?’ + +And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times about a +moat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we really had never +thought about exactly how it was done. + +‘Grappling-irons are right, I believe,’ Denny said, ‘but I don’t suppose +they’d have any at the farm.’ + +And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I think +myself he meant some other word, but he was quite positive. + +So then we got a sheet off Oswald’s bed, and we all took our shoes and +stockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the bottom +of the moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would keep floating +on the top of the water, and when we tried sewing stones into one end +of it, it stuck on something in the bottom, and when we got it up it was +torn. We were very sorry, and the sheet was in an awful mess; but the +girls said they were sure they could wash it in the basin in their room, +and we thought as we had torn it anyway, we might as well go on. That +washing never came off. + +‘No human being,’ Noel said, ‘knows half the treasures hidden in this +dark tarn.’ + +And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work gradually +round to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. We could not see +that part very well, because of the bushes that grow between the cracks +of the stones where the house goes down into the moat. And opposite the +dairy window the barn goes straight down into the moat too. It is like +pictures of Venice; but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow. + +We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts together in +a bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying-- + +‘Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two, +three,’ when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a piercing +shriek and cried out-- + +‘Oh! it’s all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle.’ And she was out +of the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. + +The other girls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in such +a hurry that we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us went +right in, and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one who went +right in was only H. O.; but Dora made an awful fuss and said it was our +fault. We told her what we thought, and it ended in the girls going in +with H. O. to change his things. We had some more gooseberries while +they were gone. Dora was in an awful wax when she went away, but she is +not of a sullen disposition though sometimes hasty, and when they all +came back we saw it was all right, so we said-- + +‘What shall we do now?’ + +Alice said, ‘I don’t think we need drag any more. It is wormy. I felt it +when Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit of itself out +of the water. I saw it through the dairy window.’ + +‘Couldn’t we get it up with fish-hooks?’ Noel said. But Alice explained +that the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out. So then Oswald +said-- + +‘Look here, we’ll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, and +we might as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner stable that +they don’t use. You know. The one where they chop the wood.’ + +We got the door. + +We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is better +described in books, so we knew what to do. + +We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm garden, +and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so we took them. +Denny had a box of tools someone had given him for his last birthday; +they were rather rotten little things, but the gimlet worked all right, +so we managed to make holes in the edges of the tubs and fasten them +with string under the four corners of the old door. This took us a long +time. Albert’s uncle asked us at dinner what we had been playing at, and +we said it was a secret, and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished to +atone for Dicky’s mistake before anything more was said. The house has +no windows in the side that faces the orchard. + +The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass when +at last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach with the last +shove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and towed her back; he is +not afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of the other things that were +in the bottom of that moat he would have kept his boots on. So would the +others, especially Dora, as you will see. + +At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, though not +up to our full strength, because if more than four got on the water came +up too near our knees, and we feared she might founder if over-manned. + +Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that they +were, so that was all right. And as H. O. had been wet through once he +was not very keen. Alice promised Noel her best paint-brush if he’d give +up and not go, because we knew well that the voyage was fraught with +deep dangers, though the exact danger that lay in wait for us under the +dairy window we never even thought of. + +So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even then, +every time we moved the water swished up over the raft and hid our feet. +But I must say it was a jolly decent raft. + +Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles from +the hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the girls stand +together in the middle and hold on to each other to keep steady. Then +we christened our gallant vessel. We called it the Richard, after Dicky, +and also after the splendid admiral who used to eat wine-glasses and +died after the Battle of the Revenge in Tennyson’s poetry. + +Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with the +dampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to use to dry our legs +and feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and slowly and stately +the good ship moved away from shore, riding on the waves as though they +were her native element. + +We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the same +way, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we could not +always keep her in the wind’s eye. That is to say, she went where we did +not want, and once she bumped her corner against the barn wall, and +all the crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid falling overboard into a +watery grave. Of course then the waves swept her decks, and when we got +up again we said that we should have to change completely before tea. + +But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into port, +under the dairy window and there was the milk-pan, for whose sake we +had endured such hardships and privations, standing up on its edge quite +quietly. + +The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought to +have done; but they cried out, ‘Oh, here it is!’ and then both reached +out to get it. Anyone who has pursued a naval career will see that of +course the raft capsized. For a moment it felt like standing on the roof +of the house, and the next moment the ship stood up on end and shot the +whole crew into the dark waters. + +We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across the +Ladywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as good; +but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if the water +had been deep we should have. + +As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he opened +them on a horrid scene. + +Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft had +righted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front of the +house, where the bridge is, and Dora and Alice were rising from the +deep, with their hair all plastered over their faces--like Venus in the +Latin verses. + +There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine voice, +looking out of the dairy window and screaming-- + +‘Lord love the children!’ + +It was Mrs Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry we +were in such a situation that she would be able to get at Albert’s uncle +before we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry. + +Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position Dora +staggered a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, ‘Oh, my foot! +oh, it’s a shark! I know it is--or a crocodile!’ + +The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could not +see us properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told me +afterwards he never could care for that paint-brush. + +Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, which +are large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. She screamed +without stopping. I shoved her along to where there was a ledge of +brickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on it, then she got her +foot out of the water, still screaming. + +It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up with +her foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she had put +her foot right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he did so blood +began to pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut it in several +spots. It was very pale blood, because her foot was wet, of course. + +She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was going to +faint, like Daisy did on the jungle day. + +Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of the +least agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, and she +couldn’t have waded back anyway, and we didn’t know how deep the moat +might be in other places. + +But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really. + +Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft and +get it back, a boat’s nose shot out from under a dark archway a little +further up under the house. It was the boathouse, and Albert’s uncle had +got the punt and took us back in it. When we had regained the dark arch +where the boat lives we had to go up the cellar stairs. Dora had to be +carried. + +There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to bed--those who +had not been on the raft the same as the others, for they owned up all +right, and Albert’s uncle is the soul of justice. + +Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to--with other +things. + +The worst was when Dora couldn’t get her shoe on, so they sent for the +doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was indeed poor +luck. + +When the doctor had gone Alice said to me-- + +‘It IS hard lines, but Dora’s very jolly about it. Daisy’s been telling +her about how we should all go to her with our little joys and sorrows +and things, and about the sweet influence from a sick bed that can be +felt all over the house, like in What Katy Did, and Dora said she hoped +she might prove a blessing to us all while she’s laid up.’ + +Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sort +of jaw was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn’t want to have +happen. + +The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the garden +railings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been put out there +‘to sweeten’. + +But as Denny said, ‘After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes of +somewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again.’ + +I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to please +ourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no difference to +our punishment when Father came down. I have known this mistake occur +before. + + + +CHAPTER 3. BILL’S TOMBSTONE + +There were soldiers riding down the road, on horses two and two. That +is the horses were two and two, and the men not. Because each man was +riding one horse and leading another. To exercise them. They came from +Chatham Barracks. We all drew up in a line outside the churchyard wall, +and saluted as they went by, though we had not read Toady Lion then. We +have since. It is the only decent book I have ever read written by Toady +Lion’s author. The others are mere piffle. But many people like them. In +Sir Toady Lion the officer salutes the child. + +There was only a lieutenant with those soldiers, and he did not salute +me. He kissed his hand to the girls; and a lot of the soldiers behind +kissed theirs too. We waved ours back. + +Next day we made a Union Jack out of pocket-handkerchiefs and part of a +red flannel petticoat of the White Mouse’s, which she did not want just +then, and some blue ribbon we got at the village shop. + +Then we watched for the soldiers, and after three days they went by +again, by twos and twos as before. It was A1. + +We waved our flag, and we shouted. We gave them three cheers. Oswald can +shout loudest. So as soon as the first man was level with us (not the +advance guard, but the first of the battery)--he shouted-- + +‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ And then we waved the +flag, and bellowed. Oswald stood on the wall to bellow better, and Denny +waved the flag because he was a visitor, and so politeness made us let +him enjoy the fat of whatever there was going. + +The soldiers did not cheer that day; they only grinned and kissed their +hands. + +The next day we all got up as much like soldiers as we could. H. O. and +Noel had tin swords, and we asked Albert’s uncle to let us wear some of +the real arms that are on the wall in the dining-room. + +And he said, ‘Yes’, if we would clean them up afterwards. But we +jolly well cleaned them up first with Brooke’s soap and brick dust and +vinegar, and the knife polish (invented by the great and immortal Duke +of Wellington in his spare time when he was not conquering Napoleon. +Three cheers for our Iron Duke!), and with emery paper and wash leather +and whitening. Oswald wore a cavalry sabre in its sheath. Alice and the +Mouse had pistols in their belts, large old flint-locks, with bits +of red flannel behind the flints. Denny had a naval cutlass, a very +beautiful blade, and old enough to have been at Trafalgar. I hope +it was. The others had French sword-bayonets that were used in the +Franco-German war. They are very bright when you get them bright, but +the sheaths are hard to polish. Each sword-bayonet has the name on the +blade of the warrior who once wielded it. I wonder where they are now. +Perhaps some of them died in the war. Poor chaps! But it is a very long +time ago. + +I should like to be a soldier. It is better than going to the best +schools, and to Oxford afterwards, even if it is Balliol you go to. +Oswald wanted to go to South Africa for a bugler, but father would not +let him. And it is true that Oswald does not yet know how to bugle, +though he can play the infantry ‘advance’, and the ‘charge’ and the +‘halt’ on a penny whistle. Alice taught them to him with the piano, out +of the red book Father’s cousin had when he was in the Fighting Fifth. +Oswald cannot play the ‘retire’, and he would scorn to do so. But I +suppose a bugler has to play what he is told, no matter how galling to +the young boy’s proud spirit. + +The next day, being thoroughly armed, we put on everything red, white +and blue that we could think of--night-shirts are good for white, and +you don’t know what you can do with red socks and blue jerseys till you +try--and we waited by the churchyard wall for the soldiers. When the +advance guard (or whatever you call it of artillery--it’s that for +infantry, I know) came by, we got ready, and when the first man of the +first battery was level with us Oswald played on his penny whistle the +‘advance’ and the ‘charge’--and then shouted-- + +‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ This time they had +the guns with them. And every man of the battery cheered too. It was +glorious. It made you tremble all over. The girls said it made them +want to cry--but no boy would own to this, even if it were true. It is +babyish to cry. But it was glorious, and Oswald felt differently to what +he ever did before. + +Then suddenly the officer in front said, ‘Battery! Halt!’ and all the +soldiers pulled their horses up, and the great guns stopped too. Then +the officer said, ‘Sit at ease,’ and something else, and the sergeant +repeated it, and some of the men got off their horses and lit their +pipes, and some sat down on the grass edge of the road, holding their +horses’ bridles. + +We could see all the arms and accoutrements as plain as plain. + +Then the officer came up to us. We were all standing on the wall that +day, except Dora, who had to sit, because her foot was bad, but we let +her have the three-edged rapier to wear, and the blunderbuss to hold as +well--it has a brass mouth and is like in Mr Caldecott’s pictures. + +He was a beautiful man the officer. Like a Viking. Very tall and fair, +with moustaches very long, and bright blue eyes. He said-- + +‘Good morning.’ + +So did we. + +Then he said-- + +‘You seem to be a military lot.’ + +We said we wished we were. + +‘And patriotic,’ said he. + +Alice said she should jolly well think so. + +Then he said he had noticed us there for several days, and he had halted +the battery because he thought we might like to look at the guns. + +Alas! there are but too few grown-up people so far-seeing and thoughtful +as this brave and distinguished officer. + +We said, ‘Oh, yes’, and then we got off the wall, and that good +and noble man showed us the string that moves the detonator and the +breech-block (when you take it out and carry it away the gun is in vain +to the enemy, even if he takes it); and he let us look down the gun to +see the rifling, all clean and shiny--and he showed us the ammunition +boxes, but there was nothing in them. He also told us how the gun was +unlimbered (this means separating the gun from the ammunition carriage), +and how quick it could be done--but he did not make the men do this +then, because they were resting. There were six guns. Each had painted +on the carriage, in white letters, 15 Pr., which the captain told us +meant fifteen-pounder. + +‘I should have thought the gun weighed more than fifteen pounds,’ Dora +said. ‘It would if it was beef, but I suppose wood and gun are lighter.’ + +And the officer explained to her very kindly and patiently that 15 Pr. +meant the gun could throw a SHELL weighing fifteen pounds. + +When we had told him how jolly it was to see the soldiers go by so +often, he said-- + +‘You won’t see us many more times. We’re ordered to the front; and we +sail on Tuesday week; and the guns will be painted mud-colour, and the +men will wear mud-colour too, and so shall I.’ + +The men looked very nice, though they were not wearing their busbies, +but only Tommy caps, put on all sorts of ways. + +We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, +looked with envy on those who would soon be allowed--being grown up, and +no nonsense about your education--to go and fight for their Queen and +country. + +Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said-- + +‘All right; but tell him yourself.’ + +So Alice said to the captain-- + +‘Will you stop next time you pass?’ + +He said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t promise that.’ + +Alice said, ‘You might; there’s a particular reason.’ + +He said, ‘What?’ which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is with +children. Alice said-- + +‘We want to give the soldiers a keepsake and will write to ask my +father. He is very well off just now. Look here--if we’re not on the +wall when you come by, don’t stop; but if we are, please, PLEASE do!’ + +The officer pulled his moustache and looked as if he did not know; +but at last he said ‘Yes’, and we were very glad, though but Alice and +Oswald knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting in their +youthful nuts. + +The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said-- + +‘I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should like to +see your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished silver.’ + +The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But Oswald +said hurriedly-- + +‘Don’t. Not yet. We shan’t ever have a chance like this. If you’d only +show us the pursuing practice! Albert’s uncle knows it; but he only does +it on an armchair, because he hasn’t a horse.’ + +And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his horse +right into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the cuts, +thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was splendid. The +morning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his good steed stood with +all its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. + +Then we opened the paddock gate, and he did it again, while the horse +galloped as if upon the bloody battlefield among the fierce foes of his +native land, and this was far more ripping still. + +Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men with +him. And the guns of course. + +Then we wrote to my father, and he said ‘Yes’, as we knew he would, and +next time the soldiers came by--but they had no guns this time, only +the captive Arabs of the desert--we had the keepsakes ready in a +wheelbarrow, and we were on the churchyard wall. + +And the bold captain called an immediate halt. + +Then the girls had the splendid honour and pleasure of giving a pipe and +four whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier. + +Then we shook hands with the captain, and the sergeant and the +corporals, and the girls kissed the captain--I can’t think why girls +will kiss everybody--and we all cheered for the Queen. It was grand. And +I wish my father had been there to see how much you can do with L12 if +you order the things from the Stores. + +We have never seen those brave soldiers again. + +I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about soldiers, +and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the white cottage in +her desolate and oppressedness. + +Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the churchyard, +on the other side from our house. On the different military occasions +which I have remarked upon this widow woman stood at her garden gate and +looked on. And after the cheering she rubbed her eyes with her apron. +Alice noticed this slight but signifying action. + +We feel quite sure Mrs Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt friendly +to her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. She told us to +go along with us, do, and not bother her. And Oswald, with his usual +delicacy and good breeding, made the others do as she said. + +But we were not to be thus repulsed with impunity. We made complete but +cautious inquiries, and found out that the reason she cried when she saw +soldiers was that she had only one son, a boy. He was twenty-two, and he +had gone to the War last April. So that she thought of him when she saw +the soldiers, and that was why she cried. Because when your son is at +the wars you always think he is being killed. I don’t know why. A great +many of them are not. If I had a son at the wars I should never think +he was dead till I heard he was, and perhaps not then, considering +everything. After we had found this out we held a council. + +Dora said, ‘We must do something for the soldier’s widowed mother.’ + +We all agreed, but added ‘What?’ + +Alice said, ‘The gift of money might be deemed an insult by that proud, +patriotic spirit. Besides, we haven’t more than eighteenpence among us.’ + +We had put what we had to father’s L12 to buy the baccy and pipes. + +The Mouse then said, ‘Couldn’t we make her a flannel petticoat and leave +it without a word upon her doorstep?’ + +But everyone said, ‘Flannel petticoats in this weather?’ so that was no +go. + +Noel said he would write her a poem, but Oswald had a deep, inward +feeling that Mrs Simpkins would not understand poetry. Many people do +not. + +H. O. said, ‘Why not sing “Rule Britannia” under her window after she +had gone to bed, like waits,’ but no one else thought so. + +Denny thought we might get up a subscription for her among the wealthy +and affluent, but we said again that we knew money would be no balm to +the haughty mother of a brave British soldier. + +‘What we want,’ Alice said, ‘is something that will be a good deal of +trouble to us and some good to her.’ + +‘A little help is worth a deal of poetry,’ said Denny. + +I should not have said that myself. Noel did look sick. + +‘What DOES she do that we can help in?’ Dora asked. ‘Besides, she won’t +let us help.’ + +H. O. said, ‘She does nothing but work in the garden. At least if she +does anything inside you can’t see it, because she keeps the door shut.’ + +Then at once we saw. And we agreed to get up the very next day, ere +yet the rosy dawn had flushed the east, and have a go at Mrs Simpkins’s +garden. + +We got up. We really did. But too often when you mean to, overnight, +it seems so silly to do it when you come to waking in the dewy morn. We +crept downstairs with our boots in our hands. Denny is rather unlucky, +though a most careful boy. It was he who dropped his boot, and it went +blundering down the stairs, echoing like thunderbolts, and waking up +Albert’s uncle. But when we explained to him that we were going to do +some gardening he let us, and went back to bed. + +Everything is very pretty and different in the early morning, before +people are up. I have been told this is because the shadows go a +different way from what they do in the awake part of the day. But I +don’t know. Noel says the fairies have just finished tidying up then. +Anyhow it all feels quite otherwise. + +We put on our boots in the porch, and we got our gardening tools and we +went down to the white cottage. It is a nice cottage, with a thatched +roof, like in the drawing copies you get at girls’ schools, and you +do the thatch--if you can--with a B.B. pencil. If you cannot, you just +leave it. It looks just as well, somehow, when it is mounted and framed. + +We looked at the garden. It was very neat. Only one patch was coming up +thick with weeds. I could see groundsel and chickweed, and others that I +did not know. We set to work with a will. We used all our tools--spades, +forks, hoes, and rakes--and Dora worked with the trowel, sitting down, +because her foot was hurt. We cleared the weedy patch beautifully, +scraping off all the nasty weeds and leaving the nice clean brown dirt. +We worked as hard as ever we could. And we were happy, because it was +unselfish toil, and no one thought then of putting it in the Book of +Golden Deeds, where we had agreed to write down our virtuous actions and +the good doings of each other, when we happen to notice them. + +We had just done, and we were looking at the beautiful production of +our honest labour, when the cottage door burst open, and the soldier’s +widowed mother came out like a wild tornado, and her eyes looked like +upas trees--death to the beholder. + +‘You wicked, meddlesome, nasty children!’ she said, ain’t you got enough +of your own good ground to runch up and spoil, but you must come into MY +little lot?’ + +Some of us were deeply alarmed, but we stood firm. + +‘We have only been weeding your garden,’ Dora said; ‘we wanted to do +something to help you.’ + +‘Dratted little busybodies,’ she said. It was indeed hard, but everyone +in Kent says ‘dratted’ when they are cross. ‘It’s my turnips,’ she went +on, ‘you’ve hoed up, and my cabbages. My turnips that my boy sowed +afore he went. There, get along with you do, afore I come at you with my +broom-handle.’ + +She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even the +boldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. ‘They looked like +weeds right enough,’ he said. + +And Dicky said, ‘It all comes of trying to do golden deeds.’ This was +when we were out in the road. + +As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met the +postman. He said-- + +‘Here’s the letters for the Moat,’ and passed on hastily. He was a bit +late. + +When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all for +Albert’s uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in a +magazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs Simpkins. +We honourably only looked at the address, although it is allowed by the +rules of honourableness to read postcards that come to your house if you +like, even if they are not for you. + +After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not afraid, +whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding the postcard +right way up, so that we should not look at the lettery part of it, but +only the address. + +With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up to the +white cottage door. + +It opened with a bang when we knocked. + +‘Well?’ Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in books +call ‘sourly’. + +Oswald said, ‘We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and we +will ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way.’ + +She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody. + +‘We came back,’ Oswald went on, with his always unruffled politeness, +‘because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with our letters, and +it is addressed to you.’ + +‘We haven’t read it,’ Alice said quickly. I think she needn’t have said +that. Of course we hadn’t. But perhaps girls know better than we do what +women are likely to think you capable of. + +The soldier’s mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but +‘took’ is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at the +address a long time. Then she turned it over and read what was on the +back. Then she drew her breath in as far as it would go, and caught hold +of the door-post. Her face got awful. It was like the wax face of a dead +king I saw once at Madame Tussaud’s. + +Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier’s mother’s hand and +said-- + +‘Oh, NO--it’s NOT your boy Bill!’ + +And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice’s hand, +and we both read it--and it WAS her boy Bill. + +Alice gave her back the card. She had held on to the woman’s hand all +the time, and now she squeezed the hand, and held it against her face. +But she could not say a word because she was crying so. The soldier’s +mother took the card again and she pushed Alice away, but it was not an +unkind push, and she went in and shut the door; and as Alice and Oswald +went down the road Oswald looked back, and one of the windows of the +cottage had a white blind. Afterwards the other windows had too. There +were no blinds really to the cottage. It was aprons and things she had +pinned up. + +Alice cried most of the morning, and so did the other girls. We wanted +to do something for the soldier’s mother, but you can do nothing when +people’s sons are shot. It is the most dreadful thing to want to do +something for people who are unhappy, and not to know what to do. + +It was Noel who thought of what we COIULD do at last. + +He said, ‘I suppose they don’t put up tombstones to soldiers when they +die in war. But there--I mean Oswald said, ‘Of course not.’ + +Noel said, ‘I daresay you’ll think it’s silly, but I don’t care. Don’t +you think she’d like it, if we put one up to HIM? Not in the churchyard, +of course, because we shouldn’t be let, but in our garden, just where it +joins on to the churchyard?’ + +And we all thought it was a first-rate idea. + +This is what we meant to put on the tombstone: + + + ‘Here lies + + BILL SIMPKINS + + Who died fighting for Queen + + and Country.’ + + + ‘A faithful son, + A son so dear, + A soldier brave + Lies buried here.’ + + +Then we remembered that poor brave Bill was really buried far away in +the Southern hemisphere, if at all. So we altered it to-- + + + ‘A soldier brave + We weep for here.’ + + +Then we looked out a nice flagstone in the stable-yard, and we got a +cold chisel out of the Dentist’s toolbox, and began. + +But stone-cutting is difficult and dangerous work. + +Oswald went at it a bit, but he chipped his thumb, and it bled so he had +to chuck it. Then Dicky tried, and then Denny, but Dicky hammered his +finger, and Denny took all day over every stroke, so that by tea-time +we had only done the H, and about half the E--and the E was awfully +crooked. Oswald chipped his thumb over the H. + +We looked at it the next morning, and even the most sanguinary of us saw +that it was a hopeless task. + +Then Denny said, ‘Why not wood and paint?’ and he showed us how. We +got a board and two stumps from the carpenter’s in the village, and we +painted it all white, and when that was dry Denny did the words on it. + +It was something like this: + + ‘IN MEMORY OF + BILL SIMPKINS + + DEAD FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY. + + HONOUR TO HIS NAME AND ALL + + OTHER BRAVE SOLDIERS.’ + + +We could not get in what we meant to at first, so we had to give up the +poetry. + +We fixed it up when it was dry. We had to dig jolly deep to get the +posts to stand up, but the gardener helped us. + +Then the girls made wreaths of white flowers, roses and Canterbury +bells, and lilies and pinks, and sweet-peas and daisies, and put them +over the posts. And I think if Bill Simpkins had known how sorry we +were, he would have been glad. Oswald only hopes if he falls on the wild +battlefield, which is his highest ambition, that somebody will be as +sorry about him as he was about Bill, that’s all! + +When all was done, and what flowers there were over from the wreaths +scattered under the tombstone between the posts, we wrote a letter to +Mrs Simpkins, and said-- + + +DEAR MRS SIMPKINS-- + +We are very, very sorry about the turnips and things, and we beg your +pardon humbly. We have put up a tombstone to your brave son. + + +And we signed our names. Alice took the letter. + +The soldier’s mother read it, and said something about our oughting to +know better than to make fun of people’s troubles with our tombstones +and tomfoolery. + +Alice told me she could not help crying. + +She said-- + +‘It’s not! it’s NOT! Dear, DEAR Mrs Simpkins, do come with me and see! +You don’t know how sorry we are about Bill. Do come and see. + +We can go through the churchyard, and the others have all gone in, so as +to leave it quiet for you. Do come.’ + +And Mrs Simpkins did. And when she read what we had put up, and Alice +told her the verse we had not had room for, she leant against the wall +by the grave--I mean the tombstone--and Alice hugged her, and they both +cried bitterly. The poor soldier’s mother was very, very pleased, and +she forgave us about the turnips, and we were friends after that, but +she always liked Alice the best. A great many people do, somehow. + +After that we used to put fresh flowers every day on Bill’s tombstone, +and I do believe his mother was pleased, though she got us to move it +away from the churchyard edge and put it in a corner of our garden under +a laburnum, where people could not see it from the church. But you could +from the road, though I think she thought you couldn’t. She came every +day to look at the new wreaths. When the white flowers gave out we put +coloured, and she liked it just as well. + +About a fortnight after the erecting of the tombstone the girls were +putting fresh wreaths on it when a soldier in a red coat came down the +road, and he stopped and looked at us. He walked with a stick, and he +had a bundle in a blue cotton handkerchief, and one arm in a sling. + +And he looked again, and he came nearer, and he leaned on the wall, so +that he could read the black printing on the white paint. + +And he grinned all over his face, and he said-- + +‘Well, I AM blessed!’ + +And he read it all out in a sort of half whisper, and when he came to +the end, where it says, ‘and all such brave soldiers’, he said-- + +‘Well, I really AM!’ I suppose he meant he really was blessed. Oswald +thought it was like the soldier’s cheek, so he said-- + +‘I daresay you aren’t so very blessed as you think. What’s it to do with +you, anyway, eh, Tommy?’ + +Of course Oswald knew from Kipling that an infantry soldier is called +that. The soldier said-- + +‘Tommy yourself, young man. That’s ME!’ and he pointed to the tombstone. + +We stood rooted to the spot. Alice spoke first. + +‘Then you’re Bill, and you’re not dead,’ she said. ‘Oh, Bill, I am so +glad! Do let ME tell your mother.’ + +She started running, and so did we all. Bill had to go slowly because of +his leg, but I tell you he went as fast as ever he could. + +We all hammered at the soldier’s mother’s door, and shouted-- + +‘Come out! come out!’ and when she opened the door we were going to +speak, but she pushed us away, and went tearing down the garden path +like winking. I never saw a grown-up woman run like it, because she saw +Bill coming. + +She met him at the gate, running right into him, and caught hold of him, +and she cried much more than when she thought he was dead. + +And we all shook his hand and said how glad we were. + +The soldier’s mother kept hold of him with both hands, and I couldn’t +help looking at her face. It was like wax that had been painted on both +pink cheeks, and the eyes shining like candles. And when we had all said +how glad we were, she said-- + +‘Thank the dear Lord for His mercies,’ and she took her boy Bill into +the cottage and shut the door. + +We went home and chopped up the tombstone with the wood-axe and had a +blazing big bonfire, and cheered till we could hardly speak. + +The postcard was a mistake; he was only missing. There was a pipe and +a whole pound of tobacco left over from our keepsake to the other +soldiers. We gave it to Bill. Father is going to have him for +under-gardener when his wounds get well. He’ll always be a bit lame, so +he cannot fight any more. + + + +CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY + +It was very rough on Dora having her foot bad, but we took it in turns +to stay in with her, and she was very decent about it. Daisy was most +with her. I do not dislike Daisy, but I wish she had been taught how to +play. Because Dora is rather like that naturally, and sometimes I have +thought that Daisy makes her worse. + +I talked to Albert’s uncle about it one day, when the others had gone to +church, and I did not go because of ear-ache, and he said it came +from reading the wrong sort of books partly--she has read Ministering +Children, and Anna Ross, or The Orphan of Waterloo, and Ready Work for +Willing Hands, and Elsie, or Like a Little Candle, and even a horrid +little blue book about the something or other of Little Sins. After this +conversation Oswald took care she had plenty of the right sort of books +to read, and he was surprised and pleased when she got up early one +morning to finish Monte Cristo. Oswald felt that he was really being +useful to a suffering fellow-creature when he gave Daisy books that were +not all about being good. + +A few days after Dora was laid up, Alice called a council of the +Wouldbegoods, and Oswald and Dicky attended with darkly-clouded brows. +Alice had the minute-book, which was an exercise-book that had not much +written in it. She had begun at the other end. I hate doing that myself, +because there is so little room at the top compared with right way up. + +Dora and a sofa had been carried out on to the lawn, and we were on the +grass. It was very hot and dry. We had sherbet. Alice read: + +‘“Society of the Wouldbegoods. + +‘“We have not done much. Dicky mended a window, and we got the milk-pan +out of the moat that dropped through where he mended it. Dora, Oswald, +Dicky and me got upset in the moat. This was not goodness. Dora’s foot +was hurt. We hope to do better next time.”’ + + +Then came Noel’s poem: + + + ‘We are the Wouldbegoods Society, + We are not good yet, but we mean to try, + And if we try, and if we don’t succeed, + It must mean we are very bad indeed.’ + + +This sounded so much righter than Noel’s poetry generally does, that +Oswald said so, and Noel explained that Denny had helped him. + +‘He seems to know the right length for lines of poetry. I suppose it +comes of learning so much at school,’ Noel said. + +Then Oswald proposed that anybody should be allowed to write in the +book if they found out anything good that anyone else had done, but not +things that were public acts; and nobody was to write about themselves, +or anything other people told them, only what they found out. + +After a brief jaw the others agreed, and Oswald felt, not for the first +time in his young life, that he would have made a good diplomatic hero +to carry despatches and outwit the other side. For now he had put it +out of the minute-book’s power to be the kind of thing readers of +Ministering Children would have wished. + +‘And if anyone tells other people any good thing he’s done he is to go +to Coventry for the rest of the day.’ + +And Denny remarked, ‘We shall do good by stealth, and blush to find it +shame.’ + +After that nothing was written in the book for some time. I looked +about, and so did the others, but I never caught anyone in the act of +doing anything extra; though several of the others have told me since of +things they did at this time, and really wondered nobody had noticed. + +I think I said before that when you tell a story you cannot tell +everything. It would be silly to do it. Because ordinary kinds of play +are dull to read about; and the only other thing is meals, and to dwell +on what you eat is greedy and not like a hero at all. A hero is always +contented with a venison pasty and a horn of sack. All the same, the +meals were very interesting; with things you do not get at home--Lent +pies with custard and currants in them, sausage rolls and fiede cakes, +and raisin cakes and apple turnovers, and honeycomb and syllabubs, +besides as much new milk as you cared about, and cream now and then, +and cheese always on the table for tea. Father told Mrs Pettigrew to get +what meals she liked, and she got these strange but attractive foods. + +In a story about Wouldbegoods it is not proper to tell of times when +only some of us were naughty, so I will pass lightly over the time when +Noel got up the kitchen chimney and brought three bricks and an old +starling’s nest and about a ton of soot down with him when he fell. They +never use the big chimney in the summer, but cook in the wash-house. Nor +do I wish to dwell on what H. O. did when he went into the dairy. I do +not know what his motive was. But Mrs Pettigrew said SHE knew; and she +locked him in, and said if it was cream he wanted he should have enough, +and she wouldn’t let him out till tea-time. The cat had also got into +the dairy for some reason of her own, and when H. O. was tired of +whatever he went in for he poured all the milk into the churn and tried +to teach the cat to swim in it. He must have been desperate. The cat did +not even try to learn, and H. O. had the scars on his hands for weeks. +I do not wish to tell tales of H. O., for he is very young, and whatever +he does he always catches it for; but I will just allude to our being +told not to eat the greengages in the garden. And we did not. And +whatever H. O. did was Noel’s fault--for Noel told H. O. that greengages +would grow again all right if you did not bite as far as the stone, just +as wounds are not mortal except when you are pierced through the heart. +So the two of them bit bites out of every greengage they could reach. +And of course the pieces did not grow again. + +Oswald did not do things like these, but then he is older than his +brothers. The only thing he did just about then was making a booby-trap +for Mrs Pettigrew when she had locked H. O. up in the dairy, and +unfortunately it was the day she was going out in her best things, and +part of the trap was a can of water. Oswald was not willingly vicious; +it was but a light and thoughtless act which he had every reason to +be sorry for afterwards. And he is sorry even without those reasons, +because he knows it is ungentlemanly to play tricks on women. + +I remember Mother telling Dora and me when we were little that you ought +to be very kind and polite to servants, because they have to work very +hard, and do not have so many good times as we do. I used to think about +Mother more at the Moat House than I did at Blackheath, especially in +the garden. She was very fond of flowers, and she used to tell us about +the big garden where she used to live; and I remember Dora and I helped +her to plant seeds. But it is no use wishing. She would have liked that +garden, though. + +The girls and the white mice did not do anything boldly wicked--though +of course they used to borrow Mrs Pettigrew’s needles, which made her +very nasty. Needles that are borrowed might just as well be stolen. But +I say no more. + +I have only told you these things to show the kind of events which +occurred on the days I don’t tell you about. On the whole, we had an +excellent time. + +It was on the day we had the pillow-fight that we went for the long +walk. Not the Pilgrimage--that is another story. We did not mean to have +a pillow-fight. It is not usual to have them after breakfast, but Oswald +had come up to get his knife out of the pocket of his Etons, to cut some +wire we were making rabbit snares of. It is a very good knife, with a +file in it, as well as a corkscrew and other things--and he did not come +down at once, because he was detained by having to make an apple-pie bed +for Dicky. Dicky came up after him to see what he was up to, and when he +did see he buzzed a pillow at Oswald, and the fight began. The others, +hearing the noise of battle from afar, hastened to the field of action, +all except Dora, who couldn’t because of being laid up with her foot, +and Daisy, because she is a little afraid of us still, when we are +all together. She thinks we are rough. This comes of having only one +brother. + +Well, the fight was a very fine one. Alice backed me up, and Noel and +H. O. backed Dicky, and Denny heaved a pillow or two; but he cannot shy +straight, so I don’t know which side he was on. + +And just as the battle raged most fiercely, Mrs Pettigrew came in and +snatched the pillows away, and shook those of the warriors who were +small enough for it. SHE was rough if you like. She also used language I +should have thought she would be above. She said, Drat you!’ and +‘Drabbit you!’ The last is a thing I have never heard said before. +She said-- + +‘There’s no peace of your life with you children. Drat your antics! And +that poor, dear, patient gentleman right underneath, with his headache +and his handwriting: and you rampaging about over his head like young +bull-calves. I wonder you haven’t more sense, a great girl like you.’ + +She said this to Alice, and Alice answered gently, as we are told to +do-- + +‘I really am awfully sorry; we forgot about the headache. Don’t be +cross, Mrs Pettigrew; we didn’t mean to; we didn’t think.’ + +‘You never do,’ she said, and her voice, though grumpy, was no longer +violent. ‘Why on earth you can’t take yourselves off for the day I don’t +know.’ + +We all said, ‘But may we?’ + +She said, ‘Of course you may. Now put on your boots and go for a good +long walk. And I’ll tell you what--I’ll put you up a snack, and you can +have an egg to your tea to make up for missing your dinner. Now don’t go +clattering about the stairs and passages, there’s good children. See if +you can’t be quiet this once, and give the good gentleman a chance with +his copying.’ + +She went off. Her bark is worse than her bite. She does not understand +anything about writing books, though. She thinks Albert’s uncle copies +things out of printed books, when he is really writing new ones. I +wonder how she thinks printed books get made first of all. Many servants +are like this. + +She gave us the ‘snack’ in a basket, and sixpence to buy milk with. She +said any of the farms would let us have it, only most likely it would be +skim. We thanked her politely, and she hurried us out of the front door +as if we’d been chickens on a pansy bed. + +(I did not know till after I had left the farm gate open, and the hens +had got into the garden, that these feathered bipeds display a great +partiality for the young buds of plants of the genus viola, to which +they are extremely destructive. I was told that by the gardener. I +looked it up in the gardening book afterwards to be sure he was right. +You do learn a lot of things in the country.) + +We went through the garden as far as the church, and then we rested +a bit in the porch, and just looked into the basket to see what the +‘snack’ was. It proved to be sausage rolls and queen cakes, and a Lent +pie in a round tin dish, and some hard-boiled eggs, and some apples. We +all ate the apples at once, so as not to have to carry them about with +us. The churchyard smells awfully good. It is the wild thyme that grows +on the graves. This is another thing we did not know before we came into +the country. + +Then the door of the church tower was ajar, and we all went up; it had +always been locked before when we had tried it. + +We saw the ringers’ loft where the ends of the bellropes hang down with +long, furry handles to them like great caterpillars, some red, and some +blue and white, but we did not pull them. And then we went up to where +the bells are, very big and dusty among large dirty beams; and four +windows with no glass, only shutters like Venetian blinds, but they +won’t pull up. There were heaps of straws and sticks on the window +ledges. We think they were owls’ nests, but we did not see any owls. + +Then the tower stairs got very narrow and dark, and we went on up, and +we came to a door and opened it suddenly, and it was like being hit in +the face, the light was so sudden. And there we were on the top of +the tower, which is flat, and people have cut their names on it, and a +turret at one corner, and a low wall all round, up and down, like castle +battlements. And we looked down and saw the roof of the church, and the +leads, and the churchyard, and our garden, and the Moat House, and the +farm, and Mrs Simpkins’s cottage, looking very small, and other farms +looking like toy things out of boxes, and we saw corn-fields and meadows +and pastures. A pasture is not the same thing as a meadow, whatever you +may think. And we saw the tops of trees and hedges, looking like the map +of the United States, and villages, and a tower that did not look very +far away standing by itself on the top of a hill. Alice pointed to it, +and said-- + +‘What’s that?’ + +‘It’s not a church,’ said Noel, ‘because there’s no churchyard. Perhaps +it’s a tower of mystery that covers the entrance to a subterranean vault +with treasure in it.’ + +Dicky said, ‘Subterranean fiddlestick!’ and ‘A waterworks, more likely.’ + +Alice thought perhaps it was a ruined castle, and the rest of its +crumbling walls were concealed by ivy, the growth of years. + +Oswald could not make his mind up what it was, so he said, ‘Let’s go and +see! We may as well go there as anywhere.’ + +So we got down out of the church tower and dusted ourselves, and set +out. + +The Tower of Mystery showed quite plainly from the road, now that we +knew where to look for it, because it was on the top of a hill. We began +to walk. But the tower did not seem to get any nearer. And it was very +hot. + +So we sat down in a meadow where there was a stream in the ditch and ate +the ‘snack’. We drank the pure water from the brook out of our hands, +because there was no farm to get milk at just there, and it was too much +fag to look for one--and, besides, we thought we might as well save the +sixpence. + +Then we started again, and still the tower looked as far off as ever. +Denny began to drag his feet, though he had brought a walking-stick +which none of the rest of us had, and said-- + +‘I wish a cart would come along. We might get a lift.’ + +He knew all about getting lifts, of course, from having been in the +country before. He is not quite the white mouse we took him for at +first. Of course when you live in Lewisham or Blackheath you learn other +things. If you asked for a lift in Lewisham, High Street, your only +reply would be jeers. We sat down on a heap of stones, and decided that +we would ask for a lift from the next cart, whichever way it was going. +It was while we were waiting that Oswald found out about plantain seeds +being good to eat. + +When the sound of wheels came we remarked with joy that the cart was +going towards the Tower of Mystery. It was a cart a man was going to +fetch a pig home in. Denny said-- + +‘I say, you might give us a lift. Will you?’ + +The man who was going for the pig said-- + +‘What, all that little lot?’ but he winked at Alice, and we saw that +he meant to aid us on our way. So we climbed up, and he whipped up the +horse and asked us where we were going. He was a kindly old man, with +a face like a walnut shell, and white hair and beard like a +jack-in-the-box. + +‘We want to get to the tower,’ Alice said. ‘Is it a ruin, or not?’ + +‘It ain’t no ruin,’ the man said; ‘no fear of that! The man wot built it +he left so much a year to be spent on repairing of it! Money that might +have put bread in honest folks’ mouths.’ + +We asked was it a church then, or not. + +‘Church?’ he said. ‘Not it. It’s more of a tombstone, from all I can +make out. They do say there was a curse on him that built it, and he +wasn’t to rest in earth or sea. So he’s buried half-way up the tower--if +you can call it buried.’ + +‘Can you go up it?’ Oswald asked. + +‘Lord love you! yes; a fine view from the top they say. I’ve never +been up myself, though I’ve lived in sight of it, boy and man, these +sixty-three years come harvest.’ + +Alice asked whether you had to go past the dead and buried person to get +to the top of the tower, and could you see the coffin. + +‘No, no,’ the man said; ‘that’s all hid away behind a slab of stone, +that is, with reading on it. You’ve no call to be afraid, missy. It’s +daylight all the way up. But I wouldn’t go there after dark, so I +wouldn’t. It’s always open, day and night, and they say tramps sleep +there now and again. Anyone who likes can sleep there, but it wouldn’t +be me.’ + +We thought that it would not be us either, but we wanted to go more than +ever, especially when the man said-- + +‘My own great-uncle of the mother’s side, he was one of the masons that +set up the stone slab. Before then it was thick glass, and you could +see the dead man lying inside, as he’d left it in his will. He was lying +there in a glass coffin with his best clothes--blue satin and silver, my +uncle said, such as was all the go in his day, with his wig on, and his +sword beside him, what he used to wear. My uncle said his hair had grown +out from under his wig, and his beard was down to the toes of him. My +uncle he always upheld that that dead man was no deader than you and me, +but was in a sort of fit, a transit, I think they call it, and looked +for him to waken into life again some day. But the doctor said not. It +was only something done to him like Pharaoh in the Bible afore he was +buried.’ + +Alice whispered to Oswald that we should be late for tea, and wouldn’t +it be better to go back now directly. But he said-- + +‘If you’re afraid, say so; and you needn’t come in anyway--but I’m going +on.’ + +The man who was going for the pig put us down at a gate quite near the +tower--at least it looked so until we began to walk again. We thanked +him, and he said-- + +‘Quite welcome,’ and drove off. + +We were rather quiet going through the wood. What we had heard made us +very anxious to see the tower--all except Alice, who would keep talking +about tea, though not a greedy girl by nature. None of the others +encouraged her, but Oswald thought himself that we had better be home +before dark. + +As we went up the path through the wood we saw a poor wayfarer with +dusty bare feet sitting on the bank. + +He stopped us and said he was a sailor, and asked for a trifle to help +him to get back to his ship. + +I did not like the look of him much myself, but Alice said, ‘Oh, the +poor man, do let’s help him, Oswald.’ So we held a hurried council, and +decided to give him the milk sixpence. Oswald had it in his purse, and +he had to empty the purse into his hand to find the sixpence, for that +was not all the money he had, by any means. Noel said afterwards that +he saw the wayfarer’s eyes fastened greedily upon the shining pieces as +Oswald returned them to his purse. Oswald has to own that he purposely +let the man see that he had more money, so that the man might not feel +shy about accepting so large a sum as sixpence. + +The man blessed our kind hearts and we went on. + +The sun was shining very brightly, and the Tower of Mystery did not look +at all like a tomb when we got to it. The bottom Storey was on arches, +all open, and ferns and things grew underneath. There was a round stone +stair going up in the middle. Alice began to gather ferns while we went +up, but when we had called out to her that it was as the pig-man had +said, and daylight all the way up, she said-- + +‘All right. I’m not afraid. I’m only afraid of being late home,’ and +came up after us. And perhaps, though not downright manly truthfulness, +this was as much as you could expect from a girl. + +There were holes in the little tower of the staircase to let light in. +At the top of it was a thick door with iron bolts. We shot these back, +and it was not fear but caution that made Oswald push open the door so +very slowly and carefully. + +Because, of course, a stray dog or cat might have got shut up there by +accident, and it would have startled Alice very much if it had jumped +out on us. + +When the door was opened we saw that there was no such thing. It was a +room with eight sides. Denny says it is the shape called octogenarian; +because a man named Octagius invented it. There were eight large arched +windows with no glass, only stone-work, like in churches. The room was +full of sunshine, and you could see the blue sky through the windows, +but nothing else, because they were so high up. It was so bright we +began to think the pig-man had been kidding us. Under one of the windows +was a door. We went through, and there was a little passage and then a +turret-twisting stair, like in the church, but quite light with windows. +When we had gone some way up this, we came to a sort of landing, and +there was a block of stone let into the wall--polished--Denny said it +was Aberdeen graphite, with gold letters cut in it. It said-- + + ‘Here lies the body of Mr Richard Ravenal + Born 1720. Died 1779.’ + +and a verse of poetry: + + ‘Here lie I, between earth and sky, + Think upon me, dear passers-by, + And you who do my tombstone see + Be kind to say a prayer for me.’ + +‘How horrid!’ Alice said. ‘Do let’s get home.’ + +‘We may as well go to the top,’ Dicky said, ‘just to say we’ve been.’ + +And Alice is no funk--so she agreed; though I could see she did not like +it. + +Up at the top it was like the top of the church tower, only octogenarian +in shape, instead of square. + +Alice got all right there; because you cannot think much about ghosts +and nonsense when the sun is shining bang down on you at four o’clock in +the afternoon, and you can see red farm-roofs between the trees, and the +safe white roads, with people in carts like black ants crawling. + +It was very jolly, but we felt we ought to be getting back, because tea +is at five, and we could not hope to find lifts both ways. + +So we started to go down. Dicky went first, then Oswald, then Alice--and +H. O. had just stumbled over the top step and saved himself by Alice’s +back, which nearly upset Oswald and Dicky, when the hearts of all stood +still, and then went on by leaps and bounds, like the good work in +missionary magazines. + +For, down below us, in the tower where the man whose beard grew down to +his toes after he was dead was buried, there was a noise--a loud noise. +And it was like a door being banged and bolts fastened. We tumbled over +each other to get back into the open sunshine on the top of the tower, +and Alice’s hand got jammed between the edge of the doorway and H. O.’s +boot; it was bruised black and blue, and another part bled, but she did +not notice it till long after. + +We looked at each other, and Oswald said in a firm voice (at least, I +hope it was)-- + +‘What was that?’ + +‘He HAS waked up,’ Alice said. ‘Oh, I know he has. Of course there is a +door for him to get out by when he wakes. He’ll come up here. I know he +will.’ + +Dicky said, and his voice was not at all firm (I noticed that at the +time), ‘It doesn’t matter, if he’s ALIVE.’ + +‘Unless he’s come to life a raving lunatic,’ Noel said, and we all stood +with our eyes on the doorway of the turret--and held our breath to hear. + +But there was no more noise. + +Then Oswald said--and nobody ever put it in the Golden Deed book, though +they own that it was brave and noble of him--he said-- + +‘Perhaps it was only the wind blowing one of the doors to. I’ll go down +and see, if you will, Dick.’ + +Dicky only said-- + +‘The wind doesn’t shoot bolts.’ + +‘A bolt from the blue,’ said Denny to himself, looking up at the sky. +His father is a sub-editor. He had gone very red, and he was holding on +to Alice’s hand. Suddenly he stood up quite straight and said-- + +‘I’m not afraid. I’ll go and see.’ + +THIS was afterwards put in the Golden Deed book. It ended in Oswald +and Dicky and Denny going. Denny went first because he said he would +rather--and Oswald understood this and let him. If Oswald had pushed +first it would have been like Sir Lancelot refusing to let a young +knight win his spurs. Oswald took good care to go second himself, +though. The others never understood this. You don’t expect it from +girls; but I did think father would have understood without Oswald +telling him, which of course he never could. + +We all went slowly. + +At the bottom of the turret stairs we stopped short. Because the door +there was bolted fast and would not yield to shoves, however desperate +and united. + +Only now somehow we felt that Mr Richard Ravenal was all right and +quiet, but that some one had done it for a lark, or perhaps not known +about anyone being up there. So we rushed up, and Oswald told the others +in a few hasty but well-chosen words, and we all leaned over between the +battlements, and shouted, ‘Hi! you there!’ + +Then from under the arches of the quite-downstairs part of the tower a +figure came forth--and it was the sailor who had had our milk sixpence. +He looked up and he spoke to us. He did not speak loud, but he spoke +loud enough for us to hear every word quite plainly. He said-- + +‘Drop that.’ + +Oswald said, ‘Drop what?’ + +He said, ‘That row.’ + +Oswald said, ‘Why?’ + +He said, ‘Because if you don’t I’ll come up and make you, and pretty +quick too, so I tell you.’ + +Dicky said, ‘Did you bolt the door?’ + +The man said, ‘I did so, my young cock.’ + +Alice said--and Oswald wished to goodness she had held her tongue, +because he saw right enough the man was not friendly--‘Oh, do come and +let us out--do, please.’ + +While she was saying it Oswald suddenly saw that he did not want the +man to come up. So he scurried down the stairs because he thought he had +seen something on the door on the top side, and sure enough there were +two bolts, and he shot them into their sockets. This bold act was not +put in the Golden Deed book, because when Alice wanted to, the others +said it was not GOOD of Oswald to think of this, but only CLEVER. I +think sometimes, in moments of danger and disaster, it is as good to +be clever as it is to be good. But Oswald would never demean himself to +argue about this. + +When he got back the man was still standing staring up. Alice said-- + +‘Oh, Oswald, he says he won’t let us out unless we give him all our +money. And we might be here for days and days and all night as well. No +one knows where we are to come and look for us. Oh, do let’s give it him +ALL.’ + +She thought the lion of the English nation, which does not know when +it is beaten, would be ramping in her brother’s breast. But Oswald kept +calm. He said-- + +‘All right,’ and he made the others turn out their pockets. Denny had a +bad shilling, with a head on both sides, and three halfpence. H. O. had +a halfpenny. Noel had a French penny, which is only good for chocolate +machines at railway stations. Dicky had tenpence-halfpenny, and Oswald +had a two-shilling piece of his own that he was saving up to buy a gun +with. Oswald tied the whole lot up in his handkerchief, and looking over +the battlements, he said-- + +‘You are an ungrateful beast. We gave you sixpence freely of our own +will.’ + +The man did look a little bit ashamed, but he mumbled something about +having his living to get. Then Oswald said-- + +‘Here you are. Catch!’ and he flung down the handkerchief with the money +in it. + +The man muffed the catch--butter-fingered idiot!--but he picked up +the handkerchief and undid it, and when he saw what was in it he swore +dreadfully. The cad! + +‘Look here,’ he called out, ‘this won’t do, young shaver. I want those +there shiners I see in your pus! Chuck ‘em along!’ + +Then Oswald laughed. He said-- + +‘I shall know you again anywhere, and you’ll be put in prison for this. +Here are the SHINERS.’ And he was so angry he chucked down purse and +all. The shiners were not real ones, but only card-counters that looked +like sovereigns on one side. Oswald used to carry them in his purse so +as to look affluent. He does not do this now. + +When the man had seen what was in the purse he disappeared under the +tower, and Oswald was glad of what he had done about the bolts--and he +hoped they were as strong as the ones on the other side of the door. + +They were. + +We heard the man kicking and pounding at the door, and I am not ashamed +to say that we were all holding on to each other very tight. I am proud, +however, to relate that nobody screamed or cried. + +After what appeared to be long years, the banging stopped, and presently +we saw the brute going away among the trees. Then Alice did cry, and I +do not blame her. Then Oswald said-- + +‘It’s no use. Even if he’s undone the door, he may be in ambush. We must +hold on here till somebody comes.’ + +Then Alice said, speaking chokily because she had not quite done +crying-- + +‘Let’s wave a flag.’ + +By the most fortunate accident she had on one of her Sunday petticoats, +though it was Monday. This petticoat is white. She tore it out at the +gathers, and we tied it to Denny’s stick, and took turns to wave it. We +had laughed at his carrying a stick before, but we were very sorry now +that we had done so. + +And the tin dish the Lent pie was baked in we polished with our +handkerchiefs, and moved it about in the sun so that the sun might +strike on it and signal our distress to some of the outlying farms. + +This was perhaps the most dreadful adventure that had then ever happened +to us. Even Alice had now stopped thinking of Mr Richard Ravenal, and +thought only of the lurker in ambush. + +We all felt our desperate situation keenly. I must say Denny behaved +like anything but a white mouse. When it was the others’ turn to wave, +he sat on the leads of the tower and held Alice’s and Noel’s hands, and +said poetry to them--yards and yards of it. By some strange fatality it +seemed to comfort them. It wouldn’t have me. + +He said ‘The Battle of the Baltic’, and ‘Gray’s Elegy’, right through, +though I think he got wrong in places, and the ‘Revenge’, and Macaulay’s +thing about Lars Porsena and the Nine Gods. And when it was his turn he +waved like a man. + +I will try not to call him a white mouse any more. He was a brick that +day, and no mouse. + +The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and very +hungry, when we saw a cart in the road below. We waved like mad, and +shouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a thing none +of us had known before that he could do. + +And the cart stopped. And presently we saw a figure with a white beard +among the trees. It was our Pig-man. + +We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in--he +thought at first we were kidding--he came up and let us out. + +He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one--and we were not +particular. Denny and Alice sat on the front of the cart with the +Pig-man, and the rest of us got in with the pig, and the man drove us +right home. You may think we talked it over on the way. Not us. We went +to sleep, among the pig, and before long the Pig-man stopped and got us +to make room for Alice and Denny. There was a net over the cart. I never +was so sleepy in my life, though it was not more than bedtime. + + +Generally, after anything exciting, you are punished--but this could not +be, because we had only gone for a walk, exactly as we were told. + +There was a new rule made, though. No walks except on the high-roads, +and we were always to take Pincher and either Lady, the deer-hound, or +Martha, the bulldog. We generally hate rules, but we did not mind this +one. + +Father gave Denny a gold pencil-case because he was first to go down +into the tower. Oswald does not grudge Denny this, though some might +think he deserved at least a silver one. But Oswald is above such paltry +jealousies. + + + +CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS + +This is the story of one of the most far-reaching and influentially +naughty things we ever did in our lives. We did not mean to do such +a deed. And yet we did do it. These things will happen with the +best-regulated consciences. + +The story of this rash and fatal act is intimately involved--which means +all mixed up anyhow--with a private affair of Oswald’s, and the one +cannot be revealed without the other. Oswald does not particularly want +his story to be remembered, but he wishes to tell the truth, and perhaps +it is what father calls a wholesome discipline to lay bare the awful +facts. + +It was like this. + +On Alice’s and Noel’s birthday we went on the river for a picnic. Before +that we had not known that there was a river so near us. Afterwards +father said he wished we had been allowed to remain on our pristine +ignorance, whatever that is. And perhaps the dark hour did dawn when we +wished so too. But a truce to vain regrets. + +It was rather a fine thing in birthdays. The uncle sent a box of toys +and sweets, things that were like a vision from another and a brighter +world. Besides that Alice had a knife, a pair of shut-up scissors, a +silk handkerchief, a book--it was The Golden Age and is A1 except where +it gets mixed with grown-up nonsense. Also a work-case lined with pink +plush, a boot-bag, which no one in their senses would use because it +had flowers in wool all over it. And she had a box of chocolates and a +musical box that played ‘The Man who broke’ and two other tunes, and two +pairs of kid gloves for church, and a box of writing-paper--pink--with +‘Alice’ on it in gold writing, and an egg coloured red that said ‘A. +Bastable’ in ink on one side. These gifts were the offerings of Oswald, +Dora, Dicky, Albert’s uncle, Daisy, Mr Foulkes (our own robber), Noel, +H. O., father and Denny. Mrs Pettigrew gave the egg. It was a kindly +housekeeper’s friendly token. + +I shall not tell you about the picnic on the river because the happiest +times form but dull reading when they are written down. I will merely +state that it was prime. Though happy, the day was uneventful. The only +thing exciting enough to write about was in one of the locks, where +there was a snake--a viper. It was asleep in a warm sunny corner of the +lock gate, and when the gate was shut it fell off into the water. + +Alice and Dora screamed hideously. So did Daisy, but her screams were +thinner. + +The snake swam round and round all the time our boat was in the lock. +It swam with four inches of itself--the head end--reared up out of the +water, exactly like Kaa in the Jungle Book--so we know Kipling is a true +author and no rotter. We were careful to keep our hands well inside the +boat. A snake’s eyes strike terror into the boldest breast. + +When the lock was full father killed the viper with a boat-hook. I was +sorry for it myself. It was indeed a venomous serpent. But it was the +first we had ever seen, except at the Zoo. And it did swim most awfully +well. + +Directly the snake had been killed H. O. reached out for its corpse, +and the next moment the body of our little brother was seen wriggling +conclusively on the boat’s edge. This exciting spectacle was not of +a lasting nature. He went right in. Father clawed him out. He is very +unlucky with water. + +Being a birthday, but little was said. H. O. was wrapped in everybody’s +coats, and did not take any cold at all. + +This glorious birthday ended with an iced cake and ginger wine, and +drinking healths. Then we played whatever we liked. There had been +rounders during the afternoon. It was a day to be for ever marked by +memory’s brightest what’s-its-name. + +I should not have said anything about the picnic but for one thing. It +was the thin edge of the wedge. It was the all-powerful lever that moved +but too many events. You see, WE WERE NO LONGER STRANGERS TO THE RIVER. + +And we went there whenever we could. Only we had to take the dogs, and +to promise no bathing without grown-ups. But paddling in back waters was +allowed. I say no more. + +I have not numerated Noel’s birthday presents because I wish to leave +something to the imagination of my young readers. (The best authors +always do this.) If you will take the large, red catalogue of the Army +and Navy Stores, and just make a list of about fifteen of the things you +would like best--prices from 2s. to 25s.--you will get a very good idea +of Noel’s presents, and it will help you to make up your mind in case +you are asked just before your next birthday what you really NEED. + +One of Noel’s birthday presents was a cricket ball. He cannot bowl for +nuts, and it was a first-rate ball. So some days after the birthday +Oswald offered him to exchange it for a coconut he had won at the fair, +and two pencils (new), and a brand-new note-book. Oswald thought, and +he still thinks, that this was a fair exchange, and so did Noel at the +time, and he agreed to it, and was quite pleased till the girls said it +wasn’t fair, and Oswald had the best of it. And then that young beggar +Noel wanted the ball back, but Oswald, though not angry, was firm. + +‘You said it was a bargain, and you shook hands on it,’ he said, and he +said it quite kindly and calmly. + +Noel said he didn’t care. He wanted his cricket ball back. And the girls +said it was a horrid shame. + +If they had not said that, Oswald might yet have consented to let Noel +have the beastly ball, but now, of course, he was not going to. He +said-- + +‘Oh, yes, I daresay. And then you would be wanting the coconut and +things again the next minute.’ + +‘No, I shouldn’t,’ Noel said. It turned out afterwards he and H. O. +had eaten the coconut, which only made it worse. And it made them worse +too--which is what the book calls poetic justice. + +Dora said, ‘I don’t think it was fair,’ and even Alice said-- + +‘Do let him have it back, Oswald.’ + +I wish to be just to Alice. She did not know then about the coconut +having been secretly wolfed up. + +We were in the garden. Oswald felt all the feelings of the hero when +the opposing forces gathered about him are opposing as hard as ever they +can. He knew he was not unfair, and he did not like to be jawed at just +because Noel had eaten the coconut and wanted the ball back. Though +Oswald did not know then about the eating of the coconut, but he felt +the injustice in his soul all the same. + +Noel said afterwards he meant to offer Oswald something else to make up +for the coconut, but he said nothing about this at the time. + +‘Give it me, I say,’ Noel said. + +And Oswald said, ‘Shan’t!’ + +Then Noel called Oswald names, and Oswald did not answer back but +just kept smiling pleasantly, and carelessly throwing up the ball and +catching it again with an air of studied indifference. + +It was Martha’s fault that what happened happened. She is the bull-dog, +and very stout and heavy. She had just been let loose and she came +bounding along in her clumsy way, and jumped up on Oswald, who is +beloved by all dumb animals. (You know how sagacious they are.) Well, +Martha knocked the ball out of Oswald’s hands, and it fell on the grass, +and Noel pounced on it like a hooded falcon on its prey. Oswald would +scorn to deny that he was not going to stand this, and the next moment +the two were rolling over on the grass, and very soon Noel was made to +bite the dust. And serve him right. He is old enough to know his own +mind. + +Then Oswald walked slowly away with the ball, and the others picked Noel +up, and consoled the beaten, but Dicky would not take either side. + +And Oswald went up into his own room and lay on his bed, and reflected +gloomy reflections about unfairness. + +Presently he thought he would like to see what the others were doing +without their knowing he cared. So he went into the linen-room and +looked out of its window, and he saw they were playing Kings and +Queens--and Noel had the biggest paper crown and the longest stick +sceptre. + +Oswald turned away without a word, for it really was sickening. + +Then suddenly his weary eyes fell upon something they had not before +beheld. It was a square trap-door in the ceiling of the linen-room. + +Oswald never hesitated. He crammed the cricket ball into his pocket and +climbed up the shelves and unbolted the trap-door, and shoved it up, +and pulled himself up through it. Though above all was dark and smelt +of spiders, Oswald fearlessly shut the trap-door down again before he +struck a match. He always carries matches. He is a boy fertile in every +subtle expedient. Then he saw he was in the wonderful, mysterious place +between the ceiling and the roof of the house. The roof is beams +and tiles. Slits of light show through the tiles here and there. The +ceiling, on its other and top side, is made of rough plaster and beams. +If you walk on the beams it is all right--if you walk on the plaster you +go through with your feet. Oswald found this out later, but some fine +instinct now taught the young explorer where he ought to tread and where +not. It was splendid. He was still very angry with the others and he was +glad he had found out a secret they jolly well didn’t know. + +He walked along a dark, narrow passage. Every now and then cross-beams +barred his way, and he had to creep under them. At last a small door +loomed before him with cracks of light under and over. He drew back the +rusty bolts and opened it. It opened straight on to the leads, a flat +place between two steep red roofs, with a parapet two feet high back and +front, so that no one could see you. It was a place no one could have +invented better than, if they had tried, for hiding in. + +Oswald spent the whole afternoon there. He happened to have a volume of +Percy’s Anecdotes in his pocket, the one about lawyers, as well as a +few apples. While he read he fingered the cricket ball, and presently it +rolled away, and he thought he would get it by-and-by. + +When the tea-bell rang he forgot the ball and went hurriedly down, for +apples do not keep the inside from the pangs of hunger. + +Noel met him on the landing, got red in the face, and said-- + +‘It wasn’t QUITE fair about the ball, because H. O. and I had eaten the +coconut. YOU can have it.’ + +‘I don’t want your beastly ball,’ Oswald said, ‘only I hate unfairness. +However, I don’t know where it is just now. When I find it you shall +have it to bowl with as often as you want.’ + +‘Then you’re not waxy?’ + +And Oswald said ‘No’ and they went in to tea together. So that was all +right. There were raisin cakes for tea. + +Next day we happened to want to go down to the river quite early. I +don’t know why; this is called Fate, or Destiny. We dropped in at the +‘Rose and Crown’ for some ginger-beer on our way. The landlady is a +friend of ours and lets us drink it in her back parlour, instead of in +the bar, which would be improper for girls. + +We found her awfully busy, making pies and jellies, and her two sisters +were hurrying about with great hams, and pairs of chickens, and rounds +of cold beef and lettuces, and pickled salmon and trays of crockery and +glasses. + +‘It’s for the angling competition,’ she said. + +We said, ‘What’s that?’ + +‘Why,’ she said, slicing cucumber like beautiful machinery while she +said it, ‘a lot of anglers come down some particular day and fish one +particular bit of the river. And the one that catches most fish gets the +prize. They’re fishing the pen above Stoneham Lock. And they all come +here to dinner. So I’ve got my hands full and a trifle over.’ + +We said, ‘Couldn’t we help?’ + +But she said, ‘Oh, no, thank you. Indeed not, please. I really am so I +don’t know which way to turn. Do run along, like dears.’ + +So we ran along like these timid but graceful animals. + +Need I tell the intellectual reader that we went straight off to the pen +above Stoneham Lock to see the anglers competing? Angling is the same +thing as fishing. + +I am not going to try and explain locks to you. If you’ve never seen +a lock you could never understand even if I wrote it in words of one +syllable and pages and pages long. And if you have, you’ll understand +without my telling you. It is harder than Euclid if you don’t know +beforehand. But you might get a grown-up person to explain it to you +with books or wooden bricks. + +I will tell you what a pen is because that is easy. It is the bit of +river between one lock and the next. In some rivers ‘pens’ are called +‘reaches’, but pen is the proper word. + +We went along the towing-path; it is shady with willows, aspens, +alders, elders, oaks and other trees. On the banks are flowers--yarrow, +meadow-sweet, willow herb, loosestrife, and lady’s bed-straw. Oswald +learned the names of all these trees and plants on the day of the +picnic. The others didn’t remember them, but Oswald did. He is a boy of +what they call relenting memory. + +The anglers were sitting here and there on the shady bank among the +grass and the different flowers I have named. Some had dogs with them, +and some umbrellas, and some had only their wives and families. + +We should have liked to talk to them and ask how they liked their lot, +and what kinds of fish there were, and whether they were nice to eat, +but we did not like to. + +Denny had seen anglers before and he knew they liked to be talked to, +but though he spoke to them quite like to equals he did not ask the +things we wanted to know. He just asked whether they’d had any luck, and +what bait they used. + +And they answered him back politely. I am glad I am not an angler. + +It is an immovable amusement, and, as often as not, no fish to speak of +after all. + +Daisy and Dora had stayed at home: Dora’s foot was nearly well but they +seem really to like sitting still. I think Dora likes to have a little +girl to order about. Alice never would stand it. When we got to Stoneham +Lock Denny said he should go home and fetch his fishing-rod. H. O. went +with him. This left four of us--Oswald, Alice, Dicky, and Noel. We went +on down the towing-path. The lock shuts up (that sounds as if it was +like the lock on a door, but it is very otherwise) between one pen of +the river and the next; the pen where the anglers were was full right +up over the roots of the grass and flowers. But the pen below was nearly +empty. + +‘You can see the poor river’s bones,’ Noel said. + +And so you could. + +Stones and mud and dried branches, and here and there an old kettle or a +tin pail with no bottom to it, that some bargee had chucked in. + +From walking so much along the river we knew many of the bargees. +Bargees are the captains and crews of the big barges that are pulled up +and down the river by slow horses. The horses do not swim. They walk +on the towing-path, with a rope tied to them, and the other end to the +barge. So it gets pulled along. The bargees we knew were a good friendly +sort, and used to let us go all over the barges when they were in a good +temper. They were not at all the sort of bullying, cowardly fiends +in human form that the young hero at Oxford fights a crowd of, +single-handed, in books. + +The river does not smell nice when its bones are showing. But we went +along down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler’s wax in Falding +village for a bird-net he was making. + +But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and straight, we +saw a sad and gloomy sight--a big barge sitting flat on the mud because +there was not water enough to float her. + +There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat that +was spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to friends of ours. + +Then Alice said, ‘They have gone to find the man who turns on the water +to fill the pen. I daresay they won’t find him. He’s gone to his dinner, +I shouldn’t wonder. What a lovely surprise it would be if they came back +to find their barge floating high and dry on a lot of water! DO let’s +do it. It’s a long time since any of us did a kind action deserving of +being put in the Book of Golden Deeds.’ + +We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly ‘Society of +the Wouldbegoods’. Then you could think of the book if you wanted to +without remembering the Society. I always tried to forget both of them. + +Oswald said, ‘But how? YOU don’t know how. And if you did we haven’t got +a crowbar.’ + +I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crowbars. You push +and push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It is rather +like the little sliding door in the big door of a hen-house. + +‘I know where the crowbar is,’ Alice said. ‘Dicky and I were down here +yesterday when you were su--’ She was going to say sulking, I know, but +she remembered manners ere too late so Oswald bears her no malice. She +went on: ‘Yesterday, when you were upstairs. And we saw the water-tender +open the lock and the weir sluices. It’s quite easy, isn’t it, Dicky?’ + +‘As easy as kiss your hand,’ said Dicky; ‘and what’s more, I know where +he keeps the other thing he opens the sluices with. I votes we do.’ + +‘Do let’s, if we can,’ Noel said, ‘and the bargees will bless the names +of their unknown benefactors. They might make a song about us, and sing +it on winter nights as they pass round the wassail bowl in front of the +cabin fire.’ + +Noel wanted to very much; but I don’t think it was altogether for +generousness, but because he wanted to see how the sluices opened. Yet +perhaps I do but wrong the boy. + +We sat and looked at the barge a bit longer, and then Oswald said, well, +he didn’t mind going back to the lock and having a look at the crowbars. +You see Oswald did not propose this; he did not even care very much +about it when Alice suggested it. + +But when we got to Stoneham Lock, and Dicky dragged the two heavy +crowbars from among the elder bushes behind a fallen tree, and began to +pound away at the sluice of the lock, Oswald felt it would not be manly +to stand idly apart. So he took his turn. + +It was very hard work but we opened the lock sluices, and we did not +drop the crowbar into the lock either, as I have heard of being done by +older and sillier people. + +The water poured through the sluices all green and solid, as if it had +been cut with a knife, and where it fell on the water underneath the +white foam spread like a moving counterpane. When we had finished the +lock we did the weir--which is wheels and chains--and the water pours +through over the stones in a magnificent waterfall and sweeps out all +round the weir-pool. + +The sight of the foaming waterfalls was quite enough reward for our +heavy labours, even without the thought of the unspeakable gratitude +that the bargees would feel to us when they got back to their barge and +found her no longer a stick-in-the-mud, but bounding on the free bosom +of the river. + +When we had opened all the sluices we gazed awhile on the beauties of +Nature, and then went home, because we thought it would be more truly +noble and good not to wait to be thanked for our kind and devoted +action--and besides, it was nearly dinner-time and Oswald thought it was +going to rain. + +On the way home we agreed not to tell the others, because it would be +like boasting of our good acts. + +‘They will know all about it,’ Noel said, ‘when they hear us being +blessed by the grateful bargees, and the tale of the Unknown Helpers is +being told by every village fireside. And then they can write it in the +Golden Deed book.’ + +So we went home. Denny and H. O. had thought better of it, and they were +fishing in the moat. They did not catch anything. + +Oswald is very weather-wise--at least, so I have heard it said, and he +had thought there would be rain. There was. It came on while we were +at dinner--a great, strong, thundering rain, coming down in sheets--the +first rain we had had since we came to the Moat House. + +We went to bed as usual. No presentiment of the coming awfulness clouded +our young mirth. I remember Dicky and Oswald had a wrestling match, and +Oswald won. + +In the middle of the night Oswald was awakened by a hand on his face. +It was a wet hand and very cold. Oswald hit out, of course, but a voice +said, in a hoarse, hollow whisper-- + +‘Don’t be a young ass! Have you got any matches? My bed’s full of water; +it’s pouring down from the ceiling.’ + +Oswald’s first thoughts was that perhaps by opening those sluices we +had flooded some secret passage which communicated with the top of Moat +House, but when he was properly awake he saw that this could not be, on +account of the river being so low. + +He had matches. He is, as I said before, a boy full of resources. He +struck one and lit a candle, and Dicky, for it was indeed he, gazed with +Oswald at the amazing spectacle. + +Our bedroom floor was all wet in patches. Dicky’s bed stood in a pond, +and from the ceiling water was dripping in rich profusion at a dozen +different places. There was a great wet patch in the ceiling, and that +was blue, instead of white like the dry part, and the water dripped from +different parts of it. + +In a moment Oswald was quite unmanned. + +‘Krikey!’ he said, in a heart-broken tone, and remained an instant +plunged in thought. + +‘What on earth are we to do?’ Dicky said. + +And really for a short time even Oswald did not know. It was a +blood-curdling event, a regular facer. Albert’s uncle had gone to London +that day to stay till the next. Yet something must be done. + +The first thing was to rouse the unconscious others from their deep +sleep, because the water was beginning to drip on to their beds, and +though as yet they knew it not, there was quite a pool on Noel’s bed, +just in the hollow behind where his knees were doubled up, and one of +H. O.’s boots was full of water, that surged wildly out when Oswald +happened to kick it over. + +We woke them--a difficult task, but we did not shrink from it. + + +Then we said, ‘Get up, there is a flood! Wake up, or you will be drowned +in your beds! And it’s half past two by Oswald’s watch.’ + +They awoke slowly and very stupidly. H. O. was the slowest and +stupidest. + + +The water poured faster and faster from the ceiling. + +We looked at each other and turned pale, and Noel said-- + +‘Hadn’t we better call Mrs Pettigrew?’ + +But Oswald simply couldn’t consent to this. He could not get rid of the +feeling that this was our fault somehow for meddling with the river, +though of course the clear star of reason told him it could not possibly +be the case. + +We all devoted ourselves, heart and soul, to the work before us. We +put the bath under the worst and wettest place, and the jugs and basins +under lesser streams, and we moved the beds away to the dry end of the +room. Ours is a long attic that runs right across the house. + +But the water kept coming in worse and worse. Our nightshirts were +wet through, so we got into our other shirts and knickerbockers, but +preserved bareness in our feet. And the floor kept on being half an inch +deep in water, however much we mopped it up. + +We emptied the basins out of the window as fast as they filled, and we +baled the bath with a jug without pausing to complain how hard the +work was. All the same, it was more exciting than you can think. But in +Oswald’s dauntless breast he began to see that they would HAVE to call +Mrs Pettigrew. + +A new waterfall broke out between the fire-grate and the mantelpiece, +and spread in devastating floods. Oswald is full of ingenious devices. +I think I have said this before, but it is quite true; and perhaps even +truer this time than it was last time I said it. + +He got a board out of the box-room next door, and rested one end in the +chink between the fireplace and the mantelpiece, and laid the other end +on the back of a chair, then we stuffed the rest of the chink with our +nightgowns, and laid a towel along the plank, and behold, a noble stream +poured over the end of the board right into the bath we put there ready. +It was like Niagara, only not so round in shape. The first lot of water +that came down the chimney was very dirty. The wind whistled outside. +Noel said, ‘If it’s pipes burst, and not the rain, it will be nice for +the water-rates.’ Perhaps it was only natural after this for Denny to +begin with his everlasting poetry. He stopped mopping up the water to +say: + + ‘By this the storm grew loud apace, + The water-rats were shrieking, + And in the howl of Heaven each face + Grew black as they were speaking.’ + +Our faces were black, and our hands too, but we did not take any notice; +we only told him not to gas but to go on mopping. And he did. And we all +did. + +But more and more water came pouring down. You would not believe so much +could come off one roof. + +When at last it was agreed that Mrs Pettigrew must be awakened at all +hazards, we went and woke Alice to do the fatal errand. + +When she came back, with Mrs Pettigrew in a nightcap and red flannel +petticoat, we held our breath. + +But Mrs Pettigrew did not even say, ‘What on earth have you children +been up to NOW?’ as Oswald had feared. + +She simply sat down on my bed and said-- + +‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!’ ever so many times. + +Then Denny said, ‘I once saw holes in a cottage roof. The man told me +it was done when the water came through the thatch. He said if the water +lies all about on the top of the ceiling, it breaks it down, but if you +make holes the water will only come through the holes and you can put +pails under the holes to catch it.’ + +So we made nine holes in the ceiling with the poker, and put pails, +baths and tubs under, and now there was not so much water on the floor. +But we had to keep on working like niggers, and Mrs Pettigrew and Alice +worked the same. + +About five in the morning the rain stopped; about seven the water did +not come in so fast, and presently it only dripped slowly. Our task was +done. + +This is the only time I was ever up all night. I wish it happened +oftener. We did not go back to bed then, but dressed and went down. We +all went to sleep in the afternoon, though. Quite without meaning to. + +Oswald went up on the roof, before breakfast, to see if he could find +the hole where the rain had come in. He did not find any hole, but +he found the cricket ball jammed in the top of a gutter pipe which he +afterwards knew ran down inside the wall of the house and ran into the +moat below. It seems a silly dodge, but so it was. + +When the men went up after breakfast to see what had caused the flood +they said there must have been a good half-foot of water on the leads +the night before for it to have risen high enough to go above the edge +of the lead, and of course when it got above the lead there was nothing +to stop it running down under it, and soaking through the ceiling. The +parapet and the roofs kept it from tumbling off down the sides of +the house in the natural way. They said there must have been some +obstruction in the pipe which ran down into the house, but whatever it +was the water had washed it away, for they put wires down, and the pipe +was quite clear. + +While we were being told this Oswald’s trembling fingers felt at the wet +cricket ball in his pocket. And he KNEW, but he COULD not tell. He heard +them wondering what the obstruction could have been, and all the time he +had the obstruction in his pocket, and never said a single word. + +I do not seek to defend him. But it really was an awful thing to have +been the cause of; and Mrs Pettigrew is but harsh and hasty. But this, +as Oswald knows too well, is no excuse for his silent conduct. + +That night at tea Albert’s uncle was rather silent too. At last he +looked upon us with a glance full of intelligence, and said-- + +‘There was a queer thing happened yesterday. You know there was an +angling competition. The pen was kept full on purpose. Some mischievous +busybody went and opened the sluices and let all the water out. The +anglers’ holiday was spoiled. No, the rain wouldn’t have spoiled it +anyhow, Alice; anglers LIKE rain. The ‘Rose and Crown’ dinner was half +of it wasted because the anglers were so furious that a lot of them took +the next train to town. And this is the worst of all--a barge, that was +on the mud in the pen below, was lifted and jammed across the river and +the water tilted her over, and her cargo is on the river bottom. It was +coals.’ + +During this speech there were four of us who knew not where to turn our +agitated glances. Some of us tried bread-and-butter, but it seemed dry +and difficult, and those who tried tea choked and spluttered and were +sorry they had not let it alone. When the speech stopped Alice said, ‘It +was us.’ + +And with deepest feelings she and the rest of us told all about it. + +Oswald did not say much. He was turning the obstruction round and round +in his pocket, and wishing with all his sentiments that he had owned +up like a man when Albert’s uncle asked him before tea to tell him all +about what had happened during the night. + +When they had told all, Albert’s uncle told us four still more plainly, +and exactly, what we had done, and how much pleasure we had spoiled, and +how much of my father’s money we had wasted--because he would have to +pay for the coals being got up from the bottom of the river, if they +could be, and if not, for the price of the coals. And we saw it ALL. + +And when he had done Alice burst out crying over her plate and said-- + +‘It’s no use! We HAVE tried to be good since we’ve been down here. + +You don’t know how we’ve tried! And it’s all no use. I believe we are +the wickedest children in the whole world, and I wish we were all dead!’ + +This was a dreadful thing to say, and of course the rest of us were all +very shocked. But Oswald could not help looking at Albert’s uncle to see +how he would take it. + +He said very gravely, ‘My dear kiddie, you ought to be sorry, and I wish +you to be sorry for what you’ve done. And you will be punished for it.’ +(We were; our pocket-money was stopped and we were forbidden to go near +the river, besides impositions miles long.) ‘But,’ he went on, ‘you +mustn’t give up trying to be good. You are extremely naughty and +tiresome, as you know very well.’ + +Alice, Dicky, and Noel began to cry at about this time. + +‘But you are not the wickedest children in the world by any means.’ + +Then he stood up and straightened his collar, and put his hands in his +pockets. + +‘You’re very unhappy now,’ he said, ‘and you deserve to be. But I will +say one thing to you.’ + +Then he said a thing which Oswald at least will never forget (though but +little he deserved it, with the obstruction in his pocket, unowned up to +all the time). + +He said, ‘I have known you all for four years--and you know as well as +I do how many scrapes I’ve seen you in and out of--but I’ve never known +one of you tell a lie, and I’ve never known one of you do a mean or +dishonourable action. And when you have done wrong you are always sorry. +Now this is something to stand firm on. You’ll learn to be good in the +other ways some day.’ + +He took his hands out of his pockets, and his face looked different, so +that three of the four guilty creatures knew he was no longer adamant, +and they threw themselves into his arms. Dora, Denny, Daisy, and H. O., +of course, were not in it, and I think they thanked their stars. + +Oswald did not embrace Albert’s uncle. He stood there and made up his +mind he would go for a soldier. He gave the wet ball one last squeeze, +and took his hand out of his pocket, and said a few words before going +to enlist. He said-- + +‘The others may deserve what you say. I hope they do, I’m sure. But I +don’t, because it was my rotten cricket ball that stopped up the pipe +and caused the midnight flood in our bedroom. And I knew it quite early +this morning. And I didn’t own up.’ + +Oswald stood there covered with shame, and he could feel the hateful +cricket ball heavy and cold against the top of his leg, through the +pocket. + +Albert’s uncle said--and his voice made Oswald hot all over, but not +with shame--he said-- + +I shall not tell you what he said. It is no one’s business but Oswald’s; +only I will own it made Oswald not quite so anxious to run away for a +soldier as he had been before. + +That owning up was the hardest thing I ever did. They did put that in +the Book of Golden Deeds, though it was not a kind or generous act, and +did no good to anyone or anything except Oswald’s own inside feelings. +I must say I think they might have let it alone. Oswald would rather +forget it. Especially as Dicky wrote it in and put this: + +‘Oswald acted a lie, which, he knows, is as bad as telling one. But he +owned up when he needn’t have, and this condones his sin. We think he +was a thorough brick to do it.’ + +Alice scratched this out afterwards and wrote the record of the incident +in more flattering terms. But Dicky had used Father’s ink, and she used +Mrs Pettigrew’s, so anyone can read his underneath the scratching outs. + +The others were awfully friendly to Oswald, to show they agreed with +Albert’s uncle in thinking I deserved as much share as anyone in any +praise there might be going. + +It was Dora who said it all came from my quarrelling with Noel about +that rotten cricket ball; but Alice, gently yet firmly, made her shut +up. + +I let Noel have the ball. It had been thoroughly soaked, but it dried +all right. But it could never be the same to me after what it had done +and what I had done. + +I hope you will try to agree with Albert’s uncle and not think foul +scorn of Oswald because of this story. Perhaps you have done things +nearly as bad yourself sometimes. If you have, you will know how ‘owning +up’ soothes the savage breast and alleviates the gnawings of remorse. + +If you have never done naughty acts I expect it is only because you +never had the sense to think of anything. + + + +CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS + +The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods began, at +about this time, to bother. + +They said we had not done anything really noble--not worth speaking +of, that is--for over a week, and that it was high time to begin +again--‘with earnest endeavour’, Daisy said. So then Oswald said-- + +‘All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let’s each of us +think of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others shall help +to work it out, like we did when we were Treasure Seekers. Then when +everybody’s had their go-in we’ll write every single thing down in the +Golden Deed book, and we’ll draw two lines in red ink at the bottom, +like Father does at the end of an account. And after that, if anyone +wants to be good they can jolly well be good on our own, if at all.’ + +The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, but +Dicky and Oswald were firm. + +So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness and +obstinacy have to give way. + +Dora said, ‘It would be a noble action to have all the school-children +from the village and give them tea and games in the paddock. They would +think it so nice and good of us.’ + +But Dicky showed her that this would not be OUR good act, but Father’s, +because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had already stood us +the keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump up heavily +over the coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generous when +someone else is paying for it all the time, even if it happens to be +your father. Then three others had ideas at the same time and began to +explain what they were. + +We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of a +row. Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert’s uncle for opening +his door and saying-- + +‘I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much. +But if you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek +or howl--anything to vary the monotony of your well-sustained +conversation.’ + +Oswald said kindly, ‘We’re awfully sorry. Are you busy?’ + +‘Busy?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘My heroine is now hesitating on the verge +of an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequent +career. You wouldn’t like her to decide in the middle of such a row that +she can’t hear herself think?’ + +We said, ‘No, we wouldn’t.’ + +Then he said, ‘If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to you +this bright mid-summer day.’ So we all went out. + +Then Daisy whispered to Dora--they always hang together. Daisy is not +nearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fear +the deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said-- + +‘Daisy’s idea is a game that’ll take us all day. She thinks keeping out +of the way when he’s making his heroine decide right would be a noble +act, and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well be +playing something at the same time.’ + +We all said ‘Yes, but what?’ + +There was a silent interval. + +‘Speak up, Daisy, my child.’ Oswald said; ‘fear not to lay bare the +utmost thoughts of that faithful heart.’ + +Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle--they laugh right out or hold +their tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisy +said-- + +‘If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once read +a story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had to +go how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. There +was a tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs, +and a kitten.’ + +This proposal left us cold, as Albert’s uncle says, because we knew +there could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you may +be ever ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if there’s +going to be a prize there must BE a prize and there’s an end of it. + +Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, ‘Let’s go into +the barn and make a fort.’ + +So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about with +like it does hay. + +The downstairs--I mean down-ladder--part of the barn was fun too, +especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you could +wish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running kindly +beside the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. This is the +noble bull-dog’s gentle and affectionate nature coming out. We all +enjoyed the ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, in the girls +crying because of the poor rats. Girls cannot help this; we must not +be waxy with them on account of it, they have their nature, the same as +bull-dogs have, and it is this that makes them so useful in smoothing +the pillows of the sick-bed and tending wounded heroes. + +However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having to be +thumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till dinner. There +was roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly pudding. + +Albert’s uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually, +which means we hadn’t bothered. + +So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told us his +heroine was by no means out of the wood yet. + +And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling and you +do not at first care if you never play any runabout game ever any more. +But after a while the torpor begins to pass away. Oswald was the first +to recover from his. + +He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he turned +over on his back and kicked his legs up, and said-- + +‘I say, look here; let’s do something.’ + +Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of grass, +but I could see she was still thinking about that animal race. So I +explained to her that it would be very poor fun without a tortoise and a +peacock, and she saw this, though not willingly. + +It was H. O. who said-- + +‘Doing anything with animals is prime, if they only will. Let’s have a +circus!’ + +At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald’s memory, +and he stretched himself, sat up, and said-- + +‘Bully for H. O. Let’s!’ + +The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up and +said ‘Let’s!’ too. + +Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of animals at +our command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even all the bright, +glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented jungle paled into +insignificance before the number of live things on the farm. + +(I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. I +know they are the right words. And Albert’s uncle says your style is +always altered a bit by what you read. And I have been reading the +Vicomte de Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come out of those.) + +‘The worst of a circus is,’ Dora said, ‘that you’ve got to teach the +animals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn’t learned +performing would be a bit silly. Let’s give up a week to teaching them +and then have the circus.’ + +Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of those +who do not understand that when you want to do a thing you do want to, +and not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, a week later. + +Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals. + +‘Then perhaps,’ he said, ‘we may find that they have hidden talents +hitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters.’ + +So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required. This is +it: + + LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE + CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE + + 1 Bull for bull-fight. + 1 Horse for ditto (if possible). + 1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring. + 1 Donkey to play see-saw. + 2 White pigs--one to be Learned, and the other to play with the clown. + Turkeys, as many as possible, because they can make a noise that + that sounds like an audience applauding + The dogs, for any odd parts. + 1 Large black pig--to be the Elephant in the procession. + Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs. + +Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but she +let Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. Oswald said-- + +‘The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock at +the side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good all +round. When we’ve got the performers all there we’ll make a programme, +and then dress for our parts. It’s a pity there won’t be any audience +but the turkeys.’ + +We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny’s list. The +bull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cowhouse with +the other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away. +Oswald and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bull +by, and a whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind. + +The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone. + +Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas. + +‘I daresay,’ he said, ‘the bull will be shy at first, and he’ll have to +be goaded into the arena.’ + +‘But goads hurt,’ Alice said. + +‘They don’t hurt the bull,’ Oswald said; ‘his powerful hide is too +thick.’ + +‘Then why does he attend to it,’ Alice asked, ‘if it doesn’t hurt?’ + +‘Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,’ +Oswald said. ‘I think I shall ride the bull,’ the brave boy went on. +‘A bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing its +joys and sorrows. It would be something quite new.’ + +‘You can’t ride bulls,’ Alice said; ‘at least, not if their backs are +sharp like cows.’ + +But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood and +prickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climb +on the roof of his house at all comfortably. + +When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, and +he was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was a +very hot day. + +‘You’ll see,’ Alice said, ‘he won’t want a goad. He’ll be so glad to +get out for a walk he’ll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, and +follow me lovingly all the way.’ + +Oswald called to him. He said, ‘Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!’ because we did +not know the animal’s real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswald +picked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just to +make it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing’s worth of +it. So then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull’s yard and just +flicked the bull with the whiplash. And then the bull DID pay attention. +He started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, +uttering a roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting his +head down close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where we +were standing. + +Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoy +the bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the field +so as not to keep the others waiting. + +As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that perhaps +the bull had rooted up the gate with one paralysing blow, and was now +tearing across the field after him and Alice, with the broken gate +balanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly and looked back; the +bull was still on the right side of the gate. + +Oswald said, ‘I think we’ll do without the bull. He did not seem to want +to come. We must be kind to dumb animals.’ + +Alice said, between laughing and crying-- + +‘Oh, Oswald, how can you!’ But we did do without the bull, and we did +not tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just said, ‘The +bull didn’t seem to care about coming.’ + +The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the cart-horse, +but she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not to use her in the +bull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The Elephant’s is a nice +quiet part, and she was quite big enough for a young one. Then the black +pig could be Learned, and the other two could be something else. They +had also got the goat; he was tethered to a young tree. + +The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter. The dogs were +there, of course--they always are. + +So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause and the calves +and pigs. + +The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. There +were five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got them out after +long and patient toil, and persuaded them that they wanted to go into +the paddock, where the circus was to be. This is done by pretending to +drive them the other way. A pig only knows two ways--the way you want +him to go, and the other. But the turkeys knew thousands of different +ways, and tried them all. They made such an awful row, we had to drop +all ideas of ever hearing applause from their lips, so we came away and +left them. + +‘Never mind,’ H. O. said, ‘they’ll be sorry enough afterwards, nasty, +unobliging things, because now they won’t see the circus. I hope the +other animals will tell them about it.’ + +While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky had +found three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, so we let +them. + +Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circus +performers to make friends with each other while we dressed. + +Oswald and H. O. were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert’s +uncle’s pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they do +the brick-floors with. + +Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair and +round her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white muslin stuff +off the dressing-table in the girls’ room fastened with pins and tied +round the waist with a small bath towel. She was to be the Dauntless +Equestrienne, and to give her enhancing act a barebacked daring, riding +either a pig or a sheep, whichever we found was freshest and most +skittish. Dora was dressed for the Haute ecole, which means a +riding-habit and a high hat. She took Dick’s topper that he wears with +his Etons, and a skirt of Mrs Pettigrew’s. Daisy, dressed the same as +Alice, taking the muslin from Mrs Pettigrew’s dressing-table without +saying anything beforehand. None of us would have advised this, and +indeed we were thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel, +who were wishing to look like highwaymen, with brown-paper top-boots +and slouch hats and Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing and +gazed out of the window. + +‘Krikey!’ said Dick, ‘come on, Oswald!’ and he bounded like an antelope +from the room. + +Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the window. +Noel had got brown-paper boots too, and a Turkish towel cloak. H. O. had +been waiting for Dora to dress him up for the other clown. He had only +his shirt and knickerbockers and his braces on. He came down as he +was--as indeed we all did. And no wonder, for in the paddock, where the +circus was to be, a blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs were +chasing the sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country to +know the fell nature of our dogs’ improper conduct. + +We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, and +Lady. Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up dog--Oswald +trained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is awfully deaf, but +she did not matter so much, because the sheep could walk away from her +easily. She has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. She +is used to pursuing that fleet and antlered pride of the forest--the +stag--and she can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distant +region of the paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight. +I am sure if ever anybody’s eyes did start out of their heads with +horror, like in narratives of adventure, ours did then. + +There was a moment’s pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Lady +pull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, to +say nothing of its own personal feelings. + +Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run +swiftly as the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamas +belonging to a grown-up person--as I was--but even so I beat Dicky. He +said afterwards it was because his brown-paper boots came undone and +tripped him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-table +muslin and ran jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all was +very nearly up with the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and looked +round. She must have heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she came +towards us, prancing with happiness, but we said ‘Down!’ and ‘Bad dog!’ +and ran sternly on. + +When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of the +paddock we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep, +and I believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth, +if it had liked, but it would not try. + +It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into the +water, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheep +up by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on the +bank. It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kick +at last, that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy, +panting, silly donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog; +and Dicky got his shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly to +keep it from flumping off into the water again, while the others fetched +the shepherd. + +When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, and +then he said-- + +‘Good thing master didn’t come along. He would ha’ called you some tidy +names.’ + +He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calves +too. He did not seem to care about the other performing animals. + +Alice, Oswald and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, so +we sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of the +circus. This was it: + + + PROGRAMME + +1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing sheep. Real +water, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O. A. and D. Bastable. +(We thought we might as well put that in though it was over and had +happened accidentally.) + +2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, Eliza. A. +Bastable. 3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, +and the other white pig. H. O. and O. Bastable. + +4. The See-Saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. said we had only one donkey, so +Dicky said H. O. could be the other. When peace was restored we went on +to 5.) + +5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. Haute ecole, on Clover, the +incomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela. + +6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, the +well-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes out of +hurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always happens. +(This is the unexpected. (This is a saying Father told me--but I see +I am three deep in brackets so I will close them before I get into any +more).).). + +7. The Black but Learned Pig. [‘I daresay he knows something,’ Alice +said, ‘if we can only find out what.’ We DID find out all too soon.) + + +We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly dry--all +except Dick’s brown-paper top-boots, which were mingled with the +gurgling waters of the brook. + +We went back to the seat of action--which was the iron trough where the +sheep have their salt put--and began to dress up the creatures. + +We had just tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy’s flannel petticoat +and cetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round the waist of the +Black and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from the back part of the +house, and suddenly we saw that Billy, the acrobatic goat, had got loose +from the tree we had tied him to. (He had eaten all the parts of its +bark that he could get at, but we did not notice it until next day, when +led to the spot by a grown-up.) + +The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge that +goes over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily proceeded +in the direction of the screams, and, guided by the sound, threaded +our way into the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever fertile in melancholy +ideas, said he wondered whether Mrs Pettigrew was being robbed, or only +murdered. + +In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was neither. Mrs +Pettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a broom, occupied +the foreground. In the distance the maid was shrieking in a hoarse and +monotonous way, and trying to shut herself up inside a clothes-horse on +which washing was being aired. + +On the dresser--which he had ascended by a chair--was Billy, the +acrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. He had found out his Andes +for himself, and even as we gazed he turned and tossed his head in a +way that showed us some mysterious purpose was hidden beneath his calm +exterior. The next moment he put his off-horn neatly behind the end +plate of the next to the bottom row, and ran it along against the wall. +The plates fell crashing on to the soup tureen and vegetable dishes +which adorned the lower range of the Andes. + +Mrs Pettigrew’s screams were almost drowned in the discarding crash and +crackle of the falling avalanche of crockery. + +Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved the +most dauntless coolness. + +Disregarding the mop which Mrs Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat in +a timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his trusty +followers, ‘Stand by to catch him!’ + +But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry out +his long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught the goat’s +legs and tripped it up. The goat fell against another row of plates, +righted itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the soup tureen and the +sauce-boats, and then fell again, this time towards Dicky. The two fell +heavily on the ground together. The trusty followers had been so struck +by the daring of Dicky and his lion-hearted brother, that they had not +stood by to catch anything. + +The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had a sprained thumb and a lump on his +head like a black marble door-knob. He had to go to bed. + +I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs Pettigrew said. Also +Albert’s uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her screams. Few +words escaped our lips. There are times when it is not wise to argue; +however, little what has occurred is really our fault. + +When they had said what they deemed enough and we were let go, we all +went out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she vainly +strove to render firm-- + +‘Let’s give up the circus. Let’s put the toys back in the boxes--no, +I don’t mean that--the creatures in their places--and drop the whole +thing. I want to go and read to Dicky.’ + +Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to be +beaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and we went +out to collect the performing troop and sort it out into its proper +places. + +Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether Mrs +Pettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not, we had left both +gates open again. The old horse--I mean the trained elephant from +Venezuela--was there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten and tied +up after the first act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, as it says in +the programme. The two white pigs were there, but the donkey was gone. +We heard his hoofs down the road, growing fainter and fainter, in the +direction of the ‘Rose and Crown’. And just round the gatepost we saw +a flash of red and white and blue and black that told us, with dumb +signification, that the pig was off in exactly the opposite direction. +Why couldn’t they have gone the same way? But no, one was a pig and the +other was a donkey, as Denny said afterwards. + +Daisy and H. O. started after the donkey; the rest of us, with one +accord, pursued the pig--I don’t know why. It trotted quietly down the +road; it looked very black against the white road, and the ends on the +top, where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it trotted. At +first we thought it would be easy to catch up to it. This was an error. + +When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and looked +round at us, and nodded. (I daresay you won’t swallow this, but you may +safely. It’s as true as true, and so’s all that about the goat. I give +you my sacred word of honour.) I tell you the pig nodded as much as to +say-- + +‘Oh, yes. You think you will, but you won’t!’ and then as soon as we +moved again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o’er miles and miles +of strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. When we met +people, which wasn’t often, we called out to them to help us, but they +only waved their arms and roared with laughter. One chap on a bicycle +almost tumbled off his machine, and then he got off it and propped it +against a gate and sat down in the hedge to laugh properly. You remember +Alice was still dressed up as the gay equestrienne in the dressing-table +pink and white, with rosy garlands, now very droopy, and she had no +stockings on, only white sand-shoes, because she thought they would be +easier than boots for balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backed +act. + +Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. +It is really IMPOSSIBLE to run speedfully in another man’s pyjamas, +so Oswald had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockers +belonging to his Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck, to +carry them easily. He was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as Alice +suggested, because he did not know the roads, and for aught he recked +they might have been infested with footpads. If it had been his own +pyjamas it would have been different. (I’m going to ask for pyjamas next +winter, they are so useful in many ways.) + +Noel was a highwayman in brown-paper gaiters and bath towels and a +cocked hat of newspaper. I don’t know how he kept it on. And the pig was +encircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the same, I think +if I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter distress about a +pig I should have tried to lend a helping hand and not sat roaring in +the hedge, no matter how the travellers and the pig might have been +dressed. + +It was hotter than anyone would believe who has never had occasion to +hunt the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got out of +Oswald’s hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet with what +the village blacksmith’s was wet with, and not his fair brow alone. It +ran down his face and washed the red off in streaks, and when he +rubbed his eyes he only made it worse. Alice had to run holding the +equestrienne skirts on with both hands, and I think the brown-paper +boots bothered Noel from the first. Dora had her skirt over her arm and +carried the topper in her hand. It was no use to tell ourselves it was a +wild boar hunt--we were long past that. + +At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted man. I +think, perhaps, he had a pig of his own--or, perhaps, children. Honour +to his name! + +He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pig +right-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up the +drive. We followed. What else were we to do, I should like to know? + +The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to the +right and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn. + +‘Now, all together!’ cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to give +the word of command. ‘Surround him!--cut off his retreat!’ + +We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house. + +‘Now we’ve got him!’ cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got on to a bed +of yellow pansies close against the red house wall. + +All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank from +meeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig pass him, +and the next moment, with a squeak that said ‘There now!’ as plain as +words, the pig bolted into a French window. The pursuers halted not. +This was no time for trivial ceremony. In another moment the pig was a +captive. Alice and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of a +table that had had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their prey +stood the startled members of a parish society for making clothes for +the poor heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. They +were reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarry +to earth under their table. Even as he crossed the threshold I heard +something about ‘black brothers being already white to the harvest’. All +the ladies had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while the +curate read aloud to them. You think they screamed when they saw the Pig +and Us? You are right. + +On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved badly. +Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig’s doing, and asked pardon +quite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and Alice said how +sorry we were but really it was NOT our fault this time. The curate +looked a bit nasty, but the presence of ladies made him keep his hot +blood to himself. + +When we had explained, we said, ‘Might we go?’ The curate said, ‘The +sooner the better.’ But the Lady of the House asked for our names and +addresses, and said she should write to our Father. (She did, and we +heard of it too.) They did not do anything to us, as Oswald at one time +believed to be the curate’s idea. They let us go. + +And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig by. + +‘In case it should come back into your nice room,’ Alice said. ‘And that +would be such a pity, wouldn’t it?’ + +A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as soon +as the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came away. The +scene in the drawing-room had not been long. The pig went slowly, + +‘Like the meandering brook,’ + +Denny said. Just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened, and the +little girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake. + +‘Here,’ she said. ‘You must be hungry if you’ve come all that way. + +I think they might have given you some tea after all the trouble you’ve +had.’ We took the cake with correct thanks. + +‘I wish I could play at circuses,’ she said. ‘Tell me about it.’ + +We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said perhaps +it was better to hear about than do, especially the goat’s part and +Dicky’s. + +‘But I do wish auntie had given you tea,’ she said. + +We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to make +allowances for grown-up people. When we parted she said she would never +forget us, and Oswald gave her his pocket button-hook and corkscrew +combined for a keepsake. + +Dicky’s act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only thing +out of that day that was put in the Golden Deed book, and he put that in +himself while we were hunting the pig. + +Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to write +our own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us all away; and +you must pity the dull, and not blame them. + +I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how the +donkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). Nor will I +tell you a word of all that was said and done to the intrepid hunters +of the Black and Learned. I have told you all the interesting part. Seek +not to know the rest. It is better buried in obliquity. + + +CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE) + +You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how people +who live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in town +because the country is so dull. I do not agree with this at all. In +London, or at any rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless you make it +happen; or if it happens it doesn’t happen to you, and you don’t know +the people it does happen to. But in the country the most interesting +events occur quite freely, and they seem to happen to you as much as to +anyone else. Very often quite without your doing anything to help. + +The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country are +much jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing things +with animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or bakering or +oil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of course, a plumber’s +and gasfitter’s, and he is the same in town or country--most interesting +and like an engineer. + +I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off once +at our old house in Lewisham, when my father’s business was feeling +so poorly. He was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky over +two yards and a quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that only +wanted a washer, and a whole handful of screws to do what we liked with. +We screwed the back door up with the screws, I remember, one night when +Eliza was out without leave. There was an awful row. We did not mean +to get her into trouble. We only thought it would be amusing for her to +find the door screwed up when she came down to take in the milk in the +morning. But I must not say any more about the Lewisham house. It is +only the pleasures of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, or +any sort of exploring. + +I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very good, +and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald’s destiny looks at +present as if it might be different. + +We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the North +Pole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and doing dull and +praiseable things, like sewing, and helping with the cooking, and taking +invalid delicacies to the poor and indignant, Daisy and Dora were wholly +out of it both times, though Dora’s foot was now quite well enough to +have gone to the North Pole or the Equator either. They said they did +not mind the first time, because they like to keep themselves clean; it +is another of their queer ways. And they said they had had a better time +than us. (It was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hot cakes +for tea.) The second time they said they were lucky not to have been in +it. And perhaps they were right. But let me to my narrating. I hope you +will like it. I am going to try to write it a different way, like the +books they give you for a prize at a girls’ school--I mean a ‘young +ladies’ school’, of course--not a high school. High schools are not +nearly so silly as some other kinds. Here goes: + +‘“Ah, me!” sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing her +elegant hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fair +tresses, “how sad it is--is it not?--to see able-bodied youths and young +ladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and luxury.” + +‘The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, at +the group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaous beech +tree and ate black currants. + +‘“Dear brothers and sisters,” the blushing girl went on, “could we not, +even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted lives of +ours, and seek some occupation at once improving and agreeable?” + +‘“I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister,” replied the +cleverest of her brothers, on whose brow--’ + + +It’s no use. I can’t write like these books. I wonder how the books’ +authors can keep it up. + +What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in the +orchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said-- + +‘I say, look here, let’s do something. It’s simply silly to waste a day +like this. It’s just on eleven. Come on!’ + +And Oswald said, ‘Where to?’ + +This was the beginning of it. + +The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of them is +a sort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that flows at the +other side of the orchard. + +It was this stream that Alice meant when she said-- + +‘Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?’ + +Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real live +Egyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it lurked +undisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to say so. It is +a great thing to know when not to say things. + +‘Why not have it an Arctic expedition?’ said Dicky; ‘then we could take +an ice-axe, and live on blubber and things. Besides, it sounds cooler.’ + +‘Vote! vote!’ cried Oswald. So we did. Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Denny +voted for the river of the ibis and the crocodile. Dicky, H. O., and the +other girls for the region of perennial winter and rich blubber. + +So Alice said, ‘We can decide as we go. Let’s start anyway.’ + +The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted to +take something different, and nobody thought the other people’s things +would be the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with grown-up +expeditions. So then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest emergency that +ever emerged yet, said-- + +‘Let’s each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the shed in +the corner of the stableyard where we got the door for the raft. Then +the captain can decide who’s to take what.’ + +This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit out an +expedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not whether +your exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or merely to the +world of icebergs and the Polar bear. + +Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and a +mackintosh. + +H. O. brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a pair +of old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in case the +expedition turned out icy. + +Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, and had +also obtained--I know not by what means--a jar of pickled onions. + +Denny had a walking-stick--we can’t break him of walking with it--a book +to read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a butterfly net and +a box with a cork in it, a tennis ball, if we happened to want to play +rounders in the pauses of exploring, two towels and an umbrella in the +event of camping or if the river got big enough to bathe in or to be +fallen into. + +Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of scissors +and needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. + +And she had thoughtfully brought the tablecloth off the small table in +the dining-room, so that we could make all the things up into one bundle +and take it in turns to carry it. + +Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the others +neglected this. + +All the stores for the expedition were put down on the tablecloth and +the corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald’s muscley arms +could raise from the ground, so we decided not to take it, but only the +best-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw loft, for there are +many ups and downs in life, and grub is grub at any time, and so are +stores of all kinds. The pickled onions we had to leave, but not for +ever. + +Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other’s necks +as usual, like a picture on a grocer’s almanac, and said they weren’t +coming. + +It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were differences of +opinion among the explorers about what eatables we ought to have taken, +and H. O. had lost one of his garters and wouldn’t let Alice tie it up +with her handkerchief, which the gentle sister was quite willing to do. +So it was a rather gloomy expedition that set off that bright sunny day +to seek the source of the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare +(or the frozen plains Mr Nansen wrote that big book about). + +But the balmy calm of peaceful Nature soon made the others less +cross--Oswald had not been cross exactly but only disinclined to do +anything the others wanted--and by the time we had followed the stream +a little way, and had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or two at him, +harmony was restored. We did not hit the rat. + +You will understand that we were not the sort of people to have lived so +long near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed it was the same +stream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we had the circus. +And of course we had often paddled in it--in the shallower parts. But +now our hearts were set on exploring. At least they ought to have +been, but when we got to the place where the stream goes under a wooden +sheep-bridge, Dicky cried, ‘A camp! a camp!’ and we were all glad to sit +down at once. Not at all like real explorers, who know no rest, day or +night, till they have got there (whether it’s the North Pole, or the +central point of the part marked ‘Desert of Sahara’ on old-fashioned +maps). + +The food supplies obtained by various members were good and plenty +of it. Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon cheese-cakes, +raisins, and cold apple dumplings. It was all very decent, but Oswald +could not help feeling that the source of the Nile (or North Pole) was a +long way off, and perhaps nothing much when you got there. + +So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking into +the bank when the things to eat were all gone-- + +‘I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls out +of clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book called Foul +Play, and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or something, at the +same time.’ + +He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do putty +when you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that had hung +over the explorers became expelled, and we all got under the shadow of +the bridge and messed about with clay. + +‘It will be jolly!’ Alice said, ‘and we can give the huge platters to +poor cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. That would +really be a very golden deed.’ + +It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make huge +platters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any size, +unless you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up the edges +they crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had all got our +shoes and stockings off. It is impossible to go on being cross when your +feet are in cold water; and there is something in the smooth messiness +of clay, and not minding how dirty you get, that would soothe the +savagest breast that ever beat. + +After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and tried +little things. We made some platters--they were like flower-pot saucers; +and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel to slab +the clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out with +wet fingers, and it was a bowl--at least they said it was. When we’d +made a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it seemed +a pity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and when it +had burnt down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among the +little red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuel +over the top. It was a fine fire. + +Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to come +back next day and get our pots. + +As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said-- + +‘The bonfire’s going pretty strong.’ + +We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against the +evening sky. And we had left it,a smouldering flat heap. + +‘The clay must have caught alight,’ H. O. said. ‘Perhaps it’s the kind +that burns. I know I’ve heard of fireclay. And there’s another sort you +can eat.’ + +‘Oh, shut up!’ Dicky said with anxious scorn. + +With one accord we turned back. We all felt THE feeling--the one that +means something fatal being up and it being your fault. + +‘Perhaps, Alice said, ‘a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was +passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agony +enveloped in flames.’ + +We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but we +hoped Alice was mistaken. + +But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we saw +it was as bad nearly as Alice’s wild dream. For the wooden fence leading +up to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billy oh. + +Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself, +‘This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!’ + +And he was. + +Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hats +full of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never put +the bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly the +sort of wigging you get for an accident like this. + +So he said, ‘Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuck +them along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl’s clothes’ll catch as +sure as fate.’ + +Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would not +let him and H. O. wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced warily to +the end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over the end bit, +like a linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering invalid who has +got bronchitis. The burning wood hissed and smouldered, and Oswald fell +back, almost choked with the smoke. But at once he caught up the other +wet jacket and put it on another place, and of course it did the trick +as he had known it would do. But it was a long job, and the smoke in his +eyes made the young hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turn +as they had bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; the +devouring element was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire with +clay to keep it from getting into mischief again, and then Alice said-- + +‘Now we must go and tell.’ + +‘Of course,’ Oswald said shortly. He had meant to tell all the time. + +So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went at +once, because if you have any news like that to tell it only makes it +worse if you wait about. When we had told him he said-- + +‘You little ---.’ I shall not say what he said besides that, because +I am sure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when he went to +church, if not before. + +We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying how +sorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but only +said he daresayed, just like a woman does. Then he went to look at his +bridge, and we went in to our tea. The jackets were never quite the same +again. + +Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the daresaying of +a farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. Albert’s +uncle was away so we got no double slating; and next day we started +again to discover the source of the river of cataracts (or the region of +mountain-like icebergs). + +We set out, heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora had +made themselves, and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real explorers +most likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter to carry than +stone bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, which would come +cheaper; and you could make the girls carry it on their back, like in +pictures of the daughters of regiments. + +We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thought +of the fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer and +leave the bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, determined +to reach our destination, Tropic or Polar, that day. + +Denny and H. O. wanted to stop and try to make a fashionable +watering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like a +small-sized sea, but Noel said, ‘No.’ We did not like fashionableness. + +‘YOU ought to, at any rate,’ Denny said. ‘A Mr Collins wrote an Ode to +the Fashions, and he was a great poet.’ + +‘The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan,’ Noel said, ‘but I’m not +bound to like HIM.’ I think it was smart of Noel. + +‘People aren’t obliged to like everything they write about even, let +alone read,’ Alice said. ‘Look at “Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!” + and all the pieces of poetry about war, and tyrants, and slaughtered +saints--and the one you made yourself about the black beetle, Noel.’ + +By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay was +past; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a field and +a half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. The stream was +broad and shallow at this part, and you could see the stones and +gravel at the bottom, and millions of baby fishes, and a sort of +skating-spiders walking about on the top of the water. Denny said the +water must be ice for them to be able to walk on it, and this showed we +were getting near the North Pole. But Oswald had seen a kingfisher by +the wood, and he said it was an ibis, so this was even. + +When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear he said, ‘Let’s be +beavers and make a dam.’ And everybody was so hot they agreed joyously, +and soon our clothes were tucked up as far as they could go and our legs +looked green through the water, though they were pink out of it. + +Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about beavers +take care to let you know. + +Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on the +way to the Polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, and +Dicky owned it was warm for Polar regions. He had brought the ice-axe +(it is called the wood chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever ready and +able to command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the bank while we +heaped stones across the stream. It was clayey here, or of course dam +making would have been vain, even for the best-trained beaver. + +When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against them--nearly +across the stream, leaving about two feet for the water to go +through--then more stones, and then lumps of clay stamped down as hard +as we could. The industrious beavers spent hours over it, with only one +easy to eat cake in. And at last the dam rose to the level of the bank. +Then the beavers collected a great heap of clay, and four of them lifted +it and dumped it down in the opening where the water was running. It did +splash a little, but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind a +bit of a wetting, as Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more clay +the work was completed. We must have used tons of clay; there was quite +a big long hole in the bank above the dam where we had taken it out. + +When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot he +had to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs. + +I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went through +fields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got steeper and +higher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their mysterious branches, +and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale who go out to seek their +fortunes. + +And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way for; the +stream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, and however much +you stood in the water and stuck your head down between your knees you +could not see any light at the other end. + +The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers. + +Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said-- + +‘Alice, you’ve got a candle. Let’s explore.’ This gallant proposal met +but a cold response. The others said they didn’t care much about it, and +what about tea? + +I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind their +teas is simply beastly. + +Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, not at +all like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on-- + +‘All right. I’M going. If you funk it you’d better cut along home and +ask your nurses to put you to bed.’ So then, of course, they agreed +to go. Oswald went first with the candle. It was not comfortable; the +architect of that dark subterranean passage had not imagined anyone +would ever be brave enough to lead a band of beavers into its inky +recesses, or he would have built it high enough to stand upright in. As +it was, we were bent almost at a right angle, and this is very awkward +if for long. + +But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to the +groans of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about their +backs. + +It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not sorry +to say, ‘I see daylight.’ The followers cheered as well as they could as +they splashed after him. The floor was stone as well as the roof, so it +was easy to walk on. I think the followers would have turned back if it +had been sharp stones or gravel. + +And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger and +larger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself blinking in the +full sun, and the candle he carried looked simply silly. He emerged, +and the others too, and they stretched their backs and the word ‘krikey’ +fell from more than one lip. It had indeed been a cramping adventure. +Bushes grew close to the mouth of the tunnel, so we could not see much +landscape, and when we had stretched our backs we went on upstream and +nobody said they’d had jolly well enough of it, though in more than one +young heart this was thought. + +It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how cold +it was underground. The stream was getting smaller and smaller. + +Dicky said, ‘This can’t be the way. I expect there was a turning to +the North Pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was cold enough +there.’ + +But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, and +Oswald said-- + +‘Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest profusion. +Such blossoms as these never opened in a frigid what’s-its-name.’ + +It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy place +like I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and it was +simply crammed with queer plants, and flowers we never saw before or +since. And the stream was quite thin. It was torridly hot, and softish +to walk on. There were rushes and reeds and small willows, and it was +all tangled over with different sorts of grasses--and pools here and +there. We saw no wild beasts, but there were more different kinds of +wild flies and beetles than you could believe anybody could bear, and +dragon-flies and gnats. The girls picked a lot of flowers. I know the +names of some of them, but I will not tell you them because this is +not meant to be instructing. So I will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, +loose-strife, lady’s bed-straw and willow herb--both the larger and the +lesser. + +Everyone now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than in natural +fields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and play at +savages, instead of keeping respectable in your boots. + +But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly. + +It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home the +same way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the distance +and said-- + +‘There must be a road there, let’s make for it,’ which was quite a +simple and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any credit for +it. So we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the brambles, and the +water squelched in our boots, and Alice’s blue muslin frock was torn all +over in those crisscross tears which are considered so hard to darn. + +We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, so we +knew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and hotter and +hotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our brows and rolled +down our noses and off our chins. And the flies buzzed, and the gnats +stung, and Oswald bravely sought to keep up Dicky’s courage, when he +tripped on a snag and came down on a bramble bush, by saying-- + +‘You see it IS the source of the Nile we’ve discovered. What price North +Poles now?’ + +Alice said, ‘Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it HAD been +the Pole, anyway.’ + +Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what is +his own idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties besides just +leading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of the expedition, +whether Polar or Equatorish. + +So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the tottering +Denny a hand over the rough places. Denny’s feet hurt him, because when +he was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of his pocket, and boots +without stockings are not a bed of luxuriousness. And he is often +unlucky with his feet. + +Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said-- + +‘Let’s paddle.’ + +Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the boy, +and generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting late and the +others were ahead, so he said-- + +‘Oh, rot! come on.’ + +Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they are +hot enough, and if their feet are hurting them. ‘I don’t care, I shall!’ +he said. + +Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He just +said-- + +‘Well don’t be all day about it,’ for he is a kind-hearted boy and can +make allowances. So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool. +‘Oh, it’s ripping!’ he said. ‘You ought to come in.’ + +‘It looks beastly muddy,’ said his tolerating leader. + +‘It is a bit,’ Denny said, ‘but the mud’s just as cool as the water, and +so soft, it squeezes between your toes quite different to boots.’ + +And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in. + +But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may have +been because both his bootlaces were in hard knots. + +Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, or +whatever it was. + +Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing about, +and getting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you would have +thought his was a most envious and happy state. But alas! the brightest +cloud had a waterproof lining. He was just saying-- + +‘You are a silly, Oswald. You’d much better--’ when he gave a +blood-piercing scream, and began to kick about. + +‘What’s up?’ cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the way +Denny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in this +quiet and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the shark bit +Dora. + +‘I don’t know, it’s biting me. Oh, it’s biting me all over my legs! Oh, +what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!’ remarked Denny, among +his screams, and he splashed towards the bank. Oswald went into the +water and caught hold of him and helped him out. It is true that Oswald +had his boots on, but I trust he would not have funked the unknown +terrors of the deep, even without his boots, I am almost sure he would +not have. + +When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror and +amaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black, slug-looking +things. Denny turned green in the face--and even Oswald felt a bit +queer, for he knew in a moment what the black dreadfulnesses were. He +had read about them in a book called Magnet Stories, where there was a +girl called Theodosia, and she could play brilliant trebles on the piano +in duets, but the other girl knew all about leeches which is much more +useful and golden deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but they +wouldn’t, and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered from +the Magnet Stories how to make the leeches begin biting--the girl did it +with cream--but he could not remember how to stop them, and they had not +wanted any showing how to begin. + +‘Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, oh!’ Denny +observed, and Oswald said-- + +‘Be a man! Buck up! If you won’t let me take them off you’ll just have +to walk home in them.’ + +At this thought the unfortunate youth’s tears fell fast. But Oswald gave +him an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he consented to buck +up, and the two struggled on towards the others, who were coming back, +attracted by Denny’s yells. He did not stop howling for a moment, except +to breathe. No one ought to blame him till they have had eleven leeches +on their right leg and six on their left, making seventeen in all, as +Dicky said, at once. + +It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on the +road--where the telegraph wires were--was interested by his howls, and +came across the marsh to us as hard as he could. When he saw Denny’s +legs he said-- + +‘Blest if I didn’t think so,’ and he picked Denny up and carried him +under one arm, where Denny went on saying ‘Oh!’ and ‘It does hurt’ as +hard as ever. + +Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom of +youth, and a farm-labourer by trade, in corduroys, carried the wretched +sufferer to the cottage where he lived with his aged mother; and then +Oswald found that what he had forgotten about the leeches was SALT. The +young man in the bloom of youth’s mother put salt on the leeches, and +they squirmed off, and fell with sickening, slug-like flops on the brick +floor. + +Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc., carried Denny home +on his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he looked like +‘wounded warriors returning’. + +It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way the +young explorers had come. + +He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness are +their own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns Albert’s +uncle gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not sure Alice +ought to have put him in the Golden Deed book which was supposed to be +reserved for Us. + +Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile (or +North Pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the gentlest reader +may be. + +The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the sofa, +and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white currants, +which we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when Mrs Pettigrew, +the housekeeper, put her head in at the door and said-- + +‘Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir?’ to Albert’s uncle. +And her voice was the kind that makes you look at each other when the +grown-up has gone out, and you are silent, with your bread-and-butter +halfway to the next bite, or your teacup in mid flight to your lips. + +It was as we suppose. Albert’s uncle did not come back for a long while. +We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that time, of +course, and we thought we might as well finish the raspberries and white +currants. We kept some for Albert’s uncle, of course, and they were the +best ones too but when he came back he did not notice our thoughtful +unselfishness. + +He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very likely +no supper. + +He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is something +like the calmness of despair. He said-- + +‘You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a dam?’ + +‘We were being beavers,’ said H. O., in proud tones. He did not see as +we did where Albert’s uncle’s tone pointed to. + +‘No doubt,’ said Albert’s uncle, rubbing his hands through his hair. ‘No +doubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build dams with your +bolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you took for it left +a channel through which it has run down and ruined about seven pounds’ +worth of freshly-reaped barley. Luckily the farmer found it out in time +or you might have spoiled seventy pounds’ worth. And you burned a bridge +yesterday.’ + +We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice added, +‘We didn’t MEAN to be naughty.’ + +‘Of course not,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘you never do. Oh, yes, I’ll kiss +you--but it’s bed and it’s two hundred lines to-morrow, and the line +is--“Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread Dams.” It will +be a capital exercise in capital B’s and D’s.’ + +We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went to +bed. + +I got jolly sick of capital B’s and D’s before sunset on the morrow. +That night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald said-- + +‘I say.’ + +‘Well,’ retorted his brother. + +‘There is one thing about it,’ Oswald went on, ‘it does show it was a +rattling good dam anyhow.’ + +And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or explorers, +Polar or otherwise) fell asleep. + + + +CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE + +It really was not such a bad baby--for a baby. Its face was round and +quite clean, which babies’ faces are not always, as I daresay you know +by your own youthful relatives; and Dora said its cape was trimmed with +real lace, whatever that may be--I don’t see myself how one kind of +lace can be realler than another. It was in a very swagger sort of +perambulator when we saw it; and the perambulator was standing quite by +itself in the lane that leads to the mill. + +‘I wonder whose baby it is,’ Dora said. ‘Isn’t it a darling, Alice?’ + +Alice agreed to its being one, and said she thought it was most likely +the child of noble parents stolen by gipsies. + +‘These two, as likely as not,’ Noel said. ‘Can’t you see something +crime-like in the very way they’re lying?’ + +They were two tramps, and they were lying on the grass at the edge of +the lane on the shady side fast asleep, only a very little further on +than where the Baby was. They were very ragged, and their snores did +have a sinister sound. + +‘I expect they stole the titled heir at dead of night, and they’ve been +travelling hot-foot ever since, so now they’re sleeping the sleep +of exhaustedness,’ Alice said. ‘What a heart-rending scene when the +patrician mother wakes in the morning and finds the infant aristocrat +isn’t in bed with his mamma.’ + +The Baby was fast asleep or else the girls would have kissed it. They +are strangely fond of kissing. The author never could see anything in it +himself. + +‘If the gipsies DID steal it,’ Dora said ‘perhaps they’d sell it to us. +I wonder what they’d take for it.’ + +‘What could you do with it if you’d got it?’ H. O. asked. + +‘Why, adopt it, of course,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve often thought I should +enjoy adopting a baby. It would be a golden deed, too. We’ve hardly got +any in the book yet.’ + +‘I should have thought there were enough of us,’ Dicky said. + +‘Ah, but you’re none of you babies,’ said Dora. + +‘Unless you count H. O. as a baby: he behaves jolly like one sometimes.’ + +This was because of what had happened that morning when Dicky found +H. O. going fishing with a box of worms, and the box was the one Dicky +keeps his silver studs in, and the medal he got at school, and what is +left of his watch and chain. The box is lined with red velvet and it was +not nice afterwards. And then H. O. said Dicky had hurt him, and he was +a beastly bully, and he cried. We thought all this had been made up, and +were sorry to see it threaten to break out again. So Oswald said-- + +‘Oh, bother the Baby! Come along, do!’ + +And the others came. + +We were going to the miller’s with a message about some flour that +hadn’t come, and about a sack of sharps for the pigs. + +After you go down the lane you come to a clover-field, and then a +cornfield, and then another lane, and then it is the mill. It is a +jolly fine mill: in fact it is two--water and wind ones--one of each +kind--with a house and farm buildings as well. I never saw a mill like +it, and I don’t believe you have either. + +If we had been in a story-book the miller’s wife would have taken us +into the neat sanded kitchen where the old oak settle was black +with time and rubbing, and dusted chairs for us--old brown Windsor +chairs--and given us each a glass of sweet-scented cowslip wine and +a thick slice of rich home-made cake. And there would have been fresh +roses in an old china bowl on the table. As it was, she asked us all +into the parlour and gave us Eiffel Tower lemonade and Marie biscuits. +The chairs in her parlour were ‘bent wood’, and no flowers, except some +wax ones under a glass shade, but she was very kind, and we were very +much obliged to her. We got out to the miller, though, as soon as we +could; only Dora and Daisy stayed with her, and she talked to them about +her lodgers and about her relations in London. + +The miller is a MAN. He showed us all over the mills--both kinds--and +let us go right up into the very top of the wind-mill, and showed us +how the top moved round so that the sails could catch the wind, and +the great heaps of corn, some red and some yellow (the red is English +wheat), and the heaps slice down a little bit at a time into a square +hole and go down to the mill-stones. The corn makes a rustling soft +noise that is very jolly--something like the noise of the sea--and you +can hear it through all the other mill noises. + +Then the miller let us go all over the water-mill. It is fairy palaces +inside a mill. Everything is powdered over white, like sugar on pancakes +when you are allowed to help yourself. And he opened a door and showed +us the great water-wheel working on slow and sure, like some great, +round, dripping giant, Noel said, and then he asked us if we fished. + +‘Yes,’ was our immediate reply. + +‘Then why not try the mill-pool?’ he said, and we replied politely; and +when he was gone to tell his man something we owned to each other that +he was a trump. + +He did the thing thoroughly. He took us out and cut us ash saplings for +rods; he found us in lines and hooks, and several different sorts of +bait, including a handsome handful of meal-worms, which Oswald put loose +in his pocket. + +When it came to bait, Alice said she was going home with Dora and Daisy. +Girls are strange, mysterious, silly things. Alice always enjoys a rat +hunt until the rat is caught, but she hates fishing from beginning to +end. We boys have got to like it. We don’t feel now as we did when +we turned off the water and stopped the competition of the competing +anglers. We had a grand day’s fishing that day. I can’t think what made +the miller so kind to us. Perhaps he felt a thrill of fellow-feeling in +his manly breast for his fellow-sportsmen, for he was a noble fisherman +himself. + +We had glorious sport--eight roach, six dace, three eels, seven perch, +and a young pike, but he was so very young the miller asked us to put +him back, and of course we did. ‘He’ll live to bite another day,’ said +the miller. + +The miller’s wife gave us bread and cheese and more Eiffel Tower +lemonade, and we went home at last, a little damp, but full of +successful ambition, with our fish on a string. + +It had been a strikingly good time--one of those times that happen in +the country quite by themselves. Country people are much more friendly +than town people. I suppose they don’t have to spread their friendly +feelings out over so many persons, so it’s thicker, like a pound of +butter on one loaf is thicker than on a dozen. Friendliness in the +country is not scrape, like it is in London. Even Dicky and H. O. forgot +the affair of honour that had taken place in the morning. H. O. changed +rods with Dicky because H. O.’s was the best rod, and Dicky baited H. +O.’s hook for him, just like loving, unselfish brothers in Sunday School +magazines. + +We were talking fishlikely as we went along down the lane and through +the cornfield and the cloverfield, and then we came to the other lane +where we had seen the Baby. The tramps were gone, and the perambulator +was gone, and, of course, the Baby was gone too. + +‘I wonder if those gipsies HAD stolen the Baby?’ Noel said dreamily. He +had not fished much, but he had made a piece of poetry. It was this: + + + ‘How I wish + I was a fish. + I would not look + At your hook, + But lie still and be cool + At the bottom of the pool + And when you went to look + At your cruel hook, + You would not find me there, + So there!’ + + +‘If they did steal the Baby,’ Noel went on, ‘they will be tracked by the +lordly perambulator. You can disguise a baby in rags and walnut juice, +but there isn’t any disguise dark enough to conceal a perambulator’s +person.’ + +‘You might disguise it as a wheel-barrow,’ said Dicky. + +‘Or cover it with leaves,’ said H. O., ‘like the robins.’ + +We told him to shut up and not gibber, but afterwards we had to own that +even a young brother may sometimes talk sense by accident. + +For we took the short cut home from the lane--it begins with a large gap +in the hedge and the grass and weeds trodden down by the hasty feet of +persons who were late for church and in too great a hurry to go round +by the road. Our house is next to the church, as I think I have said +before, some time. + +The short cut leads to a stile at the edge of a bit of wood (the +Parson’s Shave, they call it, because it belongs to him). The wood has +not been shaved for some time, and it has grown out beyond the stile and +here, among the hazels and chestnuts and young dogwood bushes, we saw +something white. We felt it was our duty to investigate, even if the +white was only the under side of the tail of a dead rabbit caught in a +trap. + +It was not--it was part of the perambulator. I forget whether I said +that the perambulator was enamelled white--not the kind of enamelling +you do at home with Aspinall’s and the hairs of the brush come out and +it is gritty-looking, but smooth, like the handles of ladies very best +lace parasols. And whoever had abandoned the helpless perambulator in +that lonely spot had done exactly as H. O. said, and covered it with +leaves, only they were green and some of them had dropped off. + +The others were wild with excitement. Now or never, they thought, was a +chance to be real detectives. Oswald alone retained a calm exterior. It +was he who would not go straight to the police station. + +He said: ‘Let’s try and ferret out something for ourselves before we +tell the police. They always have a clue directly they hear about the +finding of the body. And besides, we might as well let Alice be in +anything there is going. And besides, we haven’t had our dinners yet.’ + +This argument of Oswald’s was so strong and powerful--his arguments are +often that, as I daresay you have noticed--that the others agreed. +It was Oswald, too, who showed his artless brothers why they had much +better not take the deserted perambulator home with them. + +‘The dead body, or whatever the clue is, is always left exactly as it is +found,’ he said, ‘till the police have seen it, and the coroner, and the +inquest, and the doctor, and the sorrowing relations. Besides, suppose +someone saw us with the beastly thing, and thought we had stolen it; +then they would say, “What have you done with the Baby?” and then where +should we be?’ Oswald’s brothers could not answer this question, but +once more Oswald’s native eloquence and far-seeing discerningness +conquered. + +‘Anyway,’ Dicky said, ‘let’s shove the derelict a little further under +cover.’ + +So we did. + +Then we went on home. Dinner was ready and so were Alice and Daisy, but +Dora was not there. + +‘She’s got a--well, she’s not coming to dinner anyway,’ Alice said when +we asked. ‘She can tell you herself afterwards what it is she’s got.’ + +Oswald thought it was headache, or pain in the temper, or in the +pinafore, so he said no more, but as soon as Mrs Pettigrew had helped +us and left the room he began the thrilling tale of the forsaken +perambulator. He told it with the greatest thrillingness anyone could +have, but Daisy and Alice seemed almost unmoved. Alice said-- + +‘Yes, very strange,’ and things like that, but both the girls seemed +to be thinking of something else. They kept looking at each other and +trying not to laugh, so Oswald saw they had got some silly secret and he +said-- + +‘Oh, all right! I don’t care about telling you. I only thought you’d +like to be in it. It’s going to be a really big thing, with policemen in +it, and perhaps a judge.’ + +‘In what?’ H. O. said; ‘the perambulator?’ + +Daisy choked and then tried to drink, and spluttered and got purple, and +had to be thumped on the back. But Oswald was not appeased. When Alice +said, ‘Do go on, Oswald. I’m sure we all like it very much,’ he said-- + +‘Oh, no, thank you,’ very politely. ‘As it happens,’ he went on, ‘I’d +just as soon go through with this thing without having any girls in it.’ + +‘In the perambulator?’ said H. O. again. + +‘It’s a man’s job,’ Oswald went on, without taking any notice of H. O. + +‘Do you really think so,’ said Alice, ‘when there’s a baby in it?’ + +‘But there isn’t,’ said H. O., ‘if you mean in the perambulator.’ + +‘Blow you and your perambulator,’ said Oswald, with gloomy forbearance. + +Alice kicked Oswald under the table and said-- + +‘Don’t be waxy, Oswald. Really and truly Daisy and I HAVE got a secret, +only it’s Dora’s secret, and she wants to tell you herself. If it was +mine or Daisy’s we’d tell you this minute, wouldn’t we, Mouse?’ + +‘This very second,’ said the White Mouse. + +And Oswald consented to take their apologies. + +Then the pudding came in, and no more was said except asking for things +to be passed--sugar and water, and bread and things. + +Then when the pudding was all gone, Alice said-- + +‘Come on.’ + +And we came on. We did not want to be disagreeable, though really we +were keen on being detectives and sifting that perambulator to the +very dregs. But boys have to try to take an interest in their sisters’ +secrets, however silly. This is part of being a good brother. + +Alice led us across the field where the sheep once fell into the brook, +and across the brook by the plank. At the other end of the next field +there was a sort of wooden house on wheels, that the shepherd sleeps in +at the time of year when lambs are being born, so that he can see that +they are not stolen by gipsies before the owners have counted them. + +To this hut Alice now led her kind brothers and Daisy’s kind brother. +‘Dora is inside,’ she said, ‘with the Secret. We were afraid to have it +in the house in case it made a noise.’ + +The next moment the Secret was a secret no longer, for we all beheld +Dora, sitting on a sack on the floor of the hut, with the Secret in her +lap. + +It was the High-born Babe! + +Oswald was so overcome that he sat down suddenly, just like Betsy +Trotwood did in David Copperfield, which just shows what a true author +Dickens is. + +‘You’ve done it this time,’ he said. ‘I suppose you know you’re a +baby-stealer?’ + +‘I’m not,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve adopted him.’ + +‘Then it was you,’ Dicky said, ‘who scuttled the perambulator in the +wood?’ + +‘Yes,’ Alice said; ‘we couldn’t get it over the stile unless Dora put +down the Baby, and we were afraid of the nettles for his legs. His name +is to be Lord Edward.’ + +‘But, Dora--really, don’t you think--’ + +‘If you’d been there you’d have done the same,’ said Dora firmly. ‘The +gipsies had gone. Of course something had frightened them and they fled +from justice. And the little darling was awake and held out his arms to +me. No, he hasn’t cried a bit, and I know all about babies; I’ve often +nursed Mrs Simpkins’s daughter’s baby when she brings it up on Sundays. +They have bread and milk to eat. You take him, Alice, and I’ll go and +get some bread and milk for him.’ + +Alice took the noble brat. It was horribly lively, and squirmed about in +her arms, and wanted to crawl on the floor. She could only keep it quiet +by saying things to it a boy would be ashamed even to think of saying, +such as ‘Goo goo’, and ‘Did ums was’, and ‘Ickle ducksums, then’. + +When Alice used these expressions the Baby laughed and chuckled and +replied-- + +‘Daddadda’, ‘Bababa’, or ‘Glueglue’. + +But if Alice stopped her remarks for an instant the thing screwed its +face up as if it was going to cry, but she never gave it time to begin. + +It was a rummy little animal. + +Then Dora came back with the bread and milk, and they fed the noble +infant. It was greedy and slobbery, but all three girls seemed unable to +keep their eyes and hands off it. They looked at it exactly as if it was +pretty. + +We boys stayed watching them. There was no amusement left for us +now, for Oswald saw that Dora’s Secret knocked the bottom out of the +perambulator. + +When the infant aristocrat had eaten a hearty meal it sat on Alice’s lap +and played with the amber heart she wears that Albert’s uncle brought +her from Hastings after the business of the bad sixpence and the +nobleness of Oswald. + +‘Now,’ said Dora, ‘this is a council, so I want to be business-like. The +Duckums Darling has been stolen away; its wicked stealers have deserted +the Precious. We’ve got it. Perhaps its ancestral halls are miles and +miles away. I vote we keep the little Lovey Duck till it’s advertised +for.’ + +‘If Albert’s uncle lets you,’ said Dicky darkly. + +‘Oh, don’t say “you” like that,’ Dora said; ‘I want it to be all of our +baby. It will have five fathers and three mothers, and a grandfather and +a great Albert’s uncle, and a great grand-uncle. I’m sure Albert’s uncle +will let us keep it--at any rate till it’s advertised for.’ + +‘And suppose it never is,’ Noel said. + +‘Then so much the better,’ said Dora, ‘the little Duckyux.’ + +She began kissing the baby again. Oswald, ever thoughtful, said--‘Well, +what about your dinner?’ + +‘Bother dinner!’ Dora said--so like a girl. ‘Will you all agree to be +his fathers and mothers?’ + +‘Anything for a quiet life,’ said Dicky, and Oswald said-- + +‘Oh, yes, if you like. But you’ll see we shan’t be allowed to keep it.’ + +‘You talk as if he was rabbits or white rats,’ said Dora, ‘and he’s +not--he’s a little man, he is.’ + +‘All right, he’s no rabbit, but a man. Come on and get some grub, Dora,’ +rejoined the kind-hearted Oswald, and Dora did, with Oswald and the +other boys. Only Noel stayed with Alice. He really seemed to like the +baby. When I looked back he was standing on his head to amuse it, but +the baby did not seem to like him any better whichever end of him was +up. + +Dora went back to the shepherd’s house on wheels directly she had had +her dinner. Mrs Pettigrew was very cross about her not being in to it, +but she had kept her some mutton hot all the same. She is a decent sort. +And there were stewed prunes. We had some to keep Dora company. Then we +boys went fishing again in the moat, but we caught nothing. + +Just before tea-time we all went back to the hut, and before we got half +across the last field we could hear the howling of the Secret. + +‘Poor little beggar,’ said Oswald, with manly tenderness. ‘They must be +sticking pins in it.’ + +We found the girls and Noel looking quite pale and breathless. Daisy was +walking up and down with the Secret in her arms. It looked like Alice in +Wonderland nursing the baby that turned into a pig. Oswald said so, and +added that its screams were like it too. + +‘What on earth is the matter with it?’ he said. + +‘_I_ don’t know,’ said Alice. ‘Daisy’s tired, and Dora and I are quite +worn out. He’s been crying for hours and hours. YOU take him a bit.’ + +‘Not me,’ replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the Secret. + +Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the hut. + +‘I think he’s cold,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d take off my flannelette +petticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard knot. Here, Oswald, +let’s have your knife.’ + +With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald’s jacket pocket, and next +moment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and screaming +almost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and to cry at the +same time. This is called hysterics. + +Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that his +pocket was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly given him. +And, anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always carries his +knife in his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one. + +Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the pile +of sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams for a +moment to listen to Dora’s, but almost at once it went on again. + +‘Oh, get some water!’ said Alice. ‘Daisy, run!’ + +The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into the +arms of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have fallen a +wreck to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He tried to pass +it on to the others, but they wouldn’t. Noel would have, but he was busy +kissing Dora and begging her not to. So our hero, for such I may perhaps +term him, found himself the degraded nursemaid of a small but furious +kid. + +He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat +its brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however +innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walked +earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back, +while the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell. + +Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. He +looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithful +eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house. + +The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms and +Dora, but he answered without anger. + +‘Shut up,’ he said in a whisper of imperial command. ‘Can’t you see it’s +GONE TO SLEEP?’ + +As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a very +long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends dragged +their weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was compelled to go +on holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changed +hands, and begin to yell again. Dora’s flannelette petticoat had been +got off somehow--how I do not seek to inquire--and the Secret was +covered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with +a view to concealment if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear. +Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn’t come +there much, it’s too many stairs. + +With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed, +but did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it +did not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious +fits, it would just as soon have done as not. + +We expected Albert’s uncle every minute. + +At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and +saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald +horse--one of the miller’s horses. + +A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember +having done anything wrong at the miller’s. But you never know. And it +seemed strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we had +looked a bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For we +saw that the distracted one was a gentleman. + +Presently he rode off, and Albert’s uncle came in. A deputation met him +at the door--all the boys and Dora, because the baby was her idea. + +‘We’ve found something,’ Dora said, ‘and we want to know whether we may +keep it.’ + +The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to keep +it after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. Even Noel had +said he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora said it only cried +because it was sleepy, but we reflected that it would certainly be +sleepy once a day, if not oftener. + +‘What is it?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Let’s see this treasure-trove. Is it +a wild beast?’ + +‘Come and see,’ said Dora, and we led him to our room. + +Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, and +showed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping. + +‘A baby!’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘THE Baby! Oh, my cat’s alive!’ + +That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed with +anger. + +‘Where did you?--but that doesn’t matter. We’ll talk of this later.’ + +He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount his +bicycle and ride off. + +Quite shortly he returned with the distracted horse-man. + +It was HIS baby, and not titled at all. The horseman and his wife were +the lodgers at the mill. The nursemaid was a girl from the village. + +She SAID she only left the Baby five minutes while she went to speak to +her sweetheart who was gardener at the Red House. But we knew she left +it over an hour, and nearly two. + +I never saw anyone so pleased as the distracted horseman. + +When we were asked we explained about having thought the Baby was the +prey of gipsies, and the distracted horseman stood hugging the Baby, and +actually thanked us. + +But when he had gone we had a brief lecture on minding our own business. +But Dora still thinks she was right. As for Oswald and most of the +others, they agreed that they would rather mind their own business all +their lives than mind a baby for a single hour. + +If you have never had to do with a baby in the frenzied throes of +sleepiness you can have no idea what its screams are like. + +If you have been through such a scene you will understand how we managed +to bear up under having no baby to adopt. Oswald insisted on having the +whole thing written in the Golden Deed book. Of course his share could +not be put in without telling about Dora’s generous adopting of the +forlorn infant outcast, and Oswald could not and cannot forget that he +was the one who did get that baby to sleep. + +What a time Mr and Mrs Distracted Horseman must have of it, +though--especially now they’ve sacked the nursemaid. + +If Oswald is ever married--I suppose he must be some day--he will have +ten nurses to each baby. Eight is not enough. We know that because we +tried, and the whole eight of us were not enough for the needs of that +deserted infant who was not so extra high-born after all. + + + +CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX + +It is idle to expect everyone to know everything in the world without +being told. If we had been brought up in the country we should have +known that it is not done--to hunt the fox in August. But in the +Lewisham Road the most observing boy does not notice the dates when it +is proper to hunt foxes. + +And there are some things you cannot bear to think that anybody would +think you would do; that is why I wish to say plainly at the very +beginning that none of us would have shot a fox on purpose even to save +our skins. Of course, if a man were at bay in a cave, and had to defend +girls from the simultaneous attack of a herd of savage foxes it would be +different. A man is bound to protect girls and take care of them--they +can jolly well take care of themselves really it seems to me--still, +this is what Albert’s uncle calls one of the ‘rules of the game’, so we +are bound to defend them and fight for them to the death, if needful. +Denny knows a quotation which says-- + + ‘What dire offence from harmless causes springs, + What mighty contests rise from trefoil things.’ + +He says this means that all great events come from three +things--threefold, like the clover or trefoil, and the causes are always +harmless. Trefoil is short for threefold. + +There were certainly three things that led up to the adventure which is +now going to be told you. The first was our Indian uncle coming down to +the country to see us. The second was Denny’s tooth. The third was only +our wanting to go hunting; but if you count it in it makes the thing +about the trefoil come right. And all these causes were harmless. + +It is a flattering thing to say, and it was not Oswald who said it, but +Dora. She said she was certain our uncle missed us, and that he felt he +could no longer live without seeing his dear ones (that was us). + +Anyway, he came down, without warning, which is one of the few bad +habits that excellent Indian man has, and this habit has ended in +unpleasantness more than once, as when we played jungles. + +However, this time it was all right. He came on rather a dull kind of +day, when no one had thought of anything particularly amusing to do. So +that, as it happened to be dinner-time and we had just washed our hands +and faces, we were all spotlessly clean (com-pared with what we are +sometimes, I mean, of course). + +We were just sitting down to dinner, and Albert’s uncle was just +plunging the knife into the hot heart of the steak pudding, when there +was the rumble of wheels, and the station fly stopped at the garden +gate. And in the fly, sitting very upright, with his hands on his knees, +was our Indian relative so much beloved. He looked very smart, with a +rose in his buttonhole. How different from what he looked in other days +when he helped us to pretend that our currant pudding was a wild boar +we were killing with our forks. Yet, though tidier, his heart still beat +kind and true. You should not judge people harshly because their clothes +are tidy. He had dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, +and told him everything we thought he would like to hear, and about the +Tower of Mystery, and he said-- + +‘It makes my blood boil to think of it.’ + +Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told it to +had owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood. + +‘Ah,’ said the Uncle, ‘but in India we learn how to freeze our blood and +boil it at the same time.’ + +In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always near +boiling-point, which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for the +curry and pepper they eat. But I must not wander; there is no curry at +all in this story. About temper I will not say. + +Then Uncle let us all go with him to the station when the fly came back +for him; and when we said good-bye he tipped us all half a quid, without +any insidious distinctions about age or considering whether you were a +boy or a girl. Our Indian uncle is a true-born Briton, with no nonsense +about him. + +We cheered him like one man as the train went off, and then we offered +the fly-driver a shilling to take us back to the four cross-roads, and +the grateful creature did it for nothing because, he said, the gent had +tipped him something like. How scarce is true gratitude! So we cheered +the driver too for this rare virtue, and then went home to talk about +what we should do with our money. I cannot tell you all that we did with +it, because money melts away ‘like snow-wreaths in thaw-jean’, as Denny +says, and somehow the more you have the more quickly it melts. We +all went into Maidstone, and came back with the most beautiful lot of +brown-paper parcels, with things inside that supplied long-felt wants. +But none of them belongs to this narration, except what Oswald and Denny +clubbed to buy. + +This was a pistol, and it took all the money they both had, but when +Oswald felt the uncomfortable inside sensation that reminds you who it +is and his money that are soon parted he said to himself-- + +‘I don’t care. We ought to have a pistol in the house, and one that +will go off, too--not those rotten flintlocks. Suppose there should be +burglars and us totally unarmed?’ + +We took it in turns to have the pistol, and we decided always to +practise with it far from the house, so as not to frighten the +grown-ups, who are always much nervouser about firearms than we are. + +It was Denny’s idea getting it; and Oswald owns it surprised him, but +the boy was much changed in his character. We got it while the others +were grubbing at the pastry-cook’s in the High Street, and we said +nothing till after tea, though it was hard not to fire at the birds on +the telegraph wires as we came home in the train. + +After tea we called a council in the straw-loft, and Oswald said-- + +‘Denny and I have got a secret.’ + +‘I know what it is,’ Dicky said contemptibly. ‘You’ve found out that +shop in Maidstone where peppermint rock is four ounces a penny. H. O. +and I found it out before you did.’ + +Oswald said, ‘You shut-up. If you don’t want to hear the secret you’d +better bunk. I’m going to administer the secret oath.’ + +This is a very solemn oath, and only used about real things, and never +for pretending ones, so Dicky said-- + +‘Oh, all right; go ahead! I thought you were only rotting.’ + +So they all took the secret oath. Noel made it up long before, when he +had found the first thrush’s nest we ever saw in the Blackheath garden: + + + ‘I will not tell, I will not reveal, + I will not touch, or try to steal; + And may I be called a beastly sneak, + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ + +It is a little wrong about the poetry, but it is a very binding promise. +They all repeated it, down to H. O. + +‘Now then,’ Dicky said, ‘what’s up?’ + +Oswald, in proud silence, drew the pistol from his breast and held it +out, and there was a murmur of awful amazement and respect from every +one of the council. The pistol was not loaded, so we let even the girls +have it to look at. And then Dicky said, ‘Let’s go hunting.’ + +And we decided that we would. H. O. wanted to go down to the village and +get penny horns at the shop for the huntsmen to wind, like in the song, +but we thought it would be more modest not to wind horns or anything +noisy, at any rate not until we had run down our prey. But his talking +of the song made us decide that it was the fox we wanted to hunt. We had +not been particular which animal we hunted before that. + +Oswald let Denny have first go with the pistol, and when we went to bed +he slept with it under his pillow, but not loaded, for fear he should +have a nightmare and draw his fell weapon before he was properly awake. + +Oswald let Denny have it, because Denny had toothache, and a pistol is +consoling though it does not actually stop the pain of the tooth. The +toothache got worse, and Albert’s uncle looked at it, and said it was +very loose, and Denny owned he had tried to crack a peach-stone with it. +Which accounts. He had creosote and camphor, and went to bed early, with +his tooth tied up in red flannel. + +Oswald knows it is right to be very kind when people are ill, and he +forbore to wake the sufferer next morning by buzzing a pillow at him, as +he generally does. He got up and went over to shake the invalid, but +the bird had flown and the nest was cold. The pistol was not in the nest +either, but Oswald found it afterwards under the looking-glass on the +dressing-table. He had just awakened the others (with a hair-brush +because they had not got anything the matter with their teeth), when he +heard wheels, and, looking out, beheld Denny and Albert’s uncle being +driven from the door in the farmer’s high cart with the red wheels. + +We dressed extra quick, so as to get downstairs to the bottom of the +mystery. And we found a note from Albert’s uncle. It was addressed to +Dora, and said-- + +‘Denny’s toothache got him up in the small hours. He’s off to the +dentist to have it out with him, man to man. Home to dinner.’ + +Dora said, ‘Denny’s gone to the dentist.’ + +‘I expect it’s a relation,’ H. O. said. ‘Denny must be short for +Dentist.’ + +I suppose he was trying to be funny--he really does try very hard. He +wants to be a clown when he grows up. The others laughed. + +‘I wonder,’ said Dicky, ‘whether he’ll get a shilling or half-a-crown +for it.’ + +Oswald had been meditating in gloomy silence, now he cheered up and +said-- + +‘Of course! I’d forgotten that. He’ll get his tooth money, and the drive +too. So it’s quite fair for us to have the fox-hunt while he’s gone. I +was thinking we should have to put it off.’ + +The others agreed that it would not be unfair. + +‘We can have another one another time if he wants to,’ Oswald said. + +We know foxes are hunted in red coats and on horseback--but we could +not do this--but H. O. had the old red football jersey that was Albert’s +uncle’s when he was at Loretto. He was pleased. + +‘But I do wish we’d had horns,’ he said grievingly. ‘I should have liked +to wind the horn.’ + +‘We can pretend horns,’ Dora said; but he answered, ‘I didn’t want to +pretend. I wanted to wind something.’ + +‘Wind your watch,’ Dicky said. And that was unkind, because we all know +H. O.’s watch is broken, and when you wind it, it only rattles inside +without going in the least. + +We did not bother to dress up much for the hunting expedition--just +cocked hats and lath swords; and we tied a card on to H. O.’s chest with +‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’ on it; and we tied red flannel round all the +dogs’ necks to show they were fox-hounds. Yet it did not seem to show it +plainly; somehow it made them look as if they were not fox-hounds, but +their own natural breeds--only with sore throats. + +Oswald slipped the pistol and a few cartridges into his pocket. He knew, +of course, that foxes are not shot; but as he said-- + +‘Who knows whether we may not meet a bear or a crocodile.’ + +We set off gaily. Across the orchard and through two cornfields, and +along the hedge of another field, and so we got into the wood, through +a gap we had happened to make a day or two before, playing ‘follow my +leader’. + +The wood was very quiet and green; the dogs were happy and most busy. +Once Pincher started a rabbit. We said, ‘View Halloo!’ and immediately +started in pursuit; but the rabbit went and hid, so that even Pincher +could not find him, and we went on. But we saw no foxes. So at last we +made Dicky be a fox, and chased him down the green rides. A wide walk +in a wood is called a ride, even if people never do anything but walk in +it. + +We had only three hounds--Lady, Pincher and Martha--so we joined the +glad throng and were being hounds as hard as we could, when we suddenly +came barking round a corner in full chase and stopped short, for we +saw that our fox had stayed his hasty flight. The fox was stooping over +something reddish that lay beside the path, and he cried-- + +‘I say, look here!’ in tones that thrilled us throughout. + +Our fox--whom we must now call Dicky, so as not to muddle the +narration--pointed to the reddy thing that the dogs were sniffing at. + +‘It’s a real live fox,’ he said. And so it was. At least it was +real--only it was quite dead--and when Oswald lifted it up its head +was bleeding. It had evidently been shot through the brain and expired +instantly. Oswald explained this to the girls when they began to cry at +the sight of the poor beast; I do not say he did not feel a bit sorry +himself. + +The fox was cold, but its fur was so pretty, and its tail and its little +feet. Dicky strung the dogs on the leash; they were so much interested +we thought it was better. + +‘It does seem horrid to think it’ll never see again out of its poor +little eyes,’ Dora said, blowing her nose. + +‘And never run about through the wood again, lend me your hanky, Dora’ +said Alice. + +‘And never be hunted or get into a hen-roost or a trap or anything +exciting, poor little thing,’ said Dicky. + +The girls began to pick green chestnut leaves to cover up the poor fox’s +fatal wound, and Noel began to walk up and down making faces, the way +he always does when he’s making poetry. He cannot make one without the +other. It works both ways, which is a comfort. + +‘What are we going to do now?’ H. O. said; ‘the huntsman ought to cut +off its tail, I’m quite certain. Only, I’ve broken the big blade of my +knife, and the other never was any good.’ + +The girls gave H. O. a shove, and even Oswald said, ‘Shut up’, for +somehow we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more that +day. When his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked dead at +all. + +‘Oh, I wish it wasn’t true!’ Alice said. + +Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, ‘I should like to +pray God to make it not true.’ + +But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good--only she might pray +God to take care of the fox’s poor little babies, if it had had any, +which I believe she has done ever since. + +‘If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream,’ Alice said. + +It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really set +out to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox’s feet looked so +helpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I know would not +have been there if it had been alive and able to wash itself. + +Noel now said, ‘This is the piece of poetry’: + + + ‘Here lies poor Reynard who is slain, + He will not come to life again. + I never will the huntsman’s horn + Wind since the day that I was born + Until the day I die-- + For I don’t like hunting, and this is why.’ + + +‘Let’s have a funeral,’ said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we got +Dora to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we could +carry it to our garden and bury it without bloodying our jackets. Girls’ +clothes are silly in one way, but I think they are useful too. A boy +cannot take off more than his jacket and waistcoat in any emergency, +or he is at once entirely undressed. But I have known Dora take off +two petticoats for useful purposes and look just the same outside +afterwards. + +We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. When we +got near the edge of the wood Noel said-- + +‘It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk funeral +songs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come and cry if +they want to.’ He dumped the fox down on the moss under a young oak tree +as he spoke. + +‘If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and then he +could tie up the dogs at the same time.’ + +‘You’re sick of carrying it,’ Dicky remarked, ‘that’s what it is.’ But +he went on condition the rest of us boys went too. + +While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the wood; +it was a different edge to the one we went in by--close to a lane--and +while they waited for the digging or fatigue party to come back, they +collected a lot of moss and green things to make the fox’s long home +soft for it to lie in. There are no flowers in the woods in August, +which is a pity. + +When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the fox +in. We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too interested in +the funeral to behave with real, respectable calmness. + +The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped away +the broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild honeysuckle; +Oswald used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel made faces and +poetry--he was struck so that morning--and the girls sat stroking the +clean parts of the fox’s fur till the grave was deep enough. At last it +was; then Daisy threw in the leaves and grass, and Alice and Dora took +the poor dead fox by his two ends and we helped to put him in the +grave. We could not lower him slowly--he was dropped in, really. Then we +covered the furry body with leaves, and Noel said the Burial Ode he had +made up. He says this was it, but it sounds better now than it did then, +so I think he must have done something to it since: + + + THE FOX’S BURIAL ODE + + + 'Dear Fox, sleep here, and do not wake, + We picked these leaves for your sake + You must not try to rise or move, + We give you this with our love. + Close by the wood where once you grew + Your mourning friends have buried you. + If you had lived you'd not have been + (Been proper friends with us, I mean), + But now you're laid upon the shelf, + Poor fox, you cannot help yourself, + So, as I say, we are your loving friends-- + And here your + Burial Ode, dear Foxy, ends. + P. S.--When in the moonlight bright + The foxes wander of a night, + They'll pass your grave and fondly think of you, + Exactly like we mean to always do. + So now, dear fox, adieu! + Your friends are few + But true To you. + Adieu!' + +When this had been said we filled in the grave and covered the top of +it with dry leaves and sticks to make it look like the rest of the wood. +People might think it was a treasure, and dig it up, if they thought +there was anything buried there, and we wished the poor fox to sleep +sound and not to be disturbed. + +The interring was over. We folded up Dora’s bloodstained pink cotton +petticoat, and turned to leave the sad spot. + +We had not gone a dozen yards down the lane when we heard footsteps and +a whistle behind us, and a scrabbling and whining, and a gentleman with +two fox-terriers had called a halt just by the place where we had laid +low the ‘little red rover’. + +The gentleman stood in the lane, but the dogs were digging--we could see +their tails wagging and see the dust fly. And we SAW WHERE. We ran back. + +‘Oh, please, do stop your dogs digging there!’ Alice said. + +The gentleman said ‘Why?’ + +‘Because we’ve just had a funeral, and that’s the grave.’ + +The gentleman whistled, but the fox-terriers were not trained like +Pincher, who was brought up by Oswald. The gentleman took a stride +through the hedge gap. + +‘What have you been burying--pet dicky bird, eh?’ said the gentleman, +kindly. He had riding breeches and white whiskers. + +We did not answer, because now, for the first time, it came over all of +us, in a rush of blushes and uncomfortableness, that burying a fox is a +suspicious act. I don’t know why we felt this, but we did. + +Noel said dreamily-- + + ‘We found his murdered body in the wood, + And dug a grave by which the mourners stood.’ + +But no one heard him except Oswald, because Alice and Dora and Daisy +were all jumping about with the jumps of unrestrained anguish, and +saying, ‘Oh, call them off! Do! do!--oh, don’t, don’t! Don’t let them +dig.’ + +Alas! Oswald was, as usual, right. The ground of the grave had not been +trampled down hard enough, and he had said so plainly at the time, +but his prudent counsels had been overruled. Now these busy-bodying, +meddling, mischief-making fox-terriers (how different from Pincher, who +minds his own business unless told otherwise) had scratched away the +earth and laid bare the reddish tip of the poor corpse’s tail. + +We all turned to go without a word, it seemed to be no use staying any +longer. + +But in a moment the gentleman with the whiskers had got Noel and Dicky +each by an ear--they were nearest him. H. O. hid in the hedge. Oswald, +to whose noble breast sneakishness is, I am thankful to say, a stranger, +would have scorned to escape, but he ordered his sisters to bunk in a +tone of command which made refusal impossible. + +‘And bunk sharp, too’ he added sternly. ‘Cut along home.’ + +So they cut. The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his angry +fox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue their vile and +degrading occupation; holding on all the time to the ears of Dicky and +Noel, who scorned to ask for mercy. Dicky got purple and Noel got white. +It was Oswald who said-- + +‘Don’t hang on to them, sir. We won’t cut. I give you my word of +honour.’ + +‘YOUR word of honour,’ said the gentleman, in tones for which, in +happier days, when people drew their bright blades and fought duels, I +would have had his heart’s dearest blood. But now Oswald remained calm +and polite as ever. + +‘Yes, on my honour,’ he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears of +Oswald’s brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones. He dropped +the ears and pulled out the body of the fox and held it up. + +The dogs jumped up and yelled. + +‘Now,’ he said, ‘you talk very big about words of honour. Can you speak +the truth?’ + +Dickie said, ‘If you think we shot it, you’re wrong. We know better than +that.’ + +The white-whiskered one turned suddenly to H. O. and pulled him out of +the hedge. + +‘And what does that mean?’ he said, and he was pink with fury to the +ends of his large ears, as he pointed to the card on H. O.’s breast, +which said, ‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’. + +Then Oswald said, ‘We WERE playing at fox-hunting, but we couldn’t find +anything but a rabbit that hid, so my brother was being the fox; and +then we found the fox shot dead, and I don’t know who did it; and we +were sorry for it and we buried it--and that’s all.’ + +‘Not quite,’ said the riding-breeches gentleman, with what I think you +call a bitter smile, ‘not quite. This is my land and I’ll have you up +for trespass and damage. Come along now, no nonsense! I’m a magistrate +and I’m Master of the Hounds. A vixen, too! What did you shoot her +with? You’re too young to have a gun. Sneaked your Father’s revolver, I +suppose?’ + +Oswald thought it was better to be goldenly silent. But it was vain. +The Master of the Hounds made him empty his pockets, and there was the +pistol and the cartridges. + +The magistrate laughed a harsh laugh of successful disagreeableness. + +‘All right,’ said he, ‘where’s your licence? You come with me. A week or +two in prison.’ + +I don’t believe now he could have done it, but we all thought then he +could and would, what’s more. + +So H. O. began to cry, but Noel spoke up. His teeth were chattering yet +he spoke up like a man. + +He said, ‘You don’t know us. You’ve no right not to believe us till +you’ve found us out in a lie. We don’t tell lies. You ask Albert’s uncle +if we do.’ + +‘Hold your tongue,’ said the White-Whiskered. But Noel’s blood was up. + +‘If you do put us in prison without being sure,’ he said, trembling more +and more, ‘you are a horrible tyrant like Caligula, and Herod, or Nero, +and the Spanish Inquisition, and I will write a poem about it in prison, +and people will curse you for ever.’ + +‘Upon my word,’ said White Whiskers. ‘We’ll see about that,’ and he +turned up the lane with the fox hanging from one hand and Noel’s ear +once more reposing in the other. + +I thought Noel would cry or faint. But he bore up nobly--exactly like an +early Christian martyr. + +The rest of us came along too. I carried the spade and Dicky had the +fork. H. O. had the card, and Noel had the magistrate. At the end of +the lane there was Alice. She had bunked home, obeying the orders of her +thoughtful brother, but she had bottled back again like a shot, so as +not to be out of the scrape. She is almost worthy to be a boy for some +things. + +She spoke to Mr Magistrate and said-- + +‘Where are you taking him?’ + +The outraged majesty of the magistrate said, ‘To prison, you naughty +little girl.’ + +Alice said, ‘Noel will faint. Somebody once tried to take him to prison +before--about a dog. Do please come to our house and see our uncle--at +least he’s not--but it’s the same thing. We didn’t kill the fox, if +that’s what you think--indeed we didn’t. Oh, dear, I do wish you’d think +of your own little boys and girls if you’ve got any, or else about when +you were little. You wouldn’t be so horrid if you did.’ + +I don’t know which, if either, of these objects the fox-hound master +thought of, but he said-- + +‘Well, lead on,’ and he let go Noel’s ear and Alice snuggled up to Noel +and put her arm round him. + +It was a frightened procession, whose cheeks were pale with +alarm--except those between white whiskers, and they were red--that +wound in at our gate and into the hall among the old oak furniture, and +black and white marble floor and things. + +Dora and Daisy were at the door. The pink petticoat lay on the table, +all stained with the gore of the departed. Dora looked at us all, and +she saw that it was serious. She pulled out the big oak chair and said, +‘Won’t you sit down?’ very kindly to the white-whiskered magistrate. + +He grunted, but did as she said. + +Then he looked about him in a silence that was not comforting, and so +did we. At last he said-- + +‘Come, you didn’t try to bolt. Speak the truth, and I’ll say no more.’ + +We said we had. + +Then he laid the fox on the table, spreading out the petticoat under it, +and he took out a knife and the girls hid their faces. Even Oswald did +not care to look. Wounds in battle are all very well, but it’s different +to see a dead fox cut into with a knife. + +Next moment the magistrate wiped something on his handkerchief and then +laid it on the table, and put one of my cartridges beside it. It was the +bullet that had killed the fox. + +‘Look here!’ he said. And it was too true. The bullets were the same. + +A thrill of despair ran through Oswald. He knows now how a hero feels +when he is innocently accused of a crime and the judge is putting on the +black cap, and the evidence is convulsive and all human aid is despaired +of. + +‘I can’t help it,’ he said, ‘we didn’t kill it, and that’s all there is +to it.’ + +The white-whiskered magistrate may have been master of the fox-hounds, +but he was not master of his temper, which is more important, I should +think, than a lot of beastly dogs. + +He said several words which Oswald would never repeat, much less in +his own conversing, and besides that he called us ‘obstinate little +beggars’. + +Then suddenly Albert’s uncle entered in the midst of a silence freighted +with despairing reflections. The M.F.H. got up and told his tale: it was +mainly lies, or, to be more polite, it was hardly any of it true, though +I supposed he believed it. + +‘I am very sorry, sir’ said Albert’s uncle, looking at the bullets. + +‘You’ll excuse my asking for the children’s version?’ + +‘Oh, certainly, sir, certainly,’ fuming, the fox-hound magistrate +replied. + +Then Albert’s uncle said, ‘Now Oswald, I know I can trust you to speak +the exact truth.’ + +So Oswald did. + +Then the white-whiskered fox-master laid the bullets before Albert’s +uncle, and I felt this would be a trial to his faith far worse than the +rack or the thumb-screw in the days of the Armada. + +And then Denny came in. He looked at the fox on the table. + +‘You found it, then?’ he said. + +The M.F.H. would have spoken but Albert’s uncle said, ‘One moment, +Denny; you’ve seen this fox before?’ + +‘Rather,’ said Denny; ‘I--’ + +But Albert’s uncle said, ‘Take time. Think before you speak and say +the exact truth. No, don’t whisper to Oswald. This boy,’ he said to +the injured fox-master, ‘has been with me since seven this morning. His +tale, whatever it is, will be independent evidence.’ + +But Denny would not speak, though again and again Albert’s uncle told +him to. + +‘I can’t till I’ve asked Oswald something,’ he said at last. White +Whiskers said, ‘That looks bad--eh?’ + +But Oswald said, ‘Don’t whisper, old chap. Ask me whatever you like, but +speak up.’ + +So Denny said, ‘I can’t without breaking the secret oath.’ + +So then Oswald began to see, and he said, ‘Break away for all you’re +worth, it’s all right.’ + +And Denny said, drawing relief’s deepest breath, ‘Well then, Oswald +and I have got a pistol--shares--and I had it last night. And when I +couldn’t sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and went out +early this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded it just for fun. +And down in the wood I heard a whining like a dog, and I went, and there +was the poor fox caught in an iron trap with teeth. And I went to let it +out and it bit me--look, here’s the place--and the pistol went off and +the fox died, and I am so sorry.’ + +‘But why didn’t you tell the others?’ + +‘They weren’t awake when I went to the dentist’s.’ + +‘But why didn’t you tell your uncle if you’ve been with him all the +morning?’ + +‘It was the oath,’ H. O. said-- + + ‘May I be called a beastly sneak + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ + +White Whiskers actually grinned. + +‘Well,’ he said, ‘I see it was an accident, my boy.’ Then he turned to +us and said-- + +‘I owe you an apology for doubting your word--all of you. I hope it’s +accepted.’ + +We said it was all right and he was to never mind. + +But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for his +unbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert’s uncle to shoot rabbits; +but we did not really forgive him till the day when he sent the fox’s +brush to Alice, mounted in silver with a note about her plucky conduct +in standing by her brothers. + + +We got a lecture about not playing with firearms, but no punishment, +because our conduct had not been exactly sinful, Albert’s uncle said, +but merely silly. + +The pistol and the cartridges were confiscated. + +I hope the house will never be attacked by burglars. When it is, +Albert’s uncle will only have himself to thank if we are rapidly +overpowered, because it will be his fault that we shall have to meet +them totally unarmed, and be their almost unresisting prey. + + + +CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES + +It began one morning at breakfast. It was the fifteenth of August--the +birthday of Napoleon the Great, Oswald Bastable, and another very nice +writer. Oswald was to keep his birthday on the Saturday, so that his +Father could be there. A birthday when there are only many happy returns +is a little like Sunday or Christmas Eve. Oswald had a birthday-card or +two--that was all; but he did not repine, because he knew they always +make it up to you for putting off keeping your birthday, and he looked +forward to Saturday. + +Albert’s uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently he +tossed one over to Dora, and said, ‘What do you say, little lady? Shall +we let them come?’ + +But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and Noel +both had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place where the +bacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake of bacon fat +was slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the marmalade, and +then H. O. got it, and Dora said-- + +‘I don’t want the nasty thing now--all grease and stickiness.’ So H. O. +read it aloud-- + + +MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES AND FIELD CLUB + Aug. 14, 1900 + +‘DEAR SIR,--At a meeting of the--’ + + +H. O. stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like a +spider that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the paper +without stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald took +the letter. He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began to +read. It ran thus: + +‘It’s not Antiquities, you little silly,’ he said; ‘it’s Antiquaries.’ + +‘The other’s a very good word,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘and I never +call names at breakfast myself--it upsets the digestion, my egregious +Oswald.’ + +‘That’s a name though,’ said Alice, ‘and you got it out of “Stalky”, +too. Go on, Oswald.’ + +So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted: + +‘MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF “ANTIQUARIES” AND FIELD CLUB + +Aug. 14,1900. + +‘DEAR SIR,--At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was agreed +that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the Society proposes to +visit the interesting church of Ivybridge and also the Roman remains +in the vicinity. Our president, Mr Longchamps, F.R.S., has obtained +permission to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We venture to +ask whether you would allow the members of the Society to walk through +your grounds and to inspect--from without, of course--your beautiful +house, which is, as you are doubtless aware, of great historic interest, +having been for some years the residence of the celebrated Sir Thomas +Wyatt.--I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully, + +‘EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec.).’ + + +‘Just so,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘well, shall we permit the eye of the +Maidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and the foot of +the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?’ + +‘Our gravel is all grass,’ H. O. said. + +And the girls said, ‘Oh, do let them come!’ It was Alice who said-- + +‘Why not ask them to tea? They’ll be very tired coming all the way from +Maidstone.’ + +‘Would you really like it?’ Albert’s uncle asked. ‘I’m afraid they’ll +be but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen with amphorae +in their buttonholes instead of orchids, and pedigrees poking out of all +their pockets.’ + +We laughed--because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don’t you might +look it up in the dicker. It’s not a flower, though it sounds like one +out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of anyone growing. + +Dora said she thought it would be splendid. + +‘And we could have out the best china,’ she said, ‘and decorate the +table with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We’ve never had a +party since we’ve been here.’ + +‘I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your own +way,’ Albert’s uncle said; and he went off to write the invitation to +tea to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the wrong word but +somehow we all used it whenever we spoke of them, which was often. + +In a day or two Albert’s uncle came in to tea with a lightly-clouded +brow. + +‘You’ve let me in for a nice thing,’ he said. ‘I asked the Antiquities +to tea, and I asked casually how many we might expect. I thought +we might need at least the full dozen of the best teacups. Now the +secretary writes accepting my kind invitation--’ + +‘Oh, good!’ we cried. ‘And how many are coming?’ ‘Oh, only about +sixty,’ was the groaning rejoinder. ‘Perhaps more, should the weather be +exceptionally favourable.’ + +Though stunned at first, we presently decided that we were pleased. + +We had never, never given such a big party. + +The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew made +cakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys be there, +though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a cake before +it is baked, and then licking your finger, if you are careful to put +a different finger in the cake next time. Cake before it is baked is +delicious--like a sort of cream. + +Albert’s uncle said he was the prey of despair. He drove in to Maidstone +one day. When we asked him where he was going, he said-- + +‘To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly tear it +out by double handfuls in the extremity of my anguish every time I think +of those innumerable Antiquities.’ + +But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china and +things to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have his +hair cut too, because he is the soul of truth and honour. + +Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as well as +other presents. I think these were meant to make up for the pistol that +was taken away after the adventure of the fox-hunting. These gave us +boys something to do between the birthday-keeping, which was on the +Saturday, and the Wednesday when the Antiquities were to come. + +We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, because +they had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was little or no +unpleasantness over this. + +On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where the +Antiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate nuts. +And as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field two labourers +with picks and shovels, and a very young man with thin legs and a +bicycle. It turned out afterwards to be a free-wheel, the first we had +ever seen. + +They stopped at a mound inside the Roman wall, and the men took their +coats off and spat on their hands. + +We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist explained his +machine to us very fully and carefully when we asked him, and then we +saw the men were cutting turfs and turning them over and rolling them up +and putting them in a heap. So we asked the gentleman with the thin legs +what they were doing. He said-- + +‘They are beginning the preliminary excavation in readiness for +to-morrow.’ + +‘What’s up to-morrow?’ H. O. asked. + +‘To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it.’ + +‘Then YOU’RE the Antiquities?’ said H. O. + +‘I’m the secretary,’ said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly. + +‘Oh, you’re all coming to tea with us,’ Dora said, and added anxiously, +‘how many of you do you think there’ll be?’ + +‘Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think,’ replied the +gentleman. + +This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, +who notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light and +careless, saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, ‘What’s up?’ + +‘I’ve got an idea,’ the Dentist said. ‘Let’s call a council.’ The +Dentist had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him Dentist +ever since the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he had been used +to calling such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereas +we all know that his former existing was that of a white mouse in a +trap, with that cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars. + +(That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert’s uncle told me.) + +Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, and +the straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky said-- + +‘I hope it’s nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?’ + +‘No,’ said Denny in a hurry: ‘quite the opposite.’ + +‘I hope it’s nothing wrong,’ said Dora and Daisy together. + +‘It’s--it’s “Hail to thee, blithe spirit--bird thou never wert”,’ said +Denny. ‘I mean, I think it’s what is called a lark.’ + +‘You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist,’ said Dicky. + +‘Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?’ + +We didn’t. + +‘It’s by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge,’ Daisy interrupted, ‘and it’s about +a family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be good, +and they were confirmed, and had a bazaar, and went to church at the +Minster, and one of them got married and wore black watered silk and +silver ornaments. So her baby died, and then she was sorry she had not +been a good mother to it. And--’ Here Dicky got up and said he’d got +some snares to attend to, and he’d receive a report of the Council after +it was over. But he only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, +the fleet of foot, closed with him, and they rolled together on the +floor, while all the others called out ‘Come back! Come back!’ like +guinea-hens on a fence. + +Through the rustle and bustle and hustle of the struggle with Dicky, +Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his everlasting +quotations-- + + ‘“Come back, come back!” he cried in Greek, + “Across the stormy water, + And I’ll forgive your Highland cheek, + My daughter, O my daughter!”’ + +When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with the +Council, Denny said-- + +‘The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It’s a ripping book. One +of the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, and another tries +to hit his little sister with a hoe. It’s jolly fine, I tell you.’ + +Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He would +never have learnt such words as ‘ripping’ and ‘jolly fine’ while under +the auntal tyranny. + +Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book for +girls and little boys. + +But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so Oswald +said-- + +‘But what’s your lark?’ Denny got pale pink and said-- + +‘Don’t hurry me. I’ll tell you directly. Let me think a minute.’ + +Then he shut his pale pink eyelids a moment in thought, and then opened +them and stood up on the straw and said very fast-- + +‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, pots. +You know Albert’s uncle said they were going to open the barrow, to +look for Roman remains to-morrow. Don’t you think it seems a pity they +shouldn’t find any?’ + +‘Perhaps they will,’ Dora said. + +But Oswald saw, and he said ‘Primus! Go ahead, old man.’ + +The Dentist went ahead. + +‘In The Daisy Chain,’ he said, ‘they dug in a Roman encampment and the +children went first and put some pottery there they’d made themselves, +and Harry’s old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The doctor helped them +to some stuff to partly efface the inscription, and all the grown-ups +were sold. I thought we might-- + + ‘You may break, you may shatter + The vase if you will; + But the scent of the Romans + Will cling round it still.’ + +Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least for +HIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the Maidstone +Antiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly would be indeed +splendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that we had not +got an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we hadn’t any +doctor who would ‘help us to stuff to efface’, and etcetera; but we +sternly bade her stow it. We weren’t going to do EXACTLY like those +Daisy Chain kids. + +The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream--which was +the Nile when we discovered its source--and dried it in the sun, and +then baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul Play. And most of the +things were such queer shapes that they should have done for almost +anything--Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or antediluvian, or +household milk-jugs of the cavemen, Albert’s uncle said. The pots were, +fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because we had already buried them +in mixed sand and river mud to improve the colour, and not remembered to +wash it off. + +So the Council at once collected it all--and some rusty hinges and some +brass buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl Councillors +carried it all concealed in their pinafores, while the men members +carried digging tools. H. O. and Daisy were sent on ahead as scouts +to see if the coast was clear. We have learned the true usefulness of +scouts from reading about the Transvaal War. But all was still in the +hush of evening sunset on the Roman ruin. + +We posted sentries, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls and +give a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached. + +Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when we +happened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it be said +that a Bastable grudged time or trouble when a lark was at stake. We put +the things in as naturally as we could, and shoved the dirt back, till +everything looked just as before. Then we went home, late for tea. +But it was in a good cause; and there was no hot toast, only +bread-and-butter, which does not get cold with waiting. + +That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up to +bed-- + +‘Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not a +word.’ + +Oswald said, ‘No kid?’ And she replied in the affirmation. + +So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair--for he +shrinks from no pain if it is needful and right. + +And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got up and +went out, and there was Alice dressed. + +She said, ‘I’ve found some broken things that look ever so much more +Roman--they were on top of the cupboard in the library. If you’ll come +with me, we’ll bury them just to see how surprised the others will be.’ + +It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind. + +He said-- + +‘Wait half a shake.’ And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, and +slipped a few peppermints into his pocket in case of catching cold. +It is these thoughtful expedients which mark the born explorer and +adventurer. + +It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, and +we decided we’d do some other daring moonlight act some other day. We +got out of the front door, which is never locked till Albert’s uncle +goes to bed at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and silently across the +bridge and through the fields to the Roman ruin. + +Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had been +dark. But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your dreams. + +Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper. + +We did not take all the pots Alice had found--but just the two that +weren’t broken--two crooked jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots are +made of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the turf up and +scratched the earth under, and took it out very carefully in handfuls +on to the newspaper, till the hole was deepish. Then we put in the jugs, +and filled it up with earth and flattened the turf over. Turf stretches +like elastic. This we did a couple of yards from the place where the +mound was dug into by the men, and we had been so careful with the +newspaper that there was no loose earth about. + +Then we went home in the wet moonlight--at least the grass was very +wet--chuckling through the peppermint, and got up to bed without anyone +knowing a single thing about it. + + +The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and the +tables were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and very +grand Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different kinds of cake, +and bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and gooseberries and +plums and jam sandwiches. And the girls decorated the tables with +flowers--blue larkspur and white Canterbury bells. And at about three +there was a noise of people walking in the road, and presently the +Antiquities began to come in at the front gate, and stood about on the +lawn by twos and threes and sixes and sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, +exactly like a Sunday-school treat. Presently some gentlemen came, who +looked like the teachers; they were not shy, and they came right up to +the door. So Albert’s uncle, who had not been too proud to be up in our +room with us watching the people on the lawn through the netting of our +short blinds, said-- + +‘I suppose that’s the Committee. Come on!’ + +So we all went down--we were in our Sunday things--and Albert’s uncle +received the Committee like a feudal system baron, and we were his +retainers. + +He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, and +foundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and Julius +Caesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and dog’s-tooth +moulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose that Albert’s uncle +remarked that all our mouths were open, which is a sign of reels in the +brain, for he whispered-- + +‘Go hence, and mingle unsuspected with the crowd!’ + +So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and women +and one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to talk to +her, though we did not like her. (She was covered in red velvet like +an arm-chair.) But she wouldn’t. We thought at first she was from a +deaf-and-dumb asylum, where her kind teachers had only managed to teach +the afflicted to say ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. But afterwards we knew better, for +Noel heard her say to her mother, ‘I wish you hadn’t brought me, mamma. +I didn’t have a pretty teacup, and I haven’t enjoyed my tea one bit.’ +And she had had five pieces of cake, besides little cakes and nearly +a whole plate of plums, and there were only twelve pretty teacups +altogether. + +Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and then +the President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn’t +understand, and other people made speeches we couldn’t understand +either, except the part about kind hospitality, which made us not know +where to look. + +Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, and +we handed cups and plates. + +Albert’s uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was left +of his hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-three +Antiquities present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary that +‘tea always fetched them’. + +Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we took +our hats--it was exactly like Sunday--and joined the crowded procession +of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, though +the weather was fiery and without a cloud. That is the sort of people +they were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets, and no one took their +gloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it is +not wrong to take your gloves off there. + +We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert’s +uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart. + +Then he said: ‘The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The hosts +and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly informed, an +excellent view may be obtained.’ + +So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of the +lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw that +things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passed +round for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Roman +remains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, though +we heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchanged +meaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in the +extras. Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and we +knew we really HAD sold the Antiquities this time. + +Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle towards +the house and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut home +the back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert’s +uncle-- + +‘A genuine find--most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have ONE. +Well, if you insist--’ + +And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquities +melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups and +plates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures of memory were left. + +We had a very beautiful supper--out of doors, too--with jam sandwiches +and cakes and things that were over; and as we watched the setting +monarch of the skies--I mean the sun--Alice said-- + +‘Let’s tell.’ + +We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but we +helped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, because he has +yet to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning. + +When he had done, and we had done, Albert’s uncle said, ‘Well, it +amused you; and you’ll be glad to learn that it amused your friends the +Antiquities.’ + +‘Didn’t they think they were Roman?’ Daisy said; ‘they did in The Daisy +Chain.’ + +‘Not in the least,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘but the Treasurer and +Secretary were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their +reception.’ + +‘We didn’t want them to be disappointed,’ said Dora. + +‘They weren’t,’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Steady on with those plums, H.O. A +little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found two +specimens of REAL Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them home +thanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child.’ + +‘Those were our jugs,’ said Alice, ‘and we really HAVE sold the +Antiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and +burying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened +with deeply respectful interest. ‘We really have done it this time, +haven’t we?’ she added in tones of well-deserved triumph. + +But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert’s uncle from almost the +beginning of Alice’s recital; and he now had the sensation of something +being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The +silence of Albert’s uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly. + +‘Haven’t we?’ repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive +brother’s delicate feelings had already got hold of. ‘We have done it +this time, haven’t we?’ + +‘Since you ask me thus pointedly,’ answered Albert’s uncle at last, ‘I +cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots on +the top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The amphorae +which you hid in the mound are probably--I can’t say for certain, +mind--priceless. They are the property of the owner of this house. You +have taken them out and buried them. The President of the Maidstone +Antiquarian Society has taken them away in his bag. Now what are you +going to do?’ + +Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others added +to our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs about our not being so +jolly clever as we thought ourselves. + +There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. He +said-- + +‘Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you.’ + +As Albert’s uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained to ask him for +any. + +Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat down +on the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never tried to +have a private lark of their very own with the Antiquities--‘A Private +Sale’, Albert’s uncle called it afterwards. But regrets, as nearly +always happens, were vain. Something had to be done. + +But what? + +Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of the +gay and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, heartless +in their youngness, they were playing tag. I don’t know how they could. +Oswald would not like to play tag when his brother and sister were in a +hole, but Oswald is an exception to some boys. + +But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of Albert’s +uncle’s. + +The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from the +leaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted with hard thinking, but +they could not think of anything. And it grew so dark that the moonlight +began to show. + +Then Alice jumped up--just as Oswald was opening his mouth to say +the same thing--and said, ‘Of course--how silly! I know. Come on in, +Oswald.’ And they went on in. + +Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just asked +carelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next day to +buy some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after one or two +things. + +Albert’s uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the bailiff +from the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and to buy pigs. +At any other time Oswald would not have been able to bear to leave the +bailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now it was different. For he +and Alice had the weight on their bosoms of being thieves without having +meant it--and nothing, not even pigs, had power to charm the young but +honourable Oswald till that stain had been wiped away. + +So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities’ house, +and Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly told us where the +President lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the unfortunate +brother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of Camperdown Villa. + +When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. Then +they waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large room with +books and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking odds and ends +in them. Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means he stuck to anything, +no matter how ugly and silly, if only it was old. + +He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very well, +he said, and asked what he could do for us. + +Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to own +himself the ass he had been. But Alice was less delicately moulded. She +said-- + +‘Oh, if you please, we are most awfully sorry, and we hope you’ll +forgive us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all the +other poor dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find nothing +Roman--so we put some pots and things in the barrow for you to find.’ + +‘So I perceived,’ said the President, stroking his white beard and +smiling most agreeably at us; ‘a harmless joke, my dear! Youth’s the +season for jesting. There’s no harm done--pray think no more about it. +It’s very honourable of you to come and apologize, I’m sure.’ + +His brow began to wear the furrowed, anxious look of one who would +fain be rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before they +interrupted him. + +Alice said, ‘We didn’t come for that. It’s MUCH worse. Those were two +REAL true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they aren’t +ours. We didn’t know they were real Roman. We wanted to sell the +Antiquities--I mean Antiquaries--and we were sold ourselves.’ + +‘This is serious,’ said the gentleman. ‘I suppose you’d know the--the +“jugs” if you saw them again?’ + +‘Anywhere,’ said Oswald, with the confidential rashness of one who does +not know what he is talking about. + +Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the one we +were in, and beckoned us to follow. We found ourselves amid shelves and +shelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves--small ones--were +filled with the sort of jug we wanted. + +‘Well,’ said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, like a +wicked cardinal, ‘which is it?’ + +Oswald said, ‘I don’t know.’ + +Alice said, ‘I should know if I had it in my hand.’ + +The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and Alice +tried to look inside them. And one after another she shook her head and +gave them back. At last she said, ‘You didn’t WASH them?’ + +Mr Longchamps shuddered and said ‘No’. + +‘Then,’ said Alice, ‘there is something written with lead-pencil inside +both the jugs. I wish I hadn’t. I would rather you didn’t read it. I +didn’t know it would be a nice old gentleman like you would find it. +I thought it would be the younger gentleman with the thin legs and the +narrow smile.’ + +‘Mr Turnbull.’ The President seemed to recognize the description +unerringly. ‘Well, well--boys will be boys--girls, I mean. I won’t be +angry. Look at all the “jugs” and see if you can find yours.’ + +Alice did--and the next one she looked at she said, ‘This is one’--and +two jugs further on she said, ‘This is the other.’ + +‘Well,’ the President said, ‘these are certainly the specimens which I +obtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will return them +to him. But it’s a disappointment. Yes, I think you must let me look +inside.’ + +He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he laughed. + +‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘we can’t expect old heads on young shoulders. +You’re not the first who went forth to shear and returned shorn. Nor, it +appears, am I. Next time you have a Sale of Antiquities, take care that +you yourself are not “sold”. Good-day to you, my dear. Don’t let the +incident prey on your mind,’ he said to Alice. ‘Bless your heart, I was +a boy once myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye.’ + +We were in time to see the pigs bought after all. + +I asked Alice what on earth it was she’d scribbled inside the beastly +jugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she had written +‘Sucks’ in one of the jugs, and ‘Sold again, silly’, in the other. + +But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we have +any Antiquities to tea again, they shan’t find so much as a Greek +waistcoat button if we can help it. + +Unless it’s the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For a +man of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can picture +a very different scene having been enacted over those rotten pots if the +President had been an otherwise sort of man. + +But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress you by +drawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for yourself. + + + +CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR + +The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes were +very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, and he +touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little as +though he would rather not. + +We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Tree +pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows--the +ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated +after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox. + +To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in +his thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire masks. + +Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat +House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at +each other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti +(that’s real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among +the village people--but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked it. + +And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from Rome, +which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their mouths +and eyes. + +So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in +attacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in your +equipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny +defended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that was how +Dicky and Oswald picked up. + +The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit +Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only +through the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the +defending party weren’t looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and +shoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that +it had lost its gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged +party, was of course soon overpowered, and had to surrender. + +Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert’s uncle brought +us a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery +we tried to sell the Antiquities with. + +The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on +the big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the +heat. + +We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty blot on +the fair scene. + +When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have +said, and remarked-- + +‘Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but +if you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way to the +nearest pub. It’s a dry day and no error.’ + +‘The “Rose and Crown” is the best pub,’ said Dicky, ‘and the landlady is +a friend of ours. It’s about a mile if you go by the field path.’ + +‘Lor’ love a duck!’ said the tramp, ‘a mile’s a long way, and walking’s +a dry job this ‘ere weather.’ We said we agreed with him. + +‘Upon my sacred,’ said the tramp, ‘if there was a pump handy I believe +I’d take a turn at it--I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn’t! Though +water always upsets me and makes my ‘and shaky.’ + +We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainous +sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wall +with us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her long +deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend. +Besides the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it. +And we considerably outnumbered the tramp, anyway. + +Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and the +tramp’s need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to the +hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges and +get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without when +the others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty. +Meanwhile Alice said-- + +‘We’ve got some ginger-beer; my brother’s getting it. I hope you won’t +mind drinking out of our glass. We can’t wash it, you know--unless we +rinse it out with a little ginger-beer.’ + +‘Don’t ye do it, miss,’ he said eagerly; ‘never waste good liquor on +washing.’ + +The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beer +and handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on his +young stomach to do this. + +The tramp was really quite polite--one of Nature’s gentlemen, and a man +as well, we found out afterwards. He said-- + +‘Here’s to you!’ before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rim +rested on his nose. + +‘Swelp me, but I WAS dry,’ he said. ‘Don’t seem to matter much what +it is, this weather, do it?--so long as it’s suthink wet. Well, here’s +thanking you.’ + +‘You’re very welcome,’ said Dora; ‘I’m glad you liked it.’ + +‘Like it?’--said he. ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like to have a +thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free baths +and wash-houses and such! Why don’t someone start free DRINKS? He’d be a +‘ero, he would. I’d vote for him any day of the week and one over. Ef yer +don’t objec I’ll set down a bit and put on a pipe.’ + +He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questions +about himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows--especially +about there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he dropped +asleep in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for that hadn’t +acted fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I don’t know if +vestry is singular or plural), and we went home. But before we went we +held a hurried council and collected what money we could from the little +we had with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an old +envelope Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowing +middle of the poor tramp’s sleeping waistcoat, so that he would find +it when he woke. None of the dogs said a single syllable while we were +doing this, so we knew they believed him to be poor but honest, and we +always find it safe to take their word for things like that. + +As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwards +that those words of the poor tramp’s about free drinks had sunk deep in +all our hearts, and rankled there. + +After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. People +tell you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just after +meals, but it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the stream +that just seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can’t get +their feet into the water properly because of the bushes, so we keep +changing places. We had got some liquorice root to chew. This helps +thought. Dora broke a peaceful silence with this speech-- + +‘Free drinks.’ + +The words awoke a response in every breast. + +‘I wonder someone doesn’t,’ H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly +toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadly +peril. + +‘Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.,’ observed Alice. ‘It would be a +glorious act! I wish WE could.’ + +‘What, sit still?’ asked H. O. + +‘No, my child,’ replied Oswald, ‘most of us can do that when we try. +Your angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poor +and thirsty.’ + +‘Not for all of them,’ Alice said, ‘just a few. Change places now, +Dicky. My feet aren’t properly wet at all.’ + +It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changers +have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight and +hold on for all they’re worth. But the hard task was accomplished and +then Alice went on-- + +‘And we couldn’t do it for always, only a day or two--just while our +money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade’s the best, and you get a jolly +lot of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerely +thirsty persons go along the Dover Road every day.’ + +‘It wouldn’t be bad. We’ve got a little chink between us,’ said Oswald. + +‘And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell us +about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. +We could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like All +the Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do let’s!’ + +Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to make +her calm. + +‘We might do it, just for one day,’ Oswald said, ‘but it wouldn’t be +much--only a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of all +the people in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaid +said when she cried into the sea.’ + +‘I know a piece of poetry about that,’ Denny said. + + + ‘Small things are best. + Care and unrest + To wealth and rank are given, + But little things + On little wings-- + +do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswald +was saying about the mermaid.’ + +‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Noel, coming out of a dream. + +‘Call what?’ + +‘The Free Drinks game.’ + + ‘It’s a horrid shame + If the Free Drinks game + Doesn’t have a name. + You would be to blame + If anyone came + And--’ + +‘Oh, shut up!’ remarked Dicky. ‘You’ve been making that rot up all the +time we’ve been talking instead of listening properly.’ Dicky hates +poetry. I don’t mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay’s and +Kipling’s and Noel’s. + +‘There was a lot more--“lame” and “dame” and “name” and “game” and +things--and now I’ve forgotten it,’ Noel said in gloom. + +‘Never mind,’ Alice answered, ‘it’ll come back to you in the silent +watches of the night; you see if it doesn’t. But really, Noel’s right, +it OUGHT to have a name.’ + +‘Free Drinks Company.’ ‘Thirsty Travellers’ Rest.’ ‘The Travellers’ +Joy.’ + +These names were suggested, but not cared for extra. + +Then someone said--I think it was Oswald--‘Why not “The House +Beautiful”?’ + +‘It can’t be a house, it must be in the road. It’ll only be a stall.’ + +‘The “Stall Beautiful” is simply silly,’ Oswald said. + +‘The “Bar Beautiful” then,’ said Dicky, who knows what the ‘Rose and +Crown’ bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls. + +‘Oh, wait a minute,’ cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like +he always does when he is trying to remember things. ‘I thought of +something, only Daisy tickled me and it’s gone--I know--let’s call it +the Benevolent Bar!’ + +It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. +‘Benevolent’ showed it was free and ‘Bar’ showed what was free; e.g. +things to drink. The ‘Benevolent Bar’ it was. + +We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meant +to do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know what--and delays +are dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to spend our +money on something else. + +The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hates +tramps. Most people do who keep fowls. Albert’s uncle was in London till +the next evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is always +chock full of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy. + +Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the +Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of the +skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girls +sewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so we +added the girls’ striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turn +up so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful, +especially when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew’s +sewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, which +we did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before. +They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the +noise and ask bothering questions. + +They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not easy. +While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got willow poles +and chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we could to put up +the awning. + +When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the village +for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then we +made a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothing +else to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy’s to show +we belonged to the Benevolent Bar. + +The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocent +slumbers, and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked down +the day before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to give drinks +to as many people as possible. + +We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to brekker. + +After brek we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and after +filling it with clean water we just had to empty it again because it was +too heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the trysting-spot and left +H. O. and Noel to guard it while we went and fetched separate pails of +water; very heavy work, and no one who wasn’t really benevolent would +have bothered about it for an instant. Oswald alone carried three pails. +So did Dicky and the Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrels +and stood up three of them by the roadside, and put planks on them. +This made a very first-class table, and we covered it with the best +tablecloth we could find in the linen cupboard. We brought out several +glasses and some teacups--not the best ones, Oswald was firm about +that--and the kettle and spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, in case any weary +tramp-woman fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. and Noel +had to go down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; they +had not carried any of the water. And their having to go the second time +was only because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to put +on the bar to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The man +at the shop kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out of +our next week’s pocket-money. + +Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but +no one said anything except the man who said, ‘Bloomin’ Sunday-school +treat’, and as it was too early in the day for anyone to be thirsty we +did not stop the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slaked +without cost at our Benevolent Bar. + +But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened on +our breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard we +had made with ‘Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers’, in +white wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. We +had meant to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pin +it to the front of the tablecloth, because I am sorry to say the awning +went wrong from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into the +road; it was much too hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besides +being no use. So we had just to cover our benevolent heads with our +hats, and take it in turns to go into the shadow of the tree on the +other side of the road. For we had pitched our table on the sunny side +of the way, of course, relying on our broken-reed-like awning, and +wishing to give it a fair chance. + +Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody really +miserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress. + +A man and woman were the first: they stopped and stared, but when Alice +said, ‘Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren’t you thirsty?’ they said, ‘No +thank you,’ and went on. Then came a person from the village--he didn’t +even say ‘Thank you’ when we asked him, and Oswald began to fear it +might be like the awful time when we wandered about on Christmas Day +trying to find poor persons and persuade them to eat our Conscience +pudding. + +But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald’s fears by +being willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, ‘Thank you, +I’m sure’ quite nicely. + +After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty of +thirsty people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from the +cross-road. + +We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the dregs +ere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea. + +More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn’t have it +because they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for his own +liquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn’t over and above, at +present; and others asked if we hadn’t any beer, and when we said ‘No’, +they said it showed what sort we were--as if the sort was not a good +one, which it is. + +And another man said, ‘Slops again! You never get nothing for nothing, +not this side of heaven you don’t. Look at the bloomin’ blue ribbon on +‘em! Oh, Lor’!’ and went on quite sadly without having a drink. + +Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and we +hailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, and asked +him to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said we were a real +good sort. How different from the man who wanted the beer. Then he went +on. + +One thing I didn’t like, and that was the way boys began to gather. Of +course we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who was old +enough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three glasses of lemonade +and asked for another, Oswald said-- + +‘I think you’ve had jolly well enough. You can’t be really thirsty after +all that lot.’ + +The boy said, ‘Oh, can’t I? You’ll just see if I can’t,’ and went away. +Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than Oswald; and +they all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the four new ones, but he +was determined in his behaviour to the other one, and wouldn’t give him +a drop. Then the five of them went and sat on a gate a little way off +and kept laughing in a nasty way, and whenever a boy went by they called +out-- + +‘I say, ‘ere’s a go,’ and as often as not the new boy would hang about +with them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly all had +lemonade we could see it had not made them friendly. + +A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together and +are called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp coming +down the road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at the boys or +the beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the dogs with us, but +of course we had, because we had promised never to go out without them.) +Oswald said, ‘Hullo,’ and the tramp said, ‘Hullo.’ Then Alice said, ‘You +see we’ve taken your advice; we’re giving free drinks. Doesn’t it all +look nice?’ + +‘It does that,’ said the tramp. ‘I don’t mind if I do.’ + +So we gave him two glasses of lemonade succeedingly, and thanked him +for giving us the idea. He said we were very welcome, and if we’d no +objection he’d sit down a bit and put on a pipe. He did, and after +talking a little more he fell asleep. Drinking anything seemed to end in +sleep with him. I always thought it was only beer and things made people +sleepy, but he was not so. When he was asleep he rolled into the ditch, +but it did not wake him up. + +The boys were getting very noisy, and they began to shout things, and to +make silly noises with their mouths, and when Oswald and Dicky went over +to them and told them to just chuck it, they were worse than ever. +I think perhaps Oswald and Dicky might have fought and settled +them--though there were eleven, yet back to back you can always do it +against overwhelming numbers in a book--only Alice called out-- + +‘Oswald, here’s some more, come back!’ + +We went. Three big men were coming down the road, very red and hot, and +not amiable-looking. They stopped in front of the Benevolent Bar and +slowly read the wadding and red-stuff label. + +Then one of them said he was blessed, or something like that, and +another said he was too. The third one said, ‘Blessed or not, a drink’s +a drink. Blue ribbon, though, by ----’ (a word you ought not to say, +though it is in the Bible and the catechism as well). ‘Let’s have a +liquor, little missy.’ + +The dogs were growling, but Oswald thought it best not to take any +notice of what the dogs said, but to give these men each a drink. So he +did. They drank, but not as if they cared about it very much, and then +they set their glasses down on the table, a liberty no one else had +entered into, and began to try and chaff Oswald. Oswald said in an +undervoice to H. O.-- + +‘Just take charge. I want to speak to the girls a sec. Call if you want +anything.’ And then he drew the others away, to say he thought there’d +been enough of it, and considering the boys and new three men, perhaps +we’d better chuck it and go home. We’d been benevolent nearly four hours +anyway. + +While this conversation and the objections of the others were going on, +H. O. perpetuated an act which nearly wrecked the Benevolent Bar. + +Of course Oswald was not an eye or ear witness of what happened, but +from what H. O. said in the calmer moments of later life, I think this +was about what happened. One of the big disagreeable men said to H. O.-- + +‘Ain’t got such a thing as a drop o’ spirit, ‘ave yer?’ + +H. O. said no, we hadn’t, only lemonade and tea. + +‘Lemonade and tea! blank’ (bad word I told you about) ‘and blazes,’ +replied the bad character, for such he afterwards proved to be. ‘What’s +THAT then?’ + +He pointed to a bottle labelled Dewar’s whisky, which stood on the table +near the spirit-kettle. + +‘Oh, is THAT what you want?’ said H. O. kindly. + +The man is understood to have said he should bloomin’ well think so, but +H. O. is not sure about the ‘bloomin’. + +He held out his glass with about half the lemonade in it, and H. O. +generously filled up the tumbler out of the bottle, labelled Dewar’s +whisky. The man took a great drink, and then suddenly he spat out what +happened to be left in his mouth just then, and began to swear. It was +then that Oswald and Dicky rushed upon the scene. + +The man was shaking his fist in H. O.’s face, and H. O. was still +holding on to the bottle we had brought out the methylated spirit in for +the lamp, in case of anyone wanting tea, which they hadn’t. ‘If I was +Jim,’ said the second ruffian, for such indeed they were, when he had +snatched the bottle from H. O. and smelt it, ‘I’d chuck the whole show +over the hedge, so I would, and you young gutter-snipes after it, so I +wouldn’t.’ + +Oswald saw in a moment that in point of strength, if not numbers, he and +his party were out-matched, and the unfriendly boys were drawing gladly +near. It is no shame to signal for help when in distress--the best ships +do it every day. Oswald shouted ‘Help, help!’ Before the words were out +of his brave yet trembling lips our own tramp leapt like an antelope +from the ditch and said-- + +‘Now then, what’s up?’ + +The biggest of the three men immediately knocked him down. He lay still. + +The biggest then said, ‘Come on--any more of you? Come on!’ + +Oswald was so enraged at this cowardly attack that he actually hit out +at the big man--and he really got one in just above the belt. Then he +shut his eyes, because he felt that now all was indeed up. There was +a shout and a scuffle, and Oswald opened his eyes in astonishment at +finding himself still whole and unimpaired. Our own tramp had artfully +simulated insensibleness, to get the men off their guard, and then had +suddenly got his arms round a leg each of two of the men, and pulled +them to the ground, helped by Dicky, who saw his game and rushed in at +the same time, exactly like Oswald would have done if he had not had his +eyes shut ready to meet his doom. + +The unpleasant boys shouted, and the third man tried to help his +unrespectable friends, now on their backs involved in a desperate +struggle with our own tramp, who was on top of them, accompanied by +Dicky. It all happened in a minute, and it was all mixed up. The dogs +were growling and barking--Martha had one of the men by the trouser +leg and Pincher had another; the girls were screaming like mad and the +strange boys shouted and laughed (little beasts!), and then suddenly our +Pig-man came round the corner, and two friends of his with him. He +had gone and fetched them to take care of us if anything unpleasant +occurred. It was a very thoughtful, and just like him. + +‘Fetch the police!’ cried the Pig-man in noble tones, and H. O. started +running to do it. But the scoundrels struggled from under Dicky and our +tramp, shook off the dogs and some bits of trouser, and fled heavily +down the road. + +Our Pig-man said, ‘Get along home!’ to the disagreeable boys, and +‘Shoo’d’ them as if they were hens, and they went. H. O. ran back when +they began to go up the road, and there we were, all standing breathless +in tears on the scene of the late desperate engagement. Oswald gives you +his word of honour that his and Dicky’s tears were tears of pure rage. +There are such things as tears of pure rage. Anyone who knows will tell +you so. + +We picked up our own tramp and bathed the lump on his forehead with +lemonade. The water in the zinc bath had been upset in the struggle. +Then he and the Pig-man and his kind friends helped us carry our things +home. + +The Pig-man advised us on the way not to try these sort of kind actions +without getting a grown-up to help us. We’ve been advised this before, +but now I really think we shall never try to be benevolent to the poor +and needy again. At any rate not unless we know them very well first. + +We have seen our own tramp often since. The Pig-man gave him a job. He +has got work to do at last. The Pig-man says he is not such a very bad +chap, only he will fall asleep after the least drop of drink. We know +that is his failing. We saw it at once. But it was lucky for us he fell +asleep that day near our benevolent bar. + +I will not go into what my father said about it all. There was a good +deal in it about minding your own business--there generally is in most +of the talkings-to we get. But he gave our tramp a sovereign, and the +Pig-man says he went to sleep on it for a solid week. + + + +CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS + +The author of these few lines really does hope to goodness that no one +will be such an owl as to think from the number of things we did when we +were in the country, that we were wretched, neglected little children, +whose grown-up relations sparkled in the bright haunts of pleasure, and +whirled in the giddy what’s-its-name of fashion, while we were left to +weep forsaken at home. It was nothing of the kind, and I wish you to +know that my father was with us a good deal--and Albert’s uncle (who is +really no uncle of ours, but only of Albert next door when we lived +in Lewisham) gave up a good many of his valuable hours to us. And the +father of Denny and Daisy came now and then, and other people, quite as +many as we wished to see. And we had some very decent times with them; +and enjoyed ourselves very much indeed, thank you. In some ways the +good times you have with grown-ups are better than the ones you have by +yourselves. At any rate they are safer. It is almost impossible, then, +to do anything fatal without being pulled up short by a grown-up ere yet +the deed is done. And, if you are careful, anything that goes wrong can +be looked on as the grown-up’s fault. But these secure pleasures are not +so interesting to tell about as the things you do when there is no one +to stop you on the edge of the rash act. + +It is curious, too, that many of our most interesting games happened +when grown-ups were far away. For instance when we were pilgrims. + +It was just after the business of the Benevolent Bar, and it was a wet +day. It is not easy to amuse yourself indoors on a wet day as older +people seem to think, especially when you are far removed from your +own home, and haven’t got all your own books and things. The girls were +playing Halma--which is a beastly game--Noel was writing poetry, H. O. +was singing ‘I don’t know what to do’ to the tune of ‘Canaan’s happy +shore’. It goes like this, and is very tiresome to listen to-- + + ‘I don’t know what to do--oo--oo--oo! + I don’t know what to do--oo--oo! + It IS a beastly rainy day + And I don’t know what to do.’ + +The rest of us were trying to make him shut up. We put a carpet bag over +his head, but he went on inside it; and then we sat on him, but he sang +under us; we held him upside down and made him crawl head first under +the sofa, but when, even there, he kept it up, we saw that nothing short +of violence would induce him to silence, so we let him go. And then he +said we had hurt him, and we said we were only in fun, and he said if +we were he wasn’t, and ill feeling might have grown up even out of a +playful brotherly act like ours had been, only Alice chucked the Halma +and said-- + +‘Let dogs delight. Come on--let’s play something.’ + +Then Dora said, ‘Yes, but look here. Now we’re together I do want to say +something. What about the Wouldbegoods Society?’ + +Many of us groaned, and one said, ‘Hear! hear!’ I will not say which +one, but it was not Oswald. + +‘No, but really,’ Dora said, ‘I don’t want to be preachy--but you know +we DID say we’d try to be good. And it says in a book I was reading only +yesterday that NOT being naughty is not enough. You must BE good. And +we’ve hardly done anything. The Golden Deed book’s almost empty.’ + +‘Couldn’t we have a book of leaden deeds?’ said Noel, coming out of his +poetry, ‘then there’d be plenty for Alice to write about if she wants +to, or brass or zinc or aluminium deeds? We shan’t ever fill the book +with golden ones.’ + +H. O. had rolled himself in the red tablecloth and said Noel was only +advising us to be naughty, and again peace waved in the balance. But +Alice said, ‘Oh, H. O., DON’T--he didn’t mean that; but really and +truly, I wish wrong things weren’t so interesting. You begin to do a +noble act, and then it gets so exciting, and before you know where you +are you are doing something wrong as hard as you can lick.’ + +‘And enjoying it too’ Dick said. + +‘It’s very curious,’ Denny said, ‘but you don’t seem to be able to be +certain inside yourself whether what you’re doing is right if you happen +to like doing it, but if you don’t like doing it you know quite well. I +only thought of that just now. I wish Noel would make a poem about it.’ + +‘I am,’ Noel said; ‘it began about a crocodile but it is finishing +itself up quite different from what I meant it to at first. Just wait a +minute.’ + + +He wrote very hard while his kind brothers and sisters and his little +friends waited the minute he had said, and then he read: + + 'The crocodile is very wise, + He lives in the Nile with little eyes, + He eats the hippopotamus too, + And if he could he would eat up you. + + 'The lovely woods and starry skies + He looks upon with glad surprise! + He sees the riches of the east, + And the tiger and lion, kings of beast. + + 'So let all be good and beware + Of saying shan't and won't and don't care; + For doing wrong is easier far + Than any of the right things I know about are. + +And I couldn’t make it king of beasts because of it not rhyming with +east, so I put the s off beasts on to king. It comes even in the end.’ + +We all said it was a very nice piece of poetry. Noel gets really ill if +you don’t like what he writes, and then he said, ‘If it’s trying that’s +wanted, I don’t care how hard we TRY to be good, but we may as well +do it some nice way. Let’s be Pilgrim’s Progress, like I wanted to at +first.’ + +And we were all beginning to say we didn’t want to, when suddenly Dora +said, ‘Oh, look here! I know. We’ll be the Canterbury Pilgrims. People +used to go pilgrimages to make themselves good.’ + +‘With peas in their shoes,’ the Dentist said. ‘It’s in a piece of +poetry--only the man boiled his peas--which is quite unfair.’ + +‘Oh, yes,’ said H. O., ‘and cocked hats.’ + +‘Not cocked--cockled’--it was Alice who said this. ‘And they had staffs +and scrips, and they told each other tales. We might as well.’ + +Oswald and Dora had been reading about the Canterbury Pilgrims in a book +called A Short History of the English People. It is not at all short +really--three fat volumes--but it has jolly good pictures. It was +written by a gentleman named Green. So Oswald said-- + +‘All right. I’ll be the Knight.’ + +‘I’ll be the wife of Bath,’ Dora said. ‘What will you be, Dicky?’ + +‘Oh, I don’t care, I’ll be Mr Bath if you like.’ + +‘We don’t know much about the people,’ Alice said. ‘How many were +there?’ + +‘Thirty,’ Oswald replied, ‘but we needn’t be all of them. There’s a +Nun-Priest.’ + +‘Is that a man or a woman?’ + +Oswald said he could not be sure by the picture, but Alice and Noel +could be it between them. So that was settled. Then we got the book and +looked at the dresses to see if we could make up dresses for the parts. +At first we thought we would, because it would be something to do, +and it was a very wet day; but they looked difficult, especially the +Miller’s. Denny wanted to be the Miller, but in the end he was the +Doctor, because it was next door to Dentist, which is what we call him +for short. Daisy was to be the Prioress--because she is good, and has +‘a soft little red mouth’, and H. O. WOULD be the Manciple (I don’t know +what that is), because the picture of him is bigger than most of the +others, and he said Manciple was a nice portmanteau word--half mandarin +and half disciple. + +‘Let’s get the easiest parts of the dresses ready first.’ Alice +said--‘the pilgrims’ staffs and hats and the cockles.’ + +So Oswald and Dicky braved the fury of the elements and went into the +wood beyond the orchard to cut ash-sticks. We got eight jolly good long +ones. Then we took them home, and the girls bothered till we changed our +clothes, which were indeed sopping with the elements we had faced. + +Then we peeled the sticks. They were nice and white at first, but they +soon got dirty when we carried them. It is a curious thing: however +often you wash your hands they always seem to come off on anything +white. And we nailed paper rosettes to the tops of them. That was the +nearest we could get to cockle-shells. + +‘And we may as well have them there as on our hats,’ Alice said. ‘And +let’s call each other by our right names to-day, just to get into it. +Don’t you think so, Knight?’ + +‘Yea, Nun-Priest,’ Oswald was replying, but Noel said she was only half +the Nun-Priest, and again a threat of unpleasantness darkened the air. +But Alice said-- + +‘Don’t be a piggy-wiggy, Noel, dear; you can have it all, I don’t want +it. I’ll just be a plain pilgrim, or Henry who killed Becket.’ + +So she was called the Plain Pilgrim, and she did not mind. + +We thought of cocked hats, but they are warm to wear, and the big garden +hats that make you look like pictures on the covers of plantation songs +did beautifully. We put cockle-shells on them. Sandals we did try, with +pieces of oil-cloth cut the shape of soles and fastened with tape, but +the dust gets into your toes so, and we decided boots were better for +such a long walk. Some of the pilgrims who were very earnest decided +to tie their boots with white tape crossed outside to pretend sandals. +Denny was one of these earnest palmers. As for dresses, there was no +time to make them properly, and at first we thought of nightgowns; but +we decided not to, in case people in Canterbury were not used to that +sort of pilgrim nowadays. We made up our minds to go as we were--or as +we might happen to be next day. + +You will be ready to believe we hoped next day would be fine. It was. + +Fair was the morn when the pilgrims arose and went down to breakfast. +Albert’s uncle had had brekker early and was hard at work in his study. +We heard his quill pen squeaking when we listened at the door. It is not +wrong to listen at doors when there is only one person inside, because +nobody would tell itself secrets aloud when it was alone. + +We got lunch from the housekeeper, Mrs Pettigrew. She seems almost to +LIKE us all to go out and take our lunch with us. Though I should think +it must be very dull for her all alone. I remember, though, that Eliza, +our late general at Lewisham, was just the same. We took the dear dogs +of course. Since the Tower of Mystery happened we are not allowed to go +anywhere without the escort of these faithful friends of man. We did not +take Martha, because bull-dogs do not like walks. Remember this if you +ever have one of those valuable animals. + +When we were all ready, with our big hats and cockle-shells, and our +staves and our tape sandals, the pilgrims looked very nice. + +‘Only we haven’t any scrips,’ Dora said. ‘What is a scrip?’ + +‘I think it’s something to read. A roll of parchment or something.’ + +So we had old newspapers rolled up, and carried them in our hands. We +took the Globe and the Westminster Gazette because they are pink and +green. The Dentist wore his white sandshoes, sandalled with black tape, +and bare legs. They really looked almost as good as bare feet. + +‘We OUGHT to have peas in our shoes,’ he said. But we did not think so. +We knew what a very little stone in your boot will do, let alone peas. + +Of course we knew the way to go to Canterbury, because the old Pilgrims’ +Road runs just above our house. It is a very pretty road, narrow, and +often shady. It is nice for walking, but carts do not like it because it +is rough and rutty; so there is grass growing in patches on it. + +I have said that it was a fine day, which means that it was not raining, +but the sun did not shine all the time. + +‘’Tis well, O Knight,’ said Alice, ‘that the orb of day shines not in +undi--what’s-its-name?--splendour.’ + +‘Thou sayest sooth, Plain Pilgrim,’ replied Oswald. ‘’Tis jolly warm +even as it is.’ + +‘I wish I wasn’t two people,’ Noel said, ‘it seems to make me hotter. I +think I’ll be a Reeve or something.’ + + +But we would not let him, and we explained that if he hadn’t been so +beastly particular Alice would have been half of him, and he had only +himself to thank if being all of a Nun-Priest made him hot. + +But it WAS warm certainly, and it was some time since we’d gone so far +in boots. Yet when H. O. complained we did our duty as pilgrims and +made him shut up. He did as soon as Alice said that about whining and +grizzling being below the dignity of a Manciple. + +It was so warm that the Prioress and the wife of Bath gave up walking +with their arms round each other in their usual silly way (Albert’s +uncle calls it Laura Matildaing), and the Doctor and Mr Bath had to take +their jackets off and carry them. + +I am sure if an artist or a photographer, or any person who liked +pilgrims, had seen us he would have been very pleased. The paper +cockle-shells were first-rate, but it was awkward having them on the top +of the staffs, because they got in your way when you wanted the staff to +use as a walking-stick. + +We stepped out like a man all of us, and kept it up as well as we could +in book-talk, and at first all was merry as a dinner-bell; but presently +Oswald, who was the ‘very perfect gentle knight’, could not help +noticing that one of us was growing very silent and rather pale, like +people are when they have eaten something that disagrees with them +before they are quite sure of the fell truth. + +So he said, ‘What’s up, Dentist, old man?’ quite kindly and like a +perfect knight, though, of course, he was annoyed with Denny. It is +sickening when people turn pale in the middle of a game and everything +is spoiled, and you have to go home, and tell the spoiler how sorry you +are that he is knocked up, and pretend not to mind about the game being +spoiled. + +Denny said, ‘Nothing’, but Oswald knew better. + +Then Alice said, ‘Let’s rest a bit, Oswald, it IS hot.’ + +‘Sir Oswald, if you please, Plain Pilgrim,’ returned her brother +dignifiedly. ‘Remember I’m a knight.’ + +So then we sat down and had lunch, and Denny looked better. We played +adverbs, and twenty questions, and apprenticing your son, for a bit in +the shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail if we meant to +make the port of Canterbury that night. Of course, pilgrims reck not of +ports, but Dicky never does play the game thoughtfully. + +We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right and +quite early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently Oswald saw, +beyond any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame. + +‘Shoes hurt you, Dentist?’ he said, still with kind striving +cheerfulness. + +‘Not much--it’s all right,’ returned the other. + +So on we went--but we were all a bit tired now--and the sun was hotter +and hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to sing to keep up +our spirits. We sang ‘The British Grenadiers’ and ‘John Brown’s Body’, +which is grand to march to, and a lot of others. We were just starting +on ‘Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching’, when Denny stopped +short. He stood first on one foot and then on the other, and suddenly +screwed up his face and put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down on +a heap of stones by the roadside. When we pulled his hands down he was +actually crying. The author does not wish to say it is babyish to cry. + +‘Whatever is up?’ we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to get him +to say, but he only went on howling, and said it was nothing, only would +we go on and leave him, and call for him as we came back. + +Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the stomach-ache, +and he did not like to say so before all of us, so he sent the others +away and told them to walk on a bit. + +Then he said, ‘Now, Denny, don’t be a young ass. What is it? Is it +stomach-ache?’ + +And Denny stopped crying to say ‘No!’ as loud as he could. + +‘Well, then,’ Oswald said, ‘look here, you’re spoiling the whole thing. +Don’t be a jackape, Denny. What is it?’ + +‘You won’t tell the others if I tell you?’ + +‘Not if you say not,’ Oswald answered in kindly tones. + +‘Well, it’s my shoes.’ + +‘Take them off, man.’ + +‘You won’t laugh?’ + +‘NO!’ cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to see +why he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble gentleness +began to undo the black-tape sandals. + +Denny let him, crying hard all the time. + +When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain to +him. + +‘Well! Of all the--’ he said in proper indignation. + +Denny quailed--though he said he did not--but then he doesn’t know what +quailing is, and if Denny did not quail then Oswald does not know what +quailing is either. + +For when Oswald took the shoe off he naturally chucked it down and +gave it a kick, and a lot of little pinky yellow things rolled out. And +Oswald look closer at the interesting sight. And the little things were +SPLIT peas. + +‘Perhaps you’ll tell me,’ said the gentle knight, with the politeness of +despair, ‘why on earth you’ve played the goat like this?’ + +‘Oh, don’t be angry,’ Denny said; and now his shoes were off, he curled +and uncurled his toes and stopped crying. ‘I KNEW pilgrims put peas in +their shoes--and--oh, I wish you wouldn’t laugh!’ + +‘I’m not,’ said Oswald, still with bitter politeness. + +‘I didn’t want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be better +than all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to you’d want to +too, and you wouldn’t when I said it first. So I just put some peas +in my pocket and dropped one or two at a time into my shoes when you +weren’t looking.’ + +In his secret heart Oswald said, ‘Greedy young ass.’ For it IS greedy to +want to have more of anything than other people, even goodness. + +Outwardly Oswald said nothing. + +‘You see’--Denny went on--‘I do want to be good. And if pilgriming is to +do you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn’t mind being hurt +in my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. And besides, I +wanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say I don’t.’ + +The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words. + +‘I think you’re quite good enough,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch back the +others--no, they won’t laugh.’ + +And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. But +Oswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old enough to see +that being good was all very well, but after all you had to get the boy +home somehow. + +When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said-- + +‘It’s all right--someone will give me a lift.’ + +‘You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift,’ Dicky +said, and he did not speak lovingly. + +‘So it can,’ said Denny, ‘when it’s your feet. I shall easily get a lift +home.’ + +‘Not here you won’t,’ said Alice. ‘No one goes down this road; but the +high road’s just round the corner, where you see the telegraph wires.’ + +Dickie and Oswald made a sedan chair and carried Denny to the high road, +and we sat down in a ditch to wait. For a long time nothing went by +but a brewer’s dray. We hailed it, of course, but the man was so sound +asleep that our hails were vain, and none of us thought soon enough +about springing like a flash to the horses’ heads, though we all thought +of it directly the dray was out of sight. + +So we had to keep on sitting there by the dusty road, and more than one +pilgrim was heard to say it wished we had never come. Oswald was not one +of those who uttered this useless wish. + +At last, just when despair was beginning to eat into the vital parts of +even Oswald, there was a quick tap-tapping of horses’ feet on the road, +and a dogcart came in sight with a lady in it all alone. + +We hailed her like the desperate shipwrecked mariners in the long-boat +hail the passing sail. + +She pulled up. She was not a very old lady--twenty-five we found out +afterwards her age was--and she looked jolly. + +‘Well,’ she said, ‘what’s the matter?’ + +‘It’s this poor little boy,’ Dora said, pointing to the Dentist, who had +gone to sleep in the dry ditch, with his mouth open as usual. ‘His feet +hurt him so, and will you give him a lift?’ + +‘But why are you all rigged out like this?’ asked the lady, looking at +our cockle-shells and sandals and things. We told her. + +‘And how has he hurt his feet?’ she asked. And we told her that. + +She looked very kind. ‘Poor little chap,’ she said. ‘Where do you want +to go?’ + +We told her that too. We had no concealments from this lady. + +‘Well,’ she said, ‘I have to go on to--what is its name?’ + +‘Canterbury,’ said H. O. + +‘Well, yes, Canterbury,’ she said; ‘it’s only about half a mile. I’ll +take the poor little pilgrim--and, yes, the three girls. You boys +must walk. Then we’ll have tea and see the sights, and I’ll drive you +home--at least some of you. How will that do?’ + +We thanked her very much indeed, and said it would do very nicely. + +Then we helped Denny into the cart, and the girls got up, and the red +wheels of the cart spun away through the dust. + +‘I wish it had been an omnibus the lady was driving,’ said H. O., ‘then +we could all have had a ride.’ + +‘Don’t you be so discontented,’ Dicky said. And Noel said-- + +‘You ought to be jolly thankful you haven’t got to carry Denny all the +way home on your back. You’d have had to if you’d been out alone with +him.’ + +When we got to Canterbury it was much smaller than we expected, and +the cathedral not much bigger than the Church that is next to the Moat +House. There seemed to be only one big street, but we supposed the rest +of the city was hidden away somewhere. There was a large inn, with +a green before it, and the red-wheeled dogcart was standing in the +stableyard and the lady, with Denny and the others, sitting on the +benches in the porch, looking out for us. The inn was called the ‘George +and Dragon’, and it made me think of the days when there were coaches +and highwaymen and foot-pads and jolly landlords, and adventures at +country inns, like you read about. + +‘We’ve ordered tea,’ said the lady. ‘Would you like to wash your hands?’ + +We saw that she wished us to, so we said yes, we would. The girls and +Denny were already much cleaner than when we parted from them. + +There was a courtyard to the inn and a wooden staircase outside the +house. We were taken up this, and washed our hands in a big room with +a fourpost wooden bed and dark red hangings--just the sort of hangings +that would not show the stains of gore in the dear old adventurous +times. + +Then we had tea in a great big room with wooden chairs and tables, very +polished and old. + +It was a very nice tea, with lettuces, and cold meat, and three kinds of +jam, as well as cake, and new bread, which we are not allowed at home. + +While tea was being had, the lady talked to us. She was very kind. + +There are two sorts of people in the world, besides others; one sort +understand what you’re driving at, and the other don’t. This lady was +the one sort. + +After everyone had had as much to eat as they could possibly want, the +lady said, ‘What was it you particularly wanted to see at Canterbury?’ + +‘The cathedral,’ Alice said, ‘and the place where Thomas A Becket was +murdered.’ + +‘And the Danejohn,’ said Dicky. + +Oswald wanted to see the walls, because he likes the Story of St Alphege +and the Danes. + +‘Well, well,’ said the lady, and she put on her hat; it was a really +sensible one--not a blob of fluffy stuff and feathers put on sideways +and stuck on with long pins, and no shade to your face, but almost as +big as ours, with a big brim and red flowers, and black strings to tie +under your chin to keep it from blowing off. + +Then we went out all together to see Canterbury. Dicky and Oswald took +it in turns to carry Denny on their backs. The lady called him ‘The +Wounded Comrade’. + +We went first to the church. Oswald, whose quick brain was easily +aroused to suspicions, was afraid the lady might begin talking in the +church, but she did not. The church door was open. I remember mother +telling us once it was right and good for churches to be left open +all day, so that tired people could go in and be quiet, and say their +prayers, if they wanted to. But it does not seem respectful to talk out +loud in church. (See Note A.) + +When we got outside the lady said, ‘You can imagine how on the chancel +steps began the mad struggle in which Becket, after hurling one of his +assailants, armour and all, to the ground--’ + +‘It would have been much cleverer,’ H. O. interrupted, ‘to hurl him +without his armour, and leave that standing up.’ + +‘Go on,’ said Alice and Oswald, when they had given H. O. a withering +glance. And the lady did go on. She told us all about Becket, and then +about St Alphege, who had bones thrown at him till he died, because he +wouldn’t tax his poor people to please the beastly rotten Danes. + +And Denny recited a piece of poetry he knows called ‘The Ballad of +Canterbury’. + +It begins about Danish warships snake-shaped, and ends about doing as +you’d be done by. It is long, but it has all the beef-bones in it, and +all about St Alphege. + +Then the lady showed us the Danejohn, and it was like an oast-house. +And Canterbury walls that Alphege defied the Danes from looked down on +a quite common farmyard. The hospital was like a barn, and other things +were like other things, but we went all about and enjoyed it very +much. The lady was quite amusing, besides sometimes talking like a real +cathedral guide I met afterwards. (See Note B.) When at last we said we +thought Canterbury was very small considering, the lady said-- + +‘Well, it seemed a pity to come so far and not at least hear something +about Canterbury.’ + +And then at once we knew the worst, and Alice said-- + +‘What a horrid sell!’ But Oswald, with immediate courteousness, said-- + +‘I don’t care. You did it awfully well.’ And he did not say, though he +owns he thought of it-- + +‘I knew it all the time,’ though it was a great temptation. Because +really it was more than half true. He had felt from the first that this +was too small for Canterbury. (See Note C.) + +The real name of the place was Hazelbridge, and not Canterbury at all. +We went to Canterbury another time. (See Note D.) We were not angry +with the lady for selling us about it being Canterbury, because she +had really kept it up first-rate. And she asked us if we minded, very +handsomely, and we said we liked it. But now we did not care how soon we +got home. The lady saw this, and said-- + +‘Come, our chariots are ready, and our horses caparisoned.’ + +That is a first-rate word out of a book. It cheered Oswald up, and he +liked her for using it, though he wondered why she said chariots. When +we got back to the inn I saw her dogcart was there, and a grocer’s cart +too, with B. Munn, grocer, Hazelbridge, on it. She took the girls in her +cart, and the boys went with the grocer. His horse was a very good one +to go, only you had to hit it with the wrong end of the whip. But the +cart was very bumpety. + +The evening dews were falling--at least, I suppose so, but you do not +feel dew in a grocer’s cart--when we reached home. We all thanked the +lady very much, and said we hoped we should see her again some day. She +said she hoped so. + +The grocer drove off, and when we had all shaken hands with the lady +and kissed her, according as we were boys or girls, or little boys, she +touched up her horse and drove away. + +She turned at the corner to wave to us, and just as we had done waving, +and were turning into the house, Albert’s uncle came into our midst like +a whirling wind. He was in flannels, and his shirt had no stud in at the +neck, and his hair was all rumpled up and his hands were inky, and we +knew he had left off in the middle of a chapter by the wildness of his +eye. + +‘Who was that lady?’ he said. ‘Where did you meet her?’ + +Mindful, as ever, of what he was told, Oswald began to tell the story +from the beginning. + +‘The other day, protector of the poor,’ he began; ‘Dora and I were +reading about the Canterbury pilgrims...’ + +Oswald thought Albert’s uncle would be pleased to find his instructions +about beginning at the beginning had borne fruit, but instead he +interrupted. + +‘Stow it, you young duffer! Where did you meet her?’ + +Oswald answered briefly, in wounded accents, ‘Hazelbridge.’ + +Then Albert’s uncle rushed upstairs three at a time, and as he went he +called out to Oswald-- + +‘Get out my bike, old man, and blow up the back tyre.’ + +I am sure Oswald was as quick as anyone could have been, but long +ere the tyre was thoroughly blowed Albert’s uncle appeared, with a +collar-stud and tie and blazer, and his hair tidy, and wrenching the +unoffending machine from Oswald’s surprised fingers. + +Albert’s uncle finished pumping up the tyre, and then flinging himself +into the saddle he set off, scorching down the road at a pace not +surpassed by any highwayman, however black and high-mettled his steed. +We were left looking at each other. ‘He must have recognized her,’ Dicky +said. + +‘Perhaps,’ Noel said, ‘she is the old nurse who alone knows the dark +secret of his highborn birth.’ + +‘Not old enough, by chalks,’ Oswald said. + +‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Alice, ‘if she holds the secret of the will +that will make him rolling in long-lost wealth.’ + +‘I wonder if he’ll catch her,’ Noel said. ‘I’m quite certain all his +future depends on it. Perhaps she’s his long-lost sister, and the estate +was left to them equally, only she couldn’t be found, so it couldn’t be +shared up.’ + +‘Perhaps he’s only in love with her,’ Dora said, ‘parted by cruel Fate +at an early age, he has ranged the wide world ever since trying to find +her.’ + +‘I hope to goodness he hasn’t--anyway, he’s not ranged since we knew +him--never further than Hastings,’ Oswald said. ‘We don’t want any of +that rot.’ + +‘What rot?’ Daisy asked. And Oswald said-- + +‘Getting married, and all that sort of rubbish.’ + +And Daisy and Dora were the only ones that didn’t agree with him. Even +Alice owned that being bridesmaids must be fairly good fun. It’s no +good. You may treat girls as well as you like, and give them every +comfort and luxury, and play fair just as if they were boys, but there +is something unmanly about the best of girls. They go silly, like milk +goes sour, without any warning. + +When Albert’s uncle returned he was very hot, with a beaded brow, but +pale as the Dentist when the peas were at their worst. + +‘Did you catch her?’ H. O. asked. + +Albert’s uncle’s brow looked black as the cloud that thunder will +presently break from. ‘No,’ he said. + +‘Is she your long-lost nurse?’ H. O. went on, before we could stop him. + +‘Long-lost grandmother! I knew the lady long ago in India,’ said +Albert’s uncle, as he left the room, slamming the door in a way we +should be forbidden to. + +And that was the end of the Canterbury Pilgrimage. + +As for the lady, we did not then know whether she was his long-lost +grandmother that he had known in India or not, though we thought she +seemed youngish for the part. We found out afterwards whether she was +or not, but that comes in another part. His manner was not the one that +makes you go on asking questions. The Canterbury Pilgriming did not +exactly make us good, but then, as Dora said, we had not done anything +wrong that day. So we were twenty-four hours to the good. + + + Note A.--Afterwards we went and saw real Canterbury. It is +very large. A disagreeable man showed us round the cathedral, and jawed +all the time quite loud as if it wasn’t a church. I remember one thing +he said. It was this: + +‘This is the Dean’s Chapel; it was the Lady Chapel in the wicked days +when people used to worship the Virgin Mary.’ + +And H. O. said, ‘I suppose they worship the Dean now?’ + +Some strange people who were there laughed out loud. I think this is +worse in church than not taking your cap off when you come in, as H. O. +forgot to do, because the cathedral was so big he didn’t think it was a +church. + + + Note B. (See Note C.) + + + Note C. (See Note D.) + + + Note D. (See Note E.) + + + Note E. (See Note A.) + +This ends the Canterbury Pilgrims. + + + +CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON’S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED + +Albert’s uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when we +became Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart with +red wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost grandmother he had +known years ago in India, he spent not nearly so much of his time +in writing, and he used to shave every morning instead of only when +requisite, as in earlier days. And he was always going out on his +bicycle in his new Norfolk suit. We are not so unobserving as grown-up +people make out. We knew well enough he was looking for the long-lost. +And we jolly well wished he might find her. Oswald, always full of +sympathy with misfortune, however undeserved, had himself tried several +times to find the lady. So had the others. But all this is what they +call a digression; it has nothing to do with the dragon’s teeth I am now +narrating. + +It began with the pig dying--it was the one we had for the circus, but +it having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its illness +and death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and perhaps if we +hadn’t made it run so that day it might have been spared to us. But +Oswald cannot pretend that people were right just because they happen to +be dead, and as long as that pig was alive we all knew well enough that +it was it that made us run--and not us it. + +The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made the +tombstone for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner we +took a turn at digging, because we like to be useful, and besides, when +you dig you never know what you may turn up. I knew a man once that +found a gold ring on the point of his fork when he was digging potatoes, +and you know how we found two half-crowns ourselves once when we were +digging for treasure. + +Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were sitting +on the gravel and telling him how to do it. + +‘Work with a will,’ Dicky said, yawning. + +Alice said, ‘I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig without +finding something. I think I’d rather it was a secret passage than +anything.’ + +Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying. + +‘A secret’s nothing when you’ve found it out. Look at the secret +staircase. It’s no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of its +squeaking. I’d rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for when we +were little.’ It was really only last year, but you seem to grow old +very quickly after you have once passed the prime of your youth, which +is at ten, I believe. + +‘How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist soldiers +foully done to death by nasty Ironsides?’ Noel asked, with his mouth full +of plum. + +‘If they were really dead it wouldn’t matter,’ Dora said. ‘What I’m +afraid of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your legs when +you’re going upstairs to bed.’ ‘Skeletons can’t walk,’ Alice said in a +hurry; ‘you know they can’t, Dora.’ + +And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what she +had. The things you are frightened of, or even those you would rather +not meet in the dark, should never be mentioned before the little ones, +or else they cry when it comes to bed-time, and say it was because of +what you said. + +‘We shan’t find anything. No jolly fear,’ said Dicky. + +And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, +and it felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that we had +found that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, seemed to be +longish; longer, that is, than a pot of gold would naturally be. And as +I uncovered it I saw that it was not at all pot-of-gold-colour, but like +a bone Pincher has buried. So Oswald said-- + +‘It IS the skeleton.’ + +The girls all drew back, and Alice said, ‘Oswald, I wish you wouldn’t.’ + +A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it up, +with both hands. + +‘It’s a dragon’s head,’ Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. + +It was long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth sticking +in the jaw. + +Bill came back just then and said it was a horse’s head, but H. O. and +Noel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has ever +seen had a head at all that shape. + +But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who showed me +how to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him about ferrets, +so he went off and Dicky and Denny and Alice with him. Also Daisy and +Dora went off to finish reading Ministering Children. So H. O. and Noel +were left with the bony head. They took it away. + +The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But just +before breakfast Noel and H. O. came in, looking hot and anxious. They +had got up early and had not washed at all--not even their hands and +faces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the others saw it, and with +proper delicate feeling pretended not to have. + +When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O. in obedience to the secret +signal, Noel said-- + +‘You know that dragon’s head yesterday?’ + +‘Well?’ Oswald said quickly, but not crossly--the two things are quite +different. + +‘Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed +dragon’s teeth?’ + +‘They came up armed men,’ said H. O., but Noel sternly bade him shut up, +and Oswald said ‘Well,’ again. If he spoke impatiently it was because he +smelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast. + +‘Well,’ Noel went on, ‘what do you suppose would have come up if we’d +sowed those dragon’s teeth we found yesterday?’ + +‘Why, nothing, you young duffer,’ said Oswald, who could now smell the +coffee. ‘All that isn’t History it’s Humbug. Come on in to brekker.’ + +‘It’s NOT humbug,’ H. O. cried, ‘it is history. We DID sow--’ + +‘Shut up,’ said Noel again. ‘Look here, Oswald. We did sow those +dragon’s teeth in Randall’s ten-acre meadow, and what do you think has +come up?’ + +‘Toadstools I should think,’ was Oswald’s contemptible rejoinder. + +‘They have come up a camp of soldiers,’ said Noel--ARMED MEN. So you see +it WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it has +come up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that helped it along.’ + +Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve--his brother or his ears. +So, disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way to +the bacon and the banqueting hall. + +He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. O. But +after the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good elder brother +said-- + +‘Why don’t you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?’ + +So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions of +doubt. It was Dicky who observed-- + +‘Let’s go and have a squint at Randall’s ten-acre, anyhow. I saw a hare +there the other day.’ + +We went. It is some little way, and as we went, disbelief reigned superb +in every breast except Noel’s and H. O.’s, so you will see that even the +ready pen of the present author cannot be expected to describe to you +his variable sensations when he got to the top of the hill and suddenly +saw that his little brothers had spoken the truth. I do not mean that +they generally tell lies, but people make mistakes sometimes, and the +effect is the same as lies if you believe them. + +There WAS a camp there with real tents and soldiers in grey and red +tunics. I daresay the girls would have said coats. We stood in ambush, +too astonished even to think of lying in it, though of course we know +that this is customary. The ambush was the wood on top of the little +hill, between Randall’s ten-acre meadow and Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. + +‘There would be cover here for a couple of regiments,’ whispered Oswald, +who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of a born +general. + +Alice merely said ‘Hist’, and we went down to mingle with the troops as +though by accident, and seek for information. + +The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a sort of +cauldron thing like witches brew bats in. + +We went up to him and said, ‘Who are you? Are you English, or are you +the enemy?’ + +‘We’re the enemy,’ he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being what he +was. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a foreigner. + +‘The enemy!’ Oswald echoed in shocked tones. It is a terrible thing to +a loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy cleaning a pot in an English +field, with English sand, and looking as much at home as if he was in +his foreign fastnesses. + +The enemy seemed to read Oswald’s thoughts with deadly unerringness. He +said-- + +‘The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. They are +trying to keep us out of Maidstone.’ + +After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth going +on with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in reading Oswald’s +innermost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other things, or he would +never have given away his secret plans like this, for he must have +known from our accents that we were Britons to the backbone. Or perhaps +(Oswald thought this, and it made his blood at once boil and freeze, +which our uncle had told us was possible, but only in India), perhaps he +thought that Maidstone was already as good as taken and it didn’t matter +what he said. While Oswald was debating within his intellect what to +say next, and how to say it so as to discover as many as possible of the +enemy’s dark secrets, Noel said-- + +‘How did you get here? You weren’t here yesterday at tea-time.’ + +The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said-- + +‘I daresay it does seem quick work--the camp seems as if it had sprung +up in the night, doesn’t it?--like a mushroom.’ + +Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. The +words ‘sprung up in the night’ seemed to touch a string in every heart. + +‘You see,’ whispered Noel, ‘he won’t tell us how he came here. NOW, is +it humbug or history?’ + +Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up and not +bother, remarked, ‘Then you’re an invading army?’ + +‘Well,’ said the soldier, ‘we’re a skeleton battalion, as a matter of +fact, but we’re invading all right enough.’ + +And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as the +quick-witted Oswald’s had done earlier in the interview. Even H. O. +opened his mouth and went the colour of mottled soap; he is so fat that +this is the nearest he can go to turning pale. Denny said, ‘But you +don’t look like skeletons.’ + +The soldier stared, then he laughed and said, ‘Ah, that’s the padding in +our tunics. You should see us in the grey dawn taking our morning bath +in a bucket.’ It was a dreadful picture for the imagination. A skeleton, +with its bones all loose most likely, bathing anyhow in a pail. There +was a silence while we thought it over. + +Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about taking +Maidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald’s jacket behind, and he +had kept on not taking any notice. But now he could not stand it any +longer, so he said-- + +‘Well, what is it?’ + +Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that he +nearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, ‘Come along, don’t +stay parlaying with the foe. He’s only talking to you to gain time.’ + +‘What for?’ said Oswald. + +‘Why, so that we shouldn’t warn the other army, you silly,’ Alice said, +and Oswald was so upset by what she said, that he forgot to be properly +angry with her for the wrong word she used. + +‘But we ought to warn them at home,’ she said--’ suppose the Moat House +was burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the foe?’ + +Alice turned boldly to the soldier. ‘DO you burn down farms?’ she asked. + +‘Well, not as a rule,’ he said, and he had the cheek to wink at Oswald, +but Oswald would not look at him. ‘We’ve not burned a farm since--oh, +not for years.’ + +‘A farm in Greek history it was, I expect,’ Denny murmured. ‘Civilized +warriors do not burn farms nowadays,’ Alice said sternly, ‘whatever they +did in Greek times. You ought to know that.’ + +The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. + +So we said good morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to be +polite even to your enemy, except just at the moments when it has really +come to rifles and bayonets or other weapons. + +The soldier said ‘So long!’ in quite a modern voice, and we retraced our +footsteps in silence to the ambush--I mean the wood. Oswald did think of +lying in the ambush then, but it was rather wet, because of the rain the +night before, that H. O. said had brought the army-seed up. And Alice +walked very fast, saying nothing but ‘Hurry up, can’t you!’ and dragging +H. O. by one hand and Noel by the other. So we got into the road. + +Then Alice faced round and said, ‘This is all our fault. If we hadn’t +sowed those dragon’s teeth there wouldn’t have been any invading army.’ + +I am sorry to say Daisy said, ‘Never mind, Alice, dear. WE didn’t sow +the nasty things, did we, Dora?’ + +But Denny told her it was just the same. It was WE had done it, so long +as it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into trouble. Oswald +was very pleased to see that the Dentist was beginning to understand +the meaning of true manliness, and about the honour of the house of +Bastable, though of course he is only a Foulkes. Yet it is something to +know he does his best to learn. + +If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I daresay you will now have +thought of a great many things. If you have you need not say anything, +especially if you’re reading this aloud to anybody. It’s no good putting +in what you think in this part, because none of us thought anything of +the kind at the time. + +We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, filled +with shame and distress to think of what might happen owing to the +dragon’s teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to sow seed +without being quite sure what sort it is. This is particularly true of +the penny packets, which sometimes do not come up at all, quite unlike +dragon’s teeth. + +Of course H. O. and Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. This was +only fair. + +‘How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?’ Dickie said. +‘Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from the bodies +of dead English soldiers, I shouldn’t wonder.’ + +‘If they’re the old Greek kind of dragon’s-teeth soldiers, they ought to +fight each other to death,’ Noel said; ‘at least, if we had a helmet to +throw among them.’ + +But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be of no use for +H. O. to go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he wanted to. +Denny said suddenly-- + +‘Couldn’t we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn’t know the way to +Maidstone?’ + +Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. + +He said-- + +‘Fetch all the tools out of your chest--Dicky go too, there’s a good +chap, and don’t let him cut his legs with the saw.’ He did once, +tumbling over it. ‘Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, where we had +the Benevolent Bar. Courage and dispatch, and look sharp about it.’ + +When they had gone we hastened to the crossroads, and there a great idea +occurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably that in +a very short time the board in the field which says ‘No thoroughfare. +Trespassers will be prosecuted’ was set up in the middle of the road to +Maidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the road, behind it to make it +stand up. + +Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post and +sawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it said ‘To +Maidstone’ on the Dover Road, and ‘To Dover’ on the road to Maidstone. +We decided to leave the Trespassers board on the real Maidstone road, as +an extra guard. + +Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone. + +Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been unkind +to say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt a pang of +joy when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather stay where they +were and tell anybody who came by which was the real road. + +‘Because it would be so dreadful if someone was going to buy pigs or +fetch a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had got to +Dover instead of where they wanted to go to,’ Dora said. But when it +came to dinner-time they went home, so that they were entirely out of +it. This often happens to them by some strange fatalism. + +We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher went +with us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to remember no +one said anything about their dinners, whatever they may have thought. +We cannot always help our thoughts. We happened to know it was roast +rabbits and currant jelly that day. + +We walked two and two, and sang the ‘British Grenadiers’ and ‘Soldiers +of the queen’ so as to be as much part of the British Army as possible. +The Cauldron-Man had said the English were the other side of the hill. +But we could not see any scarlet anywhere, though we looked for it as +carefully as if we had been fierce bulls. + +But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into a lot +of soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were dressed in grey +and silver. And it was a sort of furzy-common place, and three roads +branching out. The men were lying about, with some of their belts +undone, smoking pipes and cigarettes. + +‘It’s not British soldiers,’ Alice said. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, I’m afraid +it’s more enemy. You didn’t sow the army-seed anywhere else, did you, H. +O. dear?’ + +H. O. was positive he hadn’t. ‘But perhaps lots more came up where we +did sow them,’ he said; ‘they’re all over England by now very likely. +_I_ don’t know how many men can grow out of one dragon’s tooth.’ + +Then Noel said, ‘It was my doing anyhow, and I’m not afraid,’ and he +walked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his pipe +with a piece of grass, and said-- + +‘Please, are you the enemy?’ The man said-- + +‘No, young Commander-in-Chief, we’re the English.’ + +Then Oswald took command. ‘Where is the General?’ he said. + +‘We’re out of generals just now, Field-Marshal,’ the man said, and his +voice was a gentleman’s voice. ‘Not a single one in stock. We might suit +you in majors now--and captains are quite cheap. Competent corporals +going for a song. And we have a very nice colonel, too quiet to ride or +drive.’ + +Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one. + +‘You seem to be taking it very easy,’ he said with disdainful +expression. + +‘This IS an easy,’ said the grey soldier, sucking at his pipe to see if +it would draw. + +‘I suppose YOU don’t care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!’ +exclaimed Oswald bitterly. ‘If I were a soldier I’d rather die than be +beaten.’ + +The soldier saluted. ‘Good old patriotic sentiment’ he said, smiling at +the heart-felt boy. + +But Oswald could bear no more. ‘Which is the Colonel?’ he asked. + +‘Over there--near the grey horse.’ + +‘The one lighting a cigarette?’ H. O. asked. + +‘Yes--but I say, kiddie, he won’t stand any jaw. There’s not an ounce of +vice about him, but he’s peppery. He might kick out. You’d better bunk.’ + +‘Better what?’ asked H. O. + +‘Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit,’ said the soldier. + +‘That’s what you’d do when the fighting begins,’ said H. O. He is often +rude like that--but it was what we all thought, all the same. + +The soldier only laughed. + +A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended in +our allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the Colonel. It was she who +wanted to. ‘However peppery he is he won’t kick a girl,’ she said, and +perhaps this was true. + +But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to stand +in front of the Colonel. And as we went along we agreed that we would +salute him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick said, ‘One, +two, three’, and we all saluted very well--except H. O., who chose that +minute to trip over a rifle a soldier had left lying about, and was only +saved from falling by a man in a cocked hat who caught him deftly by the +back of his jacket and stood him on his legs. + +‘Let go, can’t you,’ said H. O. ‘Are you the General?’ + +Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to the +Colonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as we +threaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really said was-- + +‘Oh, how CAN you!’ + +‘How can I WHAT?’ said the Colonel, rather crossly. + +‘Why, SMOKE?’ said Alice. + +‘My good children, if you’re an infant Band of Hope, let me recommend +you to play in some other backyard,’ said the Cock-Hatted Man. + +H. O. said, ‘Band of Hope yourself’--but no one noticed it. + +‘We’re NOT a Band of Hope,’ said Noel. ‘We’re British, and the man over +there told us you are. And Maidstone’s in danger, and the enemy not a +mile off, and you stand SMOKING.’ Noel was standing crying, himself, or +something very like it. + +‘It’s quite true,’ Alice said. + +The Colonel said, ‘Fiddle-de-dee.’ + +But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, ‘What was the enemy like?’ We told him +exactly. And even the Colonel then owned there might be something in it. + +‘Can you show me the place where they are on the map?’ he asked. + +‘Not on the map, we can’t,’ said Dicky--‘at least, I don’t think so, +but on the ground we could. We could take you there in a quarter of an +hour.’ + +The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the Colonel, who returned his scrutiny, +then he shrugged his shoulders. + +‘Well, we’ve got to do something,’ he said, as if to himself. ‘Lead on, +Macduff.’ + +The Colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words of +command which the present author is sorry he can’t remember. + +Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, marching +at the head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One’s +horse. It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been in +a ballad. They call a grey-roan a ‘blue’ in South Africa, the +Cocked-Hatted One said. + +We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate of +Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. Then the Colonel called a whispered halt, +and choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerning +commander went on, on foot, with an orderly. He chose Dicky and Oswald +as guides. So we led him to the ambush, and we went through it as +quietly as we could. But twigs do crackle and snap so when you are +reconnoitring, or anxious to escape detection for whatever reason. + +Our Colonel’s orderly crackled most. If you’re not near enough to tell +a colonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you can tell him +by the orderly behind him, like ‘follow my leader’. + +‘Look out!’ said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, ‘the camp’s +down in that field. You can see if you take a squint through this gap.’ + +The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, baffled +beyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with his baffledness +the British Colonel had his squint. He also drew back, and said a word +that he must have known was not right--at least when he was a boy. + +‘I don’t care,’ said Oswald, ‘they were there this morning. White tents +like mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a cauldron.’ + +‘With sand,’ said Dicky. + +‘That’s most convincing,’ said the Colonel, and I did not like the way +he said it. + +‘I say,’ Oswald said, ‘let’s get to the top corner of the ambush--the +wood, I mean. You can see the crossroads from there.’ + +We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer dismayed +our almost despairing spirits. + +We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald’s patriotic heart really did +give a jump, and he cried, ‘There they are, on the Dover Road.’ + +Our miscellaneous signboard had done its work. + +‘By Jove, young un, you’re right! And in quarter column, too! We’ve got +em on toast--on toast--egad!’ I never heard anyone not in a book say +‘egad’ before, so I saw something really out of the way was indeed up. + +The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the orderly +to tell the Major to advance two companies on the left flank and take +cover. Then we led him back through the wood the nearest way, because he +said he must rejoin the main body at once. We found the main body very +friendly with Noel and H. O. and the others, and Alice was talking to +the Cocked-Hatted One as if she had known him all her life. + +‘I think he’s a general in disguise,’ Noel said. ‘He’s been giving us +chocolate out of a pocket in his saddle.’ + +Oswald thought about the roast rabbit then--and he is not ashamed to own +it--yet he did not say a word. But Alice is really not a bad sort. She +had saved two bars of chocolate for him and Dicky. Even in war girls can +sometimes be useful in their humble way. + +The Colonel fussed about and said, ‘Take cover there!’ and everybody hid +in the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with Alice, retreated +down the road out of sight. We were in the ditch too. It was muddy--but +nobody thought of their boots in that perilous moment. It seemed a long +time we were crouching there. Oswald began to feel the water squelching +in his boots, so we held our breath and listened. Oswald laid his ear to +the road like a Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace, but +when your country is in danger you care but little about keeping your +ears clean. His backwoods’ strategy was successful. He rose and dusted +himself and said--‘They’re coming!’ + +It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be heard +quite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The wicked enemy +approached. They were marching with a careless swaggeringness that +showed how little they suspected the horrible doom which was about to +teach them England’s might and supremeness. + +Just as the enemy turned the corner so that we could see them, the +Colonel shouted--‘Right section, fire!’ and there was a deafening +banging. + +The enemy’s officer said something, and then the enemy got confused and +tried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was vain. There +was firing now from our men, on the left as well as the right. And +then our Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy’s Colonel and demanded +surrender. He told me so afterwards. His exact words are only known to +himself and the other Colonel. But the enemy’s Colonel said, ‘I would +rather die than surrender,’ or words to that effect. + +Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, and +even Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of the amount +of blood to be shed. What would have happened can never now be revealed. +For at this moment a man on a piebald horse came clattering over a +hedge--as carelessly as if the air was not full of lead and steel at +all. Another man rode behind him with a lance and a red pennon on it. I +think he must have been the enemy’s General coming to tell his men not +to throw away their lives on a forlorn hope, for directly he said they +were captured the enemy gave in and owned that they were. The enemy’s +Colonel saluted and ordered his men to form quarter column again. I +should have thought he would have had about enough of that myself. + +He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter end. +He rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek to say to +our Colonel-- + +‘By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to have +marked us down uncommonly neatly.’ + +It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand on +Oswald’s shoulder and said-- + +‘This is my chief scout’ which were high words, but not undeserved, and +Oswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard them. + +‘So you are the traitor, young man,’ said the wicked Colonel, going on +with his cheek. + +Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous to a +fallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you haven’t. + +He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might have +done, but he said-- + +‘We aren’t traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a Foulkes. +We only mingled unsuspected with the enemy’s soldiery and learned the +secrets of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell always does when the +natives rebel in South Africa; and Denis Foulkes thought of altering +the sign-posts to lead the foe astray. And if we did cause all this +fighting, and get Maidstone threatened with capture and all that, it +was only because we didn’t believe Greek things could happen in Great +Britain and Ireland, even if you sow dragon’s teeth, and besides, some +of us were not asked about sowing them.’ + +Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and made +us tell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked Colonel +listened too, which was only another proof of his cheek. + +And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some people +think he has, and gave the others all the credit they deserved. His +narration was interrupted no less than four times by shouts of ‘Bravo!’ +in which the enemy’s Colonel once more showed his cheek by joining. By +the time the story was told we were in sight of another camp. It was the +British one this time. The Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, +and it only shows the magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field of +battle that he asked the enemy’s Colonel too. With his usual cheek he +accepted. We were jolly hungry. + +When everyone had had as much tea as they possibly could, the Colonel +shook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said-- + +‘Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in my +dispatches to the War Office.’ + +H. O. interrupted him to say, ‘His name’s Oswald Cecil Bastable, and +mine is Horace Octavius.’ I wish H. O. would learn to hold his tongue. +No one ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if he can +possibly help it. YOU didn’t know it till now. + +‘Mr Oswald Bastable,’ the Colonel went on--he had the decency not to +take any notice of the ‘Cecil’--‘you would be a credit to any regiment. +No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for what you have done +for your country. But meantime, perhaps, you’ll accept five shillings +from a grateful comrade-in-arms.’ Oswald felt heart-felt sorry to wound +the good Colonel’s feelings, but he had to remark that he had only done +his duty, and he was sure no British scout would take five bob for doing +that. ‘And besides,’ he said, with that feeling of justice which is part +of his young character, ‘it was the others just as much as me.’ + +‘Your sentiments, Sir,’ said the Colonel who was one of the politest +and most discerning colonels I ever saw, ‘your sentiments do you honour. +But, Bastables all, and--and non-Bastables’ (he couldn’t remember +Foulkes; it’s not such an interesting name as Bastable, of course)--‘at +least you’ll accept a soldier’s pay?’ + +‘Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!’ Alice and Denny said together. +And the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing your own mind and +knowing your own Kipling. + +‘A soldier,’ said the Colonel, ‘would certainly be lucky to touch it. +You see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is exactly +right, deducting twopence each for six teas.’ + +This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and all +the strawberry jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well as what +the others ate, and Lady’s and Pincher’s teas, but I suppose soldiers +get things cheaper than civilians, which is only right. + +Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any scruples +why he should not. + +Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw a +bicycle coming. It was Albert’s uncle. He got off and said-- + +‘What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with those +volunteers?’ + +We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and then he +said he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked. + +But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was now +almost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without a moment’s +pause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He said nothing at the +time, but after supper he had it out with Albert’s uncle about the word +which had been withdrawn. + +Albert’s uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the dragon’s +teeth hadn’t come up in the good old-fashioned way, but that, on the +other hand, it was barely possible that both the British and the enemy +were only volunteers having a field-day or sham fight, and he rather +thought the Cocked-Hatted Man was not a general, but a doctor. And the +man with a red pennon carried behind him MIGHT have been the umpire. + +Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts were +all panting with joy because they had saved their country; and it would +have been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly they had been. +Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have been so taken in--if +he HAD been. Besides, Albert’s uncle did say that no one could be sure +about the dragon’s teeth. + +The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole thing was +a beastly sell, was that we didn’t see any wounded. But he tries not to +think of this. And if he goes into the army when he grows up, he will +not go quite green. He has had experience of the arts of war and the +tented field. And a real colonel has called him ‘Comrade-in-Arms’, which +is exactly what Lord Roberts called his own soldiers when he wrote home +about them. + + + +CHAPTER 14. ALBERT’S UNCLE’s GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST + + +The shadow of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds upon +our devoted nobs. As Albert’s uncle said, ‘School now gaped for its +prey’. In a very short space of time we should be wending our way back +to Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness of the country +would soon be only preserved in memory’s faded flowers. (I don’t care +for that way of writing very much. It would be an awful swot to keep it +up--looking out the words and all that.) + +To speak in the language of everyday life, our holiday was jolly nearly +up. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We really did +feel sorry--though, of course, it was rather decent to think of getting +back to Father and being able to tell the other chaps about our raft, +and the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and things like that. + +When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by chance +in an apple-tree. (That sounds like ‘consequences’, but it is mere +truthfulness.) Dicky said-- + +‘Only four more days.’ + +Oswald said, ‘Yes.’ + +‘There’s one thing,’ Dickie said, ‘that beastly society. We don’t want +that swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought to dissolve +it before we leave here.’ + +The following dialogue now took place: + +Oswald--‘Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot.’ + +Dicky--‘So did I.’ + +Oswald--‘Let’s call a council. But don’t forget we’ve jolly well got to +put our foot down.’ + +Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples. + +The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made Oswald’s and +Dicky’s task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy despair about one +thing, they will agree to almost anything about something else. (Remarks +like this are called philosophic generalizations, Albert’s uncle says.) +Oswald began by saying-- + +‘We’ve tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it’s done us +good. But now the time has come for each of us to be good or bad on his +own, without hanging on to the others.’ + + ‘The race is run by one and one, + But never by two and two,’ + +the Dentist said. + +The others said nothing. + +Oswald went on: ‘I move that we chuck--I mean dissolve--the Wouldbegoods +Society; its appointed task is done. If it’s not well done, that’s ITS +fault and not ours.’ + +Dicky said, ‘Hear! hear! I second this prop.’ + +The unexpected Dentist said, ‘I third it. At first I thought it would +help, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be naughty, just +because you were a Wouldbegood.’ + +Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as not +to let Denny cool. H. O. and Noel and Alice voted with us, so Daisy and +Dora were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried to cheer their +hopelessness by letting them read the things out of the Golden Deed +book aloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that we should not see the +faces he made while he made poetry instead of listening, and when the +Wouldbegoods was by vote dissolved for ever he sat up, straws in his +hair, and said-- + + + THE EPITAPH + + ‘The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone + But not the golden deeds they have done + These will remain upon Glory’s page + To be an example to every age, + And by this we have got to know + How to be good upon our ow--N. + + +N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O, W, N, +own; do you see?’ + +We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And the +council broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from his +expanding chest, and it is curious that he never felt so inclined to be +good and a model youth as he did then. As he went down the ladder out of +the loft he said-- + +‘There’s one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We ought +to find Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother for him.’ + +Alice’s heart beat true and steadfast. She said, ‘That’s just exactly +what Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, Oswald, you wretch, +you’re kicking chaff into my eyes.’ She was going down the ladder just +under me. + +Oswald’s younger sister’s thoughtful remark ended in another council. +But not in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite new place, and +disregarded H. O.’s idea of the dairy and Noel’s of the cellars. We had +the new council on the secret staircase, and there we settled exactly +what we ought to do. This is the same thing, if you really wish to be +good, as what you are going to do. It was a very interesting +council, and when it was over Oswald was so pleased to think that the +Wouldbegoods was unrecoverishly dead that he gave Denny and Noel, who +were sitting on the step below him, a good-humoured, playful, gentle, +loving, brotherly shove, and said, ‘Get along down, it’s tea-time!’ + +No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, and +who is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been Oswald’s +fault that the two other boys got along down by rolling over and over +each other, and bursting the door at the bottom of the stairs open by +their revolving bodies. And I should like to know whose fault it was +that Mrs Pettigrew was just on the other side of that door at that very +minute? The door burst open, and the impetuous bodies of Noel and Denny +rolled out of it into Mrs Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray. +Both revolving boys were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one or +two cups and things smashed. Mrs Pettigrew was knocked over, but none of +her bones were broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed, but +Oswald said it was all his fault. He really did this to give the others +a chance of doing a refined golden deed by speaking the truth and saying +it was not his fault. But you cannot really count on anyone. They did +not say anything, but only rubbed the lumps on their late-revolving +heads. So it was bed for Oswald, and he felt the injustice hard. + +But he sat up in bed and read The Last of the Mohicans, and then he +began to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks of +something. He thought of something now, and it was miles better than the +idea we had decided on in the secret staircase, of advertising in the +Kentish Mercury and saying if Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother +would call at the Moat House she might hear of something much to her +advantage. + +What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and asked +Mr B. Munn, Grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse that +liked the wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the lady was +in the red hat and red wheels that paid him to drive us home that +Canterbury night. He must have been paid, of course, for even grocers +are not generous enough to drive perfect strangers, and five of +them too, about the country for nothing. Thus we may learn that even +unjustness and sending the wrong people to bed may bear useful fruit, +which ought to be a great comfort to everyone when they are unfairly +treated. Only it most likely won’t be. For if Oswald’s brothers and +sisters had nobly stood by him as he expected, he would not have had +the solitary reflections that led to the great scheme for finding the +grandmother. + +Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and squatted +on Oswald’s bed and said how sorry they were. He waived their apologies +with noble dignity, because there wasn’t much time, and said he had an +idea that would knock the council’s plan into a cocked hat. But he would +not tell them what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This was +not sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else to +think of besides the way they hadn’t stood by him in the bursting of the +secret staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk. + +Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer for +a forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswald +a pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with any +man living. ‘And mind,’ he added, hiding the pang under a general-like +severeness, ‘I won’t have anyone in the expedition who has anything in +his shoes except his feet.’ + +This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald is +often misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the peas up +at Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took some +time because Daisy cried, and Dora said, ‘There now, Oswald!’) there +were seven volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed, +all of us. There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, or +scrips, or anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who set +out for Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good and +deedful--at least Oswald, I know, was--than ever they had been in the +days of the beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either it +was fine nearly all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, or +else nearly all the interesting things we did came on fine days. + +With hearts light and gay, and no peas in anyone’s shoes, the walk to +Hazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, and +the dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one of +them at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridge +is not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowed +to put on her things--I mean her collar--and come with us. She walks +slowly, but we had the day before us so there was no extra hurry. + +At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn’s grocer’s shop and asked for +ginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised at +us wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm--it had just been +washed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B. +Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. You +cannot be too careful. However, when we had said it was first-class +ginger-beer, and paid for it, we found it not so easy to extract +anything more from B. Munn, grocer; and there was an anxious silence +while he fiddled about behind the counter among the tinned meats and +sauce bottles, with a fringe of hobnailed boots hanging over his head. + +H. O. spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in where +angels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person that is). +He said-- + +‘I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the cart?’ + +Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word, +it means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said-- + +‘I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don’t you terrify yourself.’ + +People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry. So Dora shoved in a +gentle oar. She said-- + +‘We want to know the kind lady’s name and address, so that we can write +and thank her for being so jolly that day.’ + +B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady’s address being goods +he was often asked for. Alice said, ‘But do tell us. We forgot to ask +her. She’s a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so want +to thank her properly. And if you’ve got any extra-strong peppermints at +a penny an ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound.’ + +This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints his +heart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paper +bag, Dora said, ‘What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us.’ + +And B. Munn’s heart was now quite melted, he said-- + +‘It’s Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars--about a mile down the +Maidstone Road.’ + +We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a little +anxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had got the money +all right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good deal +of it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other. Then Dora +said-- + +‘Let’s go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it.’ + +Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it’s such a +beastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards. + +The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divined +hers--he is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald’s--and the two said +together-- + +‘Why not go and see her?’ + +‘She did say she would like to see us again some day,’ Dora replied. So +after we had argued a little about it we went. + +And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha began +to make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. She began +to limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when he had the +split peas in his silly palmering shoes. + +So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quite +swollen and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter with +their feet, and it always comes on when least required. They are not the +right breed for emergencies. + +There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. She is +very stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A half-hearted +unadventurous person (I name no names, but Oswald, Alice, Noel, H. O., +Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why not go straight +home and come another day without Martha? But the rest agreed with +Oswald when he said it was only a mile, and perhaps we might get a lift +home with the poor invalid. Martha was very grateful to us for our +kindness. She put her fat white arms round the person’s neck who +happened to be carrying her. She is very affectionate, but by holding +her very close to you you can keep her from kissing your face all the +time. As Alice said, ‘Bulldogs do give you such large, wet, pink +kisses.’ + +A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying Martha. + +At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chains +swinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the ditch, +and a gate with ‘The Cedars’ on it in gold letters. All very neat and +tidy, and showing plainly that more than one gardener was kept. There we +stopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with exhaustedness, and said-- + +‘Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don’t believe a bit that it’s his +grandmother. I’m sure Dora was right, and it’s only his horrid +sweetheart. I feel it in my bones. Now, don’t you really think we’d +better chuck it; we’re sure to catch it for interfering. We always do.’ + +‘The cross of true love never did come smooth,’ said the Dentist. ‘We +ought to help him to bear his cross.’ + +‘But if we find her for him, and she’s not his grandmother, he’ll MARRY +her,’ Dicky said in tones of gloominess and despair. + +Oswald felt the same, but he said, ‘Never mind. We should all hate it, +but perhaps Albert’s uncle MIGHT like it. You can never tell. If you +want to do a really unselfish action and no kid, now’s your time, my +late Wouldbegoods.’ + +No one had the face to say right out that they didn’t want to be +unselfish. + +But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the long +gate and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons and other +shrubberies towards the house. + +I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of anybody is +called the representative of the family if his father isn’t there. This +was why Oswald now took the lead. When we got to the last turn of the +drive it was settled that the others were to noiselessly ambush in the +rhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on alone and ask at the house for +the grandmother from India--I mean Miss Ashleigh. + +So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how neat +the flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all bright and +speckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green parrot in +a cage in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying clean and +untrodden in the sunshine, he stood still and thought of his boots and +how dusty the roads were, and wished he had not gone into the farmyard +after eggs before starting that morning. As he stood there in anxious +uncertainness he heard a low voice among the bushes. It said, ‘Hist! +Oswald here!’ and it was the voice of Alice. + +So he went back to the others among the shrubs and they all crowded +round their leader full of importable news. + +‘She’s not in the house; she’s HERE,’ Alice said in a low whisper that +seemed nearly all S’s. ‘Close by--she went by just this minute with a +gentleman.’ + +‘And they’re sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and she’s +got her head on his shoulder, and he’s holding her hand. I never saw +anyone look so silly in all my born,’ Dicky said. + +‘It’s sickening,’ Denny said, trying to look very manly with his legs +wide apart. + +‘I don’t know,’ Oswald whispered. ‘I suppose it wasn’t Albert’s uncle?’ + +‘Not much,’ Dicky briefly replied. + +‘Then don’t you see it’s all right. If she’s going on like that with +this fellow she’ll want to marry him, and Albert’s uncle is safe. And +we’ve really done an unselfish action without having to suffer for it +afterwards.’ + +With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as he spoke in real +joyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed. But we had +reckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping to look about her +a bit in the shrubbery. ‘Where’s Martha?’ Dora suddenly said. + +‘She went that way,’ pointingly remarked H. O. + +‘Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for?’ +Oswald said. ‘And look sharp. Don’t make a row.’ + +He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha--the one +she always gives when suddenly collared from behind--and a little squeal +in a lady-like voice, and a man say ‘Hallo!’ and then we knew that H. O. +had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about it. +We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late. We were just in time +to hear H. O. say-- + +‘I’m sorry if she frightened you. But we’ve been looking for you. Are +you Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother?’ + +‘NO,’ said our lady unhesitatingly. + +It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now going +on. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a clergyman, and I +found out afterwards he was the nicest we ever knew except our own Mr +Briston at Lewisham, who is now a canon or a dean, or something grand +that no one ever sees. At present I did not like him. He said, ‘No, this +lady is nobody’s grandmother. May I ask in return how long it is since +you escaped from the lunatic asylum, my poor child, and whence your +keeper is?’ + +H. O. took no notice of this at all, except to say, ‘I think you are +very rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are.’ + +The lady said, ‘My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all the +others, and are you pilgrims again to-day?’ + +H. O. does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and said-- + +‘Are you going to marry the lady?’ + +‘Margaret,’ said the clergyman, ‘I never thought it would come to this: +he asks me my intentions.’ + +‘If you ARE,’ said H. O., ‘it’s all right, because if you do Albert’s +uncle can’t--at least, not till you’re dead. And we don’t want him to.’ + +‘Flattering, upon my word,’ said the clergyman, putting on a deep frown. +‘Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of you, or shall I +send for the police?’ + +Alice now saw that H. O., though firm, was getting muddled and rather +scared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the scene. + +‘Don’t let him rag H. O. any more,’ she said, ‘it’s all our faults. You +see, Albert’s uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought perhaps you +were his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who alone knew the +secret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, and he said you +were his long-lost grandmother he had known in India. And we thought +that must be a mistake and that really you were his long-lost +sweetheart. And we tried to do a really unselfish act and find you for +him. Because we don’t want him to be married at all.’ + +‘It isn’t because we don’t like YOU,’ Oswald cut in, now emerging from +the bushes, ‘and if he must marry, we’d sooner it was you than anyone. +Really we would.’ + +‘A generous concession, Margaret,’ the strange clergyman uttered, ‘most +generous, but the plot thickens. It’s almost pea-soup-like now. One or +two points clamour for explanation. Who are these visitors of yours? Why +this Red Indian method of paying morning calls? Why the lurking attitude +of the rest of the tribe which I now discern among the undergrowth? +Won’t you ask the rest of the tribe to come out and join the glad +throng?’ + +Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs we +do, and books and tunes and things. + +The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if she +was going to cry. But she couldn’t help laughing too, as more and more +of us came out. + +‘And who,’ the clergyman went on, ‘who in fortune’s name is Albert? And +who is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this galere--I mean +garden?’ + +We all felt rather silly, and I don’t think I ever felt more than then +what an awful lot there were of us. + +‘Three years’ absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignorance +of these details, but still--’ + +‘I think we’d better go,’ said Dora. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve done anything +rude or wrong. We didn’t mean to. Good-bye. I hope you’ll be happy with +the gentleman, I’m sure.’ + +‘I HOPE so too,’ said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much nicer +Albert’s uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silent +compared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. But +now she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold of +Dora by the shoulder. + +‘No, dear, no,’ she said, ‘it’s all right, and you must have some +tea--we’ll have it on the lawn. John, don’t tease them any more. +Albert’s uncle is the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear children, +this is my brother that I haven’t seen for three years.’ + +‘Then he’s a long-lost too,’ said H. O. + +The lady said ‘Not now’ and smiled at him. + +And the rest of us were dumb with confounding emotions. Oswald was +particularly dumb. He might have known it was her brother, because in +rotten grown-up books if a girl kisses a man in a shrubbery that is +not the man you think she’s in love with; it always turns out to be +a brother, though generally the disgrace of the family and not a +respectable chaplain from Calcutta. + +The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and said, +‘John, go and tell them we’ll have tea on the lawn.’ + +When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said, ‘I’m +going to tell you something, but I want to put you on your honour not +to talk about it to other people. You see it isn’t everyone I would tell +about it. He, Albert’s uncle, I mean, has told me a lot about you, and I +know I can trust you.’ + +We said ‘Yes’, Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too well +what was coming next. + +The lady then said, ‘Though I am not Albert’s uncle’s grandmother I +did know him in India once, and we were going to be married, but we had +a--a--misunderstanding.’ + +‘Quarrel?’ Row?’ said Noel and H. O. at once. + +‘Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. And +then... well, we were both sorry, but well, anyway, when his ship came +back we’d gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he couldn’t find +us. And he says he’s been looking for me ever since.’ + +‘Not you for him?’ said Noel. + +‘Well, perhaps,’ said the lady. + +And the girls said ‘Ah!’ with deep interest. The lady went on more +quickly, ‘And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I must +break it to you. Try to bear up.’ + +She stopped. The branches cracked, and Albert’s uncle was in our midst. +He took off his hat. ‘Excuse my tearing my hair,’ he said to the lady, +‘but has the pack really hunted you down?’ + +‘It’s all right,’ she said, and when she looked at him she got miles +prettier quite suddenly. ‘I was just breaking to them...’ + +‘Don’t take that proud privilege from me,’ he said. ‘Kiddies, allow +me to present you to the future Mrs Albert’s uncle, or shall we say +Albert’s new aunt?’ + + * * * +There was a good deal of explaining done before tea--about how we got +there, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of disappointment +we felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. For Albert’s uncle’s +lady was very jolly to us, and her brother was awfully decent, and +showed us a lot of first-class native curiosities and things, unpacking +them on purpose; skins of beasts, and beads, and brass things, and +shells from different savage lands besides India. And the lady told the +girls that she hoped they would like her as much as she liked them, and +if they wanted a new aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction in +the new situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging to +Daisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert’s uncle +had married HER. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we might +think ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse. + +Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot which +he had explored thoroughly before, and told him she was not like some +people in books. When she was married she would never try to separate +her husband from his bachelor friends, she only wanted them to be her +friends as well. + +Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the reverend +and friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha we shouldn’t +have had tea, or explanations, or lift or anything. So we honoured her, +and did not mind her being so heavy and walking up and down constantly +on our laps as we drove home. + + +And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert’s +uncle. I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important (to +him), so I felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers and +getting married are generally slow. I like a love-story where the hero +parts with the girl at the garden-gate in the gloaming and goes off and +has adventures, and you don’t see her any more till he comes home to +marry her at the end of the book. And I suppose people have to marry. +Albert’s uncle is awfully old--more than thirty, and the lady is +advanced in years--twenty-six next Christmas. They are to be married +then. The girls are to be bridesmaids in white frocks with fur. This +quite consoles them. If Oswald repines sometimes, he hides it. What’s +the use? We all have to meet our fell destiny, and Albert’s uncle is not +extirpated from this awful law. + +Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for the +sake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the Wouldbegoods, +and there are no more chapters after this. But Oswald hates books that +finish up without telling you the things you might want to know about +the people in the book. So here goes. + +We went home to the beautiful Blackheath house. It seemed very stately +and mansion-like after the Moat House, and everyone was most frightfully +pleased to see us. + +Mrs Pettigrew CRIED when we went away. I never was so astonished in my +life. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like a heart, +and each of us boys had a knife bought out of the housekeeping (I mean +housekeeper’s own) money. + +Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert’s uncle’s lady’s +mother. They do keep three gardeners--I knew they did. And our tramp +still earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old Pig-man. + +Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewell +sympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. We +promised to come and see them next year. I hope we shall. + +Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. I +don’t think they’ll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone aunt--who +is really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the autumn of her days +as our new Albert’s-uncle aunt. I think they plucked up spirit enough +to tell their father they didn’t like her--which they’d never thought of +doing before. Our own robber says their holidays in the country did +them both a great deal of good. And he says us Bastables have certainly +taught Daisy and Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. I +believe they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirely +on their own--and done them too--since they came back from the Moat +House. + +I wish you didn’t grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long he +will be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he feels +grown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of this. + +And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles of the +Wouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the author will +be very glad, of course. But take my advice and don’t make a society for +trying in. It is much easier without. + +And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. The +one beginning with C., I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed what it was. +If so, don’t look back for it. It is a name no manly boy would like to +be called by--if he spoke the truth. Oswald is said to be a very manly +boy, and he despises that name, and will never give it to his own son +when he has one. Not if a rich relative offered to leave him an immense +fortune if he did. Oswald would still be firm. He would, on the honour +of the House of Bastable. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + +***** This file should be named 794-0.txt or 794-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/794/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/794-0.zip b/794-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..939d3c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/794-0.zip diff --git a/794-h.zip b/794-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f06c1a --- /dev/null +++ b/794-h.zip diff --git a/794-h/794-h.htm b/794-h/794-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c29ae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/794-h/794-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11468 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wouldbegoods + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Release Date: August 6, 2008 [EBook #794] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WOULDBEGOODS + </h1> + <h2> + BEING THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4> + TO<br /> My Dear Son<br /> Fabian Bland + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER 3. BILL’S TOMBSTONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG + EXPLORERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON’S TEETH; OR, + ARMY-SEED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER 14. ALBERT’S UNCLE’s GRANDMOTHER; + OR, THE LONG-LOST </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE + </h2> + <p> + Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you can’t + stand them all over the shop—eh, what?’ + </p> + <p> + These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us feel very + young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by calling him names to + ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say nasty things, because he is + not nasty, but quite the exact opposite when not irritated. And we could + not think it ungentlemanly of him to say we were like jam, because, as + Alice says, jam is very nice indeed—only not on furniture and + improper places like that. My father said, ‘Perhaps they had better go to + boarding-school.’ And that was awful, because we know Father disapproves + of boarding-schools. And he looked at us and said, ‘I am ashamed of them, + sir!’ + </p> + <p> + Your lot is indeed a dark and terrible one when your father is ashamed of + you. And we all knew this, so that we felt in our chests just as if we had + swallowed a hard-boiled egg whole. At least, this is what Oswald felt, and + Father said once that Oswald, as the eldest, was the representative of the + family, so, of course, the others felt the same. + </p> + <p> + And then everybody said nothing for a short time. At last Father said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You may go—but remember—’ + </p> + <p> + The words that followed I am not going to tell you. It is no use telling + you what you know before—as they do in schools. And you must all + have had such words said to you many times. We went away when it was over. + The girls cried, and we boys got out books and began to read, so that + nobody should think we cared. But we felt it deeply in our interior + hearts, especially Oswald, who is the eldest and the representative of the + family. + </p> + <p> + We felt it all the more because we had not really meant to do anything + wrong. We only thought perhaps the grown-ups would not be quite pleased if + they knew, and that is quite different. Besides, we meant to put all the + things back in their proper places when we had done with them before + anyone found out about it. But I must not anticipate (that means telling + the end of the story before the beginning. I tell you this because it is + so sickening to have words you don’t know in a story, and to be told to + look it up in the dicker). + </p> + <p> + We are the Bastables—Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Alice, Noel, and H. O. If + you want to know why we call our youngest brother H. O. you can jolly well + read The Treasure Seekers and find out. We were the Treasure Seekers, and + we sought it high and low, and quite regularly, because we particularly + wanted to find it. And at last we did not find it, but we were found by a + good, kind Indian uncle, who helped Father with his business, so that + Father was able to take us all to live in a jolly big red house on + Blackheath, instead of in the Lewisham Road, where we lived when we were + only poor but honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poor but honest we + always used to think that if only Father had plenty of business, and we + did not have to go short of pocket money and wear shabby clothes (I don’t + mind this myself, but the girls do), we should be happy and very, very + good. + </p> + <p> + And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house we thought + now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries and pineries, + and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and replete with every + modern convenience, like it says in Dyer & Hilton’s list of Eligible + House Property. I read all about it, and I have copied the words quite + right. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no casters + off the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the silver not dented; + and lots of servants, and the most decent meals every day—and lots + of pocket-money. + </p> + <p> + But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the things you + want most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them frightfully; but when + I had mine a week or two, after the mainspring got broken and was repaired + at Bennett’s in the village, I hardly cared to look at the works at all, + and it did not make me feel happy in my heart any more, though, of course, + I should have been very unhappy if it had been taken away from me. And the + same with new clothes and nice dinners and having enough of everything. + You soon get used to it all, and it does not make you extra happy, + although, if you had it all taken away, you would be very dejected. (That + is a good word, and one I have never used before.) You get used to + everything, as I said, and then you want something more. Father says this + is what people mean by the deceitfulness of riches; but Albert’s uncle + says it is the spirit of progress, and Mrs Leslie said some people called + it ‘divine discontent’. Oswald asked them all what they thought one Sunday + at dinner. Uncle said it was rot, and what we wanted was bread and water + and a licking; but he meant it for a joke. This was in the Easter + holidays. + </p> + <p> + We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays the + girls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to the Prop. + (that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot rather during + term; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of riches in the vac., + when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes and things. Then there was + the summer term, and we swotted more than ever; and it was boiling hot, + and masters’ tempers got short and sharp, and the girls used to wish the + exams came in cold weather. I can’t think why they don’t. But I suppose + schools don’t think of sensible thinks like that. They teach botany at + girls’ schools. + </p> + <p> + Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again—but only for + a few days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something, and did not + know what it was. We wanted something to happen—only we didn’t + exactly know what. So we were very pleased when Father said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two. You + know—the kids who came at Christmas. You must be jolly to them, and + see that they have a good time, don’t you know.’ + </p> + <p> + We remembered them right enough—they were little pinky, frightened + things, like white mice, with very bright eyes. They had not been to our + house since Christmas, because Denis, the boy, had been ill, and they had + been with an aunt at Ramsgate. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Dora would have liked to get the bedrooms ready for the honoured + guests, but a really good housemaid is sometimes more ready to say ‘Don’t’ + than even a general. So the girls had to chuck it. Jane only let them put + flowers in the pots on the visitors’ mantelpieces, and then they had to + ask the gardener which kind they might pick, because nothing worth + gathering happened to be growing in our own gardens just then. + </p> + <p> + Their train got in at 12.27. We all went to meet them. Afterwards I + thought that was a mistake, because their aunt was with them, and she wore + black with beady things and a tight bonnet, and she said, when we took our + hats off—‘Who are you?’ quite crossly. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘We are the Bastables; we’ve come to meet Daisy and Denny.’ + </p> + <p> + The aunt is a very rude lady, and it made us sorry for Daisy and Denny + when she said to them— + </p> + <p> + ‘Are these the children? Do you remember them?’ We weren’t very tidy, + perhaps, because we’d been playing brigands in the shrubbery; and we knew + we should have to wash for dinner as soon as we got back, anyhow. But + still— + </p> + <p> + Denny said he thought he remembered us. But Daisy said, ‘Of course they + are,’ and then looked as if she was going to cry. + </p> + <p> + So then the aunt called a cab, and told the man where to drive, and put + Daisy and Denny in, and then she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You two little girls may go too, if you like, but you little boys must + walk.’ + </p> + <p> + So the cab went off, and we were left. The aunt turned to us to say a few + last words. We knew it would have been about brushing your hair and + wearing gloves, so Oswald said, ‘Good-bye’, and turned haughtily away, + before she could begin, and so did the others. No one but that kind of + black beady tight lady would say ‘little boys’. She is like Miss Murdstone + in David Copperfield. I should like to tell her so; but she would not + understand. I don’t suppose she has ever read anything but Markham’s + History and Mangnall’s Questions—improving books like that. + </p> + <p> + When we got home we found all four of those who had ridden in the cab + sitting in our sitting-room—we don’t call it nursery now—looking + very thoroughly washed, and our girls were asking polite questions and the + others were saying ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, and ‘I don’t know’. We boys did not say + anything. We stood at the window and looked out till the gong went for our + dinner. We felt it was going to be awful—and it was. The newcomers + would never have done for knight-errants, or to carry the Cardinal’s + sealed message through the heart of France on a horse; they would never + have thought of anything to say to throw the enemy off the scent when they + got into a tight place. + </p> + <p> + They said ‘Yes, please’, and ‘No, thank you’; and they ate very neatly, + and always wiped their mouths before they drank, as well as after, and + never spoke with them full. + </p> + <p> + And after dinner it got worse and worse. + </p> + <p> + We got out all our books and they said ‘Thank you’, and didn’t look at + them properly. And we got out all our toys, and they said ‘Thank you, it’s + very nice’ to everything. And it got less and less pleasant, and towards + teatime it came to nobody saying anything except Noel and H. O.—and + they talked to each other about cricket. + </p> + <p> + After tea Father came in, and he played ‘Letters’ with them and the girls, + and it was a little better; but while late dinner was going on—I + shall never forget it. Oswald felt like the hero of a book—‘almost + at the end of his resources’. I don’t think I was ever glad of bedtime + before, but that time I was. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone to bed (Daisy had to have all her strings and buttons + undone for her, Dora told me, though she is nearly ten, and Denny said he + couldn’t sleep without the gas being left a little bit on) we held a + council in the girls’ room. We all sat on the bed—it is a mahogany + fourposter with green curtains very good for tents, only the housekeeper + doesn’t allow it, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘This is jolly nice, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll be better to-morrow,’ Alice said, ‘they’re only shy.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said shy was all very well, but you needn’t behave like a perfect + idiot. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re frightened. You see we’re all strange to them,’ Dora said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re not wild beasts or Indians; we shan’t eat them. What have they got + to be frightened of?’ Dicky said this. + </p> + <p> + Noel told us he thought they were an enchanted prince and princess who’d + been turned into white rabbits, and their bodies had got changed back but + not their insides. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald told him to dry up. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use making things up about them,’ he said. ‘The thing is: what + are we going to DO? We can’t have our holidays spoiled by these snivelling + kids.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ Alice said, ‘but they can’t possibly go on snivelling for ever. + Perhaps they’ve got into the habit of it with that Murdstone aunt. She’s + enough to make anyone snivel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the same,’ said Oswald, ‘we jolly well aren’t going to have another + day like today. We must do something to rouse them from their snivelling + leth—what’s its name?—something sudden and—what is it?—decisive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A booby trap,’ said H. O., ‘the first thing when they get up, and an + apple-pie bed at night.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora would not hear of it, and I own she was right. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ she said, ‘we could get up a good play—like we did when + we were Treasure Seekers.’ + </p> + <p> + We said, well what? But she did not say. + </p> + <p> + ‘It ought to be a good long thing—to last all day,’ Dicky said, ‘and + if they like they can play, and if they don’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they don’t, I’ll read to them,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + But we all said ‘No, you don’t—if you begin that way you’ll have to + go on.’ + </p> + <p> + And Dicky added, ‘I wasn’t going to say that at all. I was going to say if + they didn’t like it they could jolly well do the other thing.’ + </p> + <p> + We all agreed that we must think of something, but we none of us could, + and at last the council broke up in confusion because Mrs Blake—she + is the housekeeper—came up and turned off the gas. + </p> + <p> + But next morning when we were having breakfast, and the two strangers were + sitting there so pink and clean, Oswald suddenly said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I know; we’ll have a jungle in the garden.’ + </p> + <p> + And the others agreed, and we talked about it till brek was over. The + little strangers only said ‘I don’t know’ whenever we said anything to + them. + </p> + <p> + After brekker Oswald beckoned his brothers and sisters mysteriously apart + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you agree to let me be captain today, because I thought of it?’ + </p> + <p> + And they said they would. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘We’ll play Jungle Book, and I shall be Mowgli. The rest of + you can be what you like—Mowgli’s father and mother, or any of the + beasts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t suppose they know the book,’ said Noel. ‘They don’t look as if + they read anything, except at lesson times.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then they can go on being beasts all the time,’ Oswald said. ‘Anyone can + be a beast.’ + </p> + <p> + So it was settled. + </p> + <p> + And now Oswald—Albert’s uncle has sometimes said he is clever at + arranging things—began to lay his plans for the jungle. The day was + indeed well chosen. Our Indian uncle was away; Father was away; Mrs Blake + was going away, and the housemaid had an afternoon off. Oswald’s first + conscious act was to get rid of the white mice—I mean the little + good visitors. He explained to them that there would be a play in the + afternoon, and they could be what they liked, and gave them the Jungle + Book to read the stories he told them to—all the ones about Mowgli. + He led the strangers to a secluded spot among the sea-kale pots in the + kitchen garden and left them. Then he went back to the others, and we had + a jolly morning under the cedar talking about what we would do when Blakie + was gone. She went just after our dinner. + </p> + <p> + When we asked Denny what he would like to be in the play, it turned out he + had not read the stories Oswald told him at all, but only the ‘White Seal’ + and ‘Rikki Tikki’. + </p> + <p> + We then agreed to make the jungle first and dress up for our parts + afterwards. Oswald was a little uncomfortable about leaving the strangers + alone all the morning, so he said Denny should be his aide-de-camp, and he + was really quite useful. He is rather handy with his fingers, and things + that he does up do not come untied. Daisy might have come too, but she + wanted to go on reading, so we let her, which is the truest manners to a + visitor. Of course the shrubbery was to be the jungle, and the lawn under + the cedar a forest glade, and then we began to collect the things. The + cedar lawn is just nicely out of the way of the windows. It was a jolly + hot day—the kind of day when the sunshine is white and the shadows + are dark grey, not black like they are in the evening. + </p> + <p> + We all thought of different things. Of course first we dressed up pillows + in the skins of beasts and set them about on the grass to look as natural + as we could. And then we got Pincher, and rubbed him all over with + powdered slate-pencil, to make him the right colour for Grey Brother. But + he shook it all off, and it had taken an awful time to do. Then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I know!’ and she ran off to Father’s dressing-room, and came back + with the tube of creme d’amande pour la barbe et les mains, and we + squeezed it on Pincher and rubbed it in, and then the slate-pencil stuff + stuck all right, and he rolled in the dust-bin of his own accord, which + made him just the right colour. He is a very clever dog, but soon after he + went off and we did not find him till quite late in the afternoon. Denny + helped with Pincher, and with the wild-beast skins, and when Pincher was + finished he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, may I make some paper birds to put in the trees? I know how.’ + </p> + <p> + And of course we said ‘Yes’, and he only had red ink and newspapers, and + quickly he made quite a lot of large paper birds with red tails. They + didn’t look half bad on the edge of the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + While he was doing this he suddenly said, or rather screamed, ‘Oh?’ + </p> + <p> + And we looked, and it was a creature with great horns and a fur rug—something + like a bull and something like a minotaur—and I don’t wonder Denny + was frightened. It was Alice, and it was first-class. + </p> + <p> + Up to now all was not yet lost beyond recall. It was the stuffed fox that + did the mischief—and I am sorry to own it was Oswald who thought of + it. He is not ashamed of having THOUGHT of it. That was rather clever of + him. But he knows now that it is better not to take other people’s foxes + and things without asking, even if you live in the same house with them. + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald who undid the back of the glass case in the hall and got out + the fox with the green and grey duck in its mouth, and when the others saw + how awfully like life they looked on the lawn, they all rushed off to + fetch the other stuffed things. Uncle has a tremendous lot of stuffed + things. He shot most of them himself—but not the fox, of course. + There was another fox’s mask, too, and we hung that in a bush to look as + if the fox was peeping out. And the stuffed birds we fastened on to the + trees with string. The duck-bill—what’s its name?—looked very + well sitting on his tail with the otter snarling at him. Then Dicky had an + idea; and though not nearly so much was said about it afterwards as there + was about the stuffed things, I think myself it was just as bad, though it + was a good idea, too. He just got the hose and put the end over a branch + of the cedar-tree. Then we got the steps they clean windows with, and let + the hose rest on the top of the steps and run. It was to be a waterfall, + but it ran between the steps and was only wet and messy; so we got + Father’s mackintosh and uncle’s and covered the steps with them, so that + the water ran down all right and was glorious, and it ran away in a stream + across the grass where we had dug a little channel for it—and the + otter and the duck-bill-thing were as if in their native haunts. I hope + all this is not very dull to read about. I know it was jolly good fun to + do. Taking one thing with another, I don’t know that we ever had a better + time while it lasted. + </p> + <p> + We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails on to + them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They got away + somehow, and before they were caught next day they had eaten a good many + lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry for this. He rather likes + the gardener. + </p> + <p> + Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no use our + telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He thought we were + kidding until we showed him, and then he said, ‘Well, never mind’, and got + the girls to give him bits of the blue stuff left over from their + dressing-gowns. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll make them sashes to tie round their little middles,’ he said. And he + did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One of the + guinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the tortoise when we + had done his shell with vermilion paint. He crawled away and returned no + more. Perhaps someone collected him and thought he was an expensive kind + unknown in these cold latitudes. + </p> + <p> + The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty, what with + the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and the waterfall. And + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish the tigers did not look so flat.’ For of course with pillows you + can only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready to make a spring out + at you. It is difficult to prop up tiger-skins in a life-like manner when + there are no bones inside them, only pillows and sofa cushions. + </p> + <p> + ‘What about the beer-stands?’ I said. And we got two out of the cellar. + With bolsters and string we fastened insides to the tigers—and they + were really fine. The legs of the beer-stands did for tigers’ legs. It was + indeed the finishing touch. + </p> + <p> + Then we boys put on just our bathing drawers and vests—so as to be + able to play with the waterfall without hurting our clothes. I think this + was thoughtful. The girls only tucked up their frocks and took their shoes + and stockings off. H. O. painted his legs and his hands with Condy’s fluid—to + make him brown, so that he might be Mowgli, although Oswald was captain + and had plainly said he was going to be Mowgli himself. Of course the + others weren’t going to stand that. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well. Nobody asked you to brown yourself like that. But now you’ve + done it, you’ve simply got to go and be a beaver, and live in the dam + under the waterfall till it washes off.’ + </p> + <p> + He said he didn’t want to be beavers. And Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make him. Let him be the bronze statue in the palace gardens that + the fountain plays out of.’ + </p> + <p> + So we let him have the hose and hold it up over his head. It made a lovely + fountain, only he remained brown. So then Dicky and Oswald and I did + ourselves brown too, and dried H. O. as well as we could with our + handkerchiefs, because he was just beginning to snivel. The brown did not + come off any of us for days. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was to be Mowgli, and we were just beginning to arrange the + different parts. The rest of the hose that was on the ground was Kaa, the + Rock Python, and Pincher was Grey Brother, only we couldn’t find him. And + while most of us were talking, Dicky and Noel got messing about with the + beer-stand tigers. + </p> + <p> + And then a really sad event instantly occurred, which was not really our + fault, and we did not mean to. + </p> + <p> + That Daisy girl had been mooning indoors all the afternoon with the Jungle + Books, and now she came suddenly out, just as Dicky and Noel had got under + the tigers and were shoving them along to fright each other. Of course, + this is not in the Mowgli book at all: but they did look jolly like real + tigers, and I am very far from wishing to blame the girl, though she + little knew what would be the awful consequence of her rash act. But for + her we might have got out of it all much better than we did. What happened + was truly horrid. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Daisy saw the tigers she stopped short, and uttering a shriek + like a railway whistle she fell flat on the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fear not, gentle Indian maid,’ Oswald cried, thinking with surprise that + perhaps after all she did know how to play, ‘I myself will protect thee.’ + And he sprang forward with the native bow and arrows out of uncle’s study. + </p> + <p> + The gentle Indian maiden did not move. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come hither,’ Dora said, ‘let us take refuge in yonder covert while this + good knight does battle for us.’ Dora might have remembered that we were + savages, but she did not. And that is Dora all over. And still the Daisy + girl did not move. + </p> + <p> + Then we were truly frightened. Dora and Alice lifted her up, and her mouth + was a horrid violet-colour and her eyes half shut. She looked horrid. Not + at all like fair fainting damsels, who are always of an interesting + pallor. She was green, like a cheap oyster on a stall. + </p> + <p> + We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were. We rubbed her hands and + let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her unconscious brow. The + girls loosened her dress, though it was only the kind that comes down + straight without a waist. And we were all doing what we could as hard as + we could, when we heard the click of the front gate. There was no mistake + about it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope whoever it is will go straight to the front door,’ said Alice. But + whoever it was did not. There were feet on the gravel, and there was the + uncle’s voice, saying in his hearty manner— + </p> + <p> + ‘This way. This way. On such a day as this we shall find our young + barbarians all at play somewhere about the grounds.’ + </p> + <p> + And then, without further warning, the uncle, three other gentlemen and + two ladies burst upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + We had no clothes on to speak of—I mean us boys. We were all wet + through. Daisy was in a faint or a fit, or dead, none of us then knew + which. And all the stuffed animals were there staring the uncle in the + face. Most of them had got a sprinkling, and the otter and the duck-bill + brute were simply soaked. And three of us were dark brown. Concealment, as + so often happens, was impossible. + </p> + <p> + The quick brain of Oswald saw, in a flash, exactly how it would strike the + uncle, and his brave young blood ran cold in his veins. His heart stood + still. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s all this—eh, what?’ said the tones of the wronged uncle. + </p> + <p> + Oswald spoke up and said it was jungles we were playing, and he didn’t + know what was up with Daisy. He explained as well as anyone could, but + words were now in vain. + </p> + <p> + The uncle had a Malacca cane in his hand, and we were but ill prepared to + meet the sudden attack. Oswald and H. O. caught it worst. The other boys + were under the tigers—and of course my uncle would not strike a + girl. Denny was a visitor and so got off. + </p> + <p> + But it was bread and water for us for the next three days, and our own + rooms. I will not tell you how we sought to vary the monotonousness of + imprisonment. Oswald thought of taming a mouse, but he could not find one. + The reason of the wretched captives might have given way but for the + gutter that you can crawl along from our room to the girls’. But I will + not dwell on this because you might try it yourselves, and it really is + dangerous. When my father came home we got the talking to, and we said we + were sorry—and we really were—especially about Daisy, though + she had behaved with muffishness, and then it was settled that we were to + go into the country and stay till we had grown into better children. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle was writing a book in the country; we were to go to his + house. We were glad of this—Daisy and Denny too. This we bore nobly. + We knew we had deserved it. We were all very sorry for everything, and we + resolved that for the future we WOULD be good. + </p> + <p> + I am not sure whether we kept this resolution or not. Oswald thinks now + that perhaps we made a mistake in trying so very hard to be good all at + once. You should do everything by degrees. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—It turned out Daisy was not really dead at all. It was only + fainting—so like a girl. + </p> + <p> + N.B.—Pincher was found on the drawing-room sofa. + </p> + <p> + Appendix.—I have not told you half the things we did for the jungle—for + instance, about the elephants’ tusks and the horse-hair sofa-cushions, and + uncle’s fishing-boots. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS + </h2> + <p> + When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we felt it was + rather good business, because we knew our being sent there was really only + to get us out of the way for a little while, and we knew right enough that + it wasn’t a punishment, though Mrs Blake said it was, because we had been + punished thoroughly for taking the stuffed animals out and making a jungle + on the lawn with them, and the garden hose. And you cannot be punished + twice for the same offence. This is the English law; at least I think so. + And at any rate no one would punish you three times, and we had had the + Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; and the uncle had kindly + explained to us that all ill-feeling between him and us was wiped out + entirely by the bread and water we had endured. And what with the bread + and water and being prisoners, and not being able to tame any mice in our + prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it up thoroughly, and now we + could start fair. + </p> + <p> + I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but I have + sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell you what you + truly want to know. However, dull or not, here goes—because you + won’t understand anything unless I tell you what the place was like. + </p> + <p> + The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a house + there since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on having a house + on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt down once or twice in + ancient centuries—I don’t remember which—but they always built + a new one, and Cromwell’s soldiers smashed it about, but it was patched up + again. It is a very odd house: the front door opens straight into the + dining-room, and there are red curtains and a black-and-white marble floor + like a chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, only it is not secret + now—only rather rickety. It is not very big, but there is a watery + moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to the front door. Then, + on the other side of the moat there is the farm, with barns and oast + houses and stables, or things like that. And the other way the garden lawn + goes on till it comes to the churchyard. The churchyard is not divided + from the garden at all except by a little grass bank. In the front of the + house there is more garden, and the big fruit garden is at the back. + </p> + <p> + The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big one with + conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on the top, and he + left the Moat House. And Albert’s uncle took it, and my father was to come + down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, and Albert’s uncle was to live + with us all the time, and he would be writing a book, and we were not to + bother him, but he would give an eye to us. I hope all this is plain. I + have said it as short as I can. + </p> + <p> + We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see the big + bell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging to it went right + down the house, through our bedroom to the dining-room. H. O. saw the rope + and pulled it while he was washing his hands for supper, and Dicky and I + let him, and the bell tolled solemnly. Father shouted to him not to, and + we went down to supper. + </p> + <p> + But presently there were many feet trampling on the gravel, and Father + went out to see. When he came back he said—‘The whole village, or + half of it, has come up to see why the bell rang. It’s only rung for fire + or burglars. Why can’t you kids let things alone?’ + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They’ll do no more + mischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of the things to + be avoided in this bucolic retreat.’ + </p> + <p> + So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not see much + that night. + </p> + <p> + But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to have + awakened in a new world rich in surprises beyond the dreams of anybody, as + it says in the quotation. + </p> + <p> + We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was breakfast-time we + felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room we had breakfast in was + exactly like in a story—black oak panels and china in corner + cupboards with glass doors. These doors were locked. There were green + curtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. After brekker my father went back + to town, and Albert’s uncle went too, to see publishers. We saw them to + the station, and Father gave us a long list of what we weren’t to do. It + began with ‘Don’t pull ropes unless you’re quite sure what will happen at + the other end,’ and it finished with ‘For goodness sake, try to keep out + of mischief till I come down on Saturday’. There were lots of other things + in between. + </p> + <p> + We all promised we would. And we saw them off and waved till the train was + quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy was tired so + Oswald carried her home on his back. When we got home she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I do like you, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be nice to + her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over everything. It was + a glorious place. You did not know where to begin. We were all a little + tired before we found the hayloft, but we pulled ourselves together to + make a fort with the trusses of hay—great square things—and we + were having a jolly good time, all of us, when suddenly a trap-door opened + and a head bobbed up with a straw in its mouth. We knew nothing about the + country then, and the head really did scare us rather, though, of course, + we found out directly that the feet belonging to it were standing on the + bar of the loose-box underneath. The head said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay, that’s + all.’ And it spoke thickly because of the straw. + </p> + <p> + It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can hardly + believe now that once we really did not know that it spoiled hay to mess + about with it. Horses don’t like to eat it afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Always remember this. + </p> + <p> + When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we turned the + handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got hurt, though the head + HAD said we should cut our fingers off if we touched it. + </p> + <p> + And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice clean dirt + that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was room for hung + their legs down out of the top door, and we looked down at the farmyard, + which is very slushy when you get down into it, but most interesting. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’re all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for a + minute, I want to have a council.’ + </p> + <p> + We said what about? And she said, ‘I’ll tell you.’ H. O., don’t wriggle + so; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs.’ + </p> + <p> + You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable as + anyone else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Promise not to laugh’ Alice said, getting very red, and looking at Dora, + who got red too. + </p> + <p> + We did, and then she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisy too, and we have written it + down because it is easier than saying it. Shall I read it? or will you, + Dora?’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said it didn’t matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and though she + gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. This is what she + read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN +</pre> + <p> + ‘I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound mind and + body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that jungle day, we + thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we made our minds up to + be good for ever after. And we talked to Daisy about it, and she had an + idea. So we want to start a society for being good in. It is Daisy’s idea, + but we think so too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ Dora interrupted, ‘when people want to do good things they + always make a society. There are thousands—there’s the Missionary + Society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Alice said, ‘and the Society for the Prevention of something or + other, and the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Society, and the S.P.G.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s S.P.G.?’ Oswald asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course,’ said Noel, who + cannot always spell. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it isn’t; but do let me go on.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice did go on. + </p> + <p> + ‘We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer and + secretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we’ve done. If that doesn’t + make us good it won’t be my fault. + </p> + <p> + ‘The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great and unselfish + deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up people and to perform + prodigies of real goodness. We wish to spread our wings’—here Alice + read very fast. She told me afterwards Daisy had helped her with that + part, and she thought when she came to the wings they sounded rather silly—‘to + spread our wings and rise above the kind of interesting things that you + ought not to do, but to do kindnesses to all, however low and mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Little words of kindness’ (he said), + ‘Little deeds of love, + Make this earth an eagle + Like the one above.’ +</pre> + <p> + This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle does have + wings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls had written. But + there was no rest. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all,’ said Alice, and Daisy said—‘Don’t you think it’s a + good idea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That depends,’ Oswald answered, ‘who is president and what you mean by + being good.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself, because being good is + not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper to talk about, especially + before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemed to like it, so Oswald did + not say exactly what he thought, especially as it was Daisy’s idea. This + was true politeness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it would be nice,’ Noel said, ‘if we made it a sort of play. + Let’s do the Pilgrim’s Progress.’ + </p> + <p> + We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to anything, + because we all wanted to be Mr Greatheart, except H. O., who wanted to be + the lions, and you could not have lions in a Society for Goodness. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books about + children who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he told me + afterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in Sunday school, + and we did not wish to be unkind. + </p> + <p> + At last Oswald said, ‘Well, let’s draw up the rules of the society, and + choose the president and settle the name.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. She was + secretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money. + </p> + <p> + Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + RULES +</pre> + <p> + 1. Every member is to be as good as possible. + </p> + <p> + 2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. (Oswald and + Dicky put that rule in.) + </p> + <p> + 3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a suffering + fellow-creature. + </p> + <p> + 4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like. + </p> + <p> + 5. We are to do good to people we don’t like as often as we can. + </p> + <p> + 6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all the rest of + us. + </p> + <p> + 7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the world except + us. + </p> + <p> + 8. The name of our Society is— + </p> + <p> + And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora wanted + it called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the Society for + Reformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, No, we really were not so bad + as all that. + </p> + <p> + Then H. O. said, ‘Call it the Good Society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or the Society for Being Good In,’ said Daisy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or the Society of Goods,’ said Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s priggish,’ said Oswald; ‘besides, we don’t know whether we shall + be so very.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ Alice explained, ‘we only said if we COULD we would be good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the chopped hay + off himself, ‘call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods and have done with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make himself a + little disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to disappointment. For everyone + else clapped hands and called out, ‘That’s the very thing!’ Then the girls + went off to write out the rules, and took H. O. with them, and Noel went + to write some poetry to put in the minute book. That’s what you call the + book that a society’s secretary writes what it does in. Denny went with + him to help. He knows a lot of poetry. I think he went to a lady’s school + where they taught nothing but that. He was rather shy of us, but he took + to Noel. I can’t think why. Dicky and Oswald walked round the garden and + told each other what they thought of the new society. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not sure we oughtn’t to have put our foot down at the beginning,’ + Dicky said. ‘I don’t see much in it, anyhow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It pleases the girls,’ Oswald said, for he is a kind brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we’re not going to stand jaw, and “words in season”, and “loving + sisterly warnings”. I tell you what it is, Oswald, we’ll have to run this + thing our way, or it’ll be jolly beastly for everybody.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw this plainly. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must do something,’ Dicky said; ‘it’s very very hard, though. Still, + there must be SOME interesting things that are not wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose so,’ Oswald said, ‘but being good is so much like being a muff, + generally. Anyhow I’m not going to smooth the pillows of the sick, or read + to the aged poor, or any rot out of Ministering Children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more am I,’ Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head had in + its mouth, ‘but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let’s begin by + looking out for something useful to do—something like mending things + or cleaning them, not just showing off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy tea + and tracts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little beasts!’ said Dick. ‘I say, let’s talk about something else.’ And + Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jolly uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played draughts + with Daisy and the others yawned. I don’t know when we’ve had such a + gloomy evening. And everyone was horribly polite, and said ‘Please’ and + ‘Thank you’ far more than requisite. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us stories, but + he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what blight had fallen on our + young lives. Oswald could have answered and said, ‘It is the Society of + the Wouldbegoods that is the blight,’ but of course he didn’t and Albert’s + uncle said no more, but he went up and kissed the girls when they were in + bed, and asked them if there was anything wrong. And they told him no, on + their honour. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the morning + sun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms of his dear + little brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on top of his head and + was snoring like a kettle when it sings. Oswald could not remember at + first what was the matter with him, and then he remembered the + Wouldbegoods, and wished he hadn’t. He felt at first as if there was + nothing you could do, and even hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny’s head. + But he soon saw that this could not be. So he chucked his boot and caught + Denny right in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began more brightly + than he had expected. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before, except + that when no one was looking he polished the brass candlestick in the + girls’ bedroom with one of his socks. And he might just as well have let + it alone, for the servants cleaned it again with the other things in the + morning, and he could never find the sock afterwards. There were two + servants. One of them had to be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane and + Eliza like others. She was cook and managed things. + </p> + <p> + After brekfast Albert’s uncle said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate my privacy + before 1.30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant the intrusion, + and nothing short of man—or rather boy—slaughter shall avenge + it.’ + </p> + <p> + So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we ought to + play out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have played out of + doors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that. + </p> + <p> + But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, come along here a minute, will you?’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlour and shut + the door, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, spit it out: what is it?’ He knows that is vulgar, and he would not + have said it to anyone but his own brother. Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be.’ And Oswald was + patient with him, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What is? Don’t be all day about it.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky fidgeted about a bit, and then he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. And you + know that dairy window that wouldn’t open—only a little bit like + that? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whip cord and it opened + wide.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I suppose they didn’t want it mended,’ said Oswald. He knew but too + well that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things far different from + what we would, and you catch it if you try to do otherwise. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t have minded THAT,’ Dicky said, ‘because I could easily have + taken it all off again if they’d only said so. But the sillies went and + propped up a milk-pan against the window. They never took the trouble to + notice I had mended it. So the wretched thing pushed the window open all + by itself directly they propped it up, and it tumbled through into the + moat, and they are most awfully waxy. All the men are out in the fields + and they haven’t any spare milk-pans. If I were a farmer, I must say I + wouldn’t stick at an extra milk-pan or two. Accidents must happen + sometimes. I call it mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, first because + it wasn’t his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ he said kindly. ‘Keep your tail up. We’ll get the beastly + milk-pan out all right. Come on.’ He rushed hastily to the garden and gave + a low, signifying whistle, which the others know well enough to mean + something extra being up. + </p> + <p> + And when they were all gathered round him he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fellow countrymen,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have a rousing good time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nothing naughty, is it,’ Daisy asked, ‘like the last time you had + that was rousingly good?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said ‘Shish’, and Oswald pretended not to hear. + </p> + <p> + ‘A precious treasure,’ he said, ‘has inadvertently been laid low in the + moat by one of us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The rotten thing tumbled in by itself,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + Oswald waved his hand and said, ‘Anyhow, it’s there. It’s our duty to + restore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here—we’re going to + drag the moat.’ + </p> + <p> + Everyone brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was interesting + too. This is very uncommon. + </p> + <p> + So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the moat. + There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did not take any + till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. Mrs Pettigrew said, + ‘Law! I suppose so; you’d eat ‘em anyhow, leave or no leave.’ + </p> + <p> + She little knows the honourable nature of the house of Bastable. But she + has much to learn. + </p> + <p> + The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We sat + there in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny said, ‘How + DO you drag moats?’ + </p> + <p> + And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times about a + moat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we really had never + thought about exactly how it was done. + </p> + <p> + ‘Grappling-irons are right, I believe,’ Denny said, ‘but I don’t suppose + they’d have any at the farm.’ + </p> + <p> + And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I think myself + he meant some other word, but he was quite positive. + </p> + <p> + So then we got a sheet off Oswald’s bed, and we all took our shoes and + stockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the bottom of + the moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would keep floating on the + top of the water, and when we tried sewing stones into one end of it, it + stuck on something in the bottom, and when we got it up it was torn. We + were very sorry, and the sheet was in an awful mess; but the girls said + they were sure they could wash it in the basin in their room, and we + thought as we had torn it anyway, we might as well go on. That washing + never came off. + </p> + <p> + ‘No human being,’ Noel said, ‘knows half the treasures hidden in this dark + tarn.’ + </p> + <p> + And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work gradually + round to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. We could not see + that part very well, because of the bushes that grow between the cracks of + the stones where the house goes down into the moat. And opposite the dairy + window the barn goes straight down into the moat too. It is like pictures + of Venice; but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow. + </p> + <p> + We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts together in a + bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two, three,’ + when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a piercing shriek and + cried out— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! it’s all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle.’ And she was out + of the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The other girls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in such a + hurry that we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us went right + in, and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one who went right in + was only H. O.; but Dora made an awful fuss and said it was our fault. We + told her what we thought, and it ended in the girls going in with H. O. to + change his things. We had some more gooseberries while they were gone. + Dora was in an awful wax when she went away, but she is not of a sullen + disposition though sometimes hasty, and when they all came back we saw it + was all right, so we said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What shall we do now?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I don’t think we need drag any more. It is wormy. I felt it + when Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit of itself out + of the water. I saw it through the dairy window.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we get it up with fish-hooks?’ Noel said. But Alice explained + that the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out. So then Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, we’ll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, and we + might as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner stable that they + don’t use. You know. The one where they chop the wood.’ + </p> + <p> + We got the door. + </p> + <p> + We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is better + described in books, so we knew what to do. + </p> + <p> + We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm garden, + and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so we took them. + Denny had a box of tools someone had given him for his last birthday; they + were rather rotten little things, but the gimlet worked all right, so we + managed to make holes in the edges of the tubs and fasten them with string + under the four corners of the old door. This took us a long time. Albert’s + uncle asked us at dinner what we had been playing at, and we said it was a + secret, and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished to atone for Dicky’s + mistake before anything more was said. The house has no windows in the + side that faces the orchard. + </p> + <p> + The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass when at + last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach with the last + shove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and towed her back; he is not + afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of the other things that were in the + bottom of that moat he would have kept his boots on. So would the others, + especially Dora, as you will see. + </p> + <p> + At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, though not + up to our full strength, because if more than four got on the water came + up too near our knees, and we feared she might founder if over-manned. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that they were, + so that was all right. And as H. O. had been wet through once he was not + very keen. Alice promised Noel her best paint-brush if he’d give up and + not go, because we knew well that the voyage was fraught with deep + dangers, though the exact danger that lay in wait for us under the dairy + window we never even thought of. + </p> + <p> + So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even then, every + time we moved the water swished up over the raft and hid our feet. But I + must say it was a jolly decent raft. + </p> + <p> + Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles from the + hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the girls stand + together in the middle and hold on to each other to keep steady. Then we + christened our gallant vessel. We called it the Richard, after Dicky, and + also after the splendid admiral who used to eat wine-glasses and died + after the Battle of the Revenge in Tennyson’s poetry. + </p> + <p> + Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with the + dampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to use to dry our legs + and feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and slowly and stately + the good ship moved away from shore, riding on the waves as though they + were her native element. + </p> + <p> + We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the same + way, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we could not + always keep her in the wind’s eye. That is to say, she went where we did + not want, and once she bumped her corner against the barn wall, and all + the crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid falling overboard into a watery + grave. Of course then the waves swept her decks, and when we got up again + we said that we should have to change completely before tea. + </p> + <p> + But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into port, + under the dairy window and there was the milk-pan, for whose sake we had + endured such hardships and privations, standing up on its edge quite + quietly. + </p> + <p> + The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought to have + done; but they cried out, ‘Oh, here it is!’ and then both reached out to + get it. Anyone who has pursued a naval career will see that of course the + raft capsized. For a moment it felt like standing on the roof of the + house, and the next moment the ship stood up on end and shot the whole + crew into the dark waters. + </p> + <p> + We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across the + Ladywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as good; + but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if the water + had been deep we should have. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he opened them + on a horrid scene. + </p> + <p> + Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft had + righted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front of the + house, where the bridge is, and Dora and Alice were rising from the deep, + with their hair all plastered over their faces—like Venus in the + Latin verses. + </p> + <p> + There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine voice, + looking out of the dairy window and screaming— + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord love the children!’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry we were + in such a situation that she would be able to get at Albert’s uncle before + we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry. + </p> + <p> + Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position Dora staggered + a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, ‘Oh, my foot! oh, it’s a + shark! I know it is—or a crocodile!’ + </p> + <p> + The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could not see us + properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told me afterwards he + never could care for that paint-brush. + </p> + <p> + Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, which + are large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. She screamed + without stopping. I shoved her along to where there was a ledge of + brickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on it, then she got her + foot out of the water, still screaming. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up with her + foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she had put her foot + right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he did so blood began to + pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut it in several spots. It was + very pale blood, because her foot was wet, of course. + </p> + <p> + She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was going to + faint, like Daisy did on the jungle day. + </p> + <p> + Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of the least + agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, and she couldn’t + have waded back anyway, and we didn’t know how deep the moat might be in + other places. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really. + </p> + <p> + Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft and get + it back, a boat’s nose shot out from under a dark archway a little further + up under the house. It was the boathouse, and Albert’s uncle had got the + punt and took us back in it. When we had regained the dark arch where the + boat lives we had to go up the cellar stairs. Dora had to be carried. + </p> + <p> + There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to bed—those + who had not been on the raft the same as the others, for they owned up all + right, and Albert’s uncle is the soul of justice. + </p> + <p> + Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to—with + other things. + </p> + <p> + The worst was when Dora couldn’t get her shoe on, so they sent for the + doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was indeed poor + luck. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor had gone Alice said to me— + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS hard lines, but Dora’s very jolly about it. Daisy’s been telling + her about how we should all go to her with our little joys and sorrows and + things, and about the sweet influence from a sick bed that can be felt all + over the house, like in What Katy Did, and Dora said she hoped she might + prove a blessing to us all while she’s laid up.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sort of jaw + was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn’t want to have happen. + </p> + <p> + The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the garden + railings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been put out there + ‘to sweeten’. + </p> + <p> + But as Denny said, ‘After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes of + somewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again.’ + </p> + <p> + I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to please + ourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no difference to our + punishment when Father came down. I have known this mistake occur before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3. BILL’S TOMBSTONE + </h2> + <p> + There were soldiers riding down the road, on horses two and two. That is + the horses were two and two, and the men not. Because each man was riding + one horse and leading another. To exercise them. They came from Chatham + Barracks. We all drew up in a line outside the churchyard wall, and + saluted as they went by, though we had not read Toady Lion then. We have + since. It is the only decent book I have ever read written by Toady Lion’s + author. The others are mere piffle. But many people like them. In Sir + Toady Lion the officer salutes the child. + </p> + <p> + There was only a lieutenant with those soldiers, and he did not salute me. + He kissed his hand to the girls; and a lot of the soldiers behind kissed + theirs too. We waved ours back. + </p> + <p> + Next day we made a Union Jack out of pocket-handkerchiefs and part of a + red flannel petticoat of the White Mouse’s, which she did not want just + then, and some blue ribbon we got at the village shop. + </p> + <p> + Then we watched for the soldiers, and after three days they went by again, + by twos and twos as before. It was A1. + </p> + <p> + We waved our flag, and we shouted. We gave them three cheers. Oswald can + shout loudest. So as soon as the first man was level with us (not the + advance guard, but the first of the battery)—he shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ And then we waved the + flag, and bellowed. Oswald stood on the wall to bellow better, and Denny + waved the flag because he was a visitor, and so politeness made us let him + enjoy the fat of whatever there was going. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers did not cheer that day; they only grinned and kissed their + hands. + </p> + <p> + The next day we all got up as much like soldiers as we could. H. O. and + Noel had tin swords, and we asked Albert’s uncle to let us wear some of + the real arms that are on the wall in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + And he said, ‘Yes’, if we would clean them up afterwards. But we jolly + well cleaned them up first with Brooke’s soap and brick dust and vinegar, + and the knife polish (invented by the great and immortal Duke of + Wellington in his spare time when he was not conquering Napoleon. Three + cheers for our Iron Duke!), and with emery paper and wash leather and + whitening. Oswald wore a cavalry sabre in its sheath. Alice and the Mouse + had pistols in their belts, large old flint-locks, with bits of red + flannel behind the flints. Denny had a naval cutlass, a very beautiful + blade, and old enough to have been at Trafalgar. I hope it was. The others + had French sword-bayonets that were used in the Franco-German war. They + are very bright when you get them bright, but the sheaths are hard to + polish. Each sword-bayonet has the name on the blade of the warrior who + once wielded it. I wonder where they are now. Perhaps some of them died in + the war. Poor chaps! But it is a very long time ago. + </p> + <p> + I should like to be a soldier. It is better than going to the best + schools, and to Oxford afterwards, even if it is Balliol you go to. Oswald + wanted to go to South Africa for a bugler, but father would not let him. + And it is true that Oswald does not yet know how to bugle, though he can + play the infantry ‘advance’, and the ‘charge’ and the ‘halt’ on a penny + whistle. Alice taught them to him with the piano, out of the red book + Father’s cousin had when he was in the Fighting Fifth. Oswald cannot play + the ‘retire’, and he would scorn to do so. But I suppose a bugler has to + play what he is told, no matter how galling to the young boy’s proud + spirit. + </p> + <p> + The next day, being thoroughly armed, we put on everything red, white and + blue that we could think of—night-shirts are good for white, and you + don’t know what you can do with red socks and blue jerseys till you try—and + we waited by the churchyard wall for the soldiers. When the advance guard + (or whatever you call it of artillery—it’s that for infantry, I + know) came by, we got ready, and when the first man of the first battery + was level with us Oswald played on his penny whistle the ‘advance’ and the + ‘charge’—and then shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ This time they had the + guns with them. And every man of the battery cheered too. It was glorious. + It made you tremble all over. The girls said it made them want to cry—but + no boy would own to this, even if it were true. It is babyish to cry. But + it was glorious, and Oswald felt differently to what he ever did before. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the officer in front said, ‘Battery! Halt!’ and all the + soldiers pulled their horses up, and the great guns stopped too. Then the + officer said, ‘Sit at ease,’ and something else, and the sergeant repeated + it, and some of the men got off their horses and lit their pipes, and some + sat down on the grass edge of the road, holding their horses’ bridles. + </p> + <p> + We could see all the arms and accoutrements as plain as plain. + </p> + <p> + Then the officer came up to us. We were all standing on the wall that day, + except Dora, who had to sit, because her foot was bad, but we let her have + the three-edged rapier to wear, and the blunderbuss to hold as well—it + has a brass mouth and is like in Mr Caldecott’s pictures. + </p> + <p> + He was a beautiful man the officer. Like a Viking. Very tall and fair, + with moustaches very long, and bright blue eyes. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning.’ + </p> + <p> + So did we. + </p> + <p> + Then he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to be a military lot.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we wished we were. + </p> + <p> + ‘And patriotic,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + Alice said she should jolly well think so. + </p> + <p> + Then he said he had noticed us there for several days, and he had halted + the battery because he thought we might like to look at the guns. + </p> + <p> + Alas! there are but too few grown-up people so far-seeing and thoughtful + as this brave and distinguished officer. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘Oh, yes’, and then we got off the wall, and that good and noble + man showed us the string that moves the detonator and the breech-block + (when you take it out and carry it away the gun is in vain to the enemy, + even if he takes it); and he let us look down the gun to see the rifling, + all clean and shiny—and he showed us the ammunition boxes, but there + was nothing in them. He also told us how the gun was unlimbered (this + means separating the gun from the ammunition carriage), and how quick it + could be done—but he did not make the men do this then, because they + were resting. There were six guns. Each had painted on the carriage, in + white letters, 15 Pr., which the captain told us meant fifteen-pounder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought the gun weighed more than fifteen pounds,’ Dora + said. ‘It would if it was beef, but I suppose wood and gun are lighter.’ + </p> + <p> + And the officer explained to her very kindly and patiently that 15 Pr. + meant the gun could throw a SHELL weighing fifteen pounds. + </p> + <p> + When we had told him how jolly it was to see the soldiers go by so often, + he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t see us many more times. We’re ordered to the front; and we sail + on Tuesday week; and the guns will be painted mud-colour, and the men will + wear mud-colour too, and so shall I.’ + </p> + <p> + The men looked very nice, though they were not wearing their busbies, but + only Tommy caps, put on all sorts of ways. + </p> + <p> + We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, looked + with envy on those who would soon be allowed—being grown up, and no + nonsense about your education—to go and fight for their Queen and + country. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right; but tell him yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + So Alice said to the captain— + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you stop next time you pass?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t promise that.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘You might; there’s a particular reason.’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘What?’ which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is with + children. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to give the soldiers a keepsake and will write to ask my father. + He is very well off just now. Look here—if we’re not on the wall + when you come by, don’t stop; but if we are, please, PLEASE do!’ + </p> + <p> + The officer pulled his moustache and looked as if he did not know; but at + last he said ‘Yes’, and we were very glad, though but Alice and Oswald + knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting in their youthful + nuts. + </p> + <p> + The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should like to + see your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished silver.’ + </p> + <p> + The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But Oswald + said hurriedly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t. Not yet. We shan’t ever have a chance like this. If you’d only + show us the pursuing practice! Albert’s uncle knows it; but he only does + it on an armchair, because he hasn’t a horse.’ + </p> + <p> + And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his horse + right into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the cuts, + thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was splendid. The + morning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his good steed stood with all + its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. + </p> + <p> + Then we opened the paddock gate, and he did it again, while the horse + galloped as if upon the bloody battlefield among the fierce foes of his + native land, and this was far more ripping still. + </p> + <p> + Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men with him. + And the guns of course. + </p> + <p> + Then we wrote to my father, and he said ‘Yes’, as we knew he would, and + next time the soldiers came by—but they had no guns this time, only + the captive Arabs of the desert—we had the keepsakes ready in a + wheelbarrow, and we were on the churchyard wall. + </p> + <p> + And the bold captain called an immediate halt. + </p> + <p> + Then the girls had the splendid honour and pleasure of giving a pipe and + four whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier. + </p> + <p> + Then we shook hands with the captain, and the sergeant and the corporals, + and the girls kissed the captain—I can’t think why girls will kiss + everybody—and we all cheered for the Queen. It was grand. And I wish + my father had been there to see how much you can do with L12 if you order + the things from the Stores. + </p> + <p> + We have never seen those brave soldiers again. + </p> + <p> + I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about soldiers, + and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the white cottage in + her desolate and oppressedness. + </p> + <p> + Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the churchyard, on + the other side from our house. On the different military occasions which I + have remarked upon this widow woman stood at her garden gate and looked + on. And after the cheering she rubbed her eyes with her apron. Alice + noticed this slight but signifying action. + </p> + <p> + We feel quite sure Mrs Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt friendly to + her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. She told us to go + along with us, do, and not bother her. And Oswald, with his usual delicacy + and good breeding, made the others do as she said. + </p> + <p> + But we were not to be thus repulsed with impunity. We made complete but + cautious inquiries, and found out that the reason she cried when she saw + soldiers was that she had only one son, a boy. He was twenty-two, and he + had gone to the War last April. So that she thought of him when she saw + the soldiers, and that was why she cried. Because when your son is at the + wars you always think he is being killed. I don’t know why. A great many + of them are not. If I had a son at the wars I should never think he was + dead till I heard he was, and perhaps not then, considering everything. + After we had found this out we held a council. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘We must do something for the soldier’s widowed mother.’ + </p> + <p> + We all agreed, but added ‘What?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘The gift of money might be deemed an insult by that proud, + patriotic spirit. Besides, we haven’t more than eighteenpence among us.’ + </p> + <p> + We had put what we had to father’s L12 to buy the baccy and pipes. + </p> + <p> + The Mouse then said, ‘Couldn’t we make her a flannel petticoat and leave + it without a word upon her doorstep?’ + </p> + <p> + But everyone said, ‘Flannel petticoats in this weather?’ so that was no + go. + </p> + <p> + Noel said he would write her a poem, but Oswald had a deep, inward feeling + that Mrs Simpkins would not understand poetry. Many people do not. + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘Why not sing “Rule Britannia” under her window after she had + gone to bed, like waits,’ but no one else thought so. + </p> + <p> + Denny thought we might get up a subscription for her among the wealthy and + affluent, but we said again that we knew money would be no balm to the + haughty mother of a brave British soldier. + </p> + <p> + ‘What we want,’ Alice said, ‘is something that will be a good deal of + trouble to us and some good to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little help is worth a deal of poetry,’ said Denny. + </p> + <p> + I should not have said that myself. Noel did look sick. + </p> + <p> + ‘What DOES she do that we can help in?’ Dora asked. ‘Besides, she won’t + let us help.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘She does nothing but work in the garden. At least if she does + anything inside you can’t see it, because she keeps the door shut.’ + </p> + <p> + Then at once we saw. And we agreed to get up the very next day, ere yet + the rosy dawn had flushed the east, and have a go at Mrs Simpkins’s + garden. + </p> + <p> + We got up. We really did. But too often when you mean to, overnight, it + seems so silly to do it when you come to waking in the dewy morn. We crept + downstairs with our boots in our hands. Denny is rather unlucky, though a + most careful boy. It was he who dropped his boot, and it went blundering + down the stairs, echoing like thunderbolts, and waking up Albert’s uncle. + But when we explained to him that we were going to do some gardening he + let us, and went back to bed. + </p> + <p> + Everything is very pretty and different in the early morning, before + people are up. I have been told this is because the shadows go a different + way from what they do in the awake part of the day. But I don’t know. Noel + says the fairies have just finished tidying up then. Anyhow it all feels + quite otherwise. + </p> + <p> + We put on our boots in the porch, and we got our gardening tools and we + went down to the white cottage. It is a nice cottage, with a thatched + roof, like in the drawing copies you get at girls’ schools, and you do the + thatch—if you can—with a B.B. pencil. If you cannot, you just + leave it. It looks just as well, somehow, when it is mounted and framed. + </p> + <p> + We looked at the garden. It was very neat. Only one patch was coming up + thick with weeds. I could see groundsel and chickweed, and others that I + did not know. We set to work with a will. We used all our tools—spades, + forks, hoes, and rakes—and Dora worked with the trowel, sitting + down, because her foot was hurt. We cleared the weedy patch beautifully, + scraping off all the nasty weeds and leaving the nice clean brown dirt. We + worked as hard as ever we could. And we were happy, because it was + unselfish toil, and no one thought then of putting it in the Book of + Golden Deeds, where we had agreed to write down our virtuous actions and + the good doings of each other, when we happen to notice them. + </p> + <p> + We had just done, and we were looking at the beautiful production of our + honest labour, when the cottage door burst open, and the soldier’s widowed + mother came out like a wild tornado, and her eyes looked like upas trees—death + to the beholder. + </p> + <p> + ‘You wicked, meddlesome, nasty children!’ she said, ain’t you got enough + of your own good ground to runch up and spoil, but you must come into MY + little lot?’ + </p> + <p> + Some of us were deeply alarmed, but we stood firm. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have only been weeding your garden,’ Dora said; ‘we wanted to do + something to help you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dratted little busybodies,’ she said. It was indeed hard, but everyone in + Kent says ‘dratted’ when they are cross. ‘It’s my turnips,’ she went on, + ‘you’ve hoed up, and my cabbages. My turnips that my boy sowed afore he + went. There, get along with you do, afore I come at you with my + broom-handle.’ + </p> + <p> + She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even the + boldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. ‘They looked like + weeds right enough,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + And Dicky said, ‘It all comes of trying to do golden deeds.’ This was when + we were out in the road. + </p> + <p> + As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met the postman. + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s the letters for the Moat,’ and passed on hastily. He was a bit + late. + </p> + <p> + When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all for + Albert’s uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in a + magazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs Simpkins. + We honourably only looked at the address, although it is allowed by the + rules of honourableness to read postcards that come to your house if you + like, even if they are not for you. + </p> + <p> + After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not afraid, + whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding the postcard + right way up, so that we should not look at the lettery part of it, but + only the address. + </p> + <p> + With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up to the + white cottage door. + </p> + <p> + It opened with a bang when we knocked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in books + call ‘sourly’. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and we will + ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way.’ + </p> + <p> + She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody. + </p> + <p> + ‘We came back,’ Oswald went on, with his always unruffled politeness, + ‘because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with our letters, and + it is addressed to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We haven’t read it,’ Alice said quickly. I think she needn’t have said + that. Of course we hadn’t. But perhaps girls know better than we do what + women are likely to think you capable of. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but ‘took’ + is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at the address a + long time. Then she turned it over and read what was on the back. Then she + drew her breath in as far as it would go, and caught hold of the + door-post. Her face got awful. It was like the wax face of a dead king I + saw once at Madame Tussaud’s. + </p> + <p> + Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier’s mother’s hand and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, NO—it’s NOT your boy Bill!’ + </p> + <p> + And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice’s hand, and + we both read it—and it WAS her boy Bill. + </p> + <p> + Alice gave her back the card. She had held on to the woman’s hand all the + time, and now she squeezed the hand, and held it against her face. But she + could not say a word because she was crying so. The soldier’s mother took + the card again and she pushed Alice away, but it was not an unkind push, + and she went in and shut the door; and as Alice and Oswald went down the + road Oswald looked back, and one of the windows of the cottage had a white + blind. Afterwards the other windows had too. There were no blinds really + to the cottage. It was aprons and things she had pinned up. + </p> + <p> + Alice cried most of the morning, and so did the other girls. We wanted to + do something for the soldier’s mother, but you can do nothing when + people’s sons are shot. It is the most dreadful thing to want to do + something for people who are unhappy, and not to know what to do. + </p> + <p> + It was Noel who thought of what we COIULD do at last. + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I suppose they don’t put up tombstones to soldiers when they die + in war. But there—I mean Oswald said, ‘Of course not.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel said, ‘I daresay you’ll think it’s silly, but I don’t care. Don’t you + think she’d like it, if we put one up to HIM? Not in the churchyard, of + course, because we shouldn’t be let, but in our garden, just where it + joins on to the churchyard?’ + </p> + <p> + And we all thought it was a first-rate idea. + </p> + <p> + This is what we meant to put on the tombstone: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies + + BILL SIMPKINS + + Who died fighting for Queen + + and Country.’ +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A faithful son, + A son so dear, + A soldier brave + Lies buried here.’ +</pre> + <p> + Then we remembered that poor brave Bill was really buried far away in the + Southern hemisphere, if at all. So we altered it to— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A soldier brave + We weep for here.’ +</pre> + <p> + Then we looked out a nice flagstone in the stable-yard, and we got a cold + chisel out of the Dentist’s toolbox, and began. + </p> + <p> + But stone-cutting is difficult and dangerous work. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went at it a bit, but he chipped his thumb, and it bled so he had + to chuck it. Then Dicky tried, and then Denny, but Dicky hammered his + finger, and Denny took all day over every stroke, so that by tea-time we + had only done the H, and about half the E—and the E was awfully + crooked. Oswald chipped his thumb over the H. + </p> + <p> + We looked at it the next morning, and even the most sanguinary of us saw + that it was a hopeless task. + </p> + <p> + Then Denny said, ‘Why not wood and paint?’ and he showed us how. We got a + board and two stumps from the carpenter’s in the village, and we painted + it all white, and when that was dry Denny did the words on it. + </p> + <p> + It was something like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘IN MEMORY OF + BILL SIMPKINS + + DEAD FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY. + + HONOUR TO HIS NAME AND ALL + + OTHER BRAVE SOLDIERS.’ +</pre> + <p> + We could not get in what we meant to at first, so we had to give up the + poetry. + </p> + <p> + We fixed it up when it was dry. We had to dig jolly deep to get the posts + to stand up, but the gardener helped us. + </p> + <p> + Then the girls made wreaths of white flowers, roses and Canterbury bells, + and lilies and pinks, and sweet-peas and daisies, and put them over the + posts. And I think if Bill Simpkins had known how sorry we were, he would + have been glad. Oswald only hopes if he falls on the wild battlefield, + which is his highest ambition, that somebody will be as sorry about him as + he was about Bill, that’s all! + </p> + <p> + When all was done, and what flowers there were over from the wreaths + scattered under the tombstone between the posts, we wrote a letter to Mrs + Simpkins, and said— + </p> + <p> + DEAR MRS SIMPKINS— + </p> + <p> + We are very, very sorry about the turnips and things, and we beg your + pardon humbly. We have put up a tombstone to your brave son. + </p> + <p> + And we signed our names. Alice took the letter. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother read it, and said something about our oughting to + know better than to make fun of people’s troubles with our tombstones and + tomfoolery. + </p> + <p> + Alice told me she could not help crying. + </p> + <p> + She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not! it’s NOT! Dear, DEAR Mrs Simpkins, do come with me and see! You + don’t know how sorry we are about Bill. Do come and see. + </p> + <p> + We can go through the churchyard, and the others have all gone in, so as + to leave it quiet for you. Do come.’ + </p> + <p> + And Mrs Simpkins did. And when she read what we had put up, and Alice told + her the verse we had not had room for, she leant against the wall by the + grave—I mean the tombstone—and Alice hugged her, and they both + cried bitterly. The poor soldier’s mother was very, very pleased, and she + forgave us about the turnips, and we were friends after that, but she + always liked Alice the best. A great many people do, somehow. + </p> + <p> + After that we used to put fresh flowers every day on Bill’s tombstone, and + I do believe his mother was pleased, though she got us to move it away + from the churchyard edge and put it in a corner of our garden under a + laburnum, where people could not see it from the church. But you could + from the road, though I think she thought you couldn’t. She came every day + to look at the new wreaths. When the white flowers gave out we put + coloured, and she liked it just as well. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight after the erecting of the tombstone the girls were + putting fresh wreaths on it when a soldier in a red coat came down the + road, and he stopped and looked at us. He walked with a stick, and he had + a bundle in a blue cotton handkerchief, and one arm in a sling. + </p> + <p> + And he looked again, and he came nearer, and he leaned on the wall, so + that he could read the black printing on the white paint. + </p> + <p> + And he grinned all over his face, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I AM blessed!’ + </p> + <p> + And he read it all out in a sort of half whisper, and when he came to the + end, where it says, ‘and all such brave soldiers’, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I really AM!’ I suppose he meant he really was blessed. Oswald + thought it was like the soldier’s cheek, so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay you aren’t so very blessed as you think. What’s it to do with + you, anyway, eh, Tommy?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald knew from Kipling that an infantry soldier is called + that. The soldier said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Tommy yourself, young man. That’s ME!’ and he pointed to the tombstone. + </p> + <p> + We stood rooted to the spot. Alice spoke first. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’re Bill, and you’re not dead,’ she said. ‘Oh, Bill, I am so + glad! Do let ME tell your mother.’ + </p> + <p> + She started running, and so did we all. Bill had to go slowly because of + his leg, but I tell you he went as fast as ever he could. + </p> + <p> + We all hammered at the soldier’s mother’s door, and shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come out! come out!’ and when she opened the door we were going to speak, + but she pushed us away, and went tearing down the garden path like + winking. I never saw a grown-up woman run like it, because she saw Bill + coming. + </p> + <p> + She met him at the gate, running right into him, and caught hold of him, + and she cried much more than when she thought he was dead. + </p> + <p> + And we all shook his hand and said how glad we were. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother kept hold of him with both hands, and I couldn’t help + looking at her face. It was like wax that had been painted on both pink + cheeks, and the eyes shining like candles. And when we had all said how + glad we were, she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank the dear Lord for His mercies,’ and she took her boy Bill into the + cottage and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + We went home and chopped up the tombstone with the wood-axe and had a + blazing big bonfire, and cheered till we could hardly speak. + </p> + <p> + The postcard was a mistake; he was only missing. There was a pipe and a + whole pound of tobacco left over from our keepsake to the other soldiers. + We gave it to Bill. Father is going to have him for under-gardener when + his wounds get well. He’ll always be a bit lame, so he cannot fight any + more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + It was very rough on Dora having her foot bad, but we took it in turns to + stay in with her, and she was very decent about it. Daisy was most with + her. I do not dislike Daisy, but I wish she had been taught how to play. + Because Dora is rather like that naturally, and sometimes I have thought + that Daisy makes her worse. + </p> + <p> + I talked to Albert’s uncle about it one day, when the others had gone to + church, and I did not go because of ear-ache, and he said it came from + reading the wrong sort of books partly—she has read Ministering + Children, and Anna Ross, or The Orphan of Waterloo, and Ready Work for + Willing Hands, and Elsie, or Like a Little Candle, and even a horrid + little blue book about the something or other of Little Sins. After this + conversation Oswald took care she had plenty of the right sort of books to + read, and he was surprised and pleased when she got up early one morning + to finish Monte Cristo. Oswald felt that he was really being useful to a + suffering fellow-creature when he gave Daisy books that were not all about + being good. + </p> + <p> + A few days after Dora was laid up, Alice called a council of the + Wouldbegoods, and Oswald and Dicky attended with darkly-clouded brows. + Alice had the minute-book, which was an exercise-book that had not much + written in it. She had begun at the other end. I hate doing that myself, + because there is so little room at the top compared with right way up. + </p> + <p> + Dora and a sofa had been carried out on to the lawn, and we were on the + grass. It was very hot and dry. We had sherbet. Alice read: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Society of the Wouldbegoods. + </p> + <p> + ‘“We have not done much. Dicky mended a window, and we got the milk-pan + out of the moat that dropped through where he mended it. Dora, Oswald, + Dicky and me got upset in the moat. This was not goodness. Dora’s foot was + hurt. We hope to do better next time.”’ + </p> + <p> + Then came Noel’s poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘We are the Wouldbegoods Society, + We are not good yet, but we mean to try, + And if we try, and if we don’t succeed, + It must mean we are very bad indeed.’ +</pre> + <p> + This sounded so much righter than Noel’s poetry generally does, that + Oswald said so, and Noel explained that Denny had helped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He seems to know the right length for lines of poetry. I suppose it comes + of learning so much at school,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald proposed that anybody should be allowed to write in the book + if they found out anything good that anyone else had done, but not things + that were public acts; and nobody was to write about themselves, or + anything other people told them, only what they found out. + </p> + <p> + After a brief jaw the others agreed, and Oswald felt, not for the first + time in his young life, that he would have made a good diplomatic hero to + carry despatches and outwit the other side. For now he had put it out of + the minute-book’s power to be the kind of thing readers of Ministering + Children would have wished. + </p> + <p> + ‘And if anyone tells other people any good thing he’s done he is to go to + Coventry for the rest of the day.’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny remarked, ‘We shall do good by stealth, and blush to find it + shame.’ + </p> + <p> + After that nothing was written in the book for some time. I looked about, + and so did the others, but I never caught anyone in the act of doing + anything extra; though several of the others have told me since of things + they did at this time, and really wondered nobody had noticed. + </p> + <p> + I think I said before that when you tell a story you cannot tell + everything. It would be silly to do it. Because ordinary kinds of play are + dull to read about; and the only other thing is meals, and to dwell on + what you eat is greedy and not like a hero at all. A hero is always + contented with a venison pasty and a horn of sack. All the same, the meals + were very interesting; with things you do not get at home—Lent pies + with custard and currants in them, sausage rolls and fiede cakes, and + raisin cakes and apple turnovers, and honeycomb and syllabubs, besides as + much new milk as you cared about, and cream now and then, and cheese + always on the table for tea. Father told Mrs Pettigrew to get what meals + she liked, and she got these strange but attractive foods. + </p> + <p> + In a story about Wouldbegoods it is not proper to tell of times when only + some of us were naughty, so I will pass lightly over the time when Noel + got up the kitchen chimney and brought three bricks and an old starling’s + nest and about a ton of soot down with him when he fell. They never use + the big chimney in the summer, but cook in the wash-house. Nor do I wish + to dwell on what H. O. did when he went into the dairy. I do not know what + his motive was. But Mrs Pettigrew said SHE knew; and she locked him in, + and said if it was cream he wanted he should have enough, and she wouldn’t + let him out till tea-time. The cat had also got into the dairy for some + reason of her own, and when H. O. was tired of whatever he went in for he + poured all the milk into the churn and tried to teach the cat to swim in + it. He must have been desperate. The cat did not even try to learn, and H. + O. had the scars on his hands for weeks. I do not wish to tell tales of H. + O., for he is very young, and whatever he does he always catches it for; + but I will just allude to our being told not to eat the greengages in the + garden. And we did not. And whatever H. O. did was Noel’s fault—for + Noel told H. O. that greengages would grow again all right if you did not + bite as far as the stone, just as wounds are not mortal except when you + are pierced through the heart. So the two of them bit bites out of every + greengage they could reach. And of course the pieces did not grow again. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not do things like these, but then he is older than his + brothers. The only thing he did just about then was making a booby-trap + for Mrs Pettigrew when she had locked H. O. up in the dairy, and + unfortunately it was the day she was going out in her best things, and + part of the trap was a can of water. Oswald was not willingly vicious; it + was but a light and thoughtless act which he had every reason to be sorry + for afterwards. And he is sorry even without those reasons, because he + knows it is ungentlemanly to play tricks on women. + </p> + <p> + I remember Mother telling Dora and me when we were little that you ought + to be very kind and polite to servants, because they have to work very + hard, and do not have so many good times as we do. I used to think about + Mother more at the Moat House than I did at Blackheath, especially in the + garden. She was very fond of flowers, and she used to tell us about the + big garden where she used to live; and I remember Dora and I helped her to + plant seeds. But it is no use wishing. She would have liked that garden, + though. + </p> + <p> + The girls and the white mice did not do anything boldly wicked—though + of course they used to borrow Mrs Pettigrew’s needles, which made her very + nasty. Needles that are borrowed might just as well be stolen. But I say + no more. + </p> + <p> + I have only told you these things to show the kind of events which + occurred on the days I don’t tell you about. On the whole, we had an + excellent time. + </p> + <p> + It was on the day we had the pillow-fight that we went for the long walk. + Not the Pilgrimage—that is another story. We did not mean to have a + pillow-fight. It is not usual to have them after breakfast, but Oswald had + come up to get his knife out of the pocket of his Etons, to cut some wire + we were making rabbit snares of. It is a very good knife, with a file in + it, as well as a corkscrew and other things—and he did not come down + at once, because he was detained by having to make an apple-pie bed for + Dicky. Dicky came up after him to see what he was up to, and when he did + see he buzzed a pillow at Oswald, and the fight began. The others, hearing + the noise of battle from afar, hastened to the field of action, all except + Dora, who couldn’t because of being laid up with her foot, and Daisy, + because she is a little afraid of us still, when we are all together. She + thinks we are rough. This comes of having only one brother. + </p> + <p> + Well, the fight was a very fine one. Alice backed me up, and Noel and H. + O. backed Dicky, and Denny heaved a pillow or two; but he cannot shy + straight, so I don’t know which side he was on. + </p> + <p> + And just as the battle raged most fiercely, Mrs Pettigrew came in and + snatched the pillows away, and shook those of the warriors who were small + enough for it. SHE was rough if you like. She also used language I should + have thought she would be above. She said, Drat you!’ and ‘Drabbit you!’ + The last is a thing I have never heard said before. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no peace of your life with you children. Drat your antics! And + that poor, dear, patient gentleman right underneath, with his headache and + his handwriting: and you rampaging about over his head like young + bull-calves. I wonder you haven’t more sense, a great girl like you.’ + </p> + <p> + She said this to Alice, and Alice answered gently, as we are told to do— + </p> + <p> + ‘I really am awfully sorry; we forgot about the headache. Don’t be cross, + Mrs Pettigrew; we didn’t mean to; we didn’t think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never do,’ she said, and her voice, though grumpy, was no longer + violent. ‘Why on earth you can’t take yourselves off for the day I don’t + know.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said, ‘But may we?’ + </p> + <p> + She said, ‘Of course you may. Now put on your boots and go for a good long + walk. And I’ll tell you what—I’ll put you up a snack, and you can + have an egg to your tea to make up for missing your dinner. Now don’t go + clattering about the stairs and passages, there’s good children. See if + you can’t be quiet this once, and give the good gentleman a chance with + his copying.’ + </p> + <p> + She went off. Her bark is worse than her bite. She does not understand + anything about writing books, though. She thinks Albert’s uncle copies + things out of printed books, when he is really writing new ones. I wonder + how she thinks printed books get made first of all. Many servants are like + this. + </p> + <p> + She gave us the ‘snack’ in a basket, and sixpence to buy milk with. She + said any of the farms would let us have it, only most likely it would be + skim. We thanked her politely, and she hurried us out of the front door as + if we’d been chickens on a pansy bed. + </p> + <p> + (I did not know till after I had left the farm gate open, and the hens had + got into the garden, that these feathered bipeds display a great + partiality for the young buds of plants of the genus viola, to which they + are extremely destructive. I was told that by the gardener. I looked it up + in the gardening book afterwards to be sure he was right. You do learn a + lot of things in the country.) + </p> + <p> + We went through the garden as far as the church, and then we rested a bit + in the porch, and just looked into the basket to see what the ‘snack’ was. + It proved to be sausage rolls and queen cakes, and a Lent pie in a round + tin dish, and some hard-boiled eggs, and some apples. We all ate the + apples at once, so as not to have to carry them about with us. The + churchyard smells awfully good. It is the wild thyme that grows on the + graves. This is another thing we did not know before we came into the + country. + </p> + <p> + Then the door of the church tower was ajar, and we all went up; it had + always been locked before when we had tried it. + </p> + <p> + We saw the ringers’ loft where the ends of the bellropes hang down with + long, furry handles to them like great caterpillars, some red, and some + blue and white, but we did not pull them. And then we went up to where the + bells are, very big and dusty among large dirty beams; and four windows + with no glass, only shutters like Venetian blinds, but they won’t pull up. + There were heaps of straws and sticks on the window ledges. We think they + were owls’ nests, but we did not see any owls. + </p> + <p> + Then the tower stairs got very narrow and dark, and we went on up, and we + came to a door and opened it suddenly, and it was like being hit in the + face, the light was so sudden. And there we were on the top of the tower, + which is flat, and people have cut their names on it, and a turret at one + corner, and a low wall all round, up and down, like castle battlements. + And we looked down and saw the roof of the church, and the leads, and the + churchyard, and our garden, and the Moat House, and the farm, and Mrs + Simpkins’s cottage, looking very small, and other farms looking like toy + things out of boxes, and we saw corn-fields and meadows and pastures. A + pasture is not the same thing as a meadow, whatever you may think. And we + saw the tops of trees and hedges, looking like the map of the United + States, and villages, and a tower that did not look very far away standing + by itself on the top of a hill. Alice pointed to it, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not a church,’ said Noel, ‘because there’s no churchyard. Perhaps + it’s a tower of mystery that covers the entrance to a subterranean vault + with treasure in it.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Subterranean fiddlestick!’ and ‘A waterworks, more likely.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice thought perhaps it was a ruined castle, and the rest of its + crumbling walls were concealed by ivy, the growth of years. + </p> + <p> + Oswald could not make his mind up what it was, so he said, ‘Let’s go and + see! We may as well go there as anywhere.’ + </p> + <p> + So we got down out of the church tower and dusted ourselves, and set out. + </p> + <p> + The Tower of Mystery showed quite plainly from the road, now that we knew + where to look for it, because it was on the top of a hill. We began to + walk. But the tower did not seem to get any nearer. And it was very hot. + </p> + <p> + So we sat down in a meadow where there was a stream in the ditch and ate + the ‘snack’. We drank the pure water from the brook out of our hands, + because there was no farm to get milk at just there, and it was too much + fag to look for one—and, besides, we thought we might as well save + the sixpence. + </p> + <p> + Then we started again, and still the tower looked as far off as ever. + Denny began to drag his feet, though he had brought a walking-stick which + none of the rest of us had, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish a cart would come along. We might get a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + He knew all about getting lifts, of course, from having been in the + country before. He is not quite the white mouse we took him for at first. + Of course when you live in Lewisham or Blackheath you learn other things. + If you asked for a lift in Lewisham, High Street, your only reply would be + jeers. We sat down on a heap of stones, and decided that we would ask for + a lift from the next cart, whichever way it was going. It was while we + were waiting that Oswald found out about plantain seeds being good to eat. + </p> + <p> + When the sound of wheels came we remarked with joy that the cart was going + towards the Tower of Mystery. It was a cart a man was going to fetch a pig + home in. Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, you might give us a lift. Will you?’ + </p> + <p> + The man who was going for the pig said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What, all that little lot?’ but he winked at Alice, and we saw that he + meant to aid us on our way. So we climbed up, and he whipped up the horse + and asked us where we were going. He was a kindly old man, with a face + like a walnut shell, and white hair and beard like a jack-in-the-box. + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to get to the tower,’ Alice said. ‘Is it a ruin, or not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t no ruin,’ the man said; ‘no fear of that! The man wot built it + he left so much a year to be spent on repairing of it! Money that might + have put bread in honest folks’ mouths.’ + </p> + <p> + We asked was it a church then, or not. + </p> + <p> + ‘Church?’ he said. ‘Not it. It’s more of a tombstone, from all I can make + out. They do say there was a curse on him that built it, and he wasn’t to + rest in earth or sea. So he’s buried half-way up the tower—if you + can call it buried.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you go up it?’ Oswald asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord love you! yes; a fine view from the top they say. I’ve never been up + myself, though I’ve lived in sight of it, boy and man, these sixty-three + years come harvest.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice asked whether you had to go past the dead and buried person to get + to the top of the tower, and could you see the coffin. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ the man said; ‘that’s all hid away behind a slab of stone, that + is, with reading on it. You’ve no call to be afraid, missy. It’s daylight + all the way up. But I wouldn’t go there after dark, so I wouldn’t. It’s + always open, day and night, and they say tramps sleep there now and again. + Anyone who likes can sleep there, but it wouldn’t be me.’ + </p> + <p> + We thought that it would not be us either, but we wanted to go more than + ever, especially when the man said— + </p> + <p> + ‘My own great-uncle of the mother’s side, he was one of the masons that + set up the stone slab. Before then it was thick glass, and you could see + the dead man lying inside, as he’d left it in his will. He was lying there + in a glass coffin with his best clothes—blue satin and silver, my + uncle said, such as was all the go in his day, with his wig on, and his + sword beside him, what he used to wear. My uncle said his hair had grown + out from under his wig, and his beard was down to the toes of him. My + uncle he always upheld that that dead man was no deader than you and me, + but was in a sort of fit, a transit, I think they call it, and looked for + him to waken into life again some day. But the doctor said not. It was + only something done to him like Pharaoh in the Bible afore he was buried.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice whispered to Oswald that we should be late for tea, and wouldn’t it + be better to go back now directly. But he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘If you’re afraid, say so; and you needn’t come in anyway—but I’m + going on.’ + </p> + <p> + The man who was going for the pig put us down at a gate quite near the + tower—at least it looked so until we began to walk again. We thanked + him, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite welcome,’ and drove off. + </p> + <p> + We were rather quiet going through the wood. What we had heard made us + very anxious to see the tower—all except Alice, who would keep + talking about tea, though not a greedy girl by nature. None of the others + encouraged her, but Oswald thought himself that we had better be home + before dark. + </p> + <p> + As we went up the path through the wood we saw a poor wayfarer with dusty + bare feet sitting on the bank. + </p> + <p> + He stopped us and said he was a sailor, and asked for a trifle to help him + to get back to his ship. + </p> + <p> + I did not like the look of him much myself, but Alice said, ‘Oh, the poor + man, do let’s help him, Oswald.’ So we held a hurried council, and decided + to give him the milk sixpence. Oswald had it in his purse, and he had to + empty the purse into his hand to find the sixpence, for that was not all + the money he had, by any means. Noel said afterwards that he saw the + wayfarer’s eyes fastened greedily upon the shining pieces as Oswald + returned them to his purse. Oswald has to own that he purposely let the + man see that he had more money, so that the man might not feel shy about + accepting so large a sum as sixpence. + </p> + <p> + The man blessed our kind hearts and we went on. + </p> + <p> + The sun was shining very brightly, and the Tower of Mystery did not look + at all like a tomb when we got to it. The bottom Storey was on arches, all + open, and ferns and things grew underneath. There was a round stone stair + going up in the middle. Alice began to gather ferns while we went up, but + when we had called out to her that it was as the pig-man had said, and + daylight all the way up, she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’m not afraid. I’m only afraid of being late home,’ and came + up after us. And perhaps, though not downright manly truthfulness, this + was as much as you could expect from a girl. + </p> + <p> + There were holes in the little tower of the staircase to let light in. At + the top of it was a thick door with iron bolts. We shot these back, and it + was not fear but caution that made Oswald push open the door so very + slowly and carefully. + </p> + <p> + Because, of course, a stray dog or cat might have got shut up there by + accident, and it would have startled Alice very much if it had jumped out + on us. + </p> + <p> + When the door was opened we saw that there was no such thing. It was a + room with eight sides. Denny says it is the shape called octogenarian; + because a man named Octagius invented it. There were eight large arched + windows with no glass, only stone-work, like in churches. The room was + full of sunshine, and you could see the blue sky through the windows, but + nothing else, because they were so high up. It was so bright we began to + think the pig-man had been kidding us. Under one of the windows was a + door. We went through, and there was a little passage and then a + turret-twisting stair, like in the church, but quite light with windows. + When we had gone some way up this, we came to a sort of landing, and there + was a block of stone let into the wall—polished—Denny said it + was Aberdeen graphite, with gold letters cut in it. It said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies the body of Mr Richard Ravenal + Born 1720. Died 1779.’ +</pre> + <p> + and a verse of poetry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lie I, between earth and sky, + Think upon me, dear passers-by, + And you who do my tombstone see + Be kind to say a prayer for me.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘How horrid!’ Alice said. ‘Do let’s get home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We may as well go to the top,’ Dicky said, ‘just to say we’ve been.’ + </p> + <p> + And Alice is no funk—so she agreed; though I could see she did not + like it. + </p> + <p> + Up at the top it was like the top of the church tower, only octogenarian + in shape, instead of square. + </p> + <p> + Alice got all right there; because you cannot think much about ghosts and + nonsense when the sun is shining bang down on you at four o’clock in the + afternoon, and you can see red farm-roofs between the trees, and the safe + white roads, with people in carts like black ants crawling. + </p> + <p> + It was very jolly, but we felt we ought to be getting back, because tea is + at five, and we could not hope to find lifts both ways. + </p> + <p> + So we started to go down. Dicky went first, then Oswald, then Alice—and + H. O. had just stumbled over the top step and saved himself by Alice’s + back, which nearly upset Oswald and Dicky, when the hearts of all stood + still, and then went on by leaps and bounds, like the good work in + missionary magazines. + </p> + <p> + For, down below us, in the tower where the man whose beard grew down to + his toes after he was dead was buried, there was a noise—a loud + noise. And it was like a door being banged and bolts fastened. We tumbled + over each other to get back into the open sunshine on the top of the + tower, and Alice’s hand got jammed between the edge of the doorway and H. + O.‘s boot; it was bruised black and blue, and another part bled, but she + did not notice it till long after. + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other, and Oswald said in a firm voice (at least, I hope + it was)— + </p> + <p> + ‘What was that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He HAS waked up,’ Alice said. ‘Oh, I know he has. Of course there is a + door for him to get out by when he wakes. He’ll come up here. I know he + will.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, and his voice was not at all firm (I noticed that at the + time), ‘It doesn’t matter, if he’s ALIVE.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless he’s come to life a raving lunatic,’ Noel said, and we all stood + with our eyes on the doorway of the turret—and held our breath to + hear. + </p> + <p> + But there was no more noise. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald said—and nobody ever put it in the Golden Deed book, + though they own that it was brave and noble of him—he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it was only the wind blowing one of the doors to. I’ll go down + and see, if you will, Dick.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky only said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The wind doesn’t shoot bolts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A bolt from the blue,’ said Denny to himself, looking up at the sky. His + father is a sub-editor. He had gone very red, and he was holding on to + Alice’s hand. Suddenly he stood up quite straight and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not afraid. I’ll go and see.’ + </p> + <p> + THIS was afterwards put in the Golden Deed book. It ended in Oswald and + Dicky and Denny going. Denny went first because he said he would rather—and + Oswald understood this and let him. If Oswald had pushed first it would + have been like Sir Lancelot refusing to let a young knight win his spurs. + Oswald took good care to go second himself, though. The others never + understood this. You don’t expect it from girls; but I did think father + would have understood without Oswald telling him, which of course he never + could. + </p> + <p> + We all went slowly. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the turret stairs we stopped short. Because the door + there was bolted fast and would not yield to shoves, however desperate and + united. + </p> + <p> + Only now somehow we felt that Mr Richard Ravenal was all right and quiet, + but that some one had done it for a lark, or perhaps not known about + anyone being up there. So we rushed up, and Oswald told the others in a + few hasty but well-chosen words, and we all leaned over between the + battlements, and shouted, ‘Hi! you there!’ + </p> + <p> + Then from under the arches of the quite-downstairs part of the tower a + figure came forth—and it was the sailor who had had our milk + sixpence. He looked up and he spoke to us. He did not speak loud, but he + spoke loud enough for us to hear every word quite plainly. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Drop that.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Drop what?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘That row.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘Because if you don’t I’ll come up and make you, and pretty quick + too, so I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Did you bolt the door?’ + </p> + <p> + The man said, ‘I did so, my young cock.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said—and Oswald wished to goodness she had held her tongue, + because he saw right enough the man was not friendly—‘Oh, do come + and let us out—do, please.’ + </p> + <p> + While she was saying it Oswald suddenly saw that he did not want the man + to come up. So he scurried down the stairs because he thought he had seen + something on the door on the top side, and sure enough there were two + bolts, and he shot them into their sockets. This bold act was not put in + the Golden Deed book, because when Alice wanted to, the others said it was + not GOOD of Oswald to think of this, but only CLEVER. I think sometimes, + in moments of danger and disaster, it is as good to be clever as it is to + be good. But Oswald would never demean himself to argue about this. + </p> + <p> + When he got back the man was still standing staring up. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Oswald, he says he won’t let us out unless we give him all our money. + And we might be here for days and days and all night as well. No one knows + where we are to come and look for us. Oh, do let’s give it him ALL.’ + </p> + <p> + She thought the lion of the English nation, which does not know when it is + beaten, would be ramping in her brother’s breast. But Oswald kept calm. He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ and he made the others turn out their pockets. Denny had a + bad shilling, with a head on both sides, and three halfpence. H. O. had a + halfpenny. Noel had a French penny, which is only good for chocolate + machines at railway stations. Dicky had tenpence-halfpenny, and Oswald had + a two-shilling piece of his own that he was saving up to buy a gun with. + Oswald tied the whole lot up in his handkerchief, and looking over the + battlements, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You are an ungrateful beast. We gave you sixpence freely of our own + will.’ + </p> + <p> + The man did look a little bit ashamed, but he mumbled something about + having his living to get. Then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here you are. Catch!’ and he flung down the handkerchief with the money + in it. + </p> + <p> + The man muffed the catch—butter-fingered idiot!—but he picked + up the handkerchief and undid it, and when he saw what was in it he swore + dreadfully. The cad! + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ he called out, ‘this won’t do, young shaver. I want those + there shiners I see in your pus! Chuck ‘em along!’ + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald laughed. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall know you again anywhere, and you’ll be put in prison for this. + Here are the SHINERS.’ And he was so angry he chucked down purse and all. + The shiners were not real ones, but only card-counters that looked like + sovereigns on one side. Oswald used to carry them in his purse so as to + look affluent. He does not do this now. + </p> + <p> + When the man had seen what was in the purse he disappeared under the + tower, and Oswald was glad of what he had done about the bolts—and + he hoped they were as strong as the ones on the other side of the door. + </p> + <p> + They were. + </p> + <p> + We heard the man kicking and pounding at the door, and I am not ashamed to + say that we were all holding on to each other very tight. I am proud, + however, to relate that nobody screamed or cried. + </p> + <p> + After what appeared to be long years, the banging stopped, and presently + we saw the brute going away among the trees. Then Alice did cry, and I do + not blame her. Then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use. Even if he’s undone the door, he may be in ambush. We must + hold on here till somebody comes.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, speaking chokily because she had not quite done crying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s wave a flag.’ + </p> + <p> + By the most fortunate accident she had on one of her Sunday petticoats, + though it was Monday. This petticoat is white. She tore it out at the + gathers, and we tied it to Denny’s stick, and took turns to wave it. We + had laughed at his carrying a stick before, but we were very sorry now + that we had done so. + </p> + <p> + And the tin dish the Lent pie was baked in we polished with our + handkerchiefs, and moved it about in the sun so that the sun might strike + on it and signal our distress to some of the outlying farms. + </p> + <p> + This was perhaps the most dreadful adventure that had then ever happened + to us. Even Alice had now stopped thinking of Mr Richard Ravenal, and + thought only of the lurker in ambush. + </p> + <p> + We all felt our desperate situation keenly. I must say Denny behaved like + anything but a white mouse. When it was the others’ turn to wave, he sat + on the leads of the tower and held Alice’s and Noel’s hands, and said + poetry to them—yards and yards of it. By some strange fatality it + seemed to comfort them. It wouldn’t have me. + </p> + <p> + He said ‘The Battle of the Baltic’, and ‘Gray’s Elegy’, right through, + though I think he got wrong in places, and the ‘Revenge’, and Macaulay’s + thing about Lars Porsena and the Nine Gods. And when it was his turn he + waved like a man. + </p> + <p> + I will try not to call him a white mouse any more. He was a brick that + day, and no mouse. + </p> + <p> + The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and very + hungry, when we saw a cart in the road below. We waved like mad, and + shouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a thing none + of us had known before that he could do. + </p> + <p> + And the cart stopped. And presently we saw a figure with a white beard + among the trees. It was our Pig-man. + </p> + <p> + We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in—he + thought at first we were kidding—he came up and let us out. + </p> + <p> + He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one—and we were not + particular. Denny and Alice sat on the front of the cart with the Pig-man, + and the rest of us got in with the pig, and the man drove us right home. + You may think we talked it over on the way. Not us. We went to sleep, + among the pig, and before long the Pig-man stopped and got us to make room + for Alice and Denny. There was a net over the cart. I never was so sleepy + in my life, though it was not more than bedtime. + </p> + <p> + Generally, after anything exciting, you are punished—but this could + not be, because we had only gone for a walk, exactly as we were told. + </p> + <p> + There was a new rule made, though. No walks except on the high-roads, and + we were always to take Pincher and either Lady, the deer-hound, or Martha, + the bulldog. We generally hate rules, but we did not mind this one. + </p> + <p> + Father gave Denny a gold pencil-case because he was first to go down into + the tower. Oswald does not grudge Denny this, though some might think he + deserved at least a silver one. But Oswald is above such paltry + jealousies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS + </h2> + <p> + This is the story of one of the most far-reaching and influentially + naughty things we ever did in our lives. We did not mean to do such a + deed. And yet we did do it. These things will happen with the + best-regulated consciences. + </p> + <p> + The story of this rash and fatal act is intimately involved—which + means all mixed up anyhow—with a private affair of Oswald’s, and the + one cannot be revealed without the other. Oswald does not particularly + want his story to be remembered, but he wishes to tell the truth, and + perhaps it is what father calls a wholesome discipline to lay bare the + awful facts. + </p> + <p> + It was like this. + </p> + <p> + On Alice’s and Noel’s birthday we went on the river for a picnic. Before + that we had not known that there was a river so near us. Afterwards father + said he wished we had been allowed to remain on our pristine ignorance, + whatever that is. And perhaps the dark hour did dawn when we wished so + too. But a truce to vain regrets. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a fine thing in birthdays. The uncle sent a box of toys and + sweets, things that were like a vision from another and a brighter world. + Besides that Alice had a knife, a pair of shut-up scissors, a silk + handkerchief, a book—it was The Golden Age and is A1 except where it + gets mixed with grown-up nonsense. Also a work-case lined with pink plush, + a boot-bag, which no one in their senses would use because it had flowers + in wool all over it. And she had a box of chocolates and a musical box + that played ‘The Man who broke’ and two other tunes, and two pairs of kid + gloves for church, and a box of writing-paper—pink—with + ‘Alice’ on it in gold writing, and an egg coloured red that said ‘A. + Bastable’ in ink on one side. These gifts were the offerings of Oswald, + Dora, Dicky, Albert’s uncle, Daisy, Mr Foulkes (our own robber), Noel, H. + O., father and Denny. Mrs Pettigrew gave the egg. It was a kindly + housekeeper’s friendly token. + </p> + <p> + I shall not tell you about the picnic on the river because the happiest + times form but dull reading when they are written down. I will merely + state that it was prime. Though happy, the day was uneventful. The only + thing exciting enough to write about was in one of the locks, where there + was a snake—a viper. It was asleep in a warm sunny corner of the + lock gate, and when the gate was shut it fell off into the water. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Dora screamed hideously. So did Daisy, but her screams were + thinner. + </p> + <p> + The snake swam round and round all the time our boat was in the lock. It + swam with four inches of itself—the head end—reared up out of + the water, exactly like Kaa in the Jungle Book—so we know Kipling is + a true author and no rotter. We were careful to keep our hands well inside + the boat. A snake’s eyes strike terror into the boldest breast. + </p> + <p> + When the lock was full father killed the viper with a boat-hook. I was + sorry for it myself. It was indeed a venomous serpent. But it was the + first we had ever seen, except at the Zoo. And it did swim most awfully + well. + </p> + <p> + Directly the snake had been killed H. O. reached out for its corpse, and + the next moment the body of our little brother was seen wriggling + conclusively on the boat’s edge. This exciting spectacle was not of a + lasting nature. He went right in. Father clawed him out. He is very + unlucky with water. + </p> + <p> + Being a birthday, but little was said. H. O. was wrapped in everybody’s + coats, and did not take any cold at all. + </p> + <p> + This glorious birthday ended with an iced cake and ginger wine, and + drinking healths. Then we played whatever we liked. There had been + rounders during the afternoon. It was a day to be for ever marked by + memory’s brightest what’s-its-name. + </p> + <p> + I should not have said anything about the picnic but for one thing. It was + the thin edge of the wedge. It was the all-powerful lever that moved but + too many events. You see, WE WERE NO LONGER STRANGERS TO THE RIVER. + </p> + <p> + And we went there whenever we could. Only we had to take the dogs, and to + promise no bathing without grown-ups. But paddling in back waters was + allowed. I say no more. + </p> + <p> + I have not numerated Noel’s birthday presents because I wish to leave + something to the imagination of my young readers. (The best authors always + do this.) If you will take the large, red catalogue of the Army and Navy + Stores, and just make a list of about fifteen of the things you would like + best—prices from 2s. to 25s.—you will get a very good idea of + Noel’s presents, and it will help you to make up your mind in case you are + asked just before your next birthday what you really NEED. + </p> + <p> + One of Noel’s birthday presents was a cricket ball. He cannot bowl for + nuts, and it was a first-rate ball. So some days after the birthday Oswald + offered him to exchange it for a coconut he had won at the fair, and two + pencils (new), and a brand-new note-book. Oswald thought, and he still + thinks, that this was a fair exchange, and so did Noel at the time, and he + agreed to it, and was quite pleased till the girls said it wasn’t fair, + and Oswald had the best of it. And then that young beggar Noel wanted the + ball back, but Oswald, though not angry, was firm. + </p> + <p> + ‘You said it was a bargain, and you shook hands on it,’ he said, and he + said it quite kindly and calmly. + </p> + <p> + Noel said he didn’t care. He wanted his cricket ball back. And the girls + said it was a horrid shame. + </p> + <p> + If they had not said that, Oswald might yet have consented to let Noel + have the beastly ball, but now, of course, he was not going to. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, I daresay. And then you would be wanting the coconut and things + again the next minute.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I shouldn’t,’ Noel said. It turned out afterwards he and H. O. had + eaten the coconut, which only made it worse. And it made them worse too—which + is what the book calls poetic justice. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘I don’t think it was fair,’ and even Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Do let him have it back, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + I wish to be just to Alice. She did not know then about the coconut having + been secretly wolfed up. + </p> + <p> + We were in the garden. Oswald felt all the feelings of the hero when the + opposing forces gathered about him are opposing as hard as ever they can. + He knew he was not unfair, and he did not like to be jawed at just because + Noel had eaten the coconut and wanted the ball back. Though Oswald did not + know then about the eating of the coconut, but he felt the injustice in + his soul all the same. + </p> + <p> + Noel said afterwards he meant to offer Oswald something else to make up + for the coconut, but he said nothing about this at the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give it me, I say,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said, ‘Shan’t!’ + </p> + <p> + Then Noel called Oswald names, and Oswald did not answer back but just + kept smiling pleasantly, and carelessly throwing up the ball and catching + it again with an air of studied indifference. + </p> + <p> + It was Martha’s fault that what happened happened. She is the bull-dog, + and very stout and heavy. She had just been let loose and she came + bounding along in her clumsy way, and jumped up on Oswald, who is beloved + by all dumb animals. (You know how sagacious they are.) Well, Martha + knocked the ball out of Oswald’s hands, and it fell on the grass, and Noel + pounced on it like a hooded falcon on its prey. Oswald would scorn to deny + that he was not going to stand this, and the next moment the two were + rolling over on the grass, and very soon Noel was made to bite the dust. + And serve him right. He is old enough to know his own mind. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald walked slowly away with the ball, and the others picked Noel + up, and consoled the beaten, but Dicky would not take either side. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald went up into his own room and lay on his bed, and reflected + gloomy reflections about unfairness. + </p> + <p> + Presently he thought he would like to see what the others were doing + without their knowing he cared. So he went into the linen-room and looked + out of its window, and he saw they were playing Kings and Queens—and + Noel had the biggest paper crown and the longest stick sceptre. + </p> + <p> + Oswald turned away without a word, for it really was sickening. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly his weary eyes fell upon something they had not before + beheld. It was a square trap-door in the ceiling of the linen-room. + </p> + <p> + Oswald never hesitated. He crammed the cricket ball into his pocket and + climbed up the shelves and unbolted the trap-door, and shoved it up, and + pulled himself up through it. Though above all was dark and smelt of + spiders, Oswald fearlessly shut the trap-door down again before he struck + a match. He always carries matches. He is a boy fertile in every subtle + expedient. Then he saw he was in the wonderful, mysterious place between + the ceiling and the roof of the house. The roof is beams and tiles. Slits + of light show through the tiles here and there. The ceiling, on its other + and top side, is made of rough plaster and beams. If you walk on the beams + it is all right—if you walk on the plaster you go through with your + feet. Oswald found this out later, but some fine instinct now taught the + young explorer where he ought to tread and where not. It was splendid. He + was still very angry with the others and he was glad he had found out a + secret they jolly well didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + He walked along a dark, narrow passage. Every now and then cross-beams + barred his way, and he had to creep under them. At last a small door + loomed before him with cracks of light under and over. He drew back the + rusty bolts and opened it. It opened straight on to the leads, a flat + place between two steep red roofs, with a parapet two feet high back and + front, so that no one could see you. It was a place no one could have + invented better than, if they had tried, for hiding in. + </p> + <p> + Oswald spent the whole afternoon there. He happened to have a volume of + Percy’s Anecdotes in his pocket, the one about lawyers, as well as a few + apples. While he read he fingered the cricket ball, and presently it + rolled away, and he thought he would get it by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + When the tea-bell rang he forgot the ball and went hurriedly down, for + apples do not keep the inside from the pangs of hunger. + </p> + <p> + Noel met him on the landing, got red in the face, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It wasn’t QUITE fair about the ball, because H. O. and I had eaten the + coconut. YOU can have it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want your beastly ball,’ Oswald said, ‘only I hate unfairness. + However, I don’t know where it is just now. When I find it you shall have + it to bowl with as often as you want.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’re not waxy?’ + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said ‘No’ and they went in to tea together. So that was all + right. There were raisin cakes for tea. + </p> + <p> + Next day we happened to want to go down to the river quite early. I don’t + know why; this is called Fate, or Destiny. We dropped in at the ‘Rose and + Crown’ for some ginger-beer on our way. The landlady is a friend of ours + and lets us drink it in her back parlour, instead of in the bar, which + would be improper for girls. + </p> + <p> + We found her awfully busy, making pies and jellies, and her two sisters + were hurrying about with great hams, and pairs of chickens, and rounds of + cold beef and lettuces, and pickled salmon and trays of crockery and + glasses. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s for the angling competition,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘What’s that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ she said, slicing cucumber like beautiful machinery while she said + it, ‘a lot of anglers come down some particular day and fish one + particular bit of the river. And the one that catches most fish gets the + prize. They’re fishing the pen above Stoneham Lock. And they all come here + to dinner. So I’ve got my hands full and a trifle over.’ + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘Couldn’t we help?’ + </p> + <p> + But she said, ‘Oh, no, thank you. Indeed not, please. I really am so I + don’t know which way to turn. Do run along, like dears.’ + </p> + <p> + So we ran along like these timid but graceful animals. + </p> + <p> + Need I tell the intellectual reader that we went straight off to the pen + above Stoneham Lock to see the anglers competing? Angling is the same + thing as fishing. + </p> + <p> + I am not going to try and explain locks to you. If you’ve never seen a + lock you could never understand even if I wrote it in words of one + syllable and pages and pages long. And if you have, you’ll understand + without my telling you. It is harder than Euclid if you don’t know + beforehand. But you might get a grown-up person to explain it to you with + books or wooden bricks. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you what a pen is because that is easy. It is the bit of river + between one lock and the next. In some rivers ‘pens’ are called ‘reaches’, + but pen is the proper word. + </p> + <p> + We went along the towing-path; it is shady with willows, aspens, alders, + elders, oaks and other trees. On the banks are flowers—yarrow, + meadow-sweet, willow herb, loosestrife, and lady’s bed-straw. Oswald + learned the names of all these trees and plants on the day of the picnic. + The others didn’t remember them, but Oswald did. He is a boy of what they + call relenting memory. + </p> + <p> + The anglers were sitting here and there on the shady bank among the grass + and the different flowers I have named. Some had dogs with them, and some + umbrellas, and some had only their wives and families. + </p> + <p> + We should have liked to talk to them and ask how they liked their lot, and + what kinds of fish there were, and whether they were nice to eat, but we + did not like to. + </p> + <p> + Denny had seen anglers before and he knew they liked to be talked to, but + though he spoke to them quite like to equals he did not ask the things we + wanted to know. He just asked whether they’d had any luck, and what bait + they used. + </p> + <p> + And they answered him back politely. I am glad I am not an angler. + </p> + <p> + It is an immovable amusement, and, as often as not, no fish to speak of + after all. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and Dora had stayed at home: Dora’s foot was nearly well but they + seem really to like sitting still. I think Dora likes to have a little + girl to order about. Alice never would stand it. When we got to Stoneham + Lock Denny said he should go home and fetch his fishing-rod. H. O. went + with him. This left four of us—Oswald, Alice, Dicky, and Noel. We + went on down the towing-path. The lock shuts up (that sounds as if it was + like the lock on a door, but it is very otherwise) between one pen of the + river and the next; the pen where the anglers were was full right up over + the roots of the grass and flowers. But the pen below was nearly empty. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can see the poor river’s bones,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + And so you could. + </p> + <p> + Stones and mud and dried branches, and here and there an old kettle or a + tin pail with no bottom to it, that some bargee had chucked in. + </p> + <p> + From walking so much along the river we knew many of the bargees. Bargees + are the captains and crews of the big barges that are pulled up and down + the river by slow horses. The horses do not swim. They walk on the + towing-path, with a rope tied to them, and the other end to the barge. So + it gets pulled along. The bargees we knew were a good friendly sort, and + used to let us go all over the barges when they were in a good temper. + They were not at all the sort of bullying, cowardly fiends in human form + that the young hero at Oxford fights a crowd of, single-handed, in books. + </p> + <p> + The river does not smell nice when its bones are showing. But we went + along down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler’s wax in Falding + village for a bird-net he was making. + </p> + <p> + But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and straight, we + saw a sad and gloomy sight—a big barge sitting flat on the mud + because there was not water enough to float her. + </p> + <p> + There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat that was + spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to friends of ours. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, ‘They have gone to find the man who turns on the water to + fill the pen. I daresay they won’t find him. He’s gone to his dinner, I + shouldn’t wonder. What a lovely surprise it would be if they came back to + find their barge floating high and dry on a lot of water! DO let’s do it. + It’s a long time since any of us did a kind action deserving of being put + in the Book of Golden Deeds.’ + </p> + <p> + We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly ‘Society of the + Wouldbegoods’. Then you could think of the book if you wanted to without + remembering the Society. I always tried to forget both of them. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘But how? YOU don’t know how. And if you did we haven’t got a + crowbar.’ + </p> + <p> + I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crowbars. You push + and push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It is rather + like the little sliding door in the big door of a hen-house. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know where the crowbar is,’ Alice said. ‘Dicky and I were down here + yesterday when you were su—’ She was going to say sulking, I know, + but she remembered manners ere too late so Oswald bears her no malice. She + went on: ‘Yesterday, when you were upstairs. And we saw the water-tender + open the lock and the weir sluices. It’s quite easy, isn’t it, Dicky?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As easy as kiss your hand,’ said Dicky; ‘and what’s more, I know where he + keeps the other thing he opens the sluices with. I votes we do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do let’s, if we can,’ Noel said, ‘and the bargees will bless the names of + their unknown benefactors. They might make a song about us, and sing it on + winter nights as they pass round the wassail bowl in front of the cabin + fire.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel wanted to very much; but I don’t think it was altogether for + generousness, but because he wanted to see how the sluices opened. Yet + perhaps I do but wrong the boy. + </p> + <p> + We sat and looked at the barge a bit longer, and then Oswald said, well, + he didn’t mind going back to the lock and having a look at the crowbars. + You see Oswald did not propose this; he did not even care very much about + it when Alice suggested it. + </p> + <p> + But when we got to Stoneham Lock, and Dicky dragged the two heavy crowbars + from among the elder bushes behind a fallen tree, and began to pound away + at the sluice of the lock, Oswald felt it would not be manly to stand idly + apart. So he took his turn. + </p> + <p> + It was very hard work but we opened the lock sluices, and we did not drop + the crowbar into the lock either, as I have heard of being done by older + and sillier people. + </p> + <p> + The water poured through the sluices all green and solid, as if it had + been cut with a knife, and where it fell on the water underneath the white + foam spread like a moving counterpane. When we had finished the lock we + did the weir—which is wheels and chains—and the water pours + through over the stones in a magnificent waterfall and sweeps out all + round the weir-pool. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the foaming waterfalls was quite enough reward for our heavy + labours, even without the thought of the unspeakable gratitude that the + bargees would feel to us when they got back to their barge and found her + no longer a stick-in-the-mud, but bounding on the free bosom of the river. + </p> + <p> + When we had opened all the sluices we gazed awhile on the beauties of + Nature, and then went home, because we thought it would be more truly + noble and good not to wait to be thanked for our kind and devoted action—and + besides, it was nearly dinner-time and Oswald thought it was going to + rain. + </p> + <p> + On the way home we agreed not to tell the others, because it would be like + boasting of our good acts. + </p> + <p> + ‘They will know all about it,’ Noel said, ‘when they hear us being blessed + by the grateful bargees, and the tale of the Unknown Helpers is being told + by every village fireside. And then they can write it in the Golden Deed + book.’ + </p> + <p> + So we went home. Denny and H. O. had thought better of it, and they were + fishing in the moat. They did not catch anything. + </p> + <p> + Oswald is very weather-wise—at least, so I have heard it said, and + he had thought there would be rain. There was. It came on while we were at + dinner—a great, strong, thundering rain, coming down in sheets—the + first rain we had had since we came to the Moat House. + </p> + <p> + We went to bed as usual. No presentiment of the coming awfulness clouded + our young mirth. I remember Dicky and Oswald had a wrestling match, and + Oswald won. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night Oswald was awakened by a hand on his face. It + was a wet hand and very cold. Oswald hit out, of course, but a voice said, + in a hoarse, hollow whisper— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be a young ass! Have you got any matches? My bed’s full of water; + it’s pouring down from the ceiling.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s first thoughts was that perhaps by opening those sluices we had + flooded some secret passage which communicated with the top of Moat House, + but when he was properly awake he saw that this could not be, on account + of the river being so low. + </p> + <p> + He had matches. He is, as I said before, a boy full of resources. He + struck one and lit a candle, and Dicky, for it was indeed he, gazed with + Oswald at the amazing spectacle. + </p> + <p> + Our bedroom floor was all wet in patches. Dicky’s bed stood in a pond, and + from the ceiling water was dripping in rich profusion at a dozen different + places. There was a great wet patch in the ceiling, and that was blue, + instead of white like the dry part, and the water dripped from different + parts of it. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Oswald was quite unmanned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Krikey!’ he said, in a heart-broken tone, and remained an instant plunged + in thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth are we to do?’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + And really for a short time even Oswald did not know. It was a + blood-curdling event, a regular facer. Albert’s uncle had gone to London + that day to stay till the next. Yet something must be done. + </p> + <p> + The first thing was to rouse the unconscious others from their deep sleep, + because the water was beginning to drip on to their beds, and though as + yet they knew it not, there was quite a pool on Noel’s bed, just in the + hollow behind where his knees were doubled up, and one of H. O.‘s boots + was full of water, that surged wildly out when Oswald happened to kick it + over. + </p> + <p> + We woke them—a difficult task, but we did not shrink from it. + </p> + <p> + Then we said, ‘Get up, there is a flood! Wake up, or you will be drowned + in your beds! And it’s half past two by Oswald’s watch.’ + </p> + <p> + They awoke slowly and very stupidly. H. O. was the slowest and stupidest. + </p> + <p> + The water poured faster and faster from the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other and turned pale, and Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Hadn’t we better call Mrs Pettigrew?’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald simply couldn’t consent to this. He could not get rid of the + feeling that this was our fault somehow for meddling with the river, + though of course the clear star of reason told him it could not possibly + be the case. + </p> + <p> + We all devoted ourselves, heart and soul, to the work before us. We put + the bath under the worst and wettest place, and the jugs and basins under + lesser streams, and we moved the beds away to the dry end of the room. + Ours is a long attic that runs right across the house. + </p> + <p> + But the water kept coming in worse and worse. Our nightshirts were wet + through, so we got into our other shirts and knickerbockers, but preserved + bareness in our feet. And the floor kept on being half an inch deep in + water, however much we mopped it up. + </p> + <p> + We emptied the basins out of the window as fast as they filled, and we + baled the bath with a jug without pausing to complain how hard the work + was. All the same, it was more exciting than you can think. But in + Oswald’s dauntless breast he began to see that they would HAVE to call Mrs + Pettigrew. + </p> + <p> + A new waterfall broke out between the fire-grate and the mantelpiece, and + spread in devastating floods. Oswald is full of ingenious devices. I think + I have said this before, but it is quite true; and perhaps even truer this + time than it was last time I said it. + </p> + <p> + He got a board out of the box-room next door, and rested one end in the + chink between the fireplace and the mantelpiece, and laid the other end on + the back of a chair, then we stuffed the rest of the chink with our + nightgowns, and laid a towel along the plank, and behold, a noble stream + poured over the end of the board right into the bath we put there ready. + It was like Niagara, only not so round in shape. The first lot of water + that came down the chimney was very dirty. The wind whistled outside. Noel + said, ‘If it’s pipes burst, and not the rain, it will be nice for the + water-rates.’ Perhaps it was only natural after this for Denny to begin + with his everlasting poetry. He stopped mopping up the water to say: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘By this the storm grew loud apace, + The water-rats were shrieking, + And in the howl of Heaven each face + Grew black as they were speaking.’ +</pre> + <p> + Our faces were black, and our hands too, but we did not take any notice; + we only told him not to gas but to go on mopping. And he did. And we all + did. + </p> + <p> + But more and more water came pouring down. You would not believe so much + could come off one roof. + </p> + <p> + When at last it was agreed that Mrs Pettigrew must be awakened at all + hazards, we went and woke Alice to do the fatal errand. + </p> + <p> + When she came back, with Mrs Pettigrew in a nightcap and red flannel + petticoat, we held our breath. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs Pettigrew did not even say, ‘What on earth have you children been + up to NOW?’ as Oswald had feared. + </p> + <p> + She simply sat down on my bed and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!’ ever so many times. + </p> + <p> + Then Denny said, ‘I once saw holes in a cottage roof. The man told me it + was done when the water came through the thatch. He said if the water lies + all about on the top of the ceiling, it breaks it down, but if you make + holes the water will only come through the holes and you can put pails + under the holes to catch it.’ + </p> + <p> + So we made nine holes in the ceiling with the poker, and put pails, baths + and tubs under, and now there was not so much water on the floor. But we + had to keep on working like niggers, and Mrs Pettigrew and Alice worked + the same. + </p> + <p> + About five in the morning the rain stopped; about seven the water did not + come in so fast, and presently it only dripped slowly. Our task was done. + </p> + <p> + This is the only time I was ever up all night. I wish it happened oftener. + We did not go back to bed then, but dressed and went down. We all went to + sleep in the afternoon, though. Quite without meaning to. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went up on the roof, before breakfast, to see if he could find the + hole where the rain had come in. He did not find any hole, but he found + the cricket ball jammed in the top of a gutter pipe which he afterwards + knew ran down inside the wall of the house and ran into the moat below. It + seems a silly dodge, but so it was. + </p> + <p> + When the men went up after breakfast to see what had caused the flood they + said there must have been a good half-foot of water on the leads the night + before for it to have risen high enough to go above the edge of the lead, + and of course when it got above the lead there was nothing to stop it + running down under it, and soaking through the ceiling. The parapet and + the roofs kept it from tumbling off down the sides of the house in the + natural way. They said there must have been some obstruction in the pipe + which ran down into the house, but whatever it was the water had washed it + away, for they put wires down, and the pipe was quite clear. + </p> + <p> + While we were being told this Oswald’s trembling fingers felt at the wet + cricket ball in his pocket. And he KNEW, but he COULD not tell. He heard + them wondering what the obstruction could have been, and all the time he + had the obstruction in his pocket, and never said a single word. + </p> + <p> + I do not seek to defend him. But it really was an awful thing to have been + the cause of; and Mrs Pettigrew is but harsh and hasty. But this, as + Oswald knows too well, is no excuse for his silent conduct. + </p> + <p> + That night at tea Albert’s uncle was rather silent too. At last he looked + upon us with a glance full of intelligence, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a queer thing happened yesterday. You know there was an angling + competition. The pen was kept full on purpose. Some mischievous busybody + went and opened the sluices and let all the water out. The anglers’ + holiday was spoiled. No, the rain wouldn’t have spoiled it anyhow, Alice; + anglers LIKE rain. The ‘Rose and Crown’ dinner was half of it wasted + because the anglers were so furious that a lot of them took the next train + to town. And this is the worst of all—a barge, that was on the mud + in the pen below, was lifted and jammed across the river and the water + tilted her over, and her cargo is on the river bottom. It was coals.’ + </p> + <p> + During this speech there were four of us who knew not where to turn our + agitated glances. Some of us tried bread-and-butter, but it seemed dry and + difficult, and those who tried tea choked and spluttered and were sorry + they had not let it alone. When the speech stopped Alice said, ‘It was + us.’ + </p> + <p> + And with deepest feelings she and the rest of us told all about it. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not say much. He was turning the obstruction round and round in + his pocket, and wishing with all his sentiments that he had owned up like + a man when Albert’s uncle asked him before tea to tell him all about what + had happened during the night. + </p> + <p> + When they had told all, Albert’s uncle told us four still more plainly, + and exactly, what we had done, and how much pleasure we had spoiled, and + how much of my father’s money we had wasted—because he would have to + pay for the coals being got up from the bottom of the river, if they could + be, and if not, for the price of the coals. And we saw it ALL. + </p> + <p> + And when he had done Alice burst out crying over her plate and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use! We HAVE tried to be good since we’ve been down here. + </p> + <p> + You don’t know how we’ve tried! And it’s all no use. I believe we are the + wickedest children in the whole world, and I wish we were all dead!’ + </p> + <p> + This was a dreadful thing to say, and of course the rest of us were all + very shocked. But Oswald could not help looking at Albert’s uncle to see + how he would take it. + </p> + <p> + He said very gravely, ‘My dear kiddie, you ought to be sorry, and I wish + you to be sorry for what you’ve done. And you will be punished for it.’ + (We were; our pocket-money was stopped and we were forbidden to go near + the river, besides impositions miles long.) ‘But,’ he went on, ‘you + mustn’t give up trying to be good. You are extremely naughty and tiresome, + as you know very well.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice, Dicky, and Noel began to cry at about this time. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are not the wickedest children in the world by any means.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he stood up and straightened his collar, and put his hands in his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re very unhappy now,’ he said, ‘and you deserve to be. But I will say + one thing to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he said a thing which Oswald at least will never forget (though but + little he deserved it, with the obstruction in his pocket, unowned up to + all the time). + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I have known you all for four years—and you know as well + as I do how many scrapes I’ve seen you in and out of—but I’ve never + known one of you tell a lie, and I’ve never known one of you do a mean or + dishonourable action. And when you have done wrong you are always sorry. + Now this is something to stand firm on. You’ll learn to be good in the + other ways some day.’ + </p> + <p> + He took his hands out of his pockets, and his face looked different, so + that three of the four guilty creatures knew he was no longer adamant, and + they threw themselves into his arms. Dora, Denny, Daisy, and H. O., of + course, were not in it, and I think they thanked their stars. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not embrace Albert’s uncle. He stood there and made up his mind + he would go for a soldier. He gave the wet ball one last squeeze, and took + his hand out of his pocket, and said a few words before going to enlist. + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The others may deserve what you say. I hope they do, I’m sure. But I + don’t, because it was my rotten cricket ball that stopped up the pipe and + caused the midnight flood in our bedroom. And I knew it quite early this + morning. And I didn’t own up.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald stood there covered with shame, and he could feel the hateful + cricket ball heavy and cold against the top of his leg, through the + pocket. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said—and his voice made Oswald hot all over, but not + with shame—he said— + </p> + <p> + I shall not tell you what he said. It is no one’s business but Oswald’s; + only I will own it made Oswald not quite so anxious to run away for a + soldier as he had been before. + </p> + <p> + That owning up was the hardest thing I ever did. They did put that in the + Book of Golden Deeds, though it was not a kind or generous act, and did no + good to anyone or anything except Oswald’s own inside feelings. I must say + I think they might have let it alone. Oswald would rather forget it. + Especially as Dicky wrote it in and put this: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oswald acted a lie, which, he knows, is as bad as telling one. But he + owned up when he needn’t have, and this condones his sin. We think he was + a thorough brick to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice scratched this out afterwards and wrote the record of the incident + in more flattering terms. But Dicky had used Father’s ink, and she used + Mrs Pettigrew’s, so anyone can read his underneath the scratching outs. + </p> + <p> + The others were awfully friendly to Oswald, to show they agreed with + Albert’s uncle in thinking I deserved as much share as anyone in any + praise there might be going. + </p> + <p> + It was Dora who said it all came from my quarrelling with Noel about that + rotten cricket ball; but Alice, gently yet firmly, made her shut up. + </p> + <p> + I let Noel have the ball. It had been thoroughly soaked, but it dried all + right. But it could never be the same to me after what it had done and + what I had done. + </p> + <p> + I hope you will try to agree with Albert’s uncle and not think foul scorn + of Oswald because of this story. Perhaps you have done things nearly as + bad yourself sometimes. If you have, you will know how ‘owning up’ soothes + the savage breast and alleviates the gnawings of remorse. + </p> + <p> + If you have never done naughty acts I expect it is only because you never + had the sense to think of anything. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS + </h2> + <p> + The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods began, at + about this time, to bother. + </p> + <p> + They said we had not done anything really noble—not worth speaking + of, that is—for over a week, and that it was high time to begin + again—‘with earnest endeavour’, Daisy said. So then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let’s each of us + think of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others shall help to + work it out, like we did when we were Treasure Seekers. Then when + everybody’s had their go-in we’ll write every single thing down in the + Golden Deed book, and we’ll draw two lines in red ink at the bottom, like + Father does at the end of an account. And after that, if anyone wants to + be good they can jolly well be good on our own, if at all.’ + </p> + <p> + The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, but + Dicky and Oswald were firm. + </p> + <p> + So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness and + obstinacy have to give way. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘It would be a noble action to have all the school-children + from the village and give them tea and games in the paddock. They would + think it so nice and good of us.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dicky showed her that this would not be OUR good act, but Father’s, + because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had already stood us the + keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump up heavily over the + coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generous when someone else + is paying for it all the time, even if it happens to be your father. Then + three others had ideas at the same time and began to explain what they + were. + </p> + <p> + We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of a row. + Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert’s uncle for opening his door + and saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much. But if + you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek or howl—anything + to vary the monotony of your well-sustained conversation.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said kindly, ‘We’re awfully sorry. Are you busy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Busy?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘My heroine is now hesitating on the verge of + an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequent career. + You wouldn’t like her to decide in the middle of such a row that she can’t + hear herself think?’ + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘No, we wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to you this + bright mid-summer day.’ So we all went out. + </p> + <p> + Then Daisy whispered to Dora—they always hang together. Daisy is not + nearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fear the + deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Daisy’s idea is a game that’ll take us all day. She thinks keeping out of + the way when he’s making his heroine decide right would be a noble act, + and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well be playing + something at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said ‘Yes, but what?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a silent interval. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speak up, Daisy, my child.’ Oswald said; ‘fear not to lay bare the utmost + thoughts of that faithful heart.’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle—they laugh right out or + hold their tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisy + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once read a + story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had to go + how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. There was a + tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs, and a + kitten.’ + </p> + <p> + This proposal left us cold, as Albert’s uncle says, because we knew there + could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you may be ever + ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if there’s going to be a + prize there must BE a prize and there’s an end of it. + </p> + <p> + Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, ‘Let’s go into + the barn and make a fort.’ + </p> + <p> + So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about with like + it does hay. + </p> + <p> + The downstairs—I mean down-ladder—part of the barn was fun + too, especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you could + wish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running kindly beside + the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. This is the noble + bull-dog’s gentle and affectionate nature coming out. We all enjoyed the + ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, in the girls crying because of + the poor rats. Girls cannot help this; we must not be waxy with them on + account of it, they have their nature, the same as bull-dogs have, and it + is this that makes them so useful in smoothing the pillows of the sick-bed + and tending wounded heroes. + </p> + <p> + However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having to be + thumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till dinner. There was + roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly pudding. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually, which + means we hadn’t bothered. + </p> + <p> + So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told us his + heroine was by no means out of the wood yet. + </p> + <p> + And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling and you do + not at first care if you never play any runabout game ever any more. But + after a while the torpor begins to pass away. Oswald was the first to + recover from his. + </p> + <p> + He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he turned over + on his back and kicked his legs up, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here; let’s do something.’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of grass, + but I could see she was still thinking about that animal race. So I + explained to her that it would be very poor fun without a tortoise and a + peacock, and she saw this, though not willingly. + </p> + <p> + It was H. O. who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Doing anything with animals is prime, if they only will. Let’s have a + circus!’ + </p> + <p> + At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald’s memory, + and he stretched himself, sat up, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Bully for H. O. Let’s!’ + </p> + <p> + The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up and said + ‘Let’s!’ too. + </p> + <p> + Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of animals at + our command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even all the bright, + glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented jungle paled into + insignificance before the number of live things on the farm. + </p> + <p> + (I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. I know + they are the right words. And Albert’s uncle says your style is always + altered a bit by what you read. And I have been reading the Vicomte de + Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come out of those.) + </p> + <p> + ‘The worst of a circus is,’ Dora said, ‘that you’ve got to teach the + animals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn’t learned + performing would be a bit silly. Let’s give up a week to teaching them and + then have the circus.’ + </p> + <p> + Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of those + who do not understand that when you want to do a thing you do want to, and + not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, a week later. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then perhaps,’ he said, ‘we may find that they have hidden talents + hitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters.’ + </p> + <p> + So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required. This is + it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE + CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE +</pre> + <pre> + 1 Bull for bull-fight. + 1 Horse for ditto (if possible). + 1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring. + 1 Donkey to play see-saw. + 2 White pigs—one to be Learned, and the other to play with the + clown. + Turkeys, as many as possible, because they can make a noise that + that sounds like an audience applauding + The dogs, for any odd parts. + 1 Large black pig—to be the Elephant in the procession. + Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs. + </pre> + <p> + Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but she + let Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock at the + side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good all + round. When we’ve got the performers all there we’ll make a programme, and + then dress for our parts. It’s a pity there won’t be any audience but the + turkeys.’ + </p> + <p> + We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny’s list. The + bull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cowhouse with the + other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away. Oswald + and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bull by, and a + whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind. + </p> + <p> + The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone. + </p> + <p> + Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas. + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay,’ he said, ‘the bull will be shy at first, and he’ll have to be + goaded into the arena.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But goads hurt,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + ‘They don’t hurt the bull,’ Oswald said; ‘his powerful hide is too thick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why does he attend to it,’ Alice asked, ‘if it doesn’t hurt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,’ Oswald + said. ‘I think I shall ride the bull,’ the brave boy went on. ‘A + bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing its joys + and sorrows. It would be something quite new.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t ride bulls,’ Alice said; ‘at least, not if their backs are + sharp like cows.’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood and + prickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climb on + the roof of his house at all comfortably. + </p> + <p> + When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, and + he was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was a + very hot day. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll see,’ Alice said, ‘he won’t want a goad. He’ll be so glad to get + out for a walk he’ll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, and follow + me lovingly all the way.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald called to him. He said, ‘Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!’ because we did + not know the animal’s real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswald + picked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just to make + it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing’s worth of it. So + then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull’s yard and just flicked + the bull with the whiplash. And then the bull DID pay attention. He + started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, uttering a + roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting his head down + close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where we were standing. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoy the + bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the field so as + not to keep the others waiting. + </p> + <p> + As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that perhaps + the bull had rooted up the gate with one paralysing blow, and was now + tearing across the field after him and Alice, with the broken gate + balanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly and looked back; the + bull was still on the right side of the gate. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘I think we’ll do without the bull. He did not seem to want + to come. We must be kind to dumb animals.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, between laughing and crying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Oswald, how can you!’ But we did do without the bull, and we did not + tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just said, ‘The bull + didn’t seem to care about coming.’ + </p> + <p> + The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the cart-horse, but + she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not to use her in the + bull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The Elephant’s is a nice quiet + part, and she was quite big enough for a young one. Then the black pig + could be Learned, and the other two could be something else. They had also + got the goat; he was tethered to a young tree. + </p> + <p> + The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter. The dogs were + there, of course—they always are. + </p> + <p> + So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause and the calves and + pigs. + </p> + <p> + The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. There + were five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got them out after + long and patient toil, and persuaded them that they wanted to go into the + paddock, where the circus was to be. This is done by pretending to drive + them the other way. A pig only knows two ways—the way you want him + to go, and the other. But the turkeys knew thousands of different ways, + and tried them all. They made such an awful row, we had to drop all ideas + of ever hearing applause from their lips, so we came away and left them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ H. O. said, ‘they’ll be sorry enough afterwards, nasty, + unobliging things, because now they won’t see the circus. I hope the other + animals will tell them about it.’ + </p> + <p> + While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky had found + three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, so we let them. + </p> + <p> + Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circus performers + to make friends with each other while we dressed. + </p> + <p> + Oswald and H. O. were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert’s uncle’s + pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they do the + brick-floors with. + </p> + <p> + Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair and + round her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white muslin stuff off + the dressing-table in the girls’ room fastened with pins and tied round + the waist with a small bath towel. She was to be the Dauntless + Equestrienne, and to give her enhancing act a barebacked daring, riding + either a pig or a sheep, whichever we found was freshest and most + skittish. Dora was dressed for the Haute ecole, which means a riding-habit + and a high hat. She took Dick’s topper that he wears with his Etons, and a + skirt of Mrs Pettigrew’s. Daisy, dressed the same as Alice, taking the + muslin from Mrs Pettigrew’s dressing-table without saying anything + beforehand. None of us would have advised this, and indeed we were + thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel, who were wishing + to look like highwaymen, with brown-paper top-boots and slouch hats and + Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing and gazed out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + ‘Krikey!’ said Dick, ‘come on, Oswald!’ and he bounded like an antelope + from the room. + </p> + <p> + Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the window. + Noel had got brown-paper boots too, and a Turkish towel cloak. H. O. had + been waiting for Dora to dress him up for the other clown. He had only his + shirt and knickerbockers and his braces on. He came down as he was—as + indeed we all did. And no wonder, for in the paddock, where the circus was + to be, a blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs were chasing the + sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country to know the fell + nature of our dogs’ improper conduct. + </p> + <p> + We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, and Lady. + Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up dog—Oswald + trained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is awfully deaf, but she did + not matter so much, because the sheep could walk away from her easily. She + has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. She is used to pursuing + that fleet and antlered pride of the forest—the stag—and she + can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distant region of the + paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight. I am sure if + ever anybody’s eyes did start out of their heads with horror, like in + narratives of adventure, ours did then. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Lady + pull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, to + say nothing of its own personal feelings. + </p> + <p> + Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run swiftly as + the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamas belonging to + a grown-up person—as I was—but even so I beat Dicky. He said + afterwards it was because his brown-paper boots came undone and tripped + him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-table muslin and ran + jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all was very nearly up with + the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and looked round. She must have + heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she came towards us, prancing + with happiness, but we said ‘Down!’ and ‘Bad dog!’ and ran sternly on. + </p> + <p> + When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of the paddock + we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep, and I + believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth, if it + had liked, but it would not try. + </p> + <p> + It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into the + water, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheep up + by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on the bank. + It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kick at last, + that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy, panting, silly + donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog; and Dicky got his + shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly to keep it from + flumping off into the water again, while the others fetched the shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, and then + he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Good thing master didn’t come along. He would ha’ called you some tidy + names.’ + </p> + <p> + He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calves too. + He did not seem to care about the other performing animals. + </p> + <p> + Alice, Oswald and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, so we + sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of the circus. + This was it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PROGRAMME +</pre> + <p> + 1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing sheep. Real + water, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O. A. and D. Bastable. (We + thought we might as well put that in though it was over and had happened + accidentally.) + </p> + <p> + 2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, Eliza. A. + Bastable. 3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, + and the other white pig. H. O. and O. Bastable. + </p> + <p> + 4. The See-Saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. said we had only one donkey, so + Dicky said H. O. could be the other. When peace was restored we went on to + 5.) + </p> + <p> + 5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. Haute ecole, on Clover, the + incomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela. + </p> + <p> + 6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, the + well-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes out of + hurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always happens. + (This is the unexpected. (This is a saying Father told me—but I see + I am three deep in brackets so I will close them before I get into any + more).).). + </p> + <p> + 7. The Black but Learned Pig. (‘I daresay he knows something,’ Alice said, + ‘if we can only find out what.’ We DID find out all too soon.) + </p> + <p> + We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly dry—all + except Dick’s brown-paper top-boots, which were mingled with the gurgling + waters of the brook. + </p> + <p> + We went back to the seat of action—which was the iron trough where + the sheep have their salt put—and began to dress up the creatures. + </p> + <p> + We had just tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy’s flannel petticoat + and cetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round the waist of the + Black and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from the back part of the + house, and suddenly we saw that Billy, the acrobatic goat, had got loose + from the tree we had tied him to. (He had eaten all the parts of its bark + that he could get at, but we did not notice it until next day, when led to + the spot by a grown-up.) + </p> + <p> + The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge that goes + over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily proceeded in the + direction of the screams, and, guided by the sound, threaded our way into + the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever fertile in melancholy ideas, said he + wondered whether Mrs Pettigrew was being robbed, or only murdered. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was neither. Mrs + Pettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a broom, occupied the + foreground. In the distance the maid was shrieking in a hoarse and + monotonous way, and trying to shut herself up inside a clothes-horse on + which washing was being aired. + </p> + <p> + On the dresser—which he had ascended by a chair—was Billy, the + acrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. He had found out his Andes + for himself, and even as we gazed he turned and tossed his head in a way + that showed us some mysterious purpose was hidden beneath his calm + exterior. The next moment he put his off-horn neatly behind the end plate + of the next to the bottom row, and ran it along against the wall. The + plates fell crashing on to the soup tureen and vegetable dishes which + adorned the lower range of the Andes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Pettigrew’s screams were almost drowned in the discarding crash and + crackle of the falling avalanche of crockery. + </p> + <p> + Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved the most + dauntless coolness. + </p> + <p> + Disregarding the mop which Mrs Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat in a + timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his trusty + followers, ‘Stand by to catch him!’ + </p> + <p> + But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry out his + long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught the goat’s legs + and tripped it up. The goat fell against another row of plates, righted + itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the soup tureen and the sauce-boats, + and then fell again, this time towards Dicky. The two fell heavily on the + ground together. The trusty followers had been so struck by the daring of + Dicky and his lion-hearted brother, that they had not stood by to catch + anything. + </p> + <p> + The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had a sprained thumb and a lump on his + head like a black marble door-knob. He had to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs Pettigrew said. Also + Albert’s uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her screams. Few + words escaped our lips. There are times when it is not wise to argue; + however, little what has occurred is really our fault. + </p> + <p> + When they had said what they deemed enough and we were let go, we all went + out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she vainly strove to + render firm— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s give up the circus. Let’s put the toys back in the boxes—no, + I don’t mean that—the creatures in their places—and drop the + whole thing. I want to go and read to Dicky.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to be + beaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and we went + out to collect the performing troop and sort it out into its proper + places. + </p> + <p> + Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether Mrs + Pettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not, we had left both gates + open again. The old horse—I mean the trained elephant from Venezuela—was + there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten and tied up after the first + act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, as it says in the programme. The two + white pigs were there, but the donkey was gone. We heard his hoofs down + the road, growing fainter and fainter, in the direction of the ‘Rose and + Crown’. And just round the gatepost we saw a flash of red and white and + blue and black that told us, with dumb signification, that the pig was off + in exactly the opposite direction. Why couldn’t they have gone the same + way? But no, one was a pig and the other was a donkey, as Denny said + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and H. O. started after the donkey; the rest of us, with one accord, + pursued the pig—I don’t know why. It trotted quietly down the road; + it looked very black against the white road, and the ends on the top, + where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it trotted. At first we + thought it would be easy to catch up to it. This was an error. + </p> + <p> + When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and looked + round at us, and nodded. (I daresay you won’t swallow this, but you may + safely. It’s as true as true, and so’s all that about the goat. I give you + my sacred word of honour.) I tell you the pig nodded as much as to say— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes. You think you will, but you won’t!’ and then as soon as we moved + again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o’er miles and miles of + strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. When we met people, + which wasn’t often, we called out to them to help us, but they only waved + their arms and roared with laughter. One chap on a bicycle almost tumbled + off his machine, and then he got off it and propped it against a gate and + sat down in the hedge to laugh properly. You remember Alice was still + dressed up as the gay equestrienne in the dressing-table pink and white, + with rosy garlands, now very droopy, and she had no stockings on, only + white sand-shoes, because she thought they would be easier than boots for + balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backed act. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. It is + really IMPOSSIBLE to run speedfully in another man’s pyjamas, so Oswald + had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockers belonging to his + Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck, to carry them easily. He + was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as Alice suggested, because he did + not know the roads, and for aught he recked they might have been infested + with footpads. If it had been his own pyjamas it would have been + different. (I’m going to ask for pyjamas next winter, they are so useful + in many ways.) + </p> + <p> + Noel was a highwayman in brown-paper gaiters and bath towels and a cocked + hat of newspaper. I don’t know how he kept it on. And the pig was + encircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the same, I think if + I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter distress about a pig I + should have tried to lend a helping hand and not sat roaring in the hedge, + no matter how the travellers and the pig might have been dressed. + </p> + <p> + It was hotter than anyone would believe who has never had occasion to hunt + the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got out of Oswald’s + hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet with what the village + blacksmith’s was wet with, and not his fair brow alone. It ran down his + face and washed the red off in streaks, and when he rubbed his eyes he + only made it worse. Alice had to run holding the equestrienne skirts on + with both hands, and I think the brown-paper boots bothered Noel from the + first. Dora had her skirt over her arm and carried the topper in her hand. + It was no use to tell ourselves it was a wild boar hunt—we were long + past that. + </p> + <p> + At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted man. I + think, perhaps, he had a pig of his own—or, perhaps, children. + Honour to his name! + </p> + <p> + He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pig + right-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up the + drive. We followed. What else were we to do, I should like to know? + </p> + <p> + The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to the right + and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, all together!’ cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to give the + word of command. ‘Surround him!—cut off his retreat!’ + </p> + <p> + We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’ve got him!’ cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got on to a bed + of yellow pansies close against the red house wall. + </p> + <p> + All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank from + meeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig pass him, and + the next moment, with a squeak that said ‘There now!’ as plain as words, + the pig bolted into a French window. The pursuers halted not. This was no + time for trivial ceremony. In another moment the pig was a captive. Alice + and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of a table that had + had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their prey stood the + startled members of a parish society for making clothes for the poor + heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. They were + reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarry to earth + under their table. Even as he crossed the threshold I heard something + about ‘black brothers being already white to the harvest’. All the ladies + had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while the curate read + aloud to them. You think they screamed when they saw the Pig and Us? You + are right. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved badly. + Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig’s doing, and asked pardon + quite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and Alice said how sorry + we were but really it was NOT our fault this time. The curate looked a bit + nasty, but the presence of ladies made him keep his hot blood to himself. + </p> + <p> + When we had explained, we said, ‘Might we go?’ The curate said, ‘The + sooner the better.’ But the Lady of the House asked for our names and + addresses, and said she should write to our Father. (She did, and we heard + of it too.) They did not do anything to us, as Oswald at one time believed + to be the curate’s idea. They let us go. + </p> + <p> + And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig by. + </p> + <p> + ‘In case it should come back into your nice room,’ Alice said. ‘And that + would be such a pity, wouldn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as soon as + the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came away. The scene + in the drawing-room had not been long. The pig went slowly, + </p> + <p> + ‘Like the meandering brook,’ + </p> + <p> + Denny said. Just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened, and the little + girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here,’ she said. ‘You must be hungry if you’ve come all that way. + </p> + <p> + I think they might have given you some tea after all the trouble you’ve + had.’ We took the cake with correct thanks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I could play at circuses,’ she said. ‘Tell me about it.’ + </p> + <p> + We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said perhaps + it was better to hear about than do, especially the goat’s part and + Dicky’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do wish auntie had given you tea,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to make + allowances for grown-up people. When we parted she said she would never + forget us, and Oswald gave her his pocket button-hook and corkscrew + combined for a keepsake. + </p> + <p> + Dicky’s act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only thing + out of that day that was put in the Golden Deed book, and he put that in + himself while we were hunting the pig. + </p> + <p> + Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to write + our own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us all away; and + you must pity the dull, and not blame them. + </p> + <p> + I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how the + donkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). Nor will I + tell you a word of all that was said and done to the intrepid hunters of + the Black and Learned. I have told you all the interesting part. Seek not + to know the rest. It is better buried in obliquity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE) + </h2> + <p> + You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how people who + live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in town because the + country is so dull. I do not agree with this at all. In London, or at any + rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless you make it happen; or if it happens + it doesn’t happen to you, and you don’t know the people it does happen to. + But in the country the most interesting events occur quite freely, and + they seem to happen to you as much as to anyone else. Very often quite + without your doing anything to help. + </p> + <p> + The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country are much + jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing things with + animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or bakering or + oil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of course, a plumber’s and + gasfitter’s, and he is the same in town or country—most interesting + and like an engineer. + </p> + <p> + I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off once at our + old house in Lewisham, when my father’s business was feeling so poorly. He + was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky over two yards and a + quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that only wanted a washer, + and a whole handful of screws to do what we liked with. We screwed the + back door up with the screws, I remember, one night when Eliza was out + without leave. There was an awful row. We did not mean to get her into + trouble. We only thought it would be amusing for her to find the door + screwed up when she came down to take in the milk in the morning. But I + must not say any more about the Lewisham house. It is only the pleasures + of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, or any sort of exploring. + </p> + <p> + I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very good, + and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald’s destiny looks at + present as if it might be different. + </p> + <p> + We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the North + Pole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and doing dull and + praiseable things, like sewing, and helping with the cooking, and taking + invalid delicacies to the poor and indignant, Daisy and Dora were wholly + out of it both times, though Dora’s foot was now quite well enough to have + gone to the North Pole or the Equator either. They said they did not mind + the first time, because they like to keep themselves clean; it is another + of their queer ways. And they said they had had a better time than us. (It + was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hot cakes for tea.) The + second time they said they were lucky not to have been in it. And perhaps + they were right. But let me to my narrating. I hope you will like it. I am + going to try to write it a different way, like the books they give you for + a prize at a girls’ school—I mean a ‘young ladies’ school’, of + course—not a high school. High schools are not nearly so silly as + some other kinds. Here goes: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Ah, me!” sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing her elegant + hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fair tresses, “how + sad it is—is it not?—to see able-bodied youths and young + ladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and luxury.” + </p> + <p> + ‘The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, at the + group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaous beech tree + and ate black currants. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Dear brothers and sisters,” the blushing girl went on, “could we not, + even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted lives of + ours, and seek some occupation at once improving and agreeable?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister,” replied the cleverest + of her brothers, on whose brow—’ + </p> + <p> + It’s no use. I can’t write like these books. I wonder how the books’ + authors can keep it up. + </p> + <p> + What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in the + orchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here, let’s do something. It’s simply silly to waste a day + like this. It’s just on eleven. Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said, ‘Where to?’ + </p> + <p> + This was the beginning of it. + </p> + <p> + The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of them is a + sort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that flows at the + other side of the orchard. + </p> + <p> + It was this stream that Alice meant when she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real live + Egyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it lurked + undisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to say so. It is a + great thing to know when not to say things. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not have it an Arctic expedition?’ said Dicky; ‘then we could take an + ice-axe, and live on blubber and things. Besides, it sounds cooler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vote! vote!’ cried Oswald. So we did. Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Denny + voted for the river of the ibis and the crocodile. Dicky, H. O., and the + other girls for the region of perennial winter and rich blubber. + </p> + <p> + So Alice said, ‘We can decide as we go. Let’s start anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted to take + something different, and nobody thought the other people’s things would be + the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with grown-up expeditions. So + then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest emergency that ever emerged yet, + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the shed in the + corner of the stableyard where we got the door for the raft. Then the + captain can decide who’s to take what.’ + </p> + <p> + This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit out an + expedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not whether your + exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or merely to the world of + icebergs and the Polar bear. + </p> + <p> + Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and a + mackintosh. + </p> + <p> + H. O. brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a pair of + old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in case the + expedition turned out icy. + </p> + <p> + Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, and had + also obtained—I know not by what means—a jar of pickled + onions. + </p> + <p> + Denny had a walking-stick—we can’t break him of walking with it—a + book to read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a butterfly net + and a box with a cork in it, a tennis ball, if we happened to want to play + rounders in the pauses of exploring, two towels and an umbrella in the + event of camping or if the river got big enough to bathe in or to be + fallen into. + </p> + <p> + Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of scissors and + needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. + </p> + <p> + And she had thoughtfully brought the tablecloth off the small table in the + dining-room, so that we could make all the things up into one bundle and + take it in turns to carry it. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the others + neglected this. + </p> + <p> + All the stores for the expedition were put down on the tablecloth and the + corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald’s muscley arms could + raise from the ground, so we decided not to take it, but only the + best-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw loft, for there are many + ups and downs in life, and grub is grub at any time, and so are stores of + all kinds. The pickled onions we had to leave, but not for ever. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other’s necks as + usual, like a picture on a grocer’s almanac, and said they weren’t coming. + </p> + <p> + It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were differences of + opinion among the explorers about what eatables we ought to have taken, + and H. O. had lost one of his garters and wouldn’t let Alice tie it up + with her handkerchief, which the gentle sister was quite willing to do. So + it was a rather gloomy expedition that set off that bright sunny day to + seek the source of the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare (or the + frozen plains Mr Nansen wrote that big book about). + </p> + <p> + But the balmy calm of peaceful Nature soon made the others less cross—Oswald + had not been cross exactly but only disinclined to do anything the others + wanted—and by the time we had followed the stream a little way, and + had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or two at him, harmony was + restored. We did not hit the rat. + </p> + <p> + You will understand that we were not the sort of people to have lived so + long near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed it was the same + stream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we had the circus. And + of course we had often paddled in it—in the shallower parts. But now + our hearts were set on exploring. At least they ought to have been, but + when we got to the place where the stream goes under a wooden + sheep-bridge, Dicky cried, ‘A camp! a camp!’ and we were all glad to sit + down at once. Not at all like real explorers, who know no rest, day or + night, till they have got there (whether it’s the North Pole, or the + central point of the part marked ‘Desert of Sahara’ on old-fashioned + maps). + </p> + <p> + The food supplies obtained by various members were good and plenty of it. + Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon cheese-cakes, raisins, and + cold apple dumplings. It was all very decent, but Oswald could not help + feeling that the source of the Nile (or North Pole) was a long way off, + and perhaps nothing much when you got there. + </p> + <p> + So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking into + the bank when the things to eat were all gone— + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls out of + clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book called Foul Play, + and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or something, at the same + time.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do putty + when you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that had hung over + the explorers became expelled, and we all got under the shadow of the + bridge and messed about with clay. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be jolly!’ Alice said, ‘and we can give the huge platters to poor + cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. That would really + be a very golden deed.’ + </p> + <p> + It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make huge + platters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any size, unless + you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up the edges they + crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had all got our shoes and + stockings off. It is impossible to go on being cross when your feet are in + cold water; and there is something in the smooth messiness of clay, and + not minding how dirty you get, that would soothe the savagest breast that + ever beat. + </p> + <p> + After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and tried + little things. We made some platters—they were like flower-pot + saucers; and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel + to slab the clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out + with wet fingers, and it was a bowl—at least they said it was. When + we’d made a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it + seemed a pity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and + when it had burnt down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among + the little red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuel + over the top. It was a fine fire. + </p> + <p> + Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to come + back next day and get our pots. + </p> + <p> + As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The bonfire’s going pretty strong.’ + </p> + <p> + We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against the evening + sky. And we had left it,a smouldering flat heap. + </p> + <p> + ‘The clay must have caught alight,’ H. O. said. ‘Perhaps it’s the kind + that burns. I know I’ve heard of fireclay. And there’s another sort you + can eat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, shut up!’ Dicky said with anxious scorn. + </p> + <p> + With one accord we turned back. We all felt THE feeling—the one that + means something fatal being up and it being your fault. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, Alice said, ‘a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was + passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agony + enveloped in flames.’ + </p> + <p> + We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but we + hoped Alice was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we saw it + was as bad nearly as Alice’s wild dream. For the wooden fence leading up + to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billy oh. + </p> + <p> + Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself, + ‘This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!’ + </p> + <p> + And he was. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hats + full of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never put + the bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly the sort + of wigging you get for an accident like this. + </p> + <p> + So he said, ‘Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuck them + along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl’s clothes’ll catch as sure + as fate.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would not + let him and H. O. wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced warily to the + end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over the end bit, like a + linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering invalid who has got + bronchitis. The burning wood hissed and smouldered, and Oswald fell back, + almost choked with the smoke. But at once he caught up the other wet + jacket and put it on another place, and of course it did the trick as he + had known it would do. But it was a long job, and the smoke in his eyes + made the young hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turn as they had + bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; the devouring element + was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire with clay to keep it from + getting into mischief again, and then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we must go and tell.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ Oswald said shortly. He had meant to tell all the time. + </p> + <p> + So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went at once, + because if you have any news like that to tell it only makes it worse if + you wait about. When we had told him he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You little —-.’ I shall not say what he said besides that, because + I am sure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when he went to + church, if not before. + </p> + <p> + We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying how + sorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but only said + he daresayed, just like a woman does. Then he went to look at his bridge, + and we went in to our tea. The jackets were never quite the same again. + </p> + <p> + Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the daresaying of a + farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. Albert’s + uncle was away so we got no double slating; and next day we started again + to discover the source of the river of cataracts (or the region of + mountain-like icebergs). + </p> + <p> + We set out, heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora had made + themselves, and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real explorers most + likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter to carry than stone + bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, which would come cheaper; and + you could make the girls carry it on their back, like in pictures of the + daughters of regiments. + </p> + <p> + We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thought of the + fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer and leave the + bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, determined to reach + our destination, Tropic or Polar, that day. + </p> + <p> + Denny and H. O. wanted to stop and try to make a fashionable + watering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like a + small-sized sea, but Noel said, ‘No.’ We did not like fashionableness. + </p> + <p> + ‘YOU ought to, at any rate,’ Denny said. ‘A Mr Collins wrote an Ode to the + Fashions, and he was a great poet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan,’ Noel said, ‘but I’m not + bound to like HIM.’ I think it was smart of Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘People aren’t obliged to like everything they write about even, let alone + read,’ Alice said. ‘Look at “Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!” and all the + pieces of poetry about war, and tyrants, and slaughtered saints—and + the one you made yourself about the black beetle, Noel.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay was + past; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a field and a + half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. The stream was broad + and shallow at this part, and you could see the stones and gravel at the + bottom, and millions of baby fishes, and a sort of skating-spiders walking + about on the top of the water. Denny said the water must be ice for them + to be able to walk on it, and this showed we were getting near the North + Pole. But Oswald had seen a kingfisher by the wood, and he said it was an + ibis, so this was even. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear he said, ‘Let’s be + beavers and make a dam.’ And everybody was so hot they agreed joyously, + and soon our clothes were tucked up as far as they could go and our legs + looked green through the water, though they were pink out of it. + </p> + <p> + Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about beavers + take care to let you know. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on the way + to the Polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, and Dicky + owned it was warm for Polar regions. He had brought the ice-axe (it is + called the wood chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever ready and able to + command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the bank while we heaped + stones across the stream. It was clayey here, or of course dam making + would have been vain, even for the best-trained beaver. + </p> + <p> + When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against them—nearly + across the stream, leaving about two feet for the water to go through—then + more stones, and then lumps of clay stamped down as hard as we could. The + industrious beavers spent hours over it, with only one easy to eat cake + in. And at last the dam rose to the level of the bank. Then the beavers + collected a great heap of clay, and four of them lifted it and dumped it + down in the opening where the water was running. It did splash a little, + but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind a bit of a wetting, as + Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more clay the work was completed. + We must have used tons of clay; there was quite a big long hole in the + bank above the dam where we had taken it out. + </p> + <p> + When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot he had + to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs. + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went through + fields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got steeper and + higher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their mysterious branches, + and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale who go out to seek their + fortunes. + </p> + <p> + And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way for; the + stream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, and however much + you stood in the water and stuck your head down between your knees you + could not see any light at the other end. + </p> + <p> + The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers. + </p> + <p> + Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Alice, you’ve got a candle. Let’s explore.’ This gallant proposal met but + a cold response. The others said they didn’t care much about it, and what + about tea? + </p> + <p> + I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind their + teas is simply beastly. + </p> + <p> + Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, not at + all like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’M going. If you funk it you’d better cut along home and ask + your nurses to put you to bed.’ So then, of course, they agreed to go. + Oswald went first with the candle. It was not comfortable; the architect + of that dark subterranean passage had not imagined anyone would ever be + brave enough to lead a band of beavers into its inky recesses, or he would + have built it high enough to stand upright in. As it was, we were bent + almost at a right angle, and this is very awkward if for long. + </p> + <p> + But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to the groans + of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about their backs. + </p> + <p> + It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not sorry to + say, ‘I see daylight.’ The followers cheered as well as they could as they + splashed after him. The floor was stone as well as the roof, so it was + easy to walk on. I think the followers would have turned back if it had + been sharp stones or gravel. + </p> + <p> + And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger and + larger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself blinking in the + full sun, and the candle he carried looked simply silly. He emerged, and + the others too, and they stretched their backs and the word ‘krikey’ fell + from more than one lip. It had indeed been a cramping adventure. Bushes + grew close to the mouth of the tunnel, so we could not see much landscape, + and when we had stretched our backs we went on upstream and nobody said + they’d had jolly well enough of it, though in more than one young heart + this was thought. + </p> + <p> + It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how cold it + was underground. The stream was getting smaller and smaller. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘This can’t be the way. I expect there was a turning to the + North Pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was cold enough + there.’ + </p> + <p> + But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, and Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest profusion. Such + blossoms as these never opened in a frigid what’s-its-name.’ + </p> + <p> + It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy place + like I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and it was simply + crammed with queer plants, and flowers we never saw before or since. And + the stream was quite thin. It was torridly hot, and softish to walk on. + There were rushes and reeds and small willows, and it was all tangled over + with different sorts of grasses—and pools here and there. We saw no + wild beasts, but there were more different kinds of wild flies and beetles + than you could believe anybody could bear, and dragon-flies and gnats. The + girls picked a lot of flowers. I know the names of some of them, but I + will not tell you them because this is not meant to be instructing. So I + will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, loose-strife, lady’s bed-straw and + willow herb—both the larger and the lesser. + </p> + <p> + Everyone now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than in natural + fields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and play at savages, + instead of keeping respectable in your boots. + </p> + <p> + But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly. + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home the + same way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the distance + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There must be a road there, let’s make for it,’ which was quite a simple + and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any credit for it. So + we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the brambles, and the water + squelched in our boots, and Alice’s blue muslin frock was torn all over in + those crisscross tears which are considered so hard to darn. + </p> + <p> + We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, so we + knew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and hotter and + hotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our brows and rolled down + our noses and off our chins. And the flies buzzed, and the gnats stung, + and Oswald bravely sought to keep up Dicky’s courage, when he tripped on a + snag and came down on a bramble bush, by saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘You see it IS the source of the Nile we’ve discovered. What price North + Poles now?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it HAD been the + Pole, anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what is his + own idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties besides just + leading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of the expedition, + whether Polar or Equatorish. + </p> + <p> + So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the tottering + Denny a hand over the rough places. Denny’s feet hurt him, because when he + was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of his pocket, and boots + without stockings are not a bed of luxuriousness. And he is often unlucky + with his feet. + </p> + <p> + Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s paddle.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the boy, and + generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting late and the others + were ahead, so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, rot! come on.’ + </p> + <p> + Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they are hot + enough, and if their feet are hurting them. ‘I don’t care, I shall!’ he + said. + </p> + <p> + Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He just said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well don’t be all day about it,’ for he is a kind-hearted boy and can + make allowances. So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool. ‘Oh, + it’s ripping!’ he said. ‘You ought to come in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It looks beastly muddy,’ said his tolerating leader. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a bit,’ Denny said, ‘but the mud’s just as cool as the water, and + so soft, it squeezes between your toes quite different to boots.’ + </p> + <p> + And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in. + </p> + <p> + But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may have been + because both his bootlaces were in hard knots. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, or + whatever it was. + </p> + <p> + Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing about, and + getting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you would have thought + his was a most envious and happy state. But alas! the brightest cloud had + a waterproof lining. He was just saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a silly, Oswald. You’d much better—’ when he gave a + blood-piercing scream, and began to kick about. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s up?’ cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the way + Denny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in this quiet + and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the shark bit Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, it’s biting me. Oh, it’s biting me all over my legs! Oh, + what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!’ remarked Denny, among his + screams, and he splashed towards the bank. Oswald went into the water and + caught hold of him and helped him out. It is true that Oswald had his + boots on, but I trust he would not have funked the unknown terrors of the + deep, even without his boots, I am almost sure he would not have. + </p> + <p> + When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror and + amaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black, slug-looking + things. Denny turned green in the face—and even Oswald felt a bit + queer, for he knew in a moment what the black dreadfulnesses were. He had + read about them in a book called Magnet Stories, where there was a girl + called Theodosia, and she could play brilliant trebles on the piano in + duets, but the other girl knew all about leeches which is much more useful + and golden deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but they wouldn’t, + and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered from the Magnet + Stories how to make the leeches begin biting—the girl did it with + cream—but he could not remember how to stop them, and they had not + wanted any showing how to begin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, oh!’ Denny + observed, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Be a man! Buck up! If you won’t let me take them off you’ll just have to + walk home in them.’ + </p> + <p> + At this thought the unfortunate youth’s tears fell fast. But Oswald gave + him an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he consented to buck up, + and the two struggled on towards the others, who were coming back, + attracted by Denny’s yells. He did not stop howling for a moment, except + to breathe. No one ought to blame him till they have had eleven leeches on + their right leg and six on their left, making seventeen in all, as Dicky + said, at once. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on the road—where + the telegraph wires were—was interested by his howls, and came + across the marsh to us as hard as he could. When he saw Denny’s legs he + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Blest if I didn’t think so,’ and he picked Denny up and carried him under + one arm, where Denny went on saying ‘Oh!’ and ‘It does hurt’ as hard as + ever. + </p> + <p> + Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom of youth, + and a farm-labourer by trade, in corduroys, carried the wretched sufferer + to the cottage where he lived with his aged mother; and then Oswald found + that what he had forgotten about the leeches was SALT. The young man in + the bloom of youth’s mother put salt on the leeches, and they squirmed + off, and fell with sickening, slug-like flops on the brick floor. + </p> + <p> + Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc., carried Denny home on + his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he looked like + ‘wounded warriors returning’. + </p> + <p> + It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way the + young explorers had come. + </p> + <p> + He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness are their + own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns Albert’s uncle + gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not sure Alice ought to + have put him in the Golden Deed book which was supposed to be reserved for + Us. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile (or + North Pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the gentlest reader may + be. + </p> + <p> + The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the sofa, + and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white currants, which + we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when Mrs Pettigrew, the + housekeeper, put her head in at the door and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir?’ to Albert’s uncle. And + her voice was the kind that makes you look at each other when the grown-up + has gone out, and you are silent, with your bread-and-butter halfway to + the next bite, or your teacup in mid flight to your lips. + </p> + <p> + It was as we suppose. Albert’s uncle did not come back for a long while. + We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that time, of course, + and we thought we might as well finish the raspberries and white currants. + We kept some for Albert’s uncle, of course, and they were the best ones + too but when he came back he did not notice our thoughtful unselfishness. + </p> + <p> + He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very likely no + supper. + </p> + <p> + He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is something + like the calmness of despair. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a dam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We were being beavers,’ said H. O., in proud tones. He did not see as we + did where Albert’s uncle’s tone pointed to. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ said Albert’s uncle, rubbing his hands through his hair. ‘No + doubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build dams with your + bolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you took for it left a + channel through which it has run down and ruined about seven pounds’ worth + of freshly-reaped barley. Luckily the farmer found it out in time or you + might have spoiled seventy pounds’ worth. And you burned a bridge + yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice added, + ‘We didn’t MEAN to be naughty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘you never do. Oh, yes, I’ll kiss + you—but it’s bed and it’s two hundred lines to-morrow, and the line + is—“Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread Dams.” It + will be a capital exercise in capital B’s and D’s.’ + </p> + <p> + We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went to bed. + </p> + <p> + I got jolly sick of capital B’s and D’s before sunset on the morrow. That + night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ retorted his brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is one thing about it,’ Oswald went on, ‘it does show it was a + rattling good dam anyhow.’ + </p> + <p> + And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or explorers, + Polar or otherwise) fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE + </h2> + <p> + It really was not such a bad baby—for a baby. Its face was round and + quite clean, which babies’ faces are not always, as I daresay you know by + your own youthful relatives; and Dora said its cape was trimmed with real + lace, whatever that may be—I don’t see myself how one kind of lace + can be realler than another. It was in a very swagger sort of perambulator + when we saw it; and the perambulator was standing quite by itself in the + lane that leads to the mill. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder whose baby it is,’ Dora said. ‘Isn’t it a darling, Alice?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice agreed to its being one, and said she thought it was most likely the + child of noble parents stolen by gipsies. + </p> + <p> + ‘These two, as likely as not,’ Noel said. ‘Can’t you see something + crime-like in the very way they’re lying?’ + </p> + <p> + They were two tramps, and they were lying on the grass at the edge of the + lane on the shady side fast asleep, only a very little further on than + where the Baby was. They were very ragged, and their snores did have a + sinister sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect they stole the titled heir at dead of night, and they’ve been + travelling hot-foot ever since, so now they’re sleeping the sleep of + exhaustedness,’ Alice said. ‘What a heart-rending scene when the patrician + mother wakes in the morning and finds the infant aristocrat isn’t in bed + with his mamma.’ + </p> + <p> + The Baby was fast asleep or else the girls would have kissed it. They are + strangely fond of kissing. The author never could see anything in it + himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘If the gipsies DID steal it,’ Dora said ‘perhaps they’d sell it to us. I + wonder what they’d take for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What could you do with it if you’d got it?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, adopt it, of course,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve often thought I should enjoy + adopting a baby. It would be a golden deed, too. We’ve hardly got any in + the book yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought there were enough of us,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but you’re none of you babies,’ said Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless you count H. O. as a baby: he behaves jolly like one sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + This was because of what had happened that morning when Dicky found H. O. + going fishing with a box of worms, and the box was the one Dicky keeps his + silver studs in, and the medal he got at school, and what is left of his + watch and chain. The box is lined with red velvet and it was not nice + afterwards. And then H. O. said Dicky had hurt him, and he was a beastly + bully, and he cried. We thought all this had been made up, and were sorry + to see it threaten to break out again. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, bother the Baby! Come along, do!’ + </p> + <p> + And the others came. + </p> + <p> + We were going to the miller’s with a message about some flour that hadn’t + come, and about a sack of sharps for the pigs. + </p> + <p> + After you go down the lane you come to a clover-field, and then a + cornfield, and then another lane, and then it is the mill. It is a jolly + fine mill: in fact it is two—water and wind ones—one of each + kind—with a house and farm buildings as well. I never saw a mill + like it, and I don’t believe you have either. + </p> + <p> + If we had been in a story-book the miller’s wife would have taken us into + the neat sanded kitchen where the old oak settle was black with time and + rubbing, and dusted chairs for us—old brown Windsor chairs—and + given us each a glass of sweet-scented cowslip wine and a thick slice of + rich home-made cake. And there would have been fresh roses in an old china + bowl on the table. As it was, she asked us all into the parlour and gave + us Eiffel Tower lemonade and Marie biscuits. The chairs in her parlour + were ‘bent wood’, and no flowers, except some wax ones under a glass + shade, but she was very kind, and we were very much obliged to her. We got + out to the miller, though, as soon as we could; only Dora and Daisy stayed + with her, and she talked to them about her lodgers and about her relations + in London. + </p> + <p> + The miller is a MAN. He showed us all over the mills—both kinds—and + let us go right up into the very top of the wind-mill, and showed us how + the top moved round so that the sails could catch the wind, and the great + heaps of corn, some red and some yellow (the red is English wheat), and + the heaps slice down a little bit at a time into a square hole and go down + to the mill-stones. The corn makes a rustling soft noise that is very + jolly—something like the noise of the sea—and you can hear it + through all the other mill noises. + </p> + <p> + Then the miller let us go all over the water-mill. It is fairy palaces + inside a mill. Everything is powdered over white, like sugar on pancakes + when you are allowed to help yourself. And he opened a door and showed us + the great water-wheel working on slow and sure, like some great, round, + dripping giant, Noel said, and then he asked us if we fished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ was our immediate reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why not try the mill-pool?’ he said, and we replied politely; and + when he was gone to tell his man something we owned to each other that he + was a trump. + </p> + <p> + He did the thing thoroughly. He took us out and cut us ash saplings for + rods; he found us in lines and hooks, and several different sorts of bait, + including a handsome handful of meal-worms, which Oswald put loose in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + When it came to bait, Alice said she was going home with Dora and Daisy. + Girls are strange, mysterious, silly things. Alice always enjoys a rat + hunt until the rat is caught, but she hates fishing from beginning to end. + We boys have got to like it. We don’t feel now as we did when we turned + off the water and stopped the competition of the competing anglers. We had + a grand day’s fishing that day. I can’t think what made the miller so kind + to us. Perhaps he felt a thrill of fellow-feeling in his manly breast for + his fellow-sportsmen, for he was a noble fisherman himself. + </p> + <p> + We had glorious sport—eight roach, six dace, three eels, seven + perch, and a young pike, but he was so very young the miller asked us to + put him back, and of course we did. ‘He’ll live to bite another day,’ said + the miller. + </p> + <p> + The miller’s wife gave us bread and cheese and more Eiffel Tower lemonade, + and we went home at last, a little damp, but full of successful ambition, + with our fish on a string. + </p> + <p> + It had been a strikingly good time—one of those times that happen in + the country quite by themselves. Country people are much more friendly + than town people. I suppose they don’t have to spread their friendly + feelings out over so many persons, so it’s thicker, like a pound of butter + on one loaf is thicker than on a dozen. Friendliness in the country is not + scrape, like it is in London. Even Dicky and H. O. forgot the affair of + honour that had taken place in the morning. H. O. changed rods with Dicky + because H. O.‘s was the best rod, and Dicky baited H. O.‘s hook for him, + just like loving, unselfish brothers in Sunday School magazines. + </p> + <p> + We were talking fishlikely as we went along down the lane and through the + cornfield and the cloverfield, and then we came to the other lane where we + had seen the Baby. The tramps were gone, and the perambulator was gone, + and, of course, the Baby was gone too. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder if those gipsies HAD stolen the Baby?’ Noel said dreamily. He + had not fished much, but he had made a piece of poetry. It was this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘How I wish + I was a fish. + I would not look + At your hook, + But lie still and be cool + At the bottom of the pool + And when you went to look + At your cruel hook, + You would not find me there, + So there!’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘If they did steal the Baby,’ Noel went on, ‘they will be tracked by the + lordly perambulator. You can disguise a baby in rags and walnut juice, but + there isn’t any disguise dark enough to conceal a perambulator’s person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You might disguise it as a wheel-barrow,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or cover it with leaves,’ said H. O., ‘like the robins.’ + </p> + <p> + We told him to shut up and not gibber, but afterwards we had to own that + even a young brother may sometimes talk sense by accident. + </p> + <p> + For we took the short cut home from the lane—it begins with a large + gap in the hedge and the grass and weeds trodden down by the hasty feet of + persons who were late for church and in too great a hurry to go round by + the road. Our house is next to the church, as I think I have said before, + some time. + </p> + <p> + The short cut leads to a stile at the edge of a bit of wood (the Parson’s + Shave, they call it, because it belongs to him). The wood has not been + shaved for some time, and it has grown out beyond the stile and here, + among the hazels and chestnuts and young dogwood bushes, we saw something + white. We felt it was our duty to investigate, even if the white was only + the under side of the tail of a dead rabbit caught in a trap. + </p> + <p> + It was not—it was part of the perambulator. I forget whether I said + that the perambulator was enamelled white—not the kind of enamelling + you do at home with Aspinall’s and the hairs of the brush come out and it + is gritty-looking, but smooth, like the handles of ladies very best lace + parasols. And whoever had abandoned the helpless perambulator in that + lonely spot had done exactly as H. O. said, and covered it with leaves, + only they were green and some of them had dropped off. + </p> + <p> + The others were wild with excitement. Now or never, they thought, was a + chance to be real detectives. Oswald alone retained a calm exterior. It + was he who would not go straight to the police station. + </p> + <p> + He said: ‘Let’s try and ferret out something for ourselves before we tell + the police. They always have a clue directly they hear about the finding + of the body. And besides, we might as well let Alice be in anything there + is going. And besides, we haven’t had our dinners yet.’ + </p> + <p> + This argument of Oswald’s was so strong and powerful—his arguments + are often that, as I daresay you have noticed—that the others + agreed. It was Oswald, too, who showed his artless brothers why they had + much better not take the deserted perambulator home with them. + </p> + <p> + ‘The dead body, or whatever the clue is, is always left exactly as it is + found,’ he said, ‘till the police have seen it, and the coroner, and the + inquest, and the doctor, and the sorrowing relations. Besides, suppose + someone saw us with the beastly thing, and thought we had stolen it; then + they would say, “What have you done with the Baby?” and then where should + we be?’ Oswald’s brothers could not answer this question, but once more + Oswald’s native eloquence and far-seeing discerningness conquered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Anyway,’ Dicky said, ‘let’s shove the derelict a little further under + cover.’ + </p> + <p> + So we did. + </p> + <p> + Then we went on home. Dinner was ready and so were Alice and Daisy, but + Dora was not there. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s got a—well, she’s not coming to dinner anyway,’ Alice said + when we asked. ‘She can tell you herself afterwards what it is she’s got.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought it was headache, or pain in the temper, or in the pinafore, + so he said no more, but as soon as Mrs Pettigrew had helped us and left + the room he began the thrilling tale of the forsaken perambulator. He told + it with the greatest thrillingness anyone could have, but Daisy and Alice + seemed almost unmoved. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, very strange,’ and things like that, but both the girls seemed to be + thinking of something else. They kept looking at each other and trying not + to laugh, so Oswald saw they had got some silly secret and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all right! I don’t care about telling you. I only thought you’d like + to be in it. It’s going to be a really big thing, with policemen in it, + and perhaps a judge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In what?’ H. O. said; ‘the perambulator?’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy choked and then tried to drink, and spluttered and got purple, and + had to be thumped on the back. But Oswald was not appeased. When Alice + said, ‘Do go on, Oswald. I’m sure we all like it very much,’ he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no, thank you,’ very politely. ‘As it happens,’ he went on, ‘I’d just + as soon go through with this thing without having any girls in it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the perambulator?’ said H. O. again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a man’s job,’ Oswald went on, without taking any notice of H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you really think so,’ said Alice, ‘when there’s a baby in it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there isn’t,’ said H. O., ‘if you mean in the perambulator.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Blow you and your perambulator,’ said Oswald, with gloomy forbearance. + </p> + <p> + Alice kicked Oswald under the table and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be waxy, Oswald. Really and truly Daisy and I HAVE got a secret, + only it’s Dora’s secret, and she wants to tell you herself. If it was mine + or Daisy’s we’d tell you this minute, wouldn’t we, Mouse?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This very second,’ said the White Mouse. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald consented to take their apologies. + </p> + <p> + Then the pudding came in, and no more was said except asking for things to + be passed—sugar and water, and bread and things. + </p> + <p> + Then when the pudding was all gone, Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come on.’ + </p> + <p> + And we came on. We did not want to be disagreeable, though really we were + keen on being detectives and sifting that perambulator to the very dregs. + But boys have to try to take an interest in their sisters’ secrets, + however silly. This is part of being a good brother. + </p> + <p> + Alice led us across the field where the sheep once fell into the brook, + and across the brook by the plank. At the other end of the next field + there was a sort of wooden house on wheels, that the shepherd sleeps in at + the time of year when lambs are being born, so that he can see that they + are not stolen by gipsies before the owners have counted them. + </p> + <p> + To this hut Alice now led her kind brothers and Daisy’s kind brother. + ‘Dora is inside,’ she said, ‘with the Secret. We were afraid to have it in + the house in case it made a noise.’ + </p> + <p> + The next moment the Secret was a secret no longer, for we all beheld Dora, + sitting on a sack on the floor of the hut, with the Secret in her lap. + </p> + <p> + It was the High-born Babe! + </p> + <p> + Oswald was so overcome that he sat down suddenly, just like Betsy Trotwood + did in David Copperfield, which just shows what a true author Dickens is. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve done it this time,’ he said. ‘I suppose you know you’re a + baby-stealer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve adopted him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it was you,’ Dicky said, ‘who scuttled the perambulator in the + wood?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Alice said; ‘we couldn’t get it over the stile unless Dora put down + the Baby, and we were afraid of the nettles for his legs. His name is to + be Lord Edward.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Dora—really, don’t you think—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you’d been there you’d have done the same,’ said Dora firmly. ‘The + gipsies had gone. Of course something had frightened them and they fled + from justice. And the little darling was awake and held out his arms to + me. No, he hasn’t cried a bit, and I know all about babies; I’ve often + nursed Mrs Simpkins’s daughter’s baby when she brings it up on Sundays. + They have bread and milk to eat. You take him, Alice, and I’ll go and get + some bread and milk for him.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice took the noble brat. It was horribly lively, and squirmed about in + her arms, and wanted to crawl on the floor. She could only keep it quiet + by saying things to it a boy would be ashamed even to think of saying, + such as ‘Goo goo’, and ‘Did ums was’, and ‘Ickle ducksums, then’. + </p> + <p> + When Alice used these expressions the Baby laughed and chuckled and + replied— + </p> + <p> + ‘Daddadda’, ‘Bababa’, or ‘Glueglue’. + </p> + <p> + But if Alice stopped her remarks for an instant the thing screwed its face + up as if it was going to cry, but she never gave it time to begin. + </p> + <p> + It was a rummy little animal. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora came back with the bread and milk, and they fed the noble + infant. It was greedy and slobbery, but all three girls seemed unable to + keep their eyes and hands off it. They looked at it exactly as if it was + pretty. + </p> + <p> + We boys stayed watching them. There was no amusement left for us now, for + Oswald saw that Dora’s Secret knocked the bottom out of the perambulator. + </p> + <p> + When the infant aristocrat had eaten a hearty meal it sat on Alice’s lap + and played with the amber heart she wears that Albert’s uncle brought her + from Hastings after the business of the bad sixpence and the nobleness of + Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Dora, ‘this is a council, so I want to be business-like. The + Duckums Darling has been stolen away; its wicked stealers have deserted + the Precious. We’ve got it. Perhaps its ancestral halls are miles and + miles away. I vote we keep the little Lovey Duck till it’s advertised + for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If Albert’s uncle lets you,’ said Dicky darkly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t say “you” like that,’ Dora said; ‘I want it to be all of our + baby. It will have five fathers and three mothers, and a grandfather and a + great Albert’s uncle, and a great grand-uncle. I’m sure Albert’s uncle + will let us keep it—at any rate till it’s advertised for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And suppose it never is,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then so much the better,’ said Dora, ‘the little Duckyux.’ + </p> + <p> + She began kissing the baby again. Oswald, ever thoughtful, said—‘Well, + what about your dinner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bother dinner!’ Dora said—so like a girl. ‘Will you all agree to be + his fathers and mothers?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anything for a quiet life,’ said Dicky, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, if you like. But you’ll see we shan’t be allowed to keep it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You talk as if he was rabbits or white rats,’ said Dora, ‘and he’s not—he’s + a little man, he is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, he’s no rabbit, but a man. Come on and get some grub, Dora,’ + rejoined the kind-hearted Oswald, and Dora did, with Oswald and the other + boys. Only Noel stayed with Alice. He really seemed to like the baby. When + I looked back he was standing on his head to amuse it, but the baby did + not seem to like him any better whichever end of him was up. + </p> + <p> + Dora went back to the shepherd’s house on wheels directly she had had her + dinner. Mrs Pettigrew was very cross about her not being in to it, but she + had kept her some mutton hot all the same. She is a decent sort. And there + were stewed prunes. We had some to keep Dora company. Then we boys went + fishing again in the moat, but we caught nothing. + </p> + <p> + Just before tea-time we all went back to the hut, and before we got half + across the last field we could hear the howling of the Secret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor little beggar,’ said Oswald, with manly tenderness. ‘They must be + sticking pins in it.’ + </p> + <p> + We found the girls and Noel looking quite pale and breathless. Daisy was + walking up and down with the Secret in her arms. It looked like Alice in + Wonderland nursing the baby that turned into a pig. Oswald said so, and + added that its screams were like it too. + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth is the matter with it?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> don’t know,’ said Alice. ‘Daisy’s tired, and Dora and I are + quite worn out. He’s been crying for hours and hours. YOU take him a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not me,’ replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the Secret. + </p> + <p> + Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the hut. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s cold,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d take off my flannelette + petticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard knot. Here, Oswald, + let’s have your knife.’ + </p> + <p> + With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald’s jacket pocket, and next + moment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and screaming + almost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and to cry at the same + time. This is called hysterics. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that his pocket + was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly given him. And, + anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always carries his knife in + his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the pile of + sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams for a moment to + listen to Dora’s, but almost at once it went on again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, get some water!’ said Alice. ‘Daisy, run!’ + </p> + <p> + The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into the arms + of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have fallen a wreck + to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He tried to pass it on to + the others, but they wouldn’t. Noel would have, but he was busy kissing + Dora and begging her not to. So our hero, for such I may perhaps term him, + found himself the degraded nursemaid of a small but furious kid. + </p> + <p> + He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat its + brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however + innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walked + earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back, while + the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. He + looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithful + eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house. + </p> + <p> + The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms and + Dora, but he answered without anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up,’ he said in a whisper of imperial command. ‘Can’t you see it’s + GONE TO SLEEP?’ + </p> + <p> + As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a very + long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends dragged + their weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was compelled to go on + holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changed hands, + and begin to yell again. Dora’s flannelette petticoat had been got off + somehow—how I do not seek to inquire—and the Secret was + covered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with a + view to concealment if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear. + Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn’t come + there much, it’s too many stairs. + </p> + <p> + With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed, but + did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it did + not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious fits, + it would just as soon have done as not. + </p> + <p> + We expected Albert’s uncle every minute. + </p> + <p> + At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and + saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald + horse—one of the miller’s horses. + </p> + <p> + A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember having + done anything wrong at the miller’s. But you never know. And it seemed + strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we had looked a + bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For we saw that + the distracted one was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Presently he rode off, and Albert’s uncle came in. A deputation met him at + the door—all the boys and Dora, because the baby was her idea. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve found something,’ Dora said, ‘and we want to know whether we may + keep it.’ + </p> + <p> + The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to keep it + after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. Even Noel had said + he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora said it only cried because + it was sleepy, but we reflected that it would certainly be sleepy once a + day, if not oftener. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Let’s see this treasure-trove. Is it a + wild beast?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and see,’ said Dora, and we led him to our room. + </p> + <p> + Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, and + showed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping. + </p> + <p> + ‘A baby!’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘THE Baby! Oh, my cat’s alive!’ + </p> + <p> + That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed with anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where did you?—but that doesn’t matter. We’ll talk of this later.’ + </p> + <p> + He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount his + bicycle and ride off. + </p> + <p> + Quite shortly he returned with the distracted horse-man. + </p> + <p> + It was HIS baby, and not titled at all. The horseman and his wife were the + lodgers at the mill. The nursemaid was a girl from the village. + </p> + <p> + She SAID she only left the Baby five minutes while she went to speak to + her sweetheart who was gardener at the Red House. But we knew she left it + over an hour, and nearly two. + </p> + <p> + I never saw anyone so pleased as the distracted horseman. + </p> + <p> + When we were asked we explained about having thought the Baby was the prey + of gipsies, and the distracted horseman stood hugging the Baby, and + actually thanked us. + </p> + <p> + But when he had gone we had a brief lecture on minding our own business. + But Dora still thinks she was right. As for Oswald and most of the others, + they agreed that they would rather mind their own business all their lives + than mind a baby for a single hour. + </p> + <p> + If you have never had to do with a baby in the frenzied throes of + sleepiness you can have no idea what its screams are like. + </p> + <p> + If you have been through such a scene you will understand how we managed + to bear up under having no baby to adopt. Oswald insisted on having the + whole thing written in the Golden Deed book. Of course his share could not + be put in without telling about Dora’s generous adopting of the forlorn + infant outcast, and Oswald could not and cannot forget that he was the one + who did get that baby to sleep. + </p> + <p> + What a time Mr and Mrs Distracted Horseman must have of it, though—especially + now they’ve sacked the nursemaid. + </p> + <p> + If Oswald is ever married—I suppose he must be some day—he + will have ten nurses to each baby. Eight is not enough. We know that + because we tried, and the whole eight of us were not enough for the needs + of that deserted infant who was not so extra high-born after all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX + </h2> + <p> + It is idle to expect everyone to know everything in the world without + being told. If we had been brought up in the country we should have known + that it is not done—to hunt the fox in August. But in the Lewisham + Road the most observing boy does not notice the dates when it is proper to + hunt foxes. + </p> + <p> + And there are some things you cannot bear to think that anybody would + think you would do; that is why I wish to say plainly at the very + beginning that none of us would have shot a fox on purpose even to save + our skins. Of course, if a man were at bay in a cave, and had to defend + girls from the simultaneous attack of a herd of savage foxes it would be + different. A man is bound to protect girls and take care of them—they + can jolly well take care of themselves really it seems to me—still, + this is what Albert’s uncle calls one of the ‘rules of the game’, so we + are bound to defend them and fight for them to the death, if needful. + Denny knows a quotation which says— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘What dire offence from harmless causes springs, + What mighty contests rise from trefoil things.’ +</pre> + <p> + He says this means that all great events come from three things—threefold, + like the clover or trefoil, and the causes are always harmless. Trefoil is + short for threefold. + </p> + <p> + There were certainly three things that led up to the adventure which is + now going to be told you. The first was our Indian uncle coming down to + the country to see us. The second was Denny’s tooth. The third was only + our wanting to go hunting; but if you count it in it makes the thing about + the trefoil come right. And all these causes were harmless. + </p> + <p> + It is a flattering thing to say, and it was not Oswald who said it, but + Dora. She said she was certain our uncle missed us, and that he felt he + could no longer live without seeing his dear ones (that was us). + </p> + <p> + Anyway, he came down, without warning, which is one of the few bad habits + that excellent Indian man has, and this habit has ended in unpleasantness + more than once, as when we played jungles. + </p> + <p> + However, this time it was all right. He came on rather a dull kind of day, + when no one had thought of anything particularly amusing to do. So that, + as it happened to be dinner-time and we had just washed our hands and + faces, we were all spotlessly clean (com-pared with what we are sometimes, + I mean, of course). + </p> + <p> + We were just sitting down to dinner, and Albert’s uncle was just plunging + the knife into the hot heart of the steak pudding, when there was the + rumble of wheels, and the station fly stopped at the garden gate. And in + the fly, sitting very upright, with his hands on his knees, was our Indian + relative so much beloved. He looked very smart, with a rose in his + buttonhole. How different from what he looked in other days when he helped + us to pretend that our currant pudding was a wild boar we were killing + with our forks. Yet, though tidier, his heart still beat kind and true. + You should not judge people harshly because their clothes are tidy. He had + dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, and told him + everything we thought he would like to hear, and about the Tower of + Mystery, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes my blood boil to think of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told it to + had owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the Uncle, ‘but in India we learn how to freeze our blood and + boil it at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always near boiling-point, + which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for the curry and pepper + they eat. But I must not wander; there is no curry at all in this story. + About temper I will not say. + </p> + <p> + Then Uncle let us all go with him to the station when the fly came back + for him; and when we said good-bye he tipped us all half a quid, without + any insidious distinctions about age or considering whether you were a boy + or a girl. Our Indian uncle is a true-born Briton, with no nonsense about + him. + </p> + <p> + We cheered him like one man as the train went off, and then we offered the + fly-driver a shilling to take us back to the four cross-roads, and the + grateful creature did it for nothing because, he said, the gent had tipped + him something like. How scarce is true gratitude! So we cheered the driver + too for this rare virtue, and then went home to talk about what we should + do with our money. I cannot tell you all that we did with it, because + money melts away ‘like snow-wreaths in thaw-jean’, as Denny says, and + somehow the more you have the more quickly it melts. We all went into + Maidstone, and came back with the most beautiful lot of brown-paper + parcels, with things inside that supplied long-felt wants. But none of + them belongs to this narration, except what Oswald and Denny clubbed to + buy. + </p> + <p> + This was a pistol, and it took all the money they both had, but when + Oswald felt the uncomfortable inside sensation that reminds you who it is + and his money that are soon parted he said to himself— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care. We ought to have a pistol in the house, and one that will + go off, too—not those rotten flintlocks. Suppose there should be + burglars and us totally unarmed?’ + </p> + <p> + We took it in turns to have the pistol, and we decided always to practise + with it far from the house, so as not to frighten the grown-ups, who are + always much nervouser about firearms than we are. + </p> + <p> + It was Denny’s idea getting it; and Oswald owns it surprised him, but the + boy was much changed in his character. We got it while the others were + grubbing at the pastry-cook’s in the High Street, and we said nothing till + after tea, though it was hard not to fire at the birds on the telegraph + wires as we came home in the train. + </p> + <p> + After tea we called a council in the straw-loft, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Denny and I have got a secret.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what it is,’ Dicky said contemptibly. ‘You’ve found out that shop + in Maidstone where peppermint rock is four ounces a penny. H. O. and I + found it out before you did.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘You shut-up. If you don’t want to hear the secret you’d + better bunk. I’m going to administer the secret oath.’ + </p> + <p> + This is a very solemn oath, and only used about real things, and never for + pretending ones, so Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all right; go ahead! I thought you were only rotting.’ + </p> + <p> + So they all took the secret oath. Noel made it up long before, when he had + found the first thrush’s nest we ever saw in the Blackheath garden: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I will not tell, I will not reveal, + I will not touch, or try to steal; + And may I be called a beastly sneak, + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ +</pre> + <p> + It is a little wrong about the poetry, but it is a very binding promise. + They all repeated it, down to H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then,’ Dicky said, ‘what’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald, in proud silence, drew the pistol from his breast and held it out, + and there was a murmur of awful amazement and respect from every one of + the council. The pistol was not loaded, so we let even the girls have it + to look at. And then Dicky said, ‘Let’s go hunting.’ + </p> + <p> + And we decided that we would. H. O. wanted to go down to the village and + get penny horns at the shop for the huntsmen to wind, like in the song, + but we thought it would be more modest not to wind horns or anything + noisy, at any rate not until we had run down our prey. But his talking of + the song made us decide that it was the fox we wanted to hunt. We had not + been particular which animal we hunted before that. + </p> + <p> + Oswald let Denny have first go with the pistol, and when we went to bed he + slept with it under his pillow, but not loaded, for fear he should have a + nightmare and draw his fell weapon before he was properly awake. + </p> + <p> + Oswald let Denny have it, because Denny had toothache, and a pistol is + consoling though it does not actually stop the pain of the tooth. The + toothache got worse, and Albert’s uncle looked at it, and said it was very + loose, and Denny owned he had tried to crack a peach-stone with it. Which + accounts. He had creosote and camphor, and went to bed early, with his + tooth tied up in red flannel. + </p> + <p> + Oswald knows it is right to be very kind when people are ill, and he + forbore to wake the sufferer next morning by buzzing a pillow at him, as + he generally does. He got up and went over to shake the invalid, but the + bird had flown and the nest was cold. The pistol was not in the nest + either, but Oswald found it afterwards under the looking-glass on the + dressing-table. He had just awakened the others (with a hair-brush because + they had not got anything the matter with their teeth), when he heard + wheels, and, looking out, beheld Denny and Albert’s uncle being driven + from the door in the farmer’s high cart with the red wheels. + </p> + <p> + We dressed extra quick, so as to get downstairs to the bottom of the + mystery. And we found a note from Albert’s uncle. It was addressed to + Dora, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Denny’s toothache got him up in the small hours. He’s off to the dentist + to have it out with him, man to man. Home to dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘Denny’s gone to the dentist.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect it’s a relation,’ H. O. said. ‘Denny must be short for Dentist.’ + </p> + <p> + I suppose he was trying to be funny—he really does try very hard. He + wants to be a clown when he grows up. The others laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said Dicky, ‘whether he’ll get a shilling or half-a-crown for + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald had been meditating in gloomy silence, now he cheered up and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course! I’d forgotten that. He’ll get his tooth money, and the drive + too. So it’s quite fair for us to have the fox-hunt while he’s gone. I was + thinking we should have to put it off.’ + </p> + <p> + The others agreed that it would not be unfair. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can have another one another time if he wants to,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + We know foxes are hunted in red coats and on horseback—but we could + not do this—but H. O. had the old red football jersey that was + Albert’s uncle’s when he was at Loretto. He was pleased. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do wish we’d had horns,’ he said grievingly. ‘I should have liked + to wind the horn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We can pretend horns,’ Dora said; but he answered, ‘I didn’t want to + pretend. I wanted to wind something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wind your watch,’ Dicky said. And that was unkind, because we all know H. + O.‘s watch is broken, and when you wind it, it only rattles inside without + going in the least. + </p> + <p> + We did not bother to dress up much for the hunting expedition—just + cocked hats and lath swords; and we tied a card on to H. O.‘s chest with + ‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’ on it; and we tied red flannel round all the + dogs’ necks to show they were fox-hounds. Yet it did not seem to show it + plainly; somehow it made them look as if they were not fox-hounds, but + their own natural breeds—only with sore throats. + </p> + <p> + Oswald slipped the pistol and a few cartridges into his pocket. He knew, + of course, that foxes are not shot; but as he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Who knows whether we may not meet a bear or a crocodile.’ + </p> + <p> + We set off gaily. Across the orchard and through two cornfields, and along + the hedge of another field, and so we got into the wood, through a gap we + had happened to make a day or two before, playing ‘follow my leader’. + </p> + <p> + The wood was very quiet and green; the dogs were happy and most busy. Once + Pincher started a rabbit. We said, ‘View Halloo!’ and immediately started + in pursuit; but the rabbit went and hid, so that even Pincher could not + find him, and we went on. But we saw no foxes. So at last we made Dicky be + a fox, and chased him down the green rides. A wide walk in a wood is + called a ride, even if people never do anything but walk in it. + </p> + <p> + We had only three hounds—Lady, Pincher and Martha—so we joined + the glad throng and were being hounds as hard as we could, when we + suddenly came barking round a corner in full chase and stopped short, for + we saw that our fox had stayed his hasty flight. The fox was stooping over + something reddish that lay beside the path, and he cried— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here!’ in tones that thrilled us throughout. + </p> + <p> + Our fox—whom we must now call Dicky, so as not to muddle the + narration—pointed to the reddy thing that the dogs were sniffing at. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a real live fox,’ he said. And so it was. At least it was real—only + it was quite dead—and when Oswald lifted it up its head was + bleeding. It had evidently been shot through the brain and expired + instantly. Oswald explained this to the girls when they began to cry at + the sight of the poor beast; I do not say he did not feel a bit sorry + himself. + </p> + <p> + The fox was cold, but its fur was so pretty, and its tail and its little + feet. Dicky strung the dogs on the leash; they were so much interested we + thought it was better. + </p> + <p> + ‘It does seem horrid to think it’ll never see again out of its poor little + eyes,’ Dora said, blowing her nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘And never run about through the wood again, lend me your hanky, Dora’ + said Alice. + </p> + <p> + ‘And never be hunted or get into a hen-roost or a trap or anything + exciting, poor little thing,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + The girls began to pick green chestnut leaves to cover up the poor fox’s + fatal wound, and Noel began to walk up and down making faces, the way he + always does when he’s making poetry. He cannot make one without the other. + It works both ways, which is a comfort. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are we going to do now?’ H. O. said; ‘the huntsman ought to cut off + its tail, I’m quite certain. Only, I’ve broken the big blade of my knife, + and the other never was any good.’ + </p> + <p> + The girls gave H. O. a shove, and even Oswald said, ‘Shut up’, for somehow + we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more that day. When + his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked dead at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I wish it wasn’t true!’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, ‘I should like to + pray God to make it not true.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good—only she might + pray God to take care of the fox’s poor little babies, if it had had any, + which I believe she has done ever since. + </p> + <p> + ‘If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really set + out to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox’s feet looked so + helpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I know would not + have been there if it had been alive and able to wash itself. + </p> + <p> + Noel now said, ‘This is the piece of poetry’: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies poor Reynard who is slain, + He will not come to life again. + I never will the huntsman’s horn + Wind since the day that I was born + Until the day I die— + For I don’t like hunting, and this is why.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Let’s have a funeral,’ said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we got Dora + to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we could carry it to + our garden and bury it without bloodying our jackets. Girls’ clothes are + silly in one way, but I think they are useful too. A boy cannot take off + more than his jacket and waistcoat in any emergency, or he is at once + entirely undressed. But I have known Dora take off two petticoats for + useful purposes and look just the same outside afterwards. + </p> + <p> + We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. When we got + near the edge of the wood Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk funeral + songs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come and cry if + they want to.’ He dumped the fox down on the moss under a young oak tree + as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and then he + could tie up the dogs at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re sick of carrying it,’ Dicky remarked, ‘that’s what it is.’ But he + went on condition the rest of us boys went too. + </p> + <p> + While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the wood; it + was a different edge to the one we went in by—close to a lane—and + while they waited for the digging or fatigue party to come back, they + collected a lot of moss and green things to make the fox’s long home soft + for it to lie in. There are no flowers in the woods in August, which is a + pity. + </p> + <p> + When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the fox in. + We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too interested in the + funeral to behave with real, respectable calmness. + </p> + <p> + The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped away the + broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild honeysuckle; Oswald + used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel made faces and poetry—he + was struck so that morning—and the girls sat stroking the clean + parts of the fox’s fur till the grave was deep enough. At last it was; + then Daisy threw in the leaves and grass, and Alice and Dora took the poor + dead fox by his two ends and we helped to put him in the grave. We could + not lower him slowly—he was dropped in, really. Then we covered the + furry body with leaves, and Noel said the Burial Ode he had made up. He + says this was it, but it sounds better now than it did then, so I think he + must have done something to it since: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE FOX’S BURIAL ODE +</pre> + <pre> + ‘Dear Fox, sleep here, and do not wake, + We picked these leaves for your sake + You must not try to rise or move, + We give you this with our love. + Close by the wood where once you grew + Your mourning friends have buried you. + If you had lived you’d not have been + (Been proper friends with us, I mean), + But now you’re laid upon the shelf, + Poor fox, you cannot help yourself, + So, as I say, we are your loving friends— + And here your + Burial Ode, dear Foxy, ends. + P. S.—When in the moonlight bright + The foxes wander of a night, + They’ll pass your grave and fondly think of you, + Exactly like we mean to always do. + So now, dear fox, adieu! + Your friends are few + But true To you. + Adieu!’ + </pre> + <p> + When this had been said we filled in the grave and covered the top of it + with dry leaves and sticks to make it look like the rest of the wood. + People might think it was a treasure, and dig it up, if they thought there + was anything buried there, and we wished the poor fox to sleep sound and + not to be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The interring was over. We folded up Dora’s bloodstained pink cotton + petticoat, and turned to leave the sad spot. + </p> + <p> + We had not gone a dozen yards down the lane when we heard footsteps and a + whistle behind us, and a scrabbling and whining, and a gentleman with two + fox-terriers had called a halt just by the place where we had laid low the + ‘little red rover’. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman stood in the lane, but the dogs were digging—we could + see their tails wagging and see the dust fly. And we SAW WHERE. We ran + back. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, please, do stop your dogs digging there!’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman said ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because we’ve just had a funeral, and that’s the grave.’ + </p> + <p> + The gentleman whistled, but the fox-terriers were not trained like + Pincher, who was brought up by Oswald. The gentleman took a stride through + the hedge gap. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you been burying—pet dicky bird, eh?’ said the gentleman, + kindly. He had riding breeches and white whiskers. + </p> + <p> + We did not answer, because now, for the first time, it came over all of + us, in a rush of blushes and uncomfortableness, that burying a fox is a + suspicious act. I don’t know why we felt this, but we did. + </p> + <p> + Noel said dreamily— + </p> + <pre> + ‘We found his murdered body in the wood, + And dug a grave by which the mourners stood.’ + </pre> + <p> + But no one heard him except Oswald, because Alice and Dora and Daisy were + all jumping about with the jumps of unrestrained anguish, and saying, ‘Oh, + call them off! Do! do!—oh, don’t, don’t! Don’t let them dig.’ + </p> + <p> + Alas! Oswald was, as usual, right. The ground of the grave had not been + trampled down hard enough, and he had said so plainly at the time, but his + prudent counsels had been overruled. Now these busy-bodying, meddling, + mischief-making fox-terriers (how different from Pincher, who minds his + own business unless told otherwise) had scratched away the earth and laid + bare the reddish tip of the poor corpse’s tail. + </p> + <p> + We all turned to go without a word, it seemed to be no use staying any + longer. + </p> + <p> + But in a moment the gentleman with the whiskers had got Noel and Dicky + each by an ear—they were nearest him. H. O. hid in the hedge. + Oswald, to whose noble breast sneakishness is, I am thankful to say, a + stranger, would have scorned to escape, but he ordered his sisters to bunk + in a tone of command which made refusal impossible. + </p> + <p> + ‘And bunk sharp, too’ he added sternly. ‘Cut along home.’ + </p> + <p> + So they cut. The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his angry + fox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue their vile and + degrading occupation; holding on all the time to the ears of Dicky and + Noel, who scorned to ask for mercy. Dicky got purple and Noel got white. + It was Oswald who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t hang on to them, sir. We won’t cut. I give you my word of honour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘YOUR word of honour,’ said the gentleman, in tones for which, in happier + days, when people drew their bright blades and fought duels, I would have + had his heart’s dearest blood. But now Oswald remained calm and polite as + ever. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, on my honour,’ he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears of + Oswald’s brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones. He dropped + the ears and pulled out the body of the fox and held it up. + </p> + <p> + The dogs jumped up and yelled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you talk very big about words of honour. Can you speak + the truth?’ + </p> + <p> + Dickie said, ‘If you think we shot it, you’re wrong. We know better than + that.’ + </p> + <p> + The white-whiskered one turned suddenly to H. O. and pulled him out of the + hedge. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what does that mean?’ he said, and he was pink with fury to the ends + of his large ears, as he pointed to the card on H. O.‘s breast, which + said, ‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald said, ‘We WERE playing at fox-hunting, but we couldn’t find + anything but a rabbit that hid, so my brother was being the fox; and then + we found the fox shot dead, and I don’t know who did it; and we were sorry + for it and we buried it—and that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not quite,’ said the riding-breeches gentleman, with what I think you + call a bitter smile, ‘not quite. This is my land and I’ll have you up for + trespass and damage. Come along now, no nonsense! I’m a magistrate and I’m + Master of the Hounds. A vixen, too! What did you shoot her with? You’re + too young to have a gun. Sneaked your Father’s revolver, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought it was better to be goldenly silent. But it was vain. The + Master of the Hounds made him empty his pockets, and there was the pistol + and the cartridges. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate laughed a harsh laugh of successful disagreeableness. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said he, ‘where’s your licence? You come with me. A week or + two in prison.’ + </p> + <p> + I don’t believe now he could have done it, but we all thought then he + could and would, what’s more. + </p> + <p> + So H. O. began to cry, but Noel spoke up. His teeth were chattering yet he + spoke up like a man. + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘You don’t know us. You’ve no right not to believe us till you’ve + found us out in a lie. We don’t tell lies. You ask Albert’s uncle if we + do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold your tongue,’ said the White-Whiskered. But Noel’s blood was up. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you do put us in prison without being sure,’ he said, trembling more + and more, ‘you are a horrible tyrant like Caligula, and Herod, or Nero, + and the Spanish Inquisition, and I will write a poem about it in prison, + and people will curse you for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ said White Whiskers. ‘We’ll see about that,’ and he turned + up the lane with the fox hanging from one hand and Noel’s ear once more + reposing in the other. + </p> + <p> + I thought Noel would cry or faint. But he bore up nobly—exactly like + an early Christian martyr. + </p> + <p> + The rest of us came along too. I carried the spade and Dicky had the fork. + H. O. had the card, and Noel had the magistrate. At the end of the lane + there was Alice. She had bunked home, obeying the orders of her thoughtful + brother, but she had bottled back again like a shot, so as not to be out + of the scrape. She is almost worthy to be a boy for some things. + </p> + <p> + She spoke to Mr Magistrate and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you taking him?’ + </p> + <p> + The outraged majesty of the magistrate said, ‘To prison, you naughty + little girl.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘Noel will faint. Somebody once tried to take him to prison + before—about a dog. Do please come to our house and see our uncle—at + least he’s not—but it’s the same thing. We didn’t kill the fox, if + that’s what you think—indeed we didn’t. Oh, dear, I do wish you’d + think of your own little boys and girls if you’ve got any, or else about + when you were little. You wouldn’t be so horrid if you did.’ + </p> + <p> + I don’t know which, if either, of these objects the fox-hound master + thought of, but he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, lead on,’ and he let go Noel’s ear and Alice snuggled up to Noel + and put her arm round him. + </p> + <p> + It was a frightened procession, whose cheeks were pale with alarm—except + those between white whiskers, and they were red—that wound in at our + gate and into the hall among the old oak furniture, and black and white + marble floor and things. + </p> + <p> + Dora and Daisy were at the door. The pink petticoat lay on the table, all + stained with the gore of the departed. Dora looked at us all, and she saw + that it was serious. She pulled out the big oak chair and said, ‘Won’t you + sit down?’ very kindly to the white-whiskered magistrate. + </p> + <p> + He grunted, but did as she said. + </p> + <p> + Then he looked about him in a silence that was not comforting, and so did + we. At last he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, you didn’t try to bolt. Speak the truth, and I’ll say no more.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we had. + </p> + <p> + Then he laid the fox on the table, spreading out the petticoat under it, + and he took out a knife and the girls hid their faces. Even Oswald did not + care to look. Wounds in battle are all very well, but it’s different to + see a dead fox cut into with a knife. + </p> + <p> + Next moment the magistrate wiped something on his handkerchief and then + laid it on the table, and put one of my cartridges beside it. It was the + bullet that had killed the fox. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here!’ he said. And it was too true. The bullets were the same. + </p> + <p> + A thrill of despair ran through Oswald. He knows now how a hero feels when + he is innocently accused of a crime and the judge is putting on the black + cap, and the evidence is convulsive and all human aid is despaired of. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help it,’ he said, ‘we didn’t kill it, and that’s all there is to + it.’ + </p> + <p> + The white-whiskered magistrate may have been master of the fox-hounds, but + he was not master of his temper, which is more important, I should think, + than a lot of beastly dogs. + </p> + <p> + He said several words which Oswald would never repeat, much less in his + own conversing, and besides that he called us ‘obstinate little beggars’. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Albert’s uncle entered in the midst of a silence freighted + with despairing reflections. The M.F.H. got up and told his tale: it was + mainly lies, or, to be more polite, it was hardly any of it true, though I + supposed he believed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very sorry, sir’ said Albert’s uncle, looking at the bullets. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll excuse my asking for the children’s version?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly, sir, certainly,’ fuming, the fox-hound magistrate replied. + </p> + <p> + Then Albert’s uncle said, ‘Now Oswald, I know I can trust you to speak the + exact truth.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald did. + </p> + <p> + Then the white-whiskered fox-master laid the bullets before Albert’s + uncle, and I felt this would be a trial to his faith far worse than the + rack or the thumb-screw in the days of the Armada. + </p> + <p> + And then Denny came in. He looked at the fox on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘You found it, then?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The M.F.H. would have spoken but Albert’s uncle said, ‘One moment, Denny; + you’ve seen this fox before?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather,’ said Denny; ‘I—’ + </p> + <p> + But Albert’s uncle said, ‘Take time. Think before you speak and say the + exact truth. No, don’t whisper to Oswald. This boy,’ he said to the + injured fox-master, ‘has been with me since seven this morning. His tale, + whatever it is, will be independent evidence.’ + </p> + <p> + But Denny would not speak, though again and again Albert’s uncle told him + to. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t till I’ve asked Oswald something,’ he said at last. White + Whiskers said, ‘That looks bad—eh?’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald said, ‘Don’t whisper, old chap. Ask me whatever you like, but + speak up.’ + </p> + <p> + So Denny said, ‘I can’t without breaking the secret oath.’ + </p> + <p> + So then Oswald began to see, and he said, ‘Break away for all you’re + worth, it’s all right.’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny said, drawing relief’s deepest breath, ‘Well then, Oswald and I + have got a pistol—shares—and I had it last night. And when I + couldn’t sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and went out + early this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded it just for fun. + And down in the wood I heard a whining like a dog, and I went, and there + was the poor fox caught in an iron trap with teeth. And I went to let it + out and it bit me—look, here’s the place—and the pistol went + off and the fox died, and I am so sorry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why didn’t you tell the others?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They weren’t awake when I went to the dentist’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why didn’t you tell your uncle if you’ve been with him all the + morning?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was the oath,’ H. O. said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘May I be called a beastly sneak + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ +</pre> + <p> + White Whiskers actually grinned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I see it was an accident, my boy.’ Then he turned to us + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I owe you an apology for doubting your word—all of you. I hope it’s + accepted.’ + </p> + <p> + We said it was all right and he was to never mind. + </p> + <p> + But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for his + unbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert’s uncle to shoot rabbits; but + we did not really forgive him till the day when he sent the fox’s brush to + Alice, mounted in silver with a note about her plucky conduct in standing + by her brothers. + </p> + <p> + We got a lecture about not playing with firearms, but no punishment, + because our conduct had not been exactly sinful, Albert’s uncle said, but + merely silly. + </p> + <p> + The pistol and the cartridges were confiscated. + </p> + <p> + I hope the house will never be attacked by burglars. When it is, Albert’s + uncle will only have himself to thank if we are rapidly overpowered, + because it will be his fault that we shall have to meet them totally + unarmed, and be their almost unresisting prey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES + </h2> + <p> + It began one morning at breakfast. It was the fifteenth of August—the + birthday of Napoleon the Great, Oswald Bastable, and another very nice + writer. Oswald was to keep his birthday on the Saturday, so that his + Father could be there. A birthday when there are only many happy returns + is a little like Sunday or Christmas Eve. Oswald had a birthday-card or + two—that was all; but he did not repine, because he knew they always + make it up to you for putting off keeping your birthday, and he looked + forward to Saturday. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently he + tossed one over to Dora, and said, ‘What do you say, little lady? Shall we + let them come?’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and Noel + both had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place where the + bacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake of bacon fat was + slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the marmalade, and then H. + O. got it, and Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want the nasty thing now—all grease and stickiness.’ So H. + O. read it aloud— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES AND FIELD CLUB + Aug. 14, 1900 +</pre> + <p> + ‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the—’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like a spider + that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the paper without + stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald took the letter. + He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began to read. It ran + thus: + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not Antiquities, you little silly,’ he said; ‘it’s Antiquaries.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The other’s a very good word,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘and I never call + names at breakfast myself—it upsets the digestion, my egregious + Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a name though,’ said Alice, ‘and you got it out of “Stalky”, too. + Go on, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted: + </p> + <p> + ‘MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF “ANTIQUARIES” AND FIELD CLUB + </p> + <p> + Aug. 14,1900. + </p> + <p> + ‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was + agreed that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the Society + proposes to visit the interesting church of Ivybridge and also the Roman + remains in the vicinity. Our president, Mr Longchamps, F.R.S., has + obtained permission to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We + venture to ask whether you would allow the members of the Society to walk + through your grounds and to inspect—from without, of course—your + beautiful house, which is, as you are doubtless aware, of great historic + interest, having been for some years the residence of the celebrated Sir + Thomas Wyatt.—I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully, + </p> + <p> + ‘EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec.).’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘well, shall we permit the eye of the + Maidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and the foot of + the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our gravel is all grass,’ H. O. said. + </p> + <p> + And the girls said, ‘Oh, do let them come!’ It was Alice who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not ask them to tea? They’ll be very tired coming all the way from + Maidstone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you really like it?’ Albert’s uncle asked. ‘I’m afraid they’ll be + but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen with amphorae in + their buttonholes instead of orchids, and pedigrees poking out of all + their pockets.’ + </p> + <p> + We laughed—because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don’t you + might look it up in the dicker. It’s not a flower, though it sounds like + one out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of anyone growing. + </p> + <p> + Dora said she thought it would be splendid. + </p> + <p> + ‘And we could have out the best china,’ she said, ‘and decorate the table + with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We’ve never had a party + since we’ve been here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your own + way,’ Albert’s uncle said; and he went off to write the invitation to tea + to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the wrong word but somehow we + all used it whenever we spoke of them, which was often. + </p> + <p> + In a day or two Albert’s uncle came in to tea with a lightly-clouded brow. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve let me in for a nice thing,’ he said. ‘I asked the Antiquities to + tea, and I asked casually how many we might expect. I thought we might + need at least the full dozen of the best teacups. Now the secretary writes + accepting my kind invitation—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, good!’ we cried. ‘And how many are coming?’ ‘Oh, only about sixty,’ + was the groaning rejoinder. ‘Perhaps more, should the weather be + exceptionally favourable.’ + </p> + <p> + Though stunned at first, we presently decided that we were pleased. + </p> + <p> + We had never, never given such a big party. + </p> + <p> + The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew made + cakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys be there, + though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a cake before it is + baked, and then licking your finger, if you are careful to put a different + finger in the cake next time. Cake before it is baked is delicious—like + a sort of cream. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said he was the prey of despair. He drove in to Maidstone + one day. When we asked him where he was going, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly tear it + out by double handfuls in the extremity of my anguish every time I think + of those innumerable Antiquities.’ + </p> + <p> + But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china and things + to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have his hair cut + too, because he is the soul of truth and honour. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as well as + other presents. I think these were meant to make up for the pistol that + was taken away after the adventure of the fox-hunting. These gave us boys + something to do between the birthday-keeping, which was on the Saturday, + and the Wednesday when the Antiquities were to come. + </p> + <p> + We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, because they + had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was little or no + unpleasantness over this. + </p> + <p> + On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where the + Antiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate nuts. And + as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field two labourers with + picks and shovels, and a very young man with thin legs and a bicycle. It + turned out afterwards to be a free-wheel, the first we had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + They stopped at a mound inside the Roman wall, and the men took their + coats off and spat on their hands. + </p> + <p> + We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist explained his + machine to us very fully and carefully when we asked him, and then we saw + the men were cutting turfs and turning them over and rolling them up and + putting them in a heap. So we asked the gentleman with the thin legs what + they were doing. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘They are beginning the preliminary excavation in readiness for + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s up to-morrow?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then YOU’RE the Antiquities?’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m the secretary,’ said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you’re all coming to tea with us,’ Dora said, and added anxiously, + ‘how many of you do you think there’ll be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think,’ replied the + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, who + notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light and careless, + saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, ‘What’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve got an idea,’ the Dentist said. ‘Let’s call a council.’ The Dentist + had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him Dentist ever since + the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he had been used to calling + such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereas we all know + that his former existing was that of a white mouse in a trap, with that + cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars. + </p> + <p> + (That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert’s uncle told me.) + </p> + <p> + Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, and the + straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it’s nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Denny in a hurry: ‘quite the opposite.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it’s nothing wrong,’ said Dora and Daisy together. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s—it’s “Hail to thee, blithe spirit—bird thou never + wert”,’ said Denny. ‘I mean, I think it’s what is called a lark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?’ + </p> + <p> + We didn’t. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge,’ Daisy interrupted, ‘and it’s about a + family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be good, and they + were confirmed, and had a bazaar, and went to church at the Minster, and + one of them got married and wore black watered silk and silver ornaments. + So her baby died, and then she was sorry she had not been a good mother to + it. And—’ Here Dicky got up and said he’d got some snares to attend + to, and he’d receive a report of the Council after it was over. But he + only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, the fleet of foot, + closed with him, and they rolled together on the floor, while all the + others called out ‘Come back! Come back!’ like guinea-hens on a fence. + </p> + <p> + Through the rustle and bustle and hustle of the struggle with Dicky, + Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his everlasting + quotations— + </p> + <pre> + ‘“Come back, come back!” he cried in Greek, “ + Across the stormy water, + And I’ll forgive your Highland cheek, + My daughter, O my daughter!”’ + </pre> + <p> + When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with the + Council, Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It’s a ripping book. One + of the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, and another tries to + hit his little sister with a hoe. It’s jolly fine, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He would + never have learnt such words as ‘ripping’ and ‘jolly fine’ while under the + auntal tyranny. + </p> + <p> + Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book for girls + and little boys. + </p> + <p> + But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘But what’s your lark?’ Denny got pale pink and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t hurry me. I’ll tell you directly. Let me think a minute.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he shut his pale pink eyelids a moment in thought, and then opened + them and stood up on the straw and said very fast— + </p> + <p> + ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, pots. You + know Albert’s uncle said they were going to open the barrow, to look for + Roman remains to-morrow. Don’t you think it seems a pity they shouldn’t + find any?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps they will,’ Dora said. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald saw, and he said ‘Primus! Go ahead, old man.’ + </p> + <p> + The Dentist went ahead. + </p> + <p> + ‘In The Daisy Chain,’ he said, ‘they dug in a Roman encampment and the + children went first and put some pottery there they’d made themselves, and + Harry’s old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The doctor helped them to + some stuff to partly efface the inscription, and all the grown-ups were + sold. I thought we might— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘You may break, you may shatter + The vase if you will; + But the scent of the Romans + Will cling round it still.’ +</pre> + <p> + Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least for + HIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the Maidstone + Antiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly would be indeed + splendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that we had not got + an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we hadn’t any doctor who + would ‘help us to stuff to efface’, and etcetera; but we sternly bade her + stow it. We weren’t going to do EXACTLY like those Daisy Chain kids. + </p> + <p> + The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream—which + was the Nile when we discovered its source—and dried it in the sun, + and then baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul Play. And most of the + things were such queer shapes that they should have done for almost + anything—Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or antediluvian, or + household milk-jugs of the cavemen, Albert’s uncle said. The pots were, + fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because we had already buried them in + mixed sand and river mud to improve the colour, and not remembered to wash + it off. + </p> + <p> + So the Council at once collected it all—and some rusty hinges and + some brass buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl Councillors + carried it all concealed in their pinafores, while the men members carried + digging tools. H. O. and Daisy were sent on ahead as scouts to see if the + coast was clear. We have learned the true usefulness of scouts from + reading about the Transvaal War. But all was still in the hush of evening + sunset on the Roman ruin. + </p> + <p> + We posted sentries, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls and + give a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached. + </p> + <p> + Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when we + happened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it be said that + a Bastable grudged time or trouble when a lark was at stake. We put the + things in as naturally as we could, and shoved the dirt back, till + everything looked just as before. Then we went home, late for tea. But it + was in a good cause; and there was no hot toast, only bread-and-butter, + which does not get cold with waiting. + </p> + <p> + That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up to bed— + </p> + <p> + ‘Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not a word.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘No kid?’ And she replied in the affirmation. + </p> + <p> + So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair—for he + shrinks from no pain if it is needful and right. + </p> + <p> + And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got up and + went out, and there was Alice dressed. + </p> + <p> + She said, ‘I’ve found some broken things that look ever so much more Roman—they + were on top of the cupboard in the library. If you’ll come with me, we’ll + bury them just to see how surprised the others will be.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind. + </p> + <p> + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait half a shake.’ And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, and + slipped a few peppermints into his pocket in case of catching cold. It is + these thoughtful expedients which mark the born explorer and adventurer. + </p> + <p> + It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, and we + decided we’d do some other daring moonlight act some other day. We got out + of the front door, which is never locked till Albert’s uncle goes to bed + at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and silently across the bridge and + through the fields to the Roman ruin. + </p> + <p> + Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had been dark. + But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your dreams. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper. + </p> + <p> + We did not take all the pots Alice had found—but just the two that + weren’t broken—two crooked jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots are + made of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the turf up and + scratched the earth under, and took it out very carefully in handfuls on + to the newspaper, till the hole was deepish. Then we put in the jugs, and + filled it up with earth and flattened the turf over. Turf stretches like + elastic. This we did a couple of yards from the place where the mound was + dug into by the men, and we had been so careful with the newspaper that + there was no loose earth about. + </p> + <p> + Then we went home in the wet moonlight—at least the grass was very + wet—chuckling through the peppermint, and got up to bed without + anyone knowing a single thing about it. + </p> + <p> + The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and the tables + were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and very grand + Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different kinds of cake, and + bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and gooseberries and plums and jam + sandwiches. And the girls decorated the tables with flowers—blue + larkspur and white Canterbury bells. And at about three there was a noise + of people walking in the road, and presently the Antiquities began to come + in at the front gate, and stood about on the lawn by twos and threes and + sixes and sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, exactly like a Sunday-school + treat. Presently some gentlemen came, who looked like the teachers; they + were not shy, and they came right up to the door. So Albert’s uncle, who + had not been too proud to be up in our room with us watching the people on + the lawn through the netting of our short blinds, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose that’s the Committee. Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + So we all went down—we were in our Sunday things—and Albert’s + uncle received the Committee like a feudal system baron, and we were his + retainers. + </p> + <p> + He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, and + foundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and Julius + Caesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and dog’s-tooth + moulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose that Albert’s uncle + remarked that all our mouths were open, which is a sign of reels in the + brain, for he whispered— + </p> + <p> + ‘Go hence, and mingle unsuspected with the crowd!’ + </p> + <p> + So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and women + and one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to talk to her, + though we did not like her. (She was covered in red velvet like an + arm-chair.) But she wouldn’t. We thought at first she was from a + deaf-and-dumb asylum, where her kind teachers had only managed to teach + the afflicted to say ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. But afterwards we knew better, for + Noel heard her say to her mother, ‘I wish you hadn’t brought me, mamma. I + didn’t have a pretty teacup, and I haven’t enjoyed my tea one bit.’ And + she had had five pieces of cake, besides little cakes and nearly a whole + plate of plums, and there were only twelve pretty teacups altogether. + </p> + <p> + Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and then the + President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn’t understand, + and other people made speeches we couldn’t understand either, except the + part about kind hospitality, which made us not know where to look. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, and we + handed cups and plates. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was left of his + hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-three Antiquities + present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary that ‘tea always + fetched them’. + </p> + <p> + Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we took + our hats—it was exactly like Sunday—and joined the crowded + procession of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, + though the weather was fiery and without a cloud. That is the sort of + people they were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets, and no one took their + gloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it is not + wrong to take your gloves off there. + </p> + <p> + We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert’s + uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart. + </p> + <p> + Then he said: ‘The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The hosts + and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly informed, an + excellent view may be obtained.’ + </p> + <p> + So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of the + lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw that + things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passed round + for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Roman + remains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, though we + heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchanged + meaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in the extras. + Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and we knew we + really HAD sold the Antiquities this time. + </p> + <p> + Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle towards + the house and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut home + the back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert’s uncle— + </p> + <p> + ‘A genuine find—most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have ONE. + Well, if you insist—’ + </p> + <p> + And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquities + melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups and + plates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures of memory were left. + </p> + <p> + We had a very beautiful supper—out of doors, too—with jam + sandwiches and cakes and things that were over; and as we watched the + setting monarch of the skies—I mean the sun—Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s tell.’ + </p> + <p> + We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but we + helped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, because he has yet + to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + When he had done, and we had done, Albert’s uncle said, ‘Well, it amused + you; and you’ll be glad to learn that it amused your friends the + Antiquities.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Didn’t they think they were Roman?’ Daisy said; ‘they did in The Daisy + Chain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘but the Treasurer and Secretary + were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their reception.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We didn’t want them to be disappointed,’ said Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘They weren’t,’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Steady on with those plums, H.O. A + little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found two + specimens of REAL Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them home + thanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Those were our jugs,’ said Alice, ‘and we really HAVE sold the + Antiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and burying + them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened with deeply + respectful interest. ‘We really have done it this time, haven’t we?’ she + added in tones of well-deserved triumph. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert’s uncle from almost the + beginning of Alice’s recital; and he now had the sensation of something + being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The silence + of Albert’s uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t we?’ repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive brother’s + delicate feelings had already got hold of. ‘We have done it this time, + haven’t we?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since you ask me thus pointedly,’ answered Albert’s uncle at last, ‘I + cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots on the + top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The amphorae which you hid + in the mound are probably—I can’t say for certain, mind—priceless. + They are the property of the owner of this house. You have taken them out + and buried them. The President of the Maidstone Antiquarian Society has + taken them away in his bag. Now what are you going to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others added + to our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs about our not being so + jolly clever as we thought ourselves. + </p> + <p> + There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + As Albert’s uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained to ask him for + any. + </p> + <p> + Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat down on + the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never tried to have a + private lark of their very own with the Antiquities—‘A Private + Sale’, Albert’s uncle called it afterwards. But regrets, as nearly always + happens, were vain. Something had to be done. + </p> + <p> + But what? + </p> + <p> + Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of the gay + and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, heartless in their + youngness, they were playing tag. I don’t know how they could. Oswald + would not like to play tag when his brother and sister were in a hole, but + Oswald is an exception to some boys. + </p> + <p> + But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of Albert’s + uncle’s. + </p> + <p> + The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from the + leaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted with hard thinking, but + they could not think of anything. And it grew so dark that the moonlight + began to show. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice jumped up—just as Oswald was opening his mouth to say the + same thing—and said, ‘Of course—how silly! I know. Come on in, + Oswald.’ And they went on in. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just asked + carelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next day to buy + some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after one or two things. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the bailiff + from the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and to buy pigs. At + any other time Oswald would not have been able to bear to leave the + bailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now it was different. For he + and Alice had the weight on their bosoms of being thieves without having + meant it—and nothing, not even pigs, had power to charm the young + but honourable Oswald till that stain had been wiped away. + </p> + <p> + So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities’ house, and + Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly told us where the + President lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the unfortunate + brother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of Camperdown Villa. + </p> + <p> + When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. Then they + waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large room with books + and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking odds and ends in them. + Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means he stuck to anything, no matter + how ugly and silly, if only it was old. + </p> + <p> + He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very well, + he said, and asked what he could do for us. + </p> + <p> + Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to own himself + the ass he had been. But Alice was less delicately moulded. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you please, we are most awfully sorry, and we hope you’ll forgive + us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all the other poor + dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find nothing Roman—so + we put some pots and things in the barrow for you to find.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I perceived,’ said the President, stroking his white beard and smiling + most agreeably at us; ‘a harmless joke, my dear! Youth’s the season for + jesting. There’s no harm done—pray think no more about it. It’s very + honourable of you to come and apologize, I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + His brow began to wear the furrowed, anxious look of one who would fain be + rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before they + interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘We didn’t come for that. It’s MUCH worse. Those were two REAL + true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they aren’t ours. We + didn’t know they were real Roman. We wanted to sell the Antiquities—I + mean Antiquaries—and we were sold ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is serious,’ said the gentleman. ‘I suppose you’d know the—the + “jugs” if you saw them again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anywhere,’ said Oswald, with the confidential rashness of one who does + not know what he is talking about. + </p> + <p> + Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the one we + were in, and beckoned us to follow. We found ourselves amid shelves and + shelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves—small ones—were + filled with the sort of jug we wanted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, like a + wicked cardinal, ‘which is it?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘I don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I should know if I had it in my hand.’ + </p> + <p> + The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and Alice + tried to look inside them. And one after another she shook her head and + gave them back. At last she said, ‘You didn’t WASH them?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Longchamps shuddered and said ‘No’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Alice, ‘there is something written with lead-pencil inside + both the jugs. I wish I hadn’t. I would rather you didn’t read it. I + didn’t know it would be a nice old gentleman like you would find it. I + thought it would be the younger gentleman with the thin legs and the + narrow smile.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Turnbull.’ The President seemed to recognize the description + unerringly. ‘Well, well—boys will be boys—girls, I mean. I + won’t be angry. Look at all the “jugs” and see if you can find yours.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice did—and the next one she looked at she said, ‘This is one’—and + two jugs further on she said, ‘This is the other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ the President said, ‘these are certainly the specimens which I + obtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will return them to + him. But it’s a disappointment. Yes, I think you must let me look inside.’ + </p> + <p> + He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘we can’t expect old heads on young shoulders. + You’re not the first who went forth to shear and returned shorn. Nor, it + appears, am I. Next time you have a Sale of Antiquities, take care that + you yourself are not “sold”. Good-day to you, my dear. Don’t let the + incident prey on your mind,’ he said to Alice. ‘Bless your heart, I was a + boy once myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye.’ + </p> + <p> + We were in time to see the pigs bought after all. + </p> + <p> + I asked Alice what on earth it was she’d scribbled inside the beastly + jugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she had written + ‘Sucks’ in one of the jugs, and ‘Sold again, silly’, in the other. + </p> + <p> + But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we have any + Antiquities to tea again, they shan’t find so much as a Greek waistcoat + button if we can help it. + </p> + <p> + Unless it’s the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For a man + of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can picture a very + different scene having been enacted over those rotten pots if the + President had been an otherwise sort of man. + </p> + <p> + But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress you by + drawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for yourself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR + </h2> + <p> + The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes were + very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, and he + touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little as + though he would rather not. + </p> + <p> + We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Tree + pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows—the + ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated + after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox. + </p> + <p> + To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in his + thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire masks. + </p> + <p> + Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat + House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at each + other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti + (that’s real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among + the village people—but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked + it. + </p> + <p> + And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from Rome, + which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their mouths and + eyes. + </p> + <p> + So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in attacking + or defending a fort your real strength is not in your equipment, but in + your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny defended the fort. We + were much the strongest side, but that was how Dicky and Oswald picked up. + </p> + <p> + The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit + Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only through + the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the defending + party weren’t looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and shoved Oswald + off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that it had lost its + gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged party, was of + course soon overpowered, and had to surrender. + </p> + <p> + Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert’s uncle brought us + a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery we + tried to sell the Antiquities with. + </p> + <p> + The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on the + big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the heat. + </p> + <p> + We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty blot on the + fair scene. + </p> + <p> + When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have + said, and remarked— + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but if + you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way to the nearest + pub. It’s a dry day and no error.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Rose and Crown” is the best pub,’ said Dicky, ‘and the landlady is a + friend of ours. It’s about a mile if you go by the field path.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor’ love a duck!’ said the tramp, ‘a mile’s a long way, and walking’s a + dry job this ‘ere weather.’ We said we agreed with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my sacred,’ said the tramp, ‘if there was a pump handy I believe I’d + take a turn at it—I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn’t! Though + water always upsets me and makes my ‘and shaky.’ + </p> + <p> + We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainous + sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wall with + us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her long + deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend. + Besides the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it. And + we considerably outnumbered the tramp, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and the + tramp’s need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to the + hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges and + get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without when the + others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty. Meanwhile + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve got some ginger-beer; my brother’s getting it. I hope you won’t + mind drinking out of our glass. We can’t wash it, you know—unless we + rinse it out with a little ginger-beer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t ye do it, miss,’ he said eagerly; ‘never waste good liquor on + washing.’ + </p> + <p> + The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beer and + handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on his young + stomach to do this. + </p> + <p> + The tramp was really quite polite—one of Nature’s gentlemen, and a + man as well, we found out afterwards. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s to you!’ before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rim + rested on his nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Swelp me, but I WAS dry,’ he said. ‘Don’t seem to matter much what it is, + this weather, do it?—so long as it’s suthink wet. Well, here’s + thanking you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re very welcome,’ said Dora; ‘I’m glad you liked it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like it?’—said he. ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like to have + a thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free baths + and wash-houses and such! Why don’t someone start free DRINKS? He’d be a + ‘ero, he would. I’d vote for him any day of the week and one over. Ef yer + don’t objec I’ll set down a bit and put on a pipe.’ + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questions about + himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows—especially about + there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he dropped asleep + in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for that hadn’t acted + fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I don’t know if vestry + is singular or plural), and we went home. But before we went we held a + hurried council and collected what money we could from the little we had + with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an old envelope + Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowing middle of the + poor tramp’s sleeping waistcoat, so that he would find it when he woke. + None of the dogs said a single syllable while we were doing this, so we + knew they believed him to be poor but honest, and we always find it safe + to take their word for things like that. + </p> + <p> + As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwards + that those words of the poor tramp’s about free drinks had sunk deep in + all our hearts, and rankled there. + </p> + <p> + After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. People tell + you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just after meals, but + it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the stream that just + seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can’t get their feet into + the water properly because of the bushes, so we keep changing places. We + had got some liquorice root to chew. This helps thought. Dora broke a + peaceful silence with this speech— + </p> + <p> + ‘Free drinks.’ + </p> + <p> + The words awoke a response in every breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder someone doesn’t,’ H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly + toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadly + peril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.,’ observed Alice. ‘It would be a + glorious act! I wish WE could.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What, sit still?’ asked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my child,’ replied Oswald, ‘most of us can do that when we try. Your + angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poor and + thirsty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for all of them,’ Alice said, ‘just a few. Change places now, Dicky. + My feet aren’t properly wet at all.’ + </p> + <p> + It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changers + have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight and + hold on for all they’re worth. But the hard task was accomplished and then + Alice went on— + </p> + <p> + ‘And we couldn’t do it for always, only a day or two—just while our + money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade’s the best, and you get a jolly lot + of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerely thirsty + persons go along the Dover Road every day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t be bad. We’ve got a little chink between us,’ said Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell us + about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. We + could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like All the + Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do let’s!’ + </p> + <p> + Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to make her + calm. + </p> + <p> + ‘We might do it, just for one day,’ Oswald said, ‘but it wouldn’t be much—only + a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of all the people + in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaid said when + she cried into the sea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know a piece of poetry about that,’ Denny said. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Small things are best. + Care and unrest + To wealth and rank are given, + But little things + On little wings— +</pre> + <p> + do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswald was + saying about the mermaid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Noel, coming out of a dream. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Free Drinks game.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘It’s a horrid shame + If the Free Drinks game + Doesn’t have a name. + You would be to blame + If anyone came + And—’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Oh, shut up!’ remarked Dicky. ‘You’ve been making that rot up all the + time we’ve been talking instead of listening properly.’ Dicky hates + poetry. I don’t mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay’s and + Kipling’s and Noel’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a lot more—“lame” and “dame” and “name” and “game” and + things—and now I’ve forgotten it,’ Noel said in gloom. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ Alice answered, ‘it’ll come back to you in the silent + watches of the night; you see if it doesn’t. But really, Noel’s right, it + OUGHT to have a name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Free Drinks Company.’ ‘Thirsty Travellers’ Rest.’ ‘The Travellers’ Joy.’ + </p> + <p> + These names were suggested, but not cared for extra. + </p> + <p> + Then someone said—I think it was Oswald—‘Why not “The House + Beautiful”?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It can’t be a house, it must be in the road. It’ll only be a stall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Stall Beautiful” is simply silly,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Bar Beautiful” then,’ said Dicky, who knows what the ‘Rose and + Crown’ bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, wait a minute,’ cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like he + always does when he is trying to remember things. ‘I thought of something, + only Daisy tickled me and it’s gone—I know—let’s call it the + Benevolent Bar!’ + </p> + <p> + It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. ‘Benevolent’ + showed it was free and ‘Bar’ showed what was free; e.g. things to drink. + The ‘Benevolent Bar’ it was. + </p> + <p> + We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meant to + do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know what—and delays + are dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to spend our + money on something else. + </p> + <p> + The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hates tramps. + Most people do who keep fowls. Albert’s uncle was in London till the next + evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is always chock full + of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy. + </p> + <p> + Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the + Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of the + skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girls + sewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so we + added the girls’ striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turn up + so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful, especially + when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew’s + sewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, which + we did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before. + They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the + noise and ask bothering questions. + </p> + <p> + They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not easy. + While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got willow poles and + chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we could to put up the + awning. + </p> + <p> + When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the village + for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then we + made a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothing + else to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy’s to show + we belonged to the Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocent slumbers, + and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked down the day + before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to give drinks to as + many people as possible. + </p> + <p> + We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to brekker. + </p> + <p> + After break we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and after + filling it with clean water we just had to empty it again because it was + too heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the trysting-spot and left + H. O. and Noel to guard it while we went and fetched separate pails of + water; very heavy work, and no one who wasn’t really benevolent would have + bothered about it for an instant. Oswald alone carried three pails. So did + Dicky and the Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrels and stood up + three of them by the roadside, and put planks on them. This made a very + first-class table, and we covered it with the best tablecloth we could + find in the linen cupboard. We brought out several glasses and some + teacups—not the best ones, Oswald was firm about that—and the + kettle and spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, in case any weary tramp-woman + fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. and Noel had to go + down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; they had not + carried any of the water. And their having to go the second time was only + because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to put on the bar + to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The man at the shop + kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out of our next + week’s pocket-money. + </p> + <p> + Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but no one + said anything except the man who said, ‘Bloomin’ Sunday-school treat’, and + as it was too early in the day for anyone to be thirsty we did not stop + the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slaked without cost at + our Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened on our + breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard we had + made with ‘Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers’, in white + wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. We had meant + to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pin it to the + front of the tablecloth, because I am sorry to say the awning went wrong + from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into the road; it was + much too hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besides being no use. So + we had just to cover our benevolent heads with our hats, and take it in + turns to go into the shadow of the tree on the other side of the road. For + we had pitched our table on the sunny side of the way, of course, relying + on our broken-reed-like awning, and wishing to give it a fair chance. + </p> + <p> + Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody really + miserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress. + </p> + <p> + A man and woman were the first: they stopped and stared, but when Alice + said, ‘Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren’t you thirsty?’ they said, ‘No thank + you,’ and went on. Then came a person from the village—he didn’t + even say ‘Thank you’ when we asked him, and Oswald began to fear it might + be like the awful time when we wandered about on Christmas Day trying to + find poor persons and persuade them to eat our Conscience pudding. + </p> + <p> + But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald’s fears by being + willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, ‘Thank you, I’m + sure’ quite nicely. + </p> + <p> + After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty of thirsty + people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from the cross-road. + </p> + <p> + We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the dregs + ere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea. + </p> + <p> + More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn’t have it + because they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for his own + liquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn’t over and above, at + present; and others asked if we hadn’t any beer, and when we said ‘No’, + they said it showed what sort we were—as if the sort was not a good + one, which it is. + </p> + <p> + And another man said, ‘Slops again! You never get nothing for nothing, not + this side of heaven you don’t. Look at the bloomin’ blue ribbon on ‘em! + Oh, Lor’!’ and went on quite sadly without having a drink. + </p> + <p> + Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and we + hailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, and asked + him to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said we were a real good + sort. How different from the man who wanted the beer. Then he went on. + </p> + <p> + One thing I didn’t like, and that was the way boys began to gather. Of + course we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who was old + enough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three glasses of lemonade + and asked for another, Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you’ve had jolly well enough. You can’t be really thirsty after + all that lot.’ + </p> + <p> + The boy said, ‘Oh, can’t I? You’ll just see if I can’t,’ and went away. + Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than Oswald; and + they all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the four new ones, but he + was determined in his behaviour to the other one, and wouldn’t give him a + drop. Then the five of them went and sat on a gate a little way off and + kept laughing in a nasty way, and whenever a boy went by they called out— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, ‘ere’s a go,’ and as often as not the new boy would hang about + with them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly all had lemonade + we could see it had not made them friendly. + </p> + <p> + A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together and are + called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp coming down the + road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at the boys or the + beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the dogs with us, but of + course we had, because we had promised never to go out without them.) + Oswald said, ‘Hullo,’ and the tramp said, ‘Hullo.’ Then Alice said, ‘You + see we’ve taken your advice; we’re giving free drinks. Doesn’t it all look + nice?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It does that,’ said the tramp. ‘I don’t mind if I do.’ + </p> + <p> + So we gave him two glasses of lemonade succeedingly, and thanked him for + giving us the idea. He said we were very welcome, and if we’d no objection + he’d sit down a bit and put on a pipe. He did, and after talking a little + more he fell asleep. Drinking anything seemed to end in sleep with him. I + always thought it was only beer and things made people sleepy, but he was + not so. When he was asleep he rolled into the ditch, but it did not wake + him up. + </p> + <p> + The boys were getting very noisy, and they began to shout things, and to + make silly noises with their mouths, and when Oswald and Dicky went over + to them and told them to just chuck it, they were worse than ever. I think + perhaps Oswald and Dicky might have fought and settled them—though + there were eleven, yet back to back you can always do it against + overwhelming numbers in a book—only Alice called out— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oswald, here’s some more, come back!’ + </p> + <p> + We went. Three big men were coming down the road, very red and hot, and + not amiable-looking. They stopped in front of the Benevolent Bar and + slowly read the wadding and red-stuff label. + </p> + <p> + Then one of them said he was blessed, or something like that, and another + said he was too. The third one said, ‘Blessed or not, a drink’s a drink. + Blue ribbon, though, by ——’ (a word you ought not to say, + though it is in the Bible and the catechism as well). ‘Let’s have a + liquor, little missy.’ + </p> + <p> + The dogs were growling, but Oswald thought it best not to take any notice + of what the dogs said, but to give these men each a drink. So he did. They + drank, but not as if they cared about it very much, and then they set + their glasses down on the table, a liberty no one else had entered into, + and began to try and chaff Oswald. Oswald said in an undervoice to H. O.— + </p> + <p> + ‘Just take charge. I want to speak to the girls a sec. Call if you want + anything.’ And then he drew the others away, to say he thought there’d + been enough of it, and considering the boys and new three men, perhaps + we’d better chuck it and go home. We’d been benevolent nearly four hours + anyway. + </p> + <p> + While this conversation and the objections of the others were going on, H. + O. perpetuated an act which nearly wrecked the Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald was not an eye or ear witness of what happened, but from + what H. O. said in the calmer moments of later life, I think this was + about what happened. One of the big disagreeable men said to H. O.— + </p> + <p> + ‘Ain’t got such a thing as a drop o’ spirit, ‘ave yer?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. said no, we hadn’t, only lemonade and tea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lemonade and tea! blank’ (bad word I told you about) ‘and blazes,’ + replied the bad character, for such he afterwards proved to be. ‘What’s + THAT then?’ + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a bottle labelled Dewar’s whisky, which stood on the table + near the spirit-kettle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, is THAT what you want?’ said H. O. kindly. + </p> + <p> + The man is understood to have said he should bloomin’ well think so, but + H. O. is not sure about the ‘bloomin’. + </p> + <p> + He held out his glass with about half the lemonade in it, and H. O. + generously filled up the tumbler out of the bottle, labelled Dewar’s + whisky. The man took a great drink, and then suddenly he spat out what + happened to be left in his mouth just then, and began to swear. It was + then that Oswald and Dicky rushed upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + The man was shaking his fist in H. O.‘s face, and H. O. was still holding + on to the bottle we had brought out the methylated spirit in for the lamp, + in case of anyone wanting tea, which they hadn’t. ‘If I was Jim,’ said the + second ruffian, for such indeed they were, when he had snatched the bottle + from H. O. and smelt it, ‘I’d chuck the whole show over the hedge, so I + would, and you young gutter-snipes after it, so I wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw in a moment that in point of strength, if not numbers, he and + his party were out-matched, and the unfriendly boys were drawing gladly + near. It is no shame to signal for help when in distress—the best + ships do it every day. Oswald shouted ‘Help, help!’ Before the words were + out of his brave yet trembling lips our own tramp leapt like an antelope + from the ditch and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, what’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + The biggest of the three men immediately knocked him down. He lay still. + </p> + <p> + The biggest then said, ‘Come on—any more of you? Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald was so enraged at this cowardly attack that he actually hit out at + the big man—and he really got one in just above the belt. Then he + shut his eyes, because he felt that now all was indeed up. There was a + shout and a scuffle, and Oswald opened his eyes in astonishment at finding + himself still whole and unimpaired. Our own tramp had artfully simulated + insensibleness, to get the men off their guard, and then had suddenly got + his arms round a leg each of two of the men, and pulled them to the + ground, helped by Dicky, who saw his game and rushed in at the same time, + exactly like Oswald would have done if he had not had his eyes shut ready + to meet his doom. + </p> + <p> + The unpleasant boys shouted, and the third man tried to help his + unrespectable friends, now on their backs involved in a desperate struggle + with our own tramp, who was on top of them, accompanied by Dicky. It all + happened in a minute, and it was all mixed up. The dogs were growling and + barking—Martha had one of the men by the trouser leg and Pincher had + another; the girls were screaming like mad and the strange boys shouted + and laughed (little beasts!), and then suddenly our Pig-man came round the + corner, and two friends of his with him. He had gone and fetched them to + take care of us if anything unpleasant occurred. It was a very thoughtful, + and just like him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch the police!’ cried the Pig-man in noble tones, and H. O. started + running to do it. But the scoundrels struggled from under Dicky and our + tramp, shook off the dogs and some bits of trouser, and fled heavily down + the road. + </p> + <p> + Our Pig-man said, ‘Get along home!’ to the disagreeable boys, and ‘Shoo’d’ + them as if they were hens, and they went. H. O. ran back when they began + to go up the road, and there we were, all standing breathless in tears on + the scene of the late desperate engagement. Oswald gives you his word of + honour that his and Dicky’s tears were tears of pure rage. There are such + things as tears of pure rage. Anyone who knows will tell you so. + </p> + <p> + We picked up our own tramp and bathed the lump on his forehead with + lemonade. The water in the zinc bath had been upset in the struggle. Then + he and the Pig-man and his kind friends helped us carry our things home. + </p> + <p> + The Pig-man advised us on the way not to try these sort of kind actions + without getting a grown-up to help us. We’ve been advised this before, but + now I really think we shall never try to be benevolent to the poor and + needy again. At any rate not unless we know them very well first. + </p> + <p> + We have seen our own tramp often since. The Pig-man gave him a job. He has + got work to do at last. The Pig-man says he is not such a very bad chap, + only he will fall asleep after the least drop of drink. We know that is + his failing. We saw it at once. But it was lucky for us he fell asleep + that day near our benevolent bar. + </p> + <p> + I will not go into what my father said about it all. There was a good deal + in it about minding your own business—there generally is in most of + the talkings-to we get. But he gave our tramp a sovereign, and the Pig-man + says he went to sleep on it for a solid week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS + </h2> + <p> + The author of these few lines really does hope to goodness that no one + will be such an owl as to think from the number of things we did when we + were in the country, that we were wretched, neglected little children, + whose grown-up relations sparkled in the bright haunts of pleasure, and + whirled in the giddy what’s-its-name of fashion, while we were left to + weep forsaken at home. It was nothing of the kind, and I wish you to know + that my father was with us a good deal—and Albert’s uncle (who is + really no uncle of ours, but only of Albert next door when we lived in + Lewisham) gave up a good many of his valuable hours to us. And the father + of Denny and Daisy came now and then, and other people, quite as many as + we wished to see. And we had some very decent times with them; and enjoyed + ourselves very much indeed, thank you. In some ways the good times you + have with grown-ups are better than the ones you have by yourselves. At + any rate they are safer. It is almost impossible, then, to do anything + fatal without being pulled up short by a grown-up ere yet the deed is + done. And, if you are careful, anything that goes wrong can be looked on + as the grown-up’s fault. But these secure pleasures are not so interesting + to tell about as the things you do when there is no one to stop you on the + edge of the rash act. + </p> + <p> + It is curious, too, that many of our most interesting games happened when + grown-ups were far away. For instance when we were pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + It was just after the business of the Benevolent Bar, and it was a wet + day. It is not easy to amuse yourself indoors on a wet day as older people + seem to think, especially when you are far removed from your own home, and + haven’t got all your own books and things. The girls were playing Halma—which + is a beastly game—Noel was writing poetry, H. O. was singing ‘I + don’t know what to do’ to the tune of ‘Canaan’s happy shore’. It goes like + this, and is very tiresome to listen to— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I don’t know what to do—oo—oo—oo! + I don’t know what to do—oo—oo! + It IS a beastly rainy day + And I don’t know what to do.’ +</pre> + <p> + The rest of us were trying to make him shut up. We put a carpet bag over + his head, but he went on inside it; and then we sat on him, but he sang + under us; we held him upside down and made him crawl head first under the + sofa, but when, even there, he kept it up, we saw that nothing short of + violence would induce him to silence, so we let him go. And then he said + we had hurt him, and we said we were only in fun, and he said if we were + he wasn’t, and ill feeling might have grown up even out of a playful + brotherly act like ours had been, only Alice chucked the Halma and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let dogs delight. Come on—let’s play something.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Dora said, ‘Yes, but look here. Now we’re together I do want to say + something. What about the Wouldbegoods Society?’ + </p> + <p> + Many of us groaned, and one said, ‘Hear! hear!’ I will not say which one, + but it was not Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, but really,’ Dora said, ‘I don’t want to be preachy—but you + know we DID say we’d try to be good. And it says in a book I was reading + only yesterday that NOT being naughty is not enough. You must BE good. And + we’ve hardly done anything. The Golden Deed book’s almost empty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we have a book of leaden deeds?’ said Noel, coming out of his + poetry, ‘then there’d be plenty for Alice to write about if she wants to, + or brass or zinc or aluminium deeds? We shan’t ever fill the book with + golden ones.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. had rolled himself in the red tablecloth and said Noel was only + advising us to be naughty, and again peace waved in the balance. But Alice + said, ‘Oh, H. O., DON’T—he didn’t mean that; but really and truly, I + wish wrong things weren’t so interesting. You begin to do a noble act, and + then it gets so exciting, and before you know where you are you are doing + something wrong as hard as you can lick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And enjoying it too’ Dick said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s very curious,’ Denny said, ‘but you don’t seem to be able to be + certain inside yourself whether what you’re doing is right if you happen + to like doing it, but if you don’t like doing it you know quite well. I + only thought of that just now. I wish Noel would make a poem about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ Noel said; ‘it began about a crocodile but it is finishing itself + up quite different from what I meant it to at first. Just wait a minute.’ + </p> + <p> + He wrote very hard while his kind brothers and sisters and his little + friends waited the minute he had said, and then he read: + </p> + <pre> + ‘The crocodile is very wise, + He lives in the Nile with little eyes, + He eats the hippopotamus too, + And if he could he would eat up you. + + ‘The lovely woods and starry skies + He looks upon with glad surprise! + He sees the riches of the east, + And the tiger and lion, kings of beast. + + ‘So let all be good and beware + Of saying shan’t and won’t and don’t care; + For doing wrong is easier far + Than any of the right things I know about are. +</pre> + <p> + And I couldn’t make it king of beasts because of it not rhyming with east, + so I put the s off beasts on to king. It comes even in the end.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said it was a very nice piece of poetry. Noel gets really ill if + you don’t like what he writes, and then he said, ‘If it’s trying that’s + wanted, I don’t care how hard we TRY to be good, but we may as well do it + some nice way. Let’s be Pilgrim’s Progress, like I wanted to at first.’ + </p> + <p> + And we were all beginning to say we didn’t want to, when suddenly Dora + said, ‘Oh, look here! I know. We’ll be the Canterbury Pilgrims. People + used to go pilgrimages to make themselves good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With peas in their shoes,’ the Dentist said. ‘It’s in a piece of poetry—only + the man boiled his peas—which is quite unfair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes,’ said H. O., ‘and cocked hats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not cocked—cockled’—it was Alice who said this. ‘And they had + staffs and scrips, and they told each other tales. We might as well.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald and Dora had been reading about the Canterbury Pilgrims in a book + called A Short History of the English People. It is not at all short + really—three fat volumes—but it has jolly good pictures. It + was written by a gentleman named Green. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’ll be the Knight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll be the wife of Bath,’ Dora said. ‘What will you be, Dicky?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I don’t care, I’ll be Mr Bath if you like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t know much about the people,’ Alice said. ‘How many were there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirty,’ Oswald replied, ‘but we needn’t be all of them. There’s a + Nun-Priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that a man or a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said he could not be sure by the picture, but Alice and Noel could + be it between them. So that was settled. Then we got the book and looked + at the dresses to see if we could make up dresses for the parts. At first + we thought we would, because it would be something to do, and it was a + very wet day; but they looked difficult, especially the Miller’s. Denny + wanted to be the Miller, but in the end he was the Doctor, because it was + next door to Dentist, which is what we call him for short. Daisy was to be + the Prioress—because she is good, and has ‘a soft little red mouth’, + and H. O. WOULD be the Manciple (I don’t know what that is), because the + picture of him is bigger than most of the others, and he said Manciple was + a nice portmanteau word—half mandarin and half disciple. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s get the easiest parts of the dresses ready first.’ Alice said—‘the + pilgrims’ staffs and hats and the cockles.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald and Dicky braved the fury of the elements and went into the wood + beyond the orchard to cut ash-sticks. We got eight jolly good long ones. + Then we took them home, and the girls bothered till we changed our + clothes, which were indeed sopping with the elements we had faced. + </p> + <p> + Then we peeled the sticks. They were nice and white at first, but they + soon got dirty when we carried them. It is a curious thing: however often + you wash your hands they always seem to come off on anything white. And we + nailed paper rosettes to the tops of them. That was the nearest we could + get to cockle-shells. + </p> + <p> + ‘And we may as well have them there as on our hats,’ Alice said. ‘And + let’s call each other by our right names to-day, just to get into it. + Don’t you think so, Knight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yea, Nun-Priest,’ Oswald was replying, but Noel said she was only half + the Nun-Priest, and again a threat of unpleasantness darkened the air. But + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be a piggy-wiggy, Noel, dear; you can have it all, I don’t want it. + I’ll just be a plain pilgrim, or Henry who killed Becket.’ + </p> + <p> + So she was called the Plain Pilgrim, and she did not mind. + </p> + <p> + We thought of cocked hats, but they are warm to wear, and the big garden + hats that make you look like pictures on the covers of plantation songs + did beautifully. We put cockle-shells on them. Sandals we did try, with + pieces of oil-cloth cut the shape of soles and fastened with tape, but the + dust gets into your toes so, and we decided boots were better for such a + long walk. Some of the pilgrims who were very earnest decided to tie their + boots with white tape crossed outside to pretend sandals. Denny was one of + these earnest palmers. As for dresses, there was no time to make them + properly, and at first we thought of nightgowns; but we decided not to, in + case people in Canterbury were not used to that sort of pilgrim nowadays. + We made up our minds to go as we were—or as we might happen to be + next day. + </p> + <p> + You will be ready to believe we hoped next day would be fine. It was. + </p> + <p> + Fair was the morn when the pilgrims arose and went down to breakfast. + Albert’s uncle had had brekker early and was hard at work in his study. We + heard his quill pen squeaking when we listened at the door. It is not + wrong to listen at doors when there is only one person inside, because + nobody would tell itself secrets aloud when it was alone. + </p> + <p> + We got lunch from the housekeeper, Mrs Pettigrew. She seems almost to LIKE + us all to go out and take our lunch with us. Though I should think it must + be very dull for her all alone. I remember, though, that Eliza, our late + general at Lewisham, was just the same. We took the dear dogs of course. + Since the Tower of Mystery happened we are not allowed to go anywhere + without the escort of these faithful friends of man. We did not take + Martha, because bull-dogs do not like walks. Remember this if you ever + have one of those valuable animals. + </p> + <p> + When we were all ready, with our big hats and cockle-shells, and our + staves and our tape sandals, the pilgrims looked very nice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Only we haven’t any scrips,’ Dora said. ‘What is a scrip?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it’s something to read. A roll of parchment or something.’ + </p> + <p> + So we had old newspapers rolled up, and carried them in our hands. We took + the Globe and the Westminster Gazette because they are pink and green. The + Dentist wore his white sandshoes, sandalled with black tape, and bare + legs. They really looked almost as good as bare feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘We OUGHT to have peas in our shoes,’ he said. But we did not think so. We + knew what a very little stone in your boot will do, let alone peas. + </p> + <p> + Of course we knew the way to go to Canterbury, because the old Pilgrims’ + Road runs just above our house. It is a very pretty road, narrow, and + often shady. It is nice for walking, but carts do not like it because it + is rough and rutty; so there is grass growing in patches on it. + </p> + <p> + I have said that it was a fine day, which means that it was not raining, + but the sun did not shine all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tis well, O Knight,’ said Alice, ‘that the orb of day shines not in undi—what’s-its-name?—splendour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thou sayest sooth, Plain Pilgrim,’ replied Oswald. ‘’Tis jolly warm even + as it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I wasn’t two people,’ Noel said, ‘it seems to make me hotter. I + think I’ll be a Reeve or something.’ + </p> + <p> + But we would not let him, and we explained that if he hadn’t been so + beastly particular Alice would have been half of him, and he had only + himself to thank if being all of a Nun-Priest made him hot. + </p> + <p> + But it WAS warm certainly, and it was some time since we’d gone so far in + boots. Yet when H. O. complained we did our duty as pilgrims and made him + shut up. He did as soon as Alice said that about whining and grizzling + being below the dignity of a Manciple. + </p> + <p> + It was so warm that the Prioress and the wife of Bath gave up walking with + their arms round each other in their usual silly way (Albert’s uncle calls + it Laura Matildaing), and the Doctor and Mr Bath had to take their jackets + off and carry them. + </p> + <p> + I am sure if an artist or a photographer, or any person who liked + pilgrims, had seen us he would have been very pleased. The paper + cockle-shells were first-rate, but it was awkward having them on the top + of the staffs, because they got in your way when you wanted the staff to + use as a walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + We stepped out like a man all of us, and kept it up as well as we could in + book-talk, and at first all was merry as a dinner-bell; but presently + Oswald, who was the ‘very perfect gentle knight’, could not help noticing + that one of us was growing very silent and rather pale, like people are + when they have eaten something that disagrees with them before they are + quite sure of the fell truth. + </p> + <p> + So he said, ‘What’s up, Dentist, old man?’ quite kindly and like a perfect + knight, though, of course, he was annoyed with Denny. It is sickening when + people turn pale in the middle of a game and everything is spoiled, and + you have to go home, and tell the spoiler how sorry you are that he is + knocked up, and pretend not to mind about the game being spoiled. + </p> + <p> + Denny said, ‘Nothing’, but Oswald knew better. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, ‘Let’s rest a bit, Oswald, it IS hot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir Oswald, if you please, Plain Pilgrim,’ returned her brother + dignifiedly. ‘Remember I’m a knight.’ + </p> + <p> + So then we sat down and had lunch, and Denny looked better. We played + adverbs, and twenty questions, and apprenticing your son, for a bit in the + shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail if we meant to make the + port of Canterbury that night. Of course, pilgrims reck not of ports, but + Dicky never does play the game thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right and quite + early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently Oswald saw, beyond + any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shoes hurt you, Dentist?’ he said, still with kind striving cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much—it’s all right,’ returned the other. + </p> + <p> + So on we went—but we were all a bit tired now—and the sun was + hotter and hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to sing to + keep up our spirits. We sang ‘The British Grenadiers’ and ‘John Brown’s + Body’, which is grand to march to, and a lot of others. We were just + starting on ‘Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching’, when Denny + stopped short. He stood first on one foot and then on the other, and + suddenly screwed up his face and put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down + on a heap of stones by the roadside. When we pulled his hands down he was + actually crying. The author does not wish to say it is babyish to cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever is up?’ we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to get him + to say, but he only went on howling, and said it was nothing, only would + we go on and leave him, and call for him as we came back. + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the stomach-ache, and + he did not like to say so before all of us, so he sent the others away and + told them to walk on a bit. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘Now, Denny, don’t be a young ass. What is it? Is it + stomach-ache?’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny stopped crying to say ‘No!’ as loud as he could. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ Oswald said, ‘look here, you’re spoiling the whole thing. + Don’t be a jackape, Denny. What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t tell the others if I tell you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not if you say not,’ Oswald answered in kindly tones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s my shoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take them off, man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t laugh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘NO!’ cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to see why + he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble gentleness began to + undo the black-tape sandals. + </p> + <p> + Denny let him, crying hard all the time. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! Of all the—’ he said in proper indignation. + </p> + <p> + Denny quailed—though he said he did not—but then he doesn’t + know what quailing is, and if Denny did not quail then Oswald does not + know what quailing is either. + </p> + <p> + For when Oswald took the shoe off he naturally chucked it down and gave it + a kick, and a lot of little pinky yellow things rolled out. And Oswald + look closer at the interesting sight. And the little things were SPLIT + peas. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me,’ said the gentle knight, with the politeness of + despair, ‘why on earth you’ve played the goat like this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t be angry,’ Denny said; and now his shoes were off, he curled + and uncurled his toes and stopped crying. ‘I KNEW pilgrims put peas in + their shoes—and—oh, I wish you wouldn’t laugh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not,’ said Oswald, still with bitter politeness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be better + than all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to you’d want to + too, and you wouldn’t when I said it first. So I just put some peas in my + pocket and dropped one or two at a time into my shoes when you weren’t + looking.’ + </p> + <p> + In his secret heart Oswald said, ‘Greedy young ass.’ For it IS greedy to + want to have more of anything than other people, even goodness. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly Oswald said nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see’—Denny went on—‘I do want to be good. And if + pilgriming is to do you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn’t + mind being hurt in my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. And + besides, I wanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say I don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you’re quite good enough,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch back the others—no, + they won’t laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. But + Oswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old enough to see + that being good was all very well, but after all you had to get the boy + home somehow. + </p> + <p> + When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right—someone will give me a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift,’ Dicky + said, and he did not speak lovingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘So it can,’ said Denny, ‘when it’s your feet. I shall easily get a lift + home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not here you won’t,’ said Alice. ‘No one goes down this road; but the + high road’s just round the corner, where you see the telegraph wires.’ + </p> + <p> + Dickie and Oswald made a sedan chair and carried Denny to the high road, + and we sat down in a ditch to wait. For a long time nothing went by but a + brewer’s dray. We hailed it, of course, but the man was so sound asleep + that our hails were vain, and none of us thought soon enough about + springing like a flash to the horses’ heads, though we all thought of it + directly the dray was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + So we had to keep on sitting there by the dusty road, and more than one + pilgrim was heard to say it wished we had never come. Oswald was not one + of those who uttered this useless wish. + </p> + <p> + At last, just when despair was beginning to eat into the vital parts of + even Oswald, there was a quick tap-tapping of horses’ feet on the road, + and a dogcart came in sight with a lady in it all alone. + </p> + <p> + We hailed her like the desperate shipwrecked mariners in the long-boat + hail the passing sail. + </p> + <p> + She pulled up. She was not a very old lady—twenty-five we found out + afterwards her age was—and she looked jolly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s this poor little boy,’ Dora said, pointing to the Dentist, who had + gone to sleep in the dry ditch, with his mouth open as usual. ‘His feet + hurt him so, and will you give him a lift?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why are you all rigged out like this?’ asked the lady, looking at our + cockle-shells and sandals and things. We told her. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how has he hurt his feet?’ she asked. And we told her that. + </p> + <p> + She looked very kind. ‘Poor little chap,’ she said. ‘Where do you want to + go?’ + </p> + <p> + We told her that too. We had no concealments from this lady. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I have to go on to—what is its name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Canterbury,’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes, Canterbury,’ she said; ‘it’s only about half a mile. I’ll take + the poor little pilgrim—and, yes, the three girls. You boys must + walk. Then we’ll have tea and see the sights, and I’ll drive you home—at + least some of you. How will that do?’ + </p> + <p> + We thanked her very much indeed, and said it would do very nicely. + </p> + <p> + Then we helped Denny into the cart, and the girls got up, and the red + wheels of the cart spun away through the dust. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish it had been an omnibus the lady was driving,’ said H. O., ‘then we + could all have had a ride.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you be so discontented,’ Dicky said. And Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to be jolly thankful you haven’t got to carry Denny all the way + home on your back. You’d have had to if you’d been out alone with him.’ + </p> + <p> + When we got to Canterbury it was much smaller than we expected, and the + cathedral not much bigger than the Church that is next to the Moat House. + There seemed to be only one big street, but we supposed the rest of the + city was hidden away somewhere. There was a large inn, with a green before + it, and the red-wheeled dogcart was standing in the stableyard and the + lady, with Denny and the others, sitting on the benches in the porch, + looking out for us. The inn was called the ‘George and Dragon’, and it + made me think of the days when there were coaches and highwaymen and + foot-pads and jolly landlords, and adventures at country inns, like you + read about. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve ordered tea,’ said the lady. ‘Would you like to wash your hands?’ + </p> + <p> + We saw that she wished us to, so we said yes, we would. The girls and + Denny were already much cleaner than when we parted from them. + </p> + <p> + There was a courtyard to the inn and a wooden staircase outside the house. + We were taken up this, and washed our hands in a big room with a fourpost + wooden bed and dark red hangings—just the sort of hangings that + would not show the stains of gore in the dear old adventurous times. + </p> + <p> + Then we had tea in a great big room with wooden chairs and tables, very + polished and old. + </p> + <p> + It was a very nice tea, with lettuces, and cold meat, and three kinds of + jam, as well as cake, and new bread, which we are not allowed at home. + </p> + <p> + While tea was being had, the lady talked to us. She was very kind. + </p> + <p> + There are two sorts of people in the world, besides others; one sort + understand what you’re driving at, and the other don’t. This lady was the + one sort. + </p> + <p> + After everyone had had as much to eat as they could possibly want, the + lady said, ‘What was it you particularly wanted to see at Canterbury?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cathedral,’ Alice said, ‘and the place where Thomas A Becket was + murdered.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the Danejohn,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + Oswald wanted to see the walls, because he likes the Story of St Alphege + and the Danes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said the lady, and she put on her hat; it was a really + sensible one—not a blob of fluffy stuff and feathers put on sideways + and stuck on with long pins, and no shade to your face, but almost as big + as ours, with a big brim and red flowers, and black strings to tie under + your chin to keep it from blowing off. + </p> + <p> + Then we went out all together to see Canterbury. Dicky and Oswald took it + in turns to carry Denny on their backs. The lady called him ‘The Wounded + Comrade’. + </p> + <p> + We went first to the church. Oswald, whose quick brain was easily aroused + to suspicions, was afraid the lady might begin talking in the church, but + she did not. The church door was open. I remember mother telling us once + it was right and good for churches to be left open all day, so that tired + people could go in and be quiet, and say their prayers, if they wanted to. + But it does not seem respectful to talk out loud in church. (See Note A.) + </p> + <p> + When we got outside the lady said, ‘You can imagine how on the chancel + steps began the mad struggle in which Becket, after hurling one of his + assailants, armour and all, to the ground—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would have been much cleverer,’ H. O. interrupted, ‘to hurl him + without his armour, and leave that standing up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on,’ said Alice and Oswald, when they had given H. O. a withering + glance. And the lady did go on. She told us all about Becket, and then + about St Alphege, who had bones thrown at him till he died, because he + wouldn’t tax his poor people to please the beastly rotten Danes. + </p> + <p> + And Denny recited a piece of poetry he knows called ‘The Ballad of + Canterbury’. + </p> + <p> + It begins about Danish warships snake-shaped, and ends about doing as + you’d be done by. It is long, but it has all the beef-bones in it, and all + about St Alphege. + </p> + <p> + Then the lady showed us the Danejohn, and it was like an oast-house. And + Canterbury walls that Alphege defied the Danes from looked down on a quite + common farmyard. The hospital was like a barn, and other things were like + other things, but we went all about and enjoyed it very much. The lady was + quite amusing, besides sometimes talking like a real cathedral guide I met + afterwards. (See Note B.) When at last we said we thought Canterbury was + very small considering, the lady said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it seemed a pity to come so far and not at least hear something + about Canterbury.’ + </p> + <p> + And then at once we knew the worst, and Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What a horrid sell!’ But Oswald, with immediate courteousness, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care. You did it awfully well.’ And he did not say, though he + owns he thought of it— + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew it all the time,’ though it was a great temptation. Because really + it was more than half true. He had felt from the first that this was too + small for Canterbury. (See Note C.) + </p> + <p> + The real name of the place was Hazelbridge, and not Canterbury at all. We + went to Canterbury another time. (See Note D.) We were not angry with the + lady for selling us about it being Canterbury, because she had really kept + it up first-rate. And she asked us if we minded, very handsomely, and we + said we liked it. But now we did not care how soon we got home. The lady + saw this, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, our chariots are ready, and our horses caparisoned.’ + </p> + <p> + That is a first-rate word out of a book. It cheered Oswald up, and he + liked her for using it, though he wondered why she said chariots. When we + got back to the inn I saw her dogcart was there, and a grocer’s cart too, + with B. Munn, grocer, Hazelbridge, on it. She took the girls in her cart, + and the boys went with the grocer. His horse was a very good one to go, + only you had to hit it with the wrong end of the whip. But the cart was + very bumpety. + </p> + <p> + The evening dews were falling—at least, I suppose so, but you do not + feel dew in a grocer’s cart—when we reached home. We all thanked the + lady very much, and said we hoped we should see her again some day. She + said she hoped so. + </p> + <p> + The grocer drove off, and when we had all shaken hands with the lady and + kissed her, according as we were boys or girls, or little boys, she + touched up her horse and drove away. + </p> + <p> + She turned at the corner to wave to us, and just as we had done waving, + and were turning into the house, Albert’s uncle came into our midst like a + whirling wind. He was in flannels, and his shirt had no stud in at the + neck, and his hair was all rumpled up and his hands were inky, and we knew + he had left off in the middle of a chapter by the wildness of his eye. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who was that lady?’ he said. ‘Where did you meet her?’ + </p> + <p> + Mindful, as ever, of what he was told, Oswald began to tell the story from + the beginning. + </p> + <p> + ‘The other day, protector of the poor,’ he began; ‘Dora and I were reading + about the Canterbury pilgrims...’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought Albert’s uncle would be pleased to find his instructions + about beginning at the beginning had borne fruit, but instead he + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow it, you young duffer! Where did you meet her?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald answered briefly, in wounded accents, ‘Hazelbridge.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Albert’s uncle rushed upstairs three at a time, and as he went he + called out to Oswald— + </p> + <p> + ‘Get out my bike, old man, and blow up the back tyre.’ + </p> + <p> + I am sure Oswald was as quick as anyone could have been, but long ere the + tyre was thoroughly blowed Albert’s uncle appeared, with a collar-stud and + tie and blazer, and his hair tidy, and wrenching the unoffending machine + from Oswald’s surprised fingers. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle finished pumping up the tyre, and then flinging himself + into the saddle he set off, scorching down the road at a pace not + surpassed by any highwayman, however black and high-mettled his steed. We + were left looking at each other. ‘He must have recognized her,’ Dicky + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps,’ Noel said, ‘she is the old nurse who alone knows the dark + secret of his highborn birth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not old enough, by chalks,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Alice, ‘if she holds the secret of the will + that will make him rolling in long-lost wealth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder if he’ll catch her,’ Noel said. ‘I’m quite certain all his + future depends on it. Perhaps she’s his long-lost sister, and the estate + was left to them equally, only she couldn’t be found, so it couldn’t be + shared up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps he’s only in love with her,’ Dora said, ‘parted by cruel Fate at + an early age, he has ranged the wide world ever since trying to find her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope to goodness he hasn’t—anyway, he’s not ranged since we knew + him—never further than Hastings,’ Oswald said. ‘We don’t want any of + that rot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What rot?’ Daisy asked. And Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Getting married, and all that sort of rubbish.’ + </p> + <p> + And Daisy and Dora were the only ones that didn’t agree with him. Even + Alice owned that being bridesmaids must be fairly good fun. It’s no good. + You may treat girls as well as you like, and give them every comfort and + luxury, and play fair just as if they were boys, but there is something + unmanly about the best of girls. They go silly, like milk goes sour, + without any warning. + </p> + <p> + When Albert’s uncle returned he was very hot, with a beaded brow, but pale + as the Dentist when the peas were at their worst. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you catch her?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle’s brow looked black as the cloud that thunder will + presently break from. ‘No,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she your long-lost nurse?’ H. O. went on, before we could stop him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Long-lost grandmother! I knew the lady long ago in India,’ said Albert’s + uncle, as he left the room, slamming the door in a way we should be + forbidden to. + </p> + <p> + And that was the end of the Canterbury Pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + As for the lady, we did not then know whether she was his long-lost + grandmother that he had known in India or not, though we thought she + seemed youngish for the part. We found out afterwards whether she was or + not, but that comes in another part. His manner was not the one that makes + you go on asking questions. The Canterbury Pilgriming did not exactly make + us good, but then, as Dora said, we had not done anything wrong that day. + So we were twenty-four hours to the good. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note A.—Afterwards we went and saw real Canterbury. It is +very large. A disagreeable man showed us round the cathedral, and jawed +all the time quite loud as if it wasn’t a church. I remember one thing +he said. It was this: +</pre> + <p> + ‘This is the Dean’s Chapel; it was the Lady Chapel in the wicked days when + people used to worship the Virgin Mary.’ + </p> + <p> + And H. O. said, ‘I suppose they worship the Dean now?’ + </p> + <p> + Some strange people who were there laughed out loud. I think this is worse + in church than not taking your cap off when you come in, as H. O. forgot + to do, because the cathedral was so big he didn’t think it was a church. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note B. (See Note C.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note C. (See Note D.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note D. (See Note E.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note E. (See Note A.) +</pre> + <p> + This ends the Canterbury Pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON’S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED + </h2> + <p> + Albert’s uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when we + became Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart with red + wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost grandmother he had known + years ago in India, he spent not nearly so much of his time in writing, + and he used to shave every morning instead of only when requisite, as in + earlier days. And he was always going out on his bicycle in his new + Norfolk suit. We are not so unobserving as grown-up people make out. We + knew well enough he was looking for the long-lost. And we jolly well + wished he might find her. Oswald, always full of sympathy with misfortune, + however undeserved, had himself tried several times to find the lady. So + had the others. But all this is what they call a digression; it has + nothing to do with the dragon’s teeth I am now narrating. + </p> + <p> + It began with the pig dying—it was the one we had for the circus, + but it having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its illness + and death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and perhaps if we + hadn’t made it run so that day it might have been spared to us. But Oswald + cannot pretend that people were right just because they happen to be dead, + and as long as that pig was alive we all knew well enough that it was it + that made us run—and not us it. + </p> + <p> + The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made the tombstone + for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner we took a turn at + digging, because we like to be useful, and besides, when you dig you never + know what you may turn up. I knew a man once that found a gold ring on the + point of his fork when he was digging potatoes, and you know how we found + two half-crowns ourselves once when we were digging for treasure. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were sitting on + the gravel and telling him how to do it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Work with a will,’ Dicky said, yawning. + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig without + finding something. I think I’d rather it was a secret passage than + anything.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying. + </p> + <p> + ‘A secret’s nothing when you’ve found it out. Look at the secret + staircase. It’s no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of its + squeaking. I’d rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for when we were + little.’ It was really only last year, but you seem to grow old very + quickly after you have once passed the prime of your youth, which is at + ten, I believe. + </p> + <p> + ‘How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist soldiers + foully done to death by nasty Ironsides?’ Noel asked, with his mouth full + of plum. + </p> + <p> + ‘If they were really dead it wouldn’t matter,’ Dora said. ‘What I’m afraid + of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your legs when you’re + going upstairs to bed.’ ‘Skeletons can’t walk,’ Alice said in a hurry; + ‘you know they can’t, Dora.’ + </p> + <p> + And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what she had. + The things you are frightened of, or even those you would rather not meet + in the dark, should never be mentioned before the little ones, or else + they cry when it comes to bed-time, and say it was because of what you + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shan’t find anything. No jolly fear,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, and it + felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that we had found + that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, seemed to be longish; + longer, that is, than a pot of gold would naturally be. And as I uncovered + it I saw that it was not at all pot-of-gold-colour, but like a bone + Pincher has buried. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS the skeleton.’ + </p> + <p> + The girls all drew back, and Alice said, ‘Oswald, I wish you wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it up, with + both hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a dragon’s head,’ Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. + </p> + <p> + It was long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth sticking + in the jaw. + </p> + <p> + Bill came back just then and said it was a horse’s head, but H. O. and + Noel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has ever seen + had a head at all that shape. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who showed me + how to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him about ferrets, so + he went off and Dicky and Denny and Alice with him. Also Daisy and Dora + went off to finish reading Ministering Children. So H. O. and Noel were + left with the bony head. They took it away. + </p> + <p> + The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But just + before breakfast Noel and H. O. came in, looking hot and anxious. They had + got up early and had not washed at all—not even their hands and + faces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the others saw it, and with + proper delicate feeling pretended not to have. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O. in obedience to the secret + signal, Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You know that dragon’s head yesterday?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ Oswald said quickly, but not crossly—the two things are + quite different. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed + dragon’s teeth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They came up armed men,’ said H. O., but Noel sternly bade him shut up, + and Oswald said ‘Well,’ again. If he spoke impatiently it was because he + smelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ Noel went on, ‘what do you suppose would have come up if we’d + sowed those dragon’s teeth we found yesterday?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, nothing, you young duffer,’ said Oswald, who could now smell the + coffee. ‘All that isn’t History it’s Humbug. Come on in to brekker.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s NOT humbug,’ H. O. cried, ‘it is history. We DID sow—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up,’ said Noel again. ‘Look here, Oswald. We did sow those dragon’s + teeth in Randall’s ten-acre meadow, and what do you think has come up?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Toadstools I should think,’ was Oswald’s contemptible rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + ‘They have come up a camp of soldiers,’ said Noel—ARMED MEN. So you + see it WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it has + come up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that helped it along.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve—his brother or his ears. + So, disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way to the + bacon and the banqueting hall. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. O. But + after the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good elder brother + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?’ + </p> + <p> + So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions of doubt. + It was Dicky who observed— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go and have a squint at Randall’s ten-acre, anyhow. I saw a hare + there the other day.’ + </p> + <p> + We went. It is some little way, and as we went, disbelief reigned superb + in every breast except Noel’s and H. O.‘s, so you will see that even the + ready pen of the present author cannot be expected to describe to you his + variable sensations when he got to the top of the hill and suddenly saw + that his little brothers had spoken the truth. I do not mean that they + generally tell lies, but people make mistakes sometimes, and the effect is + the same as lies if you believe them. + </p> + <p> + There WAS a camp there with real tents and soldiers in grey and red + tunics. I daresay the girls would have said coats. We stood in ambush, too + astonished even to think of lying in it, though of course we know that + this is customary. The ambush was the wood on top of the little hill, + between Randall’s ten-acre meadow and Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. + </p> + <p> + ‘There would be cover here for a couple of regiments,’ whispered Oswald, + who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of a born + general. + </p> + <p> + Alice merely said ‘Hist’, and we went down to mingle with the troops as + though by accident, and seek for information. + </p> + <p> + The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a sort of + cauldron thing like witches brew bats in. + </p> + <p> + We went up to him and said, ‘Who are you? Are you English, or are you the + enemy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re the enemy,’ he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being what he + was. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a foreigner. + </p> + <p> + ‘The enemy!’ Oswald echoed in shocked tones. It is a terrible thing to a + loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy cleaning a pot in an English + field, with English sand, and looking as much at home as if he was in his + foreign fastnesses. + </p> + <p> + The enemy seemed to read Oswald’s thoughts with deadly unerringness. He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. They are + trying to keep us out of Maidstone.’ + </p> + <p> + After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth going + on with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in reading Oswald’s + innermost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other things, or he would + never have given away his secret plans like this, for he must have known + from our accents that we were Britons to the backbone. Or perhaps (Oswald + thought this, and it made his blood at once boil and freeze, which our + uncle had told us was possible, but only in India), perhaps he thought + that Maidstone was already as good as taken and it didn’t matter what he + said. While Oswald was debating within his intellect what to say next, and + how to say it so as to discover as many as possible of the enemy’s dark + secrets, Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you get here? You weren’t here yesterday at tea-time.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay it does seem quick work—the camp seems as if it had + sprung up in the night, doesn’t it?—like a mushroom.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. The + words ‘sprung up in the night’ seemed to touch a string in every heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ whispered Noel, ‘he won’t tell us how he came here. NOW, is it + humbug or history?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up and not + bother, remarked, ‘Then you’re an invading army?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the soldier, ‘we’re a skeleton battalion, as a matter of + fact, but we’re invading all right enough.’ + </p> + <p> + And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as the + quick-witted Oswald’s had done earlier in the interview. Even H. O. opened + his mouth and went the colour of mottled soap; he is so fat that this is + the nearest he can go to turning pale. Denny said, ‘But you don’t look + like skeletons.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier stared, then he laughed and said, ‘Ah, that’s the padding in + our tunics. You should see us in the grey dawn taking our morning bath in + a bucket.’ It was a dreadful picture for the imagination. A skeleton, with + its bones all loose most likely, bathing anyhow in a pail. There was a + silence while we thought it over. + </p> + <p> + Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about taking + Maidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald’s jacket behind, and he had + kept on not taking any notice. But now he could not stand it any longer, + so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what is it?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that he + nearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, ‘Come along, don’t + stay parlaying with the foe. He’s only talking to you to gain time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for?’ said Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, so that we shouldn’t warn the other army, you silly,’ Alice said, + and Oswald was so upset by what she said, that he forgot to be properly + angry with her for the wrong word she used. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we ought to warn them at home,’ she said—’ suppose the Moat + House was burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the foe?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice turned boldly to the soldier. ‘DO you burn down farms?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, not as a rule,’ he said, and he had the cheek to wink at Oswald, + but Oswald would not look at him. ‘We’ve not burned a farm since—oh, + not for years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A farm in Greek history it was, I expect,’ Denny murmured. ‘Civilized + warriors do not burn farms nowadays,’ Alice said sternly, ‘whatever they + did in Greek times. You ought to know that.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. + </p> + <p> + So we said good morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to be polite + even to your enemy, except just at the moments when it has really come to + rifles and bayonets or other weapons. + </p> + <p> + The soldier said ‘So long!’ in quite a modern voice, and we retraced our + footsteps in silence to the ambush—I mean the wood. Oswald did think + of lying in the ambush then, but it was rather wet, because of the rain + the night before, that H. O. said had brought the army-seed up. And Alice + walked very fast, saying nothing but ‘Hurry up, can’t you!’ and dragging + H. O. by one hand and Noel by the other. So we got into the road. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice faced round and said, ‘This is all our fault. If we hadn’t + sowed those dragon’s teeth there wouldn’t have been any invading army.’ + </p> + <p> + I am sorry to say Daisy said, ‘Never mind, Alice, dear. WE didn’t sow the + nasty things, did we, Dora?’ + </p> + <p> + But Denny told her it was just the same. It was WE had done it, so long as + it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into trouble. Oswald was + very pleased to see that the Dentist was beginning to understand the + meaning of true manliness, and about the honour of the house of Bastable, + though of course he is only a Foulkes. Yet it is something to know he does + his best to learn. + </p> + <p> + If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I daresay you will now have + thought of a great many things. If you have you need not say anything, + especially if you’re reading this aloud to anybody. It’s no good putting + in what you think in this part, because none of us thought anything of the + kind at the time. + </p> + <p> + We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, filled + with shame and distress to think of what might happen owing to the + dragon’s teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to sow seed without + being quite sure what sort it is. This is particularly true of the penny + packets, which sometimes do not come up at all, quite unlike dragon’s + teeth. + </p> + <p> + Of course H. O. and Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. This was + only fair. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?’ Dickie said. + ‘Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from the bodies of + dead English soldiers, I shouldn’t wonder.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they’re the old Greek kind of dragon’s-teeth soldiers, they ought to + fight each other to death,’ Noel said; ‘at least, if we had a helmet to + throw among them.’ + </p> + <p> + But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be of no use for H. + O. to go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he wanted to. Denny + said suddenly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn’t know the way to + Maidstone?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. + </p> + <p> + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch all the tools out of your chest—Dicky go too, there’s a good + chap, and don’t let him cut his legs with the saw.’ He did once, tumbling + over it. ‘Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, where we had the + Benevolent Bar. Courage and dispatch, and look sharp about it.’ + </p> + <p> + When they had gone we hastened to the crossroads, and there a great idea + occurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably that in a + very short time the board in the field which says ‘No thoroughfare. + Trespassers will be prosecuted’ was set up in the middle of the road to + Maidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the road, behind it to make it + stand up. + </p> + <p> + Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post and + sawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it said ‘To + Maidstone’ on the Dover Road, and ‘To Dover’ on the road to Maidstone. We + decided to leave the Trespassers board on the real Maidstone road, as an + extra guard. + </p> + <p> + Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone. + </p> + <p> + Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been unkind to + say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt a pang of joy + when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather stay where they were + and tell anybody who came by which was the real road. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because it would be so dreadful if someone was going to buy pigs or fetch + a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had got to Dover + instead of where they wanted to go to,’ Dora said. But when it came to + dinner-time they went home, so that they were entirely out of it. This + often happens to them by some strange fatalism. + </p> + <p> + We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher went + with us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to remember no one + said anything about their dinners, whatever they may have thought. We + cannot always help our thoughts. We happened to know it was roast rabbits + and currant jelly that day. + </p> + <p> + We walked two and two, and sang the ‘British Grenadiers’ and ‘Soldiers of + the queen’ so as to be as much part of the British Army as possible. The + Cauldron-Man had said the English were the other side of the hill. But we + could not see any scarlet anywhere, though we looked for it as carefully + as if we had been fierce bulls. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into a lot of + soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were dressed in grey and + silver. And it was a sort of furzy-common place, and three roads branching + out. The men were lying about, with some of their belts undone, smoking + pipes and cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not British soldiers,’ Alice said. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, I’m afraid + it’s more enemy. You didn’t sow the army-seed anywhere else, did you, H. + O. dear?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. was positive he hadn’t. ‘But perhaps lots more came up where we did + sow them,’ he said; ‘they’re all over England by now very likely. <i>I</i> + don’t know how many men can grow out of one dragon’s tooth.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Noel said, ‘It was my doing anyhow, and I’m not afraid,’ and he + walked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his pipe with + a piece of grass, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, are you the enemy?’ The man said— + </p> + <p> + ‘No, young Commander-in-Chief, we’re the English.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald took command. ‘Where is the General?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re out of generals just now, Field-Marshal,’ the man said, and his + voice was a gentleman’s voice. ‘Not a single one in stock. We might suit + you in majors now—and captains are quite cheap. Competent corporals + going for a song. And we have a very nice colonel, too quiet to ride or + drive.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one. + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to be taking it very easy,’ he said with disdainful expression. + </p> + <p> + ‘This IS an easy,’ said the grey soldier, sucking at his pipe to see if it + would draw. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose YOU don’t care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!’ + exclaimed Oswald bitterly. ‘If I were a soldier I’d rather die than be + beaten.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier saluted. ‘Good old patriotic sentiment’ he said, smiling at + the heart-felt boy. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald could bear no more. ‘Which is the Colonel?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Over there—near the grey horse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The one lighting a cigarette?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes—but I say, kiddie, he won’t stand any jaw. There’s not an ounce + of vice about him, but he’s peppery. He might kick out. You’d better + bunk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Better what?’ asked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit,’ said the soldier. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what you’d do when the fighting begins,’ said H. O. He is often + rude like that—but it was what we all thought, all the same. + </p> + <p> + The soldier only laughed. + </p> + <p> + A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended in our + allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the Colonel. It was she who + wanted to. ‘However peppery he is he won’t kick a girl,’ she said, and + perhaps this was true. + </p> + <p> + But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to stand in + front of the Colonel. And as we went along we agreed that we would salute + him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick said, ‘One, two, three’, + and we all saluted very well—except H. O., who chose that minute to + trip over a rifle a soldier had left lying about, and was only saved from + falling by a man in a cocked hat who caught him deftly by the back of his + jacket and stood him on his legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let go, can’t you,’ said H. O. ‘Are you the General?’ + </p> + <p> + Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to the + Colonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as we + threaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really said was— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how CAN you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I WHAT?’ said the Colonel, rather crossly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, SMOKE?’ said Alice. + </p> + <p> + ‘My good children, if you’re an infant Band of Hope, let me recommend you + to play in some other backyard,’ said the Cock-Hatted Man. + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘Band of Hope yourself’—but no one noticed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re NOT a Band of Hope,’ said Noel. ‘We’re British, and the man over + there told us you are. And Maidstone’s in danger, and the enemy not a mile + off, and you stand SMOKING.’ Noel was standing crying, himself, or + something very like it. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s quite true,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel said, ‘Fiddle-de-dee.’ + </p> + <p> + But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, ‘What was the enemy like?’ We told him + exactly. And even the Colonel then owned there might be something in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you show me the place where they are on the map?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not on the map, we can’t,’ said Dicky—‘at least, I don’t think so, + but on the ground we could. We could take you there in a quarter of an + hour.’ + </p> + <p> + The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the Colonel, who returned his scrutiny, + then he shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, we’ve got to do something,’ he said, as if to himself. ‘Lead on, + Macduff.’ + </p> + <p> + The Colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words of + command which the present author is sorry he can’t remember. + </p> + <p> + Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, marching at + the head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One’s horse. + It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been in a ballad. + They call a grey-roan a ‘blue’ in South Africa, the Cocked-Hatted One + said. + </p> + <p> + We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate of + Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. Then the Colonel called a whispered halt, and + choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerning commander + went on, on foot, with an orderly. He chose Dicky and Oswald as guides. So + we led him to the ambush, and we went through it as quietly as we could. + But twigs do crackle and snap so when you are reconnoitring, or anxious to + escape detection for whatever reason. + </p> + <p> + Our Colonel’s orderly crackled most. If you’re not near enough to tell a + colonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you can tell him by + the orderly behind him, like ‘follow my leader’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look out!’ said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, ‘the camp’s down + in that field. You can see if you take a squint through this gap.’ + </p> + <p> + The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, baffled + beyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with his baffledness + the British Colonel had his squint. He also drew back, and said a word + that he must have known was not right—at least when he was a boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care,’ said Oswald, ‘they were there this morning. White tents + like mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a cauldron.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With sand,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s most convincing,’ said the Colonel, and I did not like the way he + said it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ Oswald said, ‘let’s get to the top corner of the ambush—the + wood, I mean. You can see the crossroads from there.’ + </p> + <p> + We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer dismayed our + almost despairing spirits. + </p> + <p> + We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald’s patriotic heart really did + give a jump, and he cried, ‘There they are, on the Dover Road.’ + </p> + <p> + Our miscellaneous signboard had done its work. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, young un, you’re right! And in quarter column, too! We’ve got em + on toast—on toast—egad!’ I never heard anyone not in a book + say ‘egad’ before, so I saw something really out of the way was indeed up. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the orderly + to tell the Major to advance two companies on the left flank and take + cover. Then we led him back through the wood the nearest way, because he + said he must rejoin the main body at once. We found the main body very + friendly with Noel and H. O. and the others, and Alice was talking to the + Cocked-Hatted One as if she had known him all her life. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s a general in disguise,’ Noel said. ‘He’s been giving us + chocolate out of a pocket in his saddle.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought about the roast rabbit then—and he is not ashamed to + own it—yet he did not say a word. But Alice is really not a bad + sort. She had saved two bars of chocolate for him and Dicky. Even in war + girls can sometimes be useful in their humble way. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel fussed about and said, ‘Take cover there!’ and everybody hid + in the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with Alice, retreated + down the road out of sight. We were in the ditch too. It was muddy—but + nobody thought of their boots in that perilous moment. It seemed a long + time we were crouching there. Oswald began to feel the water squelching in + his boots, so we held our breath and listened. Oswald laid his ear to the + road like a Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace, but when + your country is in danger you care but little about keeping your ears + clean. His backwoods’ strategy was successful. He rose and dusted himself + and said—‘They’re coming!’ + </p> + <p> + It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be heard + quite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The wicked enemy + approached. They were marching with a careless swaggeringness that showed + how little they suspected the horrible doom which was about to teach them + England’s might and supremeness. + </p> + <p> + Just as the enemy turned the corner so that we could see them, the Colonel + shouted—‘Right section, fire!’ and there was a deafening banging. + </p> + <p> + The enemy’s officer said something, and then the enemy got confused and + tried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was vain. There + was firing now from our men, on the left as well as the right. And then + our Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy’s Colonel and demanded surrender. + He told me so afterwards. His exact words are only known to himself and + the other Colonel. But the enemy’s Colonel said, ‘I would rather die than + surrender,’ or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, and + even Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of the amount of + blood to be shed. What would have happened can never now be revealed. For + at this moment a man on a piebald horse came clattering over a hedge—as + carelessly as if the air was not full of lead and steel at all. Another + man rode behind him with a lance and a red pennon on it. I think he must + have been the enemy’s General coming to tell his men not to throw away + their lives on a forlorn hope, for directly he said they were captured the + enemy gave in and owned that they were. The enemy’s Colonel saluted and + ordered his men to form quarter column again. I should have thought he + would have had about enough of that myself. + </p> + <p> + He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter end. He + rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek to say to our + Colonel— + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to have + marked us down uncommonly neatly.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand on Oswald’s + shoulder and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my chief scout’ which were high words, but not undeserved, and + Oswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard them. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you are the traitor, young man,’ said the wicked Colonel, going on + with his cheek. + </p> + <p> + Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous to a + fallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you haven’t. + </p> + <p> + He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might have + done, but he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We aren’t traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a Foulkes. We + only mingled unsuspected with the enemy’s soldiery and learned the secrets + of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell always does when the natives + rebel in South Africa; and Denis Foulkes thought of altering the + sign-posts to lead the foe astray. And if we did cause all this fighting, + and get Maidstone threatened with capture and all that, it was only + because we didn’t believe Greek things could happen in Great Britain and + Ireland, even if you sow dragon’s teeth, and besides, some of us were not + asked about sowing them.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and made us + tell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked Colonel listened + too, which was only another proof of his cheek. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some people + think he has, and gave the others all the credit they deserved. His + narration was interrupted no less than four times by shouts of ‘Bravo!’ in + which the enemy’s Colonel once more showed his cheek by joining. By the + time the story was told we were in sight of another camp. It was the + British one this time. The Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, and + it only shows the magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field of battle + that he asked the enemy’s Colonel too. With his usual cheek he accepted. + We were jolly hungry. + </p> + <p> + When everyone had had as much tea as they possibly could, the Colonel + shook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in my dispatches + to the War Office.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. interrupted him to say, ‘His name’s Oswald Cecil Bastable, and mine + is Horace Octavius.’ I wish H. O. would learn to hold his tongue. No one + ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if he can possibly help + it. YOU didn’t know it till now. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Oswald Bastable,’ the Colonel went on—he had the decency not to + take any notice of the ‘Cecil’—‘you would be a credit to any + regiment. No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for what you + have done for your country. But meantime, perhaps, you’ll accept five + shillings from a grateful comrade-in-arms.’ Oswald felt heart-felt sorry + to wound the good Colonel’s feelings, but he had to remark that he had + only done his duty, and he was sure no British scout would take five bob + for doing that. ‘And besides,’ he said, with that feeling of justice which + is part of his young character, ‘it was the others just as much as me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your sentiments, Sir,’ said the Colonel who was one of the politest and + most discerning colonels I ever saw, ‘your sentiments do you honour. But, + Bastables all, and—and non-Bastables’ (he couldn’t remember Foulkes; + it’s not such an interesting name as Bastable, of course)—‘at least + you’ll accept a soldier’s pay?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!’ Alice and Denny said together. And + the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing your own mind and + knowing your own Kipling. + </p> + <p> + ‘A soldier,’ said the Colonel, ‘would certainly be lucky to touch it. You + see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is exactly right, + deducting twopence each for six teas.’ + </p> + <p> + This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and all the + strawberry jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well as what the + others ate, and Lady’s and Pincher’s teas, but I suppose soldiers get + things cheaper than civilians, which is only right. + </p> + <p> + Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any scruples + why he should not. + </p> + <p> + Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw a bicycle + coming. It was Albert’s uncle. He got off and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with those + volunteers?’ + </p> + <p> + We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and then he + said he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked. + </p> + <p> + But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was now + almost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without a moment’s + pause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He said nothing at the + time, but after supper he had it out with Albert’s uncle about the word + which had been withdrawn. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the dragon’s + teeth hadn’t come up in the good old-fashioned way, but that, on the other + hand, it was barely possible that both the British and the enemy were only + volunteers having a field-day or sham fight, and he rather thought the + Cocked-Hatted Man was not a general, but a doctor. And the man with a red + pennon carried behind him MIGHT have been the umpire. + </p> + <p> + Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts were all + panting with joy because they had saved their country; and it would have + been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly they had been. + Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have been so taken in—if + he HAD been. Besides, Albert’s uncle did say that no one could be sure + about the dragon’s teeth. + </p> + <p> + The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole thing was a + beastly sell, was that we didn’t see any wounded. But he tries not to + think of this. And if he goes into the army when he grows up, he will not + go quite green. He has had experience of the arts of war and the tented + field. And a real colonel has called him ‘Comrade-in-Arms’, which is + exactly what Lord Roberts called his own soldiers when he wrote home about + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 14. ALBERT’S UNCLE’s GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST + </h2> + <p> + The shadow of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds upon + our devoted nobs. As Albert’s uncle said, ‘School now gaped for its prey’. + In a very short space of time we should be wending our way back to + Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness of the country would + soon be only preserved in memory’s faded flowers. (I don’t care for that + way of writing very much. It would be an awful swot to keep it up—looking + out the words and all that.) + </p> + <p> + To speak in the language of everyday life, our holiday was jolly nearly + up. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We really did feel + sorry—though, of course, it was rather decent to think of getting + back to Father and being able to tell the other chaps about our raft, and + the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and things like that. + </p> + <p> + When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by chance in an + apple-tree. (That sounds like ‘consequences’, but it is mere + truthfulness.) Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Only four more days.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one thing,’ Dickie said, ‘that beastly society. We don’t want + that swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought to dissolve + it before we leave here.’ + </p> + <p> + The following dialogue now took place: + </p> + <p> + Oswald—‘Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky—‘So did I.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald—‘Let’s call a council. But don’t forget we’ve jolly well got + to put our foot down.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples. + </p> + <p> + The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made Oswald’s and + Dicky’s task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy despair about one + thing, they will agree to almost anything about something else. (Remarks + like this are called philosophic generalizations, Albert’s uncle says.) + Oswald began by saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it’s done us good. + But now the time has come for each of us to be good or bad on his own, + without hanging on to the others.’ + </p> + <pre> + ‘The race is run by one and one, + But never by two and two,’ + </pre> + <p> + the Dentist said. + </p> + <p> + The others said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went on: ‘I move that we chuck—I mean dissolve—the + Wouldbegoods Society; its appointed task is done. If it’s not well done, + that’s ITS fault and not ours.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Hear! hear! I second this prop.’ + </p> + <p> + The unexpected Dentist said, ‘I third it. At first I thought it would + help, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be naughty, just + because you were a Wouldbegood.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as not to + let Denny cool. H. O. and Noel and Alice voted with us, so Daisy and Dora + were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried to cheer their + hopelessness by letting them read the things out of the Golden Deed book + aloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that we should not see the faces + he made while he made poetry instead of listening, and when the + Wouldbegoods was by vote dissolved for ever he sat up, straws in his hair, + and said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE EPITAPH + + ‘The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone + But not the golden deeds they have done + These will remain upon Glory’s page + To be an example to every age, + And by this we have got to know + How to be good upon our ow—N. +</pre> + <p> + N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O, W, N, + own; do you see?’ + </p> + <p> + We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And the council + broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from his expanding + chest, and it is curious that he never felt so inclined to be good and a + model youth as he did then. As he went down the ladder out of the loft he + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We ought to + find Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother for him.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice’s heart beat true and steadfast. She said, ‘That’s just exactly what + Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, Oswald, you wretch, you’re + kicking chaff into my eyes.’ She was going down the ladder just under me. + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s younger sister’s thoughtful remark ended in another council. But + not in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite new place, and + disregarded H. O.‘s idea of the dairy and Noel’s of the cellars. We had + the new council on the secret staircase, and there we settled exactly what + we ought to do. This is the same thing, if you really wish to be good, as + what you are going to do. It was a very interesting council, and when it + was over Oswald was so pleased to think that the Wouldbegoods was + unrecoverishly dead that he gave Denny and Noel, who were sitting on the + step below him, a good-humoured, playful, gentle, loving, brotherly shove, + and said, ‘Get along down, it’s tea-time!’ + </p> + <p> + No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, and + who is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been Oswald’s + fault that the two other boys got along down by rolling over and over each + other, and bursting the door at the bottom of the stairs open by their + revolving bodies. And I should like to know whose fault it was that Mrs + Pettigrew was just on the other side of that door at that very minute? The + door burst open, and the impetuous bodies of Noel and Denny rolled out of + it into Mrs Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray. Both revolving boys + were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one or two cups and things + smashed. Mrs Pettigrew was knocked over, but none of her bones were + broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed, but Oswald said it + was all his fault. He really did this to give the others a chance of doing + a refined golden deed by speaking the truth and saying it was not his + fault. But you cannot really count on anyone. They did not say anything, + but only rubbed the lumps on their late-revolving heads. So it was bed for + Oswald, and he felt the injustice hard. + </p> + <p> + But he sat up in bed and read The Last of the Mohicans, and then he began + to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks of something. + He thought of something now, and it was miles better than the idea we had + decided on in the secret staircase, of advertising in the Kentish Mercury + and saying if Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother would call at the + Moat House she might hear of something much to her advantage. + </p> + <p> + What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and asked Mr B. + Munn, Grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse that liked the + wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the lady was in the red hat + and red wheels that paid him to drive us home that Canterbury night. He + must have been paid, of course, for even grocers are not generous enough + to drive perfect strangers, and five of them too, about the country for + nothing. Thus we may learn that even unjustness and sending the wrong + people to bed may bear useful fruit, which ought to be a great comfort to + everyone when they are unfairly treated. Only it most likely won’t be. For + if Oswald’s brothers and sisters had nobly stood by him as he expected, he + would not have had the solitary reflections that led to the great scheme + for finding the grandmother. + </p> + <p> + Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and squatted on + Oswald’s bed and said how sorry they were. He waived their apologies with + noble dignity, because there wasn’t much time, and said he had an idea + that would knock the council’s plan into a cocked hat. But he would not + tell them what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This was not + sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else to think of + besides the way they hadn’t stood by him in the bursting of the secret + staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk. + </p> + <p> + Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer for a + forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswald a + pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with any man + living. ‘And mind,’ he added, hiding the pang under a general-like + severeness, ‘I won’t have anyone in the expedition who has anything in his + shoes except his feet.’ + </p> + <p> + This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald is + often misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the peas up at + Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took some time + because Daisy cried, and Dora said, ‘There now, Oswald!’) there were seven + volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed, all of us. + There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, or scrips, or + anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who set out for + Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good and deedful—at + least Oswald, I know, was—than ever they had been in the days of the + beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either it was fine nearly + all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, or else nearly all the + interesting things we did came on fine days. + </p> + <p> + With hearts light and gay, and no peas in anyone’s shoes, the walk to + Hazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, and + the dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one of + them at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridge + is not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowed to + put on her things—I mean her collar—and come with us. She + walks slowly, but we had the day before us so there was no extra hurry. + </p> + <p> + At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn’s grocer’s shop and asked for + ginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised at us + wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm—it had just been + washed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B. + Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. You + cannot be too careful. However, when we had said it was first-class + ginger-beer, and paid for it, we found it not so easy to extract anything + more from B. Munn, grocer; and there was an anxious silence while he + fiddled about behind the counter among the tinned meats and sauce bottles, + with a fringe of hobnailed boots hanging over his head. + </p> + <p> + H. O. spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in where + angels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person that is). He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the cart?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word, it + means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don’t you terrify yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry. So Dora shoved in a + gentle oar. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to know the kind lady’s name and address, so that we can write + and thank her for being so jolly that day.’ + </p> + <p> + B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady’s address being goods + he was often asked for. Alice said, ‘But do tell us. We forgot to ask her. + She’s a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so want to thank + her properly. And if you’ve got any extra-strong peppermints at a penny an + ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound.’ + </p> + <p> + This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints his + heart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paper + bag, Dora said, ‘What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us.’ + </p> + <p> + And B. Munn’s heart was now quite melted, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars—about a mile down + the Maidstone Road.’ + </p> + <p> + We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a little + anxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had got the money + all right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good deal of + it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other. Then Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it’s such a + beastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divined hers—he + is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald’s—and the two said + together— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not go and see her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She did say she would like to see us again some day,’ Dora replied. So + after we had argued a little about it we went. + </p> + <p> + And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha began to + make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. She began to + limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when he had the split + peas in his silly palmering shoes. + </p> + <p> + So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quite swollen + and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter with their feet, + and it always comes on when least required. They are not the right breed + for emergencies. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. She is very + stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A half-hearted +unadventurous person (I name no names, but Oswald, Alice, Noel, H. O., Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why not go straight home and come another + day without Martha? But the rest agreed with Oswald when he said it was + only a mile, and perhaps we might get a lift home with the poor invalid. + Martha was very grateful to us for our kindness. She put her fat white + arms round the person’s neck who happened to be carrying her. She is very + affectionate, but by holding her very close to you you can keep her from + kissing your face all the time. As Alice said, ‘Bulldogs do give you such + large, wet, pink kisses.’ + </p> + <p> + A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying Martha. + </p> + <p> + At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chains + swinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the ditch, and + a gate with ‘The Cedars’ on it in gold letters. All very neat and tidy, + and showing plainly that more than one gardener was kept. There we + stopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with exhaustedness, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don’t believe a bit that it’s his + grandmother. I’m sure Dora was right, and it’s only his horrid sweetheart. + I feel it in my bones. Now, don’t you really think we’d better chuck it; + we’re sure to catch it for interfering. We always do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cross of true love never did come smooth,’ said the Dentist. ‘We + ought to help him to bear his cross.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But if we find her for him, and she’s not his grandmother, he’ll MARRY + her,’ Dicky said in tones of gloominess and despair. + </p> + <p> + Oswald felt the same, but he said, ‘Never mind. We should all hate it, but + perhaps Albert’s uncle MIGHT like it. You can never tell. If you want to + do a really unselfish action and no kid, now’s your time, my late + Wouldbegoods.’ + </p> + <p> + No one had the face to say right out that they didn’t want to be + unselfish. + </p> + <p> + But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the long gate + and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons and other + shrubberies towards the house. + </p> + <p> + I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of anybody is + called the representative of the family if his father isn’t there. This + was why Oswald now took the lead. When we got to the last turn of the + drive it was settled that the others were to noiselessly ambush in the + rhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on alone and ask at the house for the + grandmother from India—I mean Miss Ashleigh. + </p> + <p> + So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how neat the + flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all bright and + speckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green parrot in a cage + in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying clean and untrodden in + the sunshine, he stood still and thought of his boots and how dusty the + roads were, and wished he had not gone into the farmyard after eggs before + starting that morning. As he stood there in anxious uncertainness he heard + a low voice among the bushes. It said, ‘Hist! Oswald here!’ and it was the + voice of Alice. + </p> + <p> + So he went back to the others among the shrubs and they all crowded round + their leader full of importable news. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s not in the house; she’s HERE,’ Alice said in a low whisper that + seemed nearly all S’s. ‘Close by—she went by just this minute with a + gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And they’re sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and she’s + got her head on his shoulder, and he’s holding her hand. I never saw + anyone look so silly in all my born,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s sickening,’ Denny said, trying to look very manly with his legs wide + apart. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ Oswald whispered. ‘I suppose it wasn’t Albert’s uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much,’ Dicky briefly replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then don’t you see it’s all right. If she’s going on like that with this + fellow she’ll want to marry him, and Albert’s uncle is safe. And we’ve + really done an unselfish action without having to suffer for it + afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as he spoke in real + joyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed. But we had + reckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping to look about her a + bit in the shrubbery. ‘Where’s Martha?’ Dora suddenly said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She went that way,’ pointingly remarked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for?’ + Oswald said. ‘And look sharp. Don’t make a row.’ + </p> + <p> + He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha—the one + she always gives when suddenly collared from behind—and a little + squeal in a lady-like voice, and a man say ‘Hallo!’ and then we knew that + H. O. had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about + it. We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late. We were just in + time to hear H. O. say— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry if she frightened you. But we’ve been looking for you. Are you + Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘NO,’ said our lady unhesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now going + on. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a clergyman, and I + found out afterwards he was the nicest we ever knew except our own Mr + Briston at Lewisham, who is now a canon or a dean, or something grand that + no one ever sees. At present I did not like him. He said, ‘No, this lady + is nobody’s grandmother. May I ask in return how long it is since you + escaped from the lunatic asylum, my poor child, and whence your keeper + is?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. took no notice of this at all, except to say, ‘I think you are very + rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are.’ + </p> + <p> + The lady said, ‘My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all the + others, and are you pilgrims again to-day?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going to marry the lady?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Margaret,’ said the clergyman, ‘I never thought it would come to this: he + asks me my intentions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you ARE,’ said H. O., ‘it’s all right, because if you do Albert’s + uncle can’t—at least, not till you’re dead. And we don’t want him + to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flattering, upon my word,’ said the clergyman, putting on a deep frown. + ‘Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of you, or shall I + send for the police?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice now saw that H. O., though firm, was getting muddled and rather + scared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the scene. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let him rag H. O. any more,’ she said, ‘it’s all our faults. You + see, Albert’s uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought perhaps you + were his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who alone knew the + secret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, and he said you were + his long-lost grandmother he had known in India. And we thought that must + be a mistake and that really you were his long-lost sweetheart. And we + tried to do a really unselfish act and find you for him. Because we don’t + want him to be married at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t because we don’t like YOU,’ Oswald cut in, now emerging from the + bushes, ‘and if he must marry, we’d sooner it was you than anyone. Really + we would.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A generous concession, Margaret,’ the strange clergyman uttered, ‘most + generous, but the plot thickens. It’s almost pea-soup-like now. One or two + points clamour for explanation. Who are these visitors of yours? Why this + Red Indian method of paying morning calls? Why the lurking attitude of the + rest of the tribe which I now discern among the undergrowth? Won’t you ask + the rest of the tribe to come out and join the glad throng?’ + </p> + <p> + Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs we + do, and books and tunes and things. + </p> + <p> + The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if she + was going to cry. But she couldn’t help laughing too, as more and more of + us came out. + </p> + <p> + ‘And who,’ the clergyman went on, ‘who in fortune’s name is Albert? And + who is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this galere—I + mean garden?’ + </p> + <p> + We all felt rather silly, and I don’t think I ever felt more than then + what an awful lot there were of us. + </p> + <p> + ‘Three years’ absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignorance of + these details, but still—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think we’d better go,’ said Dora. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve done anything + rude or wrong. We didn’t mean to. Good-bye. I hope you’ll be happy with + the gentleman, I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I HOPE so too,’ said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much nicer + Albert’s uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silent + compared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. But + now she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold of Dora + by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, dear, no,’ she said, ‘it’s all right, and you must have some tea—we’ll + have it on the lawn. John, don’t tease them any more. Albert’s uncle is + the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear children, this is my brother + that I haven’t seen for three years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then he’s a long-lost too,’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + The lady said ‘Not now’ and smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + And the rest of us were dumb with confounding emotions. Oswald was + particularly dumb. He might have known it was her brother, because in + rotten grown-up books if a girl kisses a man in a shrubbery that is not + the man you think she’s in love with; it always turns out to be a brother, + though generally the disgrace of the family and not a respectable chaplain + from Calcutta. + </p> + <p> + The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and said, + ‘John, go and tell them we’ll have tea on the lawn.’ + </p> + <p> + When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said, ‘I’m going + to tell you something, but I want to put you on your honour not to talk + about it to other people. You see it isn’t everyone I would tell about it. + He, Albert’s uncle, I mean, has told me a lot about you, and I know I can + trust you.’ + </p> + <p> + We said ‘Yes’, Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too well + what was coming next. + </p> + <p> + The lady then said, ‘Though I am not Albert’s uncle’s grandmother I did + know him in India once, and we were going to be married, but we had a—a—misunderstanding.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quarrel?’ Row?’ said Noel and H. O. at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. And + then... well, we were both sorry, but well, anyway, when his ship came + back we’d gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he couldn’t find + us. And he says he’s been looking for me ever since.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not you for him?’ said Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, perhaps,’ said the lady. + </p> + <p> + And the girls said ‘Ah!’ with deep interest. The lady went on more + quickly, ‘And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I must break + it to you. Try to bear up.’ + </p> + <p> + She stopped. The branches cracked, and Albert’s uncle was in our midst. He + took off his hat. ‘Excuse my tearing my hair,’ he said to the lady, ‘but + has the pack really hunted you down?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right,’ she said, and when she looked at him she got miles + prettier quite suddenly. ‘I was just breaking to them...’ + </p> +<p> +‘Don’t take that proud privilege from me,’ he said. ‘Kiddies, allow +me to present you to the future Mrs Albert’s uncle, or shall we say +Albert’s new aunt?’ +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +There was a good deal of explaining done before tea—about how we got +there, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of disappointment +we felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. For Albert’s uncle’s +lady was very jolly to us, and her brother was awfully decent, and +showed us a lot of first-class native curiosities and things, unpacking +them on purpose; skins of beasts, and beads, and brass things, and +shells from different savage lands besides India. And the lady told the +girls that she hoped they would like her as much as she liked them, and +if they wanted a new aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction in +the new situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging to +Daisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert’s uncle +had married HER. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we might +think ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse. +</p> + <p> + Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot which he + had explored thoroughly before, and told him she was not like some people + in books. When she was married she would never try to separate her husband + from his bachelor friends, she only wanted them to be her friends as well. + </p> + <p> + Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the reverend + and friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha we shouldn’t + have had tea, or explanations, or lift or anything. So we honoured her, + and did not mind her being so heavy and walking up and down constantly on + our laps as we drove home. + </p> + <p> + And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert’s uncle. + I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important (to him), so I + felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers and getting married are + generally slow. I like a love-story where the hero parts with the girl at + the garden-gate in the gloaming and goes off and has adventures, and you + don’t see her any more till he comes home to marry her at the end of the + book. And I suppose people have to marry. Albert’s uncle is awfully old—more + than thirty, and the lady is advanced in years—twenty-six next + Christmas. They are to be married then. The girls are to be bridesmaids in + white frocks with fur. This quite consoles them. If Oswald repines + sometimes, he hides it. What’s the use? We all have to meet our fell + destiny, and Albert’s uncle is not extirpated from this awful law. + </p> + <p> + Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for the + sake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the Wouldbegoods, and + there are no more chapters after this. But Oswald hates books that finish + up without telling you the things you might want to know about the people + in the book. So here goes. + </p> + <p> + We went home to the beautiful Blackheath house. It seemed very stately and + mansion-like after the Moat House, and everyone was most frightfully + pleased to see us. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Pettigrew CRIED when we went away. I never was so astonished in my + life. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like a heart, and + each of us boys had a knife bought out of the housekeeping (I mean + housekeeper’s own) money. + </p> + <p> + Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert’s uncle’s lady’s + mother. They do keep three gardeners—I knew they did. And our tramp + still earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old Pig-man. + </p> + <p> + Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewell + sympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. We promised + to come and see them next year. I hope we shall. + </p> + <p> + Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. I + don’t think they’ll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone aunt—who + is really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the autumn of her days + as our new Albert’s-uncle aunt. I think they plucked up spirit enough to + tell their father they didn’t like her—which they’d never thought of + doing before. Our own robber says their holidays in the country did them + both a great deal of good. And he says us Bastables have certainly taught + Daisy and Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. I believe + they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirely on their + own—and done them too—since they came back from the Moat + House. + </p> + <p> + I wish you didn’t grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long he will + be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he feels + grown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of this. + </p> + <p> + And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles of the + Wouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the author will be + very glad, of course. But take my advice and don’t make a society for + trying in. It is much easier without. + </p> + <p> + And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. The + one beginning with C., I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed what it was. + If so, don’t look back for it. It is a name no manly boy would like to be + called by—if he spoke the truth. Oswald is said to be a very manly + boy, and he despises that name, and will never give it to his own son when + he has one. Not if a rich relative offered to leave him an immense fortune + if he did. Oswald would still be firm. He would, on the honour of the + House of Bastable. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + +***** This file should be named 794-h.htm or 794-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/794/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5cfbad --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #794 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/794) diff --git a/old/794-h.htm.2018-01-07 b/old/794-h.htm.2018-01-07 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1f1e7e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/794-h.htm.2018-01-07 @@ -0,0 +1,11467 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wouldbegoods + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Release Date: August 6, 2008 [EBook #794] +Last Updated: October 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE WOULDBEGOODS + </h1> + <h2> + BEING THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4> + TO<br /> My Dear Son<br /> Fabian Bland + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER 3. BILL’S TOMBSTONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG + EXPLORERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON’S TEETH; OR, + ARMY-SEED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER 14. ALBERT’S UNCLE’s GRANDMOTHER; + OR, THE LONG-LOST </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE + </h2> + <p> + Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you can’t + stand them all over the shop—eh, what?’ + </p> + <p> + These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us feel very + young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by calling him names to + ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say nasty things, because he is + not nasty, but quite the exact opposite when not irritated. And we could + not think it ungentlemanly of him to say we were like jam, because, as + Alice says, jam is very nice indeed—only not on furniture and + improper places like that. My father said, ‘Perhaps they had better go to + boarding-school.’ And that was awful, because we know Father disapproves + of boarding-schools. And he looked at us and said, ‘I am ashamed of them, + sir!’ + </p> + <p> + Your lot is indeed a dark and terrible one when your father is ashamed of + you. And we all knew this, so that we felt in our chests just as if we had + swallowed a hard-boiled egg whole. At least, this is what Oswald felt, and + Father said once that Oswald, as the eldest, was the representative of the + family, so, of course, the others felt the same. + </p> + <p> + And then everybody said nothing for a short time. At last Father said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You may go—but remember—’ + </p> + <p> + The words that followed I am not going to tell you. It is no use telling + you what you know before—as they do in schools. And you must all + have had such words said to you many times. We went away when it was over. + The girls cried, and we boys got out books and began to read, so that + nobody should think we cared. But we felt it deeply in our interior + hearts, especially Oswald, who is the eldest and the representative of the + family. + </p> + <p> + We felt it all the more because we had not really meant to do anything + wrong. We only thought perhaps the grown-ups would not be quite pleased if + they knew, and that is quite different. Besides, we meant to put all the + things back in their proper places when we had done with them before + anyone found out about it. But I must not anticipate (that means telling + the end of the story before the beginning. I tell you this because it is + so sickening to have words you don’t know in a story, and to be told to + look it up in the dicker). + </p> + <p> + We are the Bastables—Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Alice, Noel, and H. O. If + you want to know why we call our youngest brother H. O. you can jolly well + read The Treasure Seekers and find out. We were the Treasure Seekers, and + we sought it high and low, and quite regularly, because we particularly + wanted to find it. And at last we did not find it, but we were found by a + good, kind Indian uncle, who helped Father with his business, so that + Father was able to take us all to live in a jolly big red house on + Blackheath, instead of in the Lewisham Road, where we lived when we were + only poor but honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poor but honest we + always used to think that if only Father had plenty of business, and we + did not have to go short of pocket money and wear shabby clothes (I don’t + mind this myself, but the girls do), we should be happy and very, very + good. + </p> + <p> + And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house we thought + now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries and pineries, + and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and replete with every + modern convenience, like it says in Dyer & Hilton’s list of Eligible + House Property. I read all about it, and I have copied the words quite + right. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no casters + off the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the silver not dented; + and lots of servants, and the most decent meals every day—and lots + of pocket-money. + </p> + <p> + But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the things you + want most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them frightfully; but when + I had mine a week or two, after the mainspring got broken and was repaired + at Bennett’s in the village, I hardly cared to look at the works at all, + and it did not make me feel happy in my heart any more, though, of course, + I should have been very unhappy if it had been taken away from me. And the + same with new clothes and nice dinners and having enough of everything. + You soon get used to it all, and it does not make you extra happy, + although, if you had it all taken away, you would be very dejected. (That + is a good word, and one I have never used before.) You get used to + everything, as I said, and then you want something more. Father says this + is what people mean by the deceitfulness of riches; but Albert’s uncle + says it is the spirit of progress, and Mrs Leslie said some people called + it ‘divine discontent’. Oswald asked them all what they thought one Sunday + at dinner. Uncle said it was rot, and what we wanted was bread and water + and a licking; but he meant it for a joke. This was in the Easter + holidays. + </p> + <p> + We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays the + girls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to the Prop. + (that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot rather during + term; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of riches in the vac., + when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes and things. Then there was + the summer term, and we swotted more than ever; and it was boiling hot, + and masters’ tempers got short and sharp, and the girls used to wish the + exams came in cold weather. I can’t think why they don’t. But I suppose + schools don’t think of sensible thinks like that. They teach botany at + girls’ schools. + </p> + <p> + Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again—but only for + a few days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something, and did not + know what it was. We wanted something to happen—only we didn’t + exactly know what. So we were very pleased when Father said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two. You + know—the kids who came at Christmas. You must be jolly to them, and + see that they have a good time, don’t you know.’ + </p> + <p> + We remembered them right enough—they were little pinky, frightened + things, like white mice, with very bright eyes. They had not been to our + house since Christmas, because Denis, the boy, had been ill, and they had + been with an aunt at Ramsgate. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Dora would have liked to get the bedrooms ready for the honoured + guests, but a really good housemaid is sometimes more ready to say ‘Don’t’ + than even a general. So the girls had to chuck it. Jane only let them put + flowers in the pots on the visitors’ mantelpieces, and then they had to + ask the gardener which kind they might pick, because nothing worth + gathering happened to be growing in our own gardens just then. + </p> + <p> + Their train got in at 12.27. We all went to meet them. Afterwards I + thought that was a mistake, because their aunt was with them, and she wore + black with beady things and a tight bonnet, and she said, when we took our + hats off—‘Who are you?’ quite crossly. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘We are the Bastables; we’ve come to meet Daisy and Denny.’ + </p> + <p> + The aunt is a very rude lady, and it made us sorry for Daisy and Denny + when she said to them— + </p> + <p> + ‘Are these the children? Do you remember them?’ We weren’t very tidy, + perhaps, because we’d been playing brigands in the shrubbery; and we knew + we should have to wash for dinner as soon as we got back, anyhow. But + still— + </p> + <p> + Denny said he thought he remembered us. But Daisy said, ‘Of course they + are,’ and then looked as if she was going to cry. + </p> + <p> + So then the aunt called a cab, and told the man where to drive, and put + Daisy and Denny in, and then she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You two little girls may go too, if you like, but you little boys must + walk.’ + </p> + <p> + So the cab went off, and we were left. The aunt turned to us to say a few + last words. We knew it would have been about brushing your hair and + wearing gloves, so Oswald said, ‘Good-bye’, and turned haughtily away, + before she could begin, and so did the others. No one but that kind of + black beady tight lady would say ‘little boys’. She is like Miss Murdstone + in David Copperfield. I should like to tell her so; but she would not + understand. I don’t suppose she has ever read anything but Markham’s + History and Mangnall’s Questions—improving books like that. + </p> + <p> + When we got home we found all four of those who had ridden in the cab + sitting in our sitting-room—we don’t call it nursery now—looking + very thoroughly washed, and our girls were asking polite questions and the + others were saying ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, and ‘I don’t know’. We boys did not say + anything. We stood at the window and looked out till the gong went for our + dinner. We felt it was going to be awful—and it was. The newcomers + would never have done for knight-errants, or to carry the Cardinal’s + sealed message through the heart of France on a horse; they would never + have thought of anything to say to throw the enemy off the scent when they + got into a tight place. + </p> + <p> + They said ‘Yes, please’, and ‘No, thank you’; and they ate very neatly, + and always wiped their mouths before they drank, as well as after, and + never spoke with them full. + </p> + <p> + And after dinner it got worse and worse. + </p> + <p> + We got out all our books and they said ‘Thank you’, and didn’t look at + them properly. And we got out all our toys, and they said ‘Thank you, it’s + very nice’ to everything. And it got less and less pleasant, and towards + teatime it came to nobody saying anything except Noel and H. O.—and + they talked to each other about cricket. + </p> + <p> + After tea Father came in, and he played ‘Letters’ with them and the girls, + and it was a little better; but while late dinner was going on—I + shall never forget it. Oswald felt like the hero of a book—‘almost + at the end of his resources’. I don’t think I was ever glad of bedtime + before, but that time I was. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone to bed (Daisy had to have all her strings and buttons + undone for her, Dora told me, though she is nearly ten, and Denny said he + couldn’t sleep without the gas being left a little bit on) we held a + council in the girls’ room. We all sat on the bed—it is a mahogany + fourposter with green curtains very good for tents, only the housekeeper + doesn’t allow it, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘This is jolly nice, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll be better to-morrow,’ Alice said, ‘they’re only shy.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said shy was all very well, but you needn’t behave like a perfect + idiot. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re frightened. You see we’re all strange to them,’ Dora said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re not wild beasts or Indians; we shan’t eat them. What have they got + to be frightened of?’ Dicky said this. + </p> + <p> + Noel told us he thought they were an enchanted prince and princess who’d + been turned into white rabbits, and their bodies had got changed back but + not their insides. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald told him to dry up. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use making things up about them,’ he said. ‘The thing is: what + are we going to DO? We can’t have our holidays spoiled by these snivelling + kids.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ Alice said, ‘but they can’t possibly go on snivelling for ever. + Perhaps they’ve got into the habit of it with that Murdstone aunt. She’s + enough to make anyone snivel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the same,’ said Oswald, ‘we jolly well aren’t going to have another + day like today. We must do something to rouse them from their snivelling + leth—what’s its name?—something sudden and—what is it?—decisive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A booby trap,’ said H. O., ‘the first thing when they get up, and an + apple-pie bed at night.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora would not hear of it, and I own she was right. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ she said, ‘we could get up a good play—like we did when + we were Treasure Seekers.’ + </p> + <p> + We said, well what? But she did not say. + </p> + <p> + ‘It ought to be a good long thing—to last all day,’ Dicky said, ‘and + if they like they can play, and if they don’t—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they don’t, I’ll read to them,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + But we all said ‘No, you don’t—if you begin that way you’ll have to + go on.’ + </p> + <p> + And Dicky added, ‘I wasn’t going to say that at all. I was going to say if + they didn’t like it they could jolly well do the other thing.’ + </p> + <p> + We all agreed that we must think of something, but we none of us could, + and at last the council broke up in confusion because Mrs Blake—she + is the housekeeper—came up and turned off the gas. + </p> + <p> + But next morning when we were having breakfast, and the two strangers were + sitting there so pink and clean, Oswald suddenly said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I know; we’ll have a jungle in the garden.’ + </p> + <p> + And the others agreed, and we talked about it till brek was over. The + little strangers only said ‘I don’t know’ whenever we said anything to + them. + </p> + <p> + After brekker Oswald beckoned his brothers and sisters mysteriously apart + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you agree to let me be captain today, because I thought of it?’ + </p> + <p> + And they said they would. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘We’ll play Jungle Book, and I shall be Mowgli. The rest of + you can be what you like—Mowgli’s father and mother, or any of the + beasts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t suppose they know the book,’ said Noel. ‘They don’t look as if + they read anything, except at lesson times.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then they can go on being beasts all the time,’ Oswald said. ‘Anyone can + be a beast.’ + </p> + <p> + So it was settled. + </p> + <p> + And now Oswald—Albert’s uncle has sometimes said he is clever at + arranging things—began to lay his plans for the jungle. The day was + indeed well chosen. Our Indian uncle was away; Father was away; Mrs Blake + was going away, and the housemaid had an afternoon off. Oswald’s first + conscious act was to get rid of the white mice—I mean the little + good visitors. He explained to them that there would be a play in the + afternoon, and they could be what they liked, and gave them the Jungle + Book to read the stories he told them to—all the ones about Mowgli. + He led the strangers to a secluded spot among the sea-kale pots in the + kitchen garden and left them. Then he went back to the others, and we had + a jolly morning under the cedar talking about what we would do when Blakie + was gone. She went just after our dinner. + </p> + <p> + When we asked Denny what he would like to be in the play, it turned out he + had not read the stories Oswald told him at all, but only the ‘White Seal’ + and ‘Rikki Tikki’. + </p> + <p> + We then agreed to make the jungle first and dress up for our parts + afterwards. Oswald was a little uncomfortable about leaving the strangers + alone all the morning, so he said Denny should be his aide-de-camp, and he + was really quite useful. He is rather handy with his fingers, and things + that he does up do not come untied. Daisy might have come too, but she + wanted to go on reading, so we let her, which is the truest manners to a + visitor. Of course the shrubbery was to be the jungle, and the lawn under + the cedar a forest glade, and then we began to collect the things. The + cedar lawn is just nicely out of the way of the windows. It was a jolly + hot day—the kind of day when the sunshine is white and the shadows + are dark grey, not black like they are in the evening. + </p> + <p> + We all thought of different things. Of course first we dressed up pillows + in the skins of beasts and set them about on the grass to look as natural + as we could. And then we got Pincher, and rubbed him all over with + powdered slate-pencil, to make him the right colour for Grey Brother. But + he shook it all off, and it had taken an awful time to do. Then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I know!’ and she ran off to Father’s dressing-room, and came back + with the tube of creme d’amande pour la barbe et les mains, and we + squeezed it on Pincher and rubbed it in, and then the slate-pencil stuff + stuck all right, and he rolled in the dust-bin of his own accord, which + made him just the right colour. He is a very clever dog, but soon after he + went off and we did not find him till quite late in the afternoon. Denny + helped with Pincher, and with the wild-beast skins, and when Pincher was + finished he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, may I make some paper birds to put in the trees? I know how.’ + </p> + <p> + And of course we said ‘Yes’, and he only had red ink and newspapers, and + quickly he made quite a lot of large paper birds with red tails. They + didn’t look half bad on the edge of the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + While he was doing this he suddenly said, or rather screamed, ‘Oh?’ + </p> + <p> + And we looked, and it was a creature with great horns and a fur rug—something + like a bull and something like a minotaur—and I don’t wonder Denny + was frightened. It was Alice, and it was first-class. + </p> + <p> + Up to now all was not yet lost beyond recall. It was the stuffed fox that + did the mischief—and I am sorry to own it was Oswald who thought of + it. He is not ashamed of having THOUGHT of it. That was rather clever of + him. But he knows now that it is better not to take other people’s foxes + and things without asking, even if you live in the same house with them. + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald who undid the back of the glass case in the hall and got out + the fox with the green and grey duck in its mouth, and when the others saw + how awfully like life they looked on the lawn, they all rushed off to + fetch the other stuffed things. Uncle has a tremendous lot of stuffed + things. He shot most of them himself—but not the fox, of course. + There was another fox’s mask, too, and we hung that in a bush to look as + if the fox was peeping out. And the stuffed birds we fastened on to the + trees with string. The duck-bill—what’s its name?—looked very + well sitting on his tail with the otter snarling at him. Then Dicky had an + idea; and though not nearly so much was said about it afterwards as there + was about the stuffed things, I think myself it was just as bad, though it + was a good idea, too. He just got the hose and put the end over a branch + of the cedar-tree. Then we got the steps they clean windows with, and let + the hose rest on the top of the steps and run. It was to be a waterfall, + but it ran between the steps and was only wet and messy; so we got + Father’s mackintosh and uncle’s and covered the steps with them, so that + the water ran down all right and was glorious, and it ran away in a stream + across the grass where we had dug a little channel for it—and the + otter and the duck-bill-thing were as if in their native haunts. I hope + all this is not very dull to read about. I know it was jolly good fun to + do. Taking one thing with another, I don’t know that we ever had a better + time while it lasted. + </p> + <p> + We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails on to + them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They got away + somehow, and before they were caught next day they had eaten a good many + lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry for this. He rather likes + the gardener. + </p> + <p> + Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no use our + telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He thought we were + kidding until we showed him, and then he said, ‘Well, never mind’, and got + the girls to give him bits of the blue stuff left over from their + dressing-gowns. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll make them sashes to tie round their little middles,’ he said. And he + did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One of the + guinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the tortoise when we + had done his shell with vermilion paint. He crawled away and returned no + more. Perhaps someone collected him and thought he was an expensive kind + unknown in these cold latitudes. + </p> + <p> + The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty, what with + the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and the waterfall. And + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish the tigers did not look so flat.’ For of course with pillows you + can only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready to make a spring out + at you. It is difficult to prop up tiger-skins in a life-like manner when + there are no bones inside them, only pillows and sofa cushions. + </p> + <p> + ‘What about the beer-stands?’ I said. And we got two out of the cellar. + With bolsters and string we fastened insides to the tigers—and they + were really fine. The legs of the beer-stands did for tigers’ legs. It was + indeed the finishing touch. + </p> + <p> + Then we boys put on just our bathing drawers and vests—so as to be + able to play with the waterfall without hurting our clothes. I think this + was thoughtful. The girls only tucked up their frocks and took their shoes + and stockings off. H. O. painted his legs and his hands with Condy’s fluid—to + make him brown, so that he might be Mowgli, although Oswald was captain + and had plainly said he was going to be Mowgli himself. Of course the + others weren’t going to stand that. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well. Nobody asked you to brown yourself like that. But now you’ve + done it, you’ve simply got to go and be a beaver, and live in the dam + under the waterfall till it washes off.’ + </p> + <p> + He said he didn’t want to be beavers. And Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make him. Let him be the bronze statue in the palace gardens that + the fountain plays out of.’ + </p> + <p> + So we let him have the hose and hold it up over his head. It made a lovely + fountain, only he remained brown. So then Dicky and Oswald and I did + ourselves brown too, and dried H. O. as well as we could with our + handkerchiefs, because he was just beginning to snivel. The brown did not + come off any of us for days. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was to be Mowgli, and we were just beginning to arrange the + different parts. The rest of the hose that was on the ground was Kaa, the + Rock Python, and Pincher was Grey Brother, only we couldn’t find him. And + while most of us were talking, Dicky and Noel got messing about with the + beer-stand tigers. + </p> + <p> + And then a really sad event instantly occurred, which was not really our + fault, and we did not mean to. + </p> + <p> + That Daisy girl had been mooning indoors all the afternoon with the Jungle + Books, and now she came suddenly out, just as Dicky and Noel had got under + the tigers and were shoving them along to fright each other. Of course, + this is not in the Mowgli book at all: but they did look jolly like real + tigers, and I am very far from wishing to blame the girl, though she + little knew what would be the awful consequence of her rash act. But for + her we might have got out of it all much better than we did. What happened + was truly horrid. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Daisy saw the tigers she stopped short, and uttering a shriek + like a railway whistle she fell flat on the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fear not, gentle Indian maid,’ Oswald cried, thinking with surprise that + perhaps after all she did know how to play, ‘I myself will protect thee.’ + And he sprang forward with the native bow and arrows out of uncle’s study. + </p> + <p> + The gentle Indian maiden did not move. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come hither,’ Dora said, ‘let us take refuge in yonder covert while this + good knight does battle for us.’ Dora might have remembered that we were + savages, but she did not. And that is Dora all over. And still the Daisy + girl did not move. + </p> + <p> + Then we were truly frightened. Dora and Alice lifted her up, and her mouth + was a horrid violet-colour and her eyes half shut. She looked horrid. Not + at all like fair fainting damsels, who are always of an interesting + pallor. She was green, like a cheap oyster on a stall. + </p> + <p> + We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were. We rubbed her hands and + let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her unconscious brow. The + girls loosened her dress, though it was only the kind that comes down + straight without a waist. And we were all doing what we could as hard as + we could, when we heard the click of the front gate. There was no mistake + about it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope whoever it is will go straight to the front door,’ said Alice. But + whoever it was did not. There were feet on the gravel, and there was the + uncle’s voice, saying in his hearty manner— + </p> + <p> + ‘This way. This way. On such a day as this we shall find our young + barbarians all at play somewhere about the grounds.’ + </p> + <p> + And then, without further warning, the uncle, three other gentlemen and + two ladies burst upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + We had no clothes on to speak of—I mean us boys. We were all wet + through. Daisy was in a faint or a fit, or dead, none of us then knew + which. And all the stuffed animals were there staring the uncle in the + face. Most of them had got a sprinkling, and the otter and the duck-bill + brute were simply soaked. And three of us were dark brown. Concealment, as + so often happens, was impossible. + </p> + <p> + The quick brain of Oswald saw, in a flash, exactly how it would strike the + uncle, and his brave young blood ran cold in his veins. His heart stood + still. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s all this—eh, what?’ said the tones of the wronged uncle. + </p> + <p> + Oswald spoke up and said it was jungles we were playing, and he didn’t + know what was up with Daisy. He explained as well as anyone could, but + words were now in vain. + </p> + <p> + The uncle had a Malacca cane in his hand, and we were but ill prepared to + meet the sudden attack. Oswald and H. O. caught it worst. The other boys + were under the tigers—and of course my uncle would not strike a + girl. Denny was a visitor and so got off. + </p> + <p> + But it was bread and water for us for the next three days, and our own + rooms. I will not tell you how we sought to vary the monotonousness of + imprisonment. Oswald thought of taming a mouse, but he could not find one. + The reason of the wretched captives might have given way but for the + gutter that you can crawl along from our room to the girls’. But I will + not dwell on this because you might try it yourselves, and it really is + dangerous. When my father came home we got the talking to, and we said we + were sorry—and we really were—especially about Daisy, though + she had behaved with muffishness, and then it was settled that we were to + go into the country and stay till we had grown into better children. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle was writing a book in the country; we were to go to his + house. We were glad of this—Daisy and Denny too. This we bore nobly. + We knew we had deserved it. We were all very sorry for everything, and we + resolved that for the future we WOULD be good. + </p> + <p> + I am not sure whether we kept this resolution or not. Oswald thinks now + that perhaps we made a mistake in trying so very hard to be good all at + once. You should do everything by degrees. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—It turned out Daisy was not really dead at all. It was only + fainting—so like a girl. + </p> + <p> + N.B.—Pincher was found on the drawing-room sofa. + </p> + <p> + Appendix.—I have not told you half the things we did for the jungle—for + instance, about the elephants’ tusks and the horse-hair sofa-cushions, and + uncle’s fishing-boots. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS + </h2> + <p> + When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we felt it was + rather good business, because we knew our being sent there was really only + to get us out of the way for a little while, and we knew right enough that + it wasn’t a punishment, though Mrs Blake said it was, because we had been + punished thoroughly for taking the stuffed animals out and making a jungle + on the lawn with them, and the garden hose. And you cannot be punished + twice for the same offence. This is the English law; at least I think so. + And at any rate no one would punish you three times, and we had had the + Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; and the uncle had kindly + explained to us that all ill-feeling between him and us was wiped out + entirely by the bread and water we had endured. And what with the bread + and water and being prisoners, and not being able to tame any mice in our + prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it up thoroughly, and now we + could start fair. + </p> + <p> + I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but I have + sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell you what you + truly want to know. However, dull or not, here goes—because you + won’t understand anything unless I tell you what the place was like. + </p> + <p> + The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a house + there since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on having a house + on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt down once or twice in + ancient centuries—I don’t remember which—but they always built + a new one, and Cromwell’s soldiers smashed it about, but it was patched up + again. It is a very odd house: the front door opens straight into the + dining-room, and there are red curtains and a black-and-white marble floor + like a chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, only it is not secret + now—only rather rickety. It is not very big, but there is a watery + moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to the front door. Then, + on the other side of the moat there is the farm, with barns and oast + houses and stables, or things like that. And the other way the garden lawn + goes on till it comes to the churchyard. The churchyard is not divided + from the garden at all except by a little grass bank. In the front of the + house there is more garden, and the big fruit garden is at the back. + </p> + <p> + The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big one with + conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on the top, and he + left the Moat House. And Albert’s uncle took it, and my father was to come + down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, and Albert’s uncle was to live + with us all the time, and he would be writing a book, and we were not to + bother him, but he would give an eye to us. I hope all this is plain. I + have said it as short as I can. + </p> + <p> + We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see the big + bell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging to it went right + down the house, through our bedroom to the dining-room. H. O. saw the rope + and pulled it while he was washing his hands for supper, and Dicky and I + let him, and the bell tolled solemnly. Father shouted to him not to, and + we went down to supper. + </p> + <p> + But presently there were many feet trampling on the gravel, and Father + went out to see. When he came back he said—‘The whole village, or + half of it, has come up to see why the bell rang. It’s only rung for fire + or burglars. Why can’t you kids let things alone?’ + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They’ll do no more + mischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of the things to + be avoided in this bucolic retreat.’ + </p> + <p> + So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not see much + that night. + </p> + <p> + But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to have + awakened in a new world rich in surprises beyond the dreams of anybody, as + it says in the quotation. + </p> + <p> + We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was breakfast-time we + felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room we had breakfast in was + exactly like in a story—black oak panels and china in corner + cupboards with glass doors. These doors were locked. There were green + curtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. After brekker my father went back + to town, and Albert’s uncle went too, to see publishers. We saw them to + the station, and Father gave us a long list of what we weren’t to do. It + began with ‘Don’t pull ropes unless you’re quite sure what will happen at + the other end,’ and it finished with ‘For goodness sake, try to keep out + of mischief till I come down on Saturday’. There were lots of other things + in between. + </p> + <p> + We all promised we would. And we saw them off and waved till the train was + quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy was tired so + Oswald carried her home on his back. When we got home she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I do like you, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be nice to + her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over everything. It was + a glorious place. You did not know where to begin. We were all a little + tired before we found the hayloft, but we pulled ourselves together to + make a fort with the trusses of hay—great square things—and we + were having a jolly good time, all of us, when suddenly a trap-door opened + and a head bobbed up with a straw in its mouth. We knew nothing about the + country then, and the head really did scare us rather, though, of course, + we found out directly that the feet belonging to it were standing on the + bar of the loose-box underneath. The head said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay, that’s + all.’ And it spoke thickly because of the straw. + </p> + <p> + It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can hardly + believe now that once we really did not know that it spoiled hay to mess + about with it. Horses don’t like to eat it afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Always remember this. + </p> + <p> + When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we turned the + handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got hurt, though the head + HAD said we should cut our fingers off if we touched it. + </p> + <p> + And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice clean dirt + that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was room for hung + their legs down out of the top door, and we looked down at the farmyard, + which is very slushy when you get down into it, but most interesting. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’re all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for a + minute, I want to have a council.’ + </p> + <p> + We said what about? And she said, ‘I’ll tell you.’ H. O., don’t wriggle + so; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs.’ + </p> + <p> + You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable as + anyone else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Promise not to laugh’ Alice said, getting very red, and looking at Dora, + who got red too. + </p> + <p> + We did, and then she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisy too, and we have written it + down because it is easier than saying it. Shall I read it? or will you, + Dora?’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said it didn’t matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and though she + gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. This is what she + read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN +</pre> + <p> + ‘I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound mind and + body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that jungle day, we + thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we made our minds up to + be good for ever after. And we talked to Daisy about it, and she had an + idea. So we want to start a society for being good in. It is Daisy’s idea, + but we think so too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ Dora interrupted, ‘when people want to do good things they + always make a society. There are thousands—there’s the Missionary + Society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Alice said, ‘and the Society for the Prevention of something or + other, and the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Society, and the S.P.G.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s S.P.G.?’ Oswald asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course,’ said Noel, who + cannot always spell. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it isn’t; but do let me go on.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice did go on. + </p> + <p> + ‘We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer and + secretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we’ve done. If that doesn’t + make us good it won’t be my fault. + </p> + <p> + ‘The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great and unselfish + deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up people and to perform + prodigies of real goodness. We wish to spread our wings’—here Alice + read very fast. She told me afterwards Daisy had helped her with that + part, and she thought when she came to the wings they sounded rather silly—‘to + spread our wings and rise above the kind of interesting things that you + ought not to do, but to do kindnesses to all, however low and mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Little words of kindness’ (he said), + ‘Little deeds of love, + Make this earth an eagle + Like the one above.’ +</pre> + <p> + This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle does have + wings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls had written. But + there was no rest. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all,’ said Alice, and Daisy said—‘Don’t you think it’s a + good idea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That depends,’ Oswald answered, ‘who is president and what you mean by + being good.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself, because being good is + not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper to talk about, especially + before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemed to like it, so Oswald did + not say exactly what he thought, especially as it was Daisy’s idea. This + was true politeness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it would be nice,’ Noel said, ‘if we made it a sort of play. + Let’s do the Pilgrim’s Progress.’ + </p> + <p> + We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to anything, + because we all wanted to be Mr Greatheart, except H. O., who wanted to be + the lions, and you could not have lions in a Society for Goodness. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books about + children who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he told me + afterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in Sunday school, + and we did not wish to be unkind. + </p> + <p> + At last Oswald said, ‘Well, let’s draw up the rules of the society, and + choose the president and settle the name.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. She was + secretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money. + </p> + <p> + Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + RULES +</pre> + <p> + 1. Every member is to be as good as possible. + </p> + <p> + 2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. (Oswald and + Dicky put that rule in.) + </p> + <p> + 3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a suffering + fellow-creature. + </p> + <p> + 4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like. + </p> + <p> + 5. We are to do good to people we don’t like as often as we can. + </p> + <p> + 6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all the rest of + us. + </p> + <p> + 7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the world except + us. + </p> + <p> + 8. The name of our Society is— + </p> + <p> + And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora wanted + it called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the Society for + Reformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, No, we really were not so bad + as all that. + </p> + <p> + Then H. O. said, ‘Call it the Good Society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or the Society for Being Good In,’ said Daisy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or the Society of Goods,’ said Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s priggish,’ said Oswald; ‘besides, we don’t know whether we shall + be so very.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ Alice explained, ‘we only said if we COULD we would be good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the chopped hay + off himself, ‘call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods and have done with + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make himself a + little disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to disappointment. For everyone + else clapped hands and called out, ‘That’s the very thing!’ Then the girls + went off to write out the rules, and took H. O. with them, and Noel went + to write some poetry to put in the minute book. That’s what you call the + book that a society’s secretary writes what it does in. Denny went with + him to help. He knows a lot of poetry. I think he went to a lady’s school + where they taught nothing but that. He was rather shy of us, but he took + to Noel. I can’t think why. Dicky and Oswald walked round the garden and + told each other what they thought of the new society. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not sure we oughtn’t to have put our foot down at the beginning,’ + Dicky said. ‘I don’t see much in it, anyhow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It pleases the girls,’ Oswald said, for he is a kind brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we’re not going to stand jaw, and “words in season”, and “loving + sisterly warnings”. I tell you what it is, Oswald, we’ll have to run this + thing our way, or it’ll be jolly beastly for everybody.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw this plainly. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must do something,’ Dicky said; ‘it’s very very hard, though. Still, + there must be SOME interesting things that are not wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose so,’ Oswald said, ‘but being good is so much like being a muff, + generally. Anyhow I’m not going to smooth the pillows of the sick, or read + to the aged poor, or any rot out of Ministering Children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more am I,’ Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head had in + its mouth, ‘but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let’s begin by + looking out for something useful to do—something like mending things + or cleaning them, not just showing off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy tea + and tracts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little beasts!’ said Dick. ‘I say, let’s talk about something else.’ And + Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jolly uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played draughts + with Daisy and the others yawned. I don’t know when we’ve had such a + gloomy evening. And everyone was horribly polite, and said ‘Please’ and + ‘Thank you’ far more than requisite. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us stories, but + he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what blight had fallen on our + young lives. Oswald could have answered and said, ‘It is the Society of + the Wouldbegoods that is the blight,’ but of course he didn’t and Albert’s + uncle said no more, but he went up and kissed the girls when they were in + bed, and asked them if there was anything wrong. And they told him no, on + their honour. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the morning + sun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms of his dear + little brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on top of his head and + was snoring like a kettle when it sings. Oswald could not remember at + first what was the matter with him, and then he remembered the + Wouldbegoods, and wished he hadn’t. He felt at first as if there was + nothing you could do, and even hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny’s head. + But he soon saw that this could not be. So he chucked his boot and caught + Denny right in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began more brightly + than he had expected. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before, except + that when no one was looking he polished the brass candlestick in the + girls’ bedroom with one of his socks. And he might just as well have let + it alone, for the servants cleaned it again with the other things in the + morning, and he could never find the sock afterwards. There were two + servants. One of them had to be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane and + Eliza like others. She was cook and managed things. + </p> + <p> + After brekfast Albert’s uncle said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate my privacy + before 1.30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant the intrusion, + and nothing short of man—or rather boy—slaughter shall avenge + it.’ + </p> + <p> + So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we ought to + play out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have played out of + doors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that. + </p> + <p> + But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, come along here a minute, will you?’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlour and shut + the door, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, spit it out: what is it?’ He knows that is vulgar, and he would not + have said it to anyone but his own brother. Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be.’ And Oswald was + patient with him, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What is? Don’t be all day about it.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky fidgeted about a bit, and then he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. And you + know that dairy window that wouldn’t open—only a little bit like + that? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whip cord and it opened + wide.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I suppose they didn’t want it mended,’ said Oswald. He knew but too + well that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things far different from + what we would, and you catch it if you try to do otherwise. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t have minded THAT,’ Dicky said, ‘because I could easily have + taken it all off again if they’d only said so. But the sillies went and + propped up a milk-pan against the window. They never took the trouble to + notice I had mended it. So the wretched thing pushed the window open all + by itself directly they propped it up, and it tumbled through into the + moat, and they are most awfully waxy. All the men are out in the fields + and they haven’t any spare milk-pans. If I were a farmer, I must say I + wouldn’t stick at an extra milk-pan or two. Accidents must happen + sometimes. I call it mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, first because + it wasn’t his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ he said kindly. ‘Keep your tail up. We’ll get the beastly + milk-pan out all right. Come on.’ He rushed hastily to the garden and gave + a low, signifying whistle, which the others know well enough to mean + something extra being up. + </p> + <p> + And when they were all gathered round him he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fellow countrymen,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have a rousing good time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nothing naughty, is it,’ Daisy asked, ‘like the last time you had + that was rousingly good?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said ‘Shish’, and Oswald pretended not to hear. + </p> + <p> + ‘A precious treasure,’ he said, ‘has inadvertently been laid low in the + moat by one of us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The rotten thing tumbled in by itself,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + Oswald waved his hand and said, ‘Anyhow, it’s there. It’s our duty to + restore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here—we’re going to + drag the moat.’ + </p> + <p> + Everyone brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was interesting + too. This is very uncommon. + </p> + <p> + So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the moat. + There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did not take any + till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. Mrs Pettigrew said, + ‘Law! I suppose so; you’d eat ‘em anyhow, leave or no leave.’ + </p> + <p> + She little knows the honourable nature of the house of Bastable. But she + has much to learn. + </p> + <p> + The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We sat + there in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny said, ‘How + DO you drag moats?’ + </p> + <p> + And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times about a + moat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we really had never + thought about exactly how it was done. + </p> + <p> + ‘Grappling-irons are right, I believe,’ Denny said, ‘but I don’t suppose + they’d have any at the farm.’ + </p> + <p> + And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I think myself + he meant some other word, but he was quite positive. + </p> + <p> + So then we got a sheet off Oswald’s bed, and we all took our shoes and + stockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the bottom of + the moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would keep floating on the + top of the water, and when we tried sewing stones into one end of it, it + stuck on something in the bottom, and when we got it up it was torn. We + were very sorry, and the sheet was in an awful mess; but the girls said + they were sure they could wash it in the basin in their room, and we + thought as we had torn it anyway, we might as well go on. That washing + never came off. + </p> + <p> + ‘No human being,’ Noel said, ‘knows half the treasures hidden in this dark + tarn.’ + </p> + <p> + And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work gradually + round to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. We could not see + that part very well, because of the bushes that grow between the cracks of + the stones where the house goes down into the moat. And opposite the dairy + window the barn goes straight down into the moat too. It is like pictures + of Venice; but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow. + </p> + <p> + We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts together in a + bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two, three,’ + when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a piercing shriek and + cried out— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! it’s all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle.’ And she was out + of the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The other girls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in such a + hurry that we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us went right + in, and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one who went right in + was only H. O.; but Dora made an awful fuss and said it was our fault. We + told her what we thought, and it ended in the girls going in with H. O. to + change his things. We had some more gooseberries while they were gone. + Dora was in an awful wax when she went away, but she is not of a sullen + disposition though sometimes hasty, and when they all came back we saw it + was all right, so we said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What shall we do now?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I don’t think we need drag any more. It is wormy. I felt it + when Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit of itself out + of the water. I saw it through the dairy window.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we get it up with fish-hooks?’ Noel said. But Alice explained + that the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out. So then Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, we’ll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, and we + might as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner stable that they + don’t use. You know. The one where they chop the wood.’ + </p> + <p> + We got the door. + </p> + <p> + We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is better + described in books, so we knew what to do. + </p> + <p> + We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm garden, + and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so we took them. + Denny had a box of tools someone had given him for his last birthday; they + were rather rotten little things, but the gimlet worked all right, so we + managed to make holes in the edges of the tubs and fasten them with string + under the four corners of the old door. This took us a long time. Albert’s + uncle asked us at dinner what we had been playing at, and we said it was a + secret, and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished to atone for Dicky’s + mistake before anything more was said. The house has no windows in the + side that faces the orchard. + </p> + <p> + The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass when at + last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach with the last + shove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and towed her back; he is not + afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of the other things that were in the + bottom of that moat he would have kept his boots on. So would the others, + especially Dora, as you will see. + </p> + <p> + At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, though not + up to our full strength, because if more than four got on the water came + up too near our knees, and we feared she might founder if over-manned. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that they were, + so that was all right. And as H. O. had been wet through once he was not + very keen. Alice promised Noel her best paint-brush if he’d give up and + not go, because we knew well that the voyage was fraught with deep + dangers, though the exact danger that lay in wait for us under the dairy + window we never even thought of. + </p> + <p> + So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even then, every + time we moved the water swished up over the raft and hid our feet. But I + must say it was a jolly decent raft. + </p> + <p> + Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles from the + hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the girls stand + together in the middle and hold on to each other to keep steady. Then we + christened our gallant vessel. We called it the Richard, after Dicky, and + also after the splendid admiral who used to eat wine-glasses and died + after the Battle of the Revenge in Tennyson’s poetry. + </p> + <p> + Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with the + dampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to use to dry our legs + and feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and slowly and stately + the good ship moved away from shore, riding on the waves as though they + were her native element. + </p> + <p> + We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the same + way, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we could not + always keep her in the wind’s eye. That is to say, she went where we did + not want, and once she bumped her corner against the barn wall, and all + the crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid falling overboard into a watery + grave. Of course then the waves swept her decks, and when we got up again + we said that we should have to change completely before tea. + </p> + <p> + But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into port, + under the dairy window and there was the milk-pan, for whose sake we had + endured such hardships and privations, standing up on its edge quite + quietly. + </p> + <p> + The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought to have + done; but they cried out, ‘Oh, here it is!’ and then both reached out to + get it. Anyone who has pursued a naval career will see that of course the + raft capsized. For a moment it felt like standing on the roof of the + house, and the next moment the ship stood up on end and shot the whole + crew into the dark waters. + </p> + <p> + We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across the + Ladywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as good; + but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if the water + had been deep we should have. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he opened them + on a horrid scene. + </p> + <p> + Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft had + righted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front of the + house, where the bridge is, and Dora and Alice were rising from the deep, + with their hair all plastered over their faces—like Venus in the + Latin verses. + </p> + <p> + There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine voice, + looking out of the dairy window and screaming— + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord love the children!’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry we were + in such a situation that she would be able to get at Albert’s uncle before + we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry. + </p> + <p> + Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position Dora staggered + a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, ‘Oh, my foot! oh, it’s a + shark! I know it is—or a crocodile!’ + </p> + <p> + The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could not see us + properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told me afterwards he + never could care for that paint-brush. + </p> + <p> + Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, which + are large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. She screamed + without stopping. I shoved her along to where there was a ledge of + brickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on it, then she got her + foot out of the water, still screaming. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up with her + foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she had put her foot + right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he did so blood began to + pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut it in several spots. It was + very pale blood, because her foot was wet, of course. + </p> + <p> + She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was going to + faint, like Daisy did on the jungle day. + </p> + <p> + Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of the least + agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, and she couldn’t + have waded back anyway, and we didn’t know how deep the moat might be in + other places. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really. + </p> + <p> + Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft and get + it back, a boat’s nose shot out from under a dark archway a little further + up under the house. It was the boathouse, and Albert’s uncle had got the + punt and took us back in it. When we had regained the dark arch where the + boat lives we had to go up the cellar stairs. Dora had to be carried. + </p> + <p> + There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to bed—those + who had not been on the raft the same as the others, for they owned up all + right, and Albert’s uncle is the soul of justice. + </p> + <p> + Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to—with + other things. + </p> + <p> + The worst was when Dora couldn’t get her shoe on, so they sent for the + doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was indeed poor + luck. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor had gone Alice said to me— + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS hard lines, but Dora’s very jolly about it. Daisy’s been telling + her about how we should all go to her with our little joys and sorrows and + things, and about the sweet influence from a sick bed that can be felt all + over the house, like in What Katy Did, and Dora said she hoped she might + prove a blessing to us all while she’s laid up.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sort of jaw + was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn’t want to have happen. + </p> + <p> + The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the garden + railings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been put out there + ‘to sweeten’. + </p> + <p> + But as Denny said, ‘After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes of + somewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again.’ + </p> + <p> + I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to please + ourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no difference to our + punishment when Father came down. I have known this mistake occur before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3. BILL’S TOMBSTONE + </h2> + <p> + There were soldiers riding down the road, on horses two and two. That is + the horses were two and two, and the men not. Because each man was riding + one horse and leading another. To exercise them. They came from Chatham + Barracks. We all drew up in a line outside the churchyard wall, and + saluted as they went by, though we had not read Toady Lion then. We have + since. It is the only decent book I have ever read written by Toady Lion’s + author. The others are mere piffle. But many people like them. In Sir + Toady Lion the officer salutes the child. + </p> + <p> + There was only a lieutenant with those soldiers, and he did not salute me. + He kissed his hand to the girls; and a lot of the soldiers behind kissed + theirs too. We waved ours back. + </p> + <p> + Next day we made a Union Jack out of pocket-handkerchiefs and part of a + red flannel petticoat of the White Mouse’s, which she did not want just + then, and some blue ribbon we got at the village shop. + </p> + <p> + Then we watched for the soldiers, and after three days they went by again, + by twos and twos as before. It was A1. + </p> + <p> + We waved our flag, and we shouted. We gave them three cheers. Oswald can + shout loudest. So as soon as the first man was level with us (not the + advance guard, but the first of the battery)—he shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ And then we waved the + flag, and bellowed. Oswald stood on the wall to bellow better, and Denny + waved the flag because he was a visitor, and so politeness made us let him + enjoy the fat of whatever there was going. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers did not cheer that day; they only grinned and kissed their + hands. + </p> + <p> + The next day we all got up as much like soldiers as we could. H. O. and + Noel had tin swords, and we asked Albert’s uncle to let us wear some of + the real arms that are on the wall in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + And he said, ‘Yes’, if we would clean them up afterwards. But we jolly + well cleaned them up first with Brooke’s soap and brick dust and vinegar, + and the knife polish (invented by the great and immortal Duke of + Wellington in his spare time when he was not conquering Napoleon. Three + cheers for our Iron Duke!), and with emery paper and wash leather and + whitening. Oswald wore a cavalry sabre in its sheath. Alice and the Mouse + had pistols in their belts, large old flint-locks, with bits of red + flannel behind the flints. Denny had a naval cutlass, a very beautiful + blade, and old enough to have been at Trafalgar. I hope it was. The others + had French sword-bayonets that were used in the Franco-German war. They + are very bright when you get them bright, but the sheaths are hard to + polish. Each sword-bayonet has the name on the blade of the warrior who + once wielded it. I wonder where they are now. Perhaps some of them died in + the war. Poor chaps! But it is a very long time ago. + </p> + <p> + I should like to be a soldier. It is better than going to the best + schools, and to Oxford afterwards, even if it is Balliol you go to. Oswald + wanted to go to South Africa for a bugler, but father would not let him. + And it is true that Oswald does not yet know how to bugle, though he can + play the infantry ‘advance’, and the ‘charge’ and the ‘halt’ on a penny + whistle. Alice taught them to him with the piano, out of the red book + Father’s cousin had when he was in the Fighting Fifth. Oswald cannot play + the ‘retire’, and he would scorn to do so. But I suppose a bugler has to + play what he is told, no matter how galling to the young boy’s proud + spirit. + </p> + <p> + The next day, being thoroughly armed, we put on everything red, white and + blue that we could think of—night-shirts are good for white, and you + don’t know what you can do with red socks and blue jerseys till you try—and + we waited by the churchyard wall for the soldiers. When the advance guard + (or whatever you call it of artillery—it’s that for infantry, I + know) came by, we got ready, and when the first man of the first battery + was level with us Oswald played on his penny whistle the ‘advance’ and the + ‘charge’—and then shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!’ This time they had the + guns with them. And every man of the battery cheered too. It was glorious. + It made you tremble all over. The girls said it made them want to cry—but + no boy would own to this, even if it were true. It is babyish to cry. But + it was glorious, and Oswald felt differently to what he ever did before. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the officer in front said, ‘Battery! Halt!’ and all the + soldiers pulled their horses up, and the great guns stopped too. Then the + officer said, ‘Sit at ease,’ and something else, and the sergeant repeated + it, and some of the men got off their horses and lit their pipes, and some + sat down on the grass edge of the road, holding their horses’ bridles. + </p> + <p> + We could see all the arms and accoutrements as plain as plain. + </p> + <p> + Then the officer came up to us. We were all standing on the wall that day, + except Dora, who had to sit, because her foot was bad, but we let her have + the three-edged rapier to wear, and the blunderbuss to hold as well—it + has a brass mouth and is like in Mr Caldecott’s pictures. + </p> + <p> + He was a beautiful man the officer. Like a Viking. Very tall and fair, + with moustaches very long, and bright blue eyes. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning.’ + </p> + <p> + So did we. + </p> + <p> + Then he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to be a military lot.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we wished we were. + </p> + <p> + ‘And patriotic,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + Alice said she should jolly well think so. + </p> + <p> + Then he said he had noticed us there for several days, and he had halted + the battery because he thought we might like to look at the guns. + </p> + <p> + Alas! there are but too few grown-up people so far-seeing and thoughtful + as this brave and distinguished officer. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘Oh, yes’, and then we got off the wall, and that good and noble + man showed us the string that moves the detonator and the breech-block + (when you take it out and carry it away the gun is in vain to the enemy, + even if he takes it); and he let us look down the gun to see the rifling, + all clean and shiny—and he showed us the ammunition boxes, but there + was nothing in them. He also told us how the gun was unlimbered (this + means separating the gun from the ammunition carriage), and how quick it + could be done—but he did not make the men do this then, because they + were resting. There were six guns. Each had painted on the carriage, in + white letters, 15 Pr., which the captain told us meant fifteen-pounder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought the gun weighed more than fifteen pounds,’ Dora + said. ‘It would if it was beef, but I suppose wood and gun are lighter.’ + </p> + <p> + And the officer explained to her very kindly and patiently that 15 Pr. + meant the gun could throw a SHELL weighing fifteen pounds. + </p> + <p> + When we had told him how jolly it was to see the soldiers go by so often, + he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t see us many more times. We’re ordered to the front; and we sail + on Tuesday week; and the guns will be painted mud-colour, and the men will + wear mud-colour too, and so shall I.’ + </p> + <p> + The men looked very nice, though they were not wearing their busbies, but + only Tommy caps, put on all sorts of ways. + </p> + <p> + We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, looked + with envy on those who would soon be allowed—being grown up, and no + nonsense about your education—to go and fight for their Queen and + country. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right; but tell him yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + So Alice said to the captain— + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you stop next time you pass?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I’m afraid I can’t promise that.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘You might; there’s a particular reason.’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘What?’ which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is with + children. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to give the soldiers a keepsake and will write to ask my father. + He is very well off just now. Look here—if we’re not on the wall + when you come by, don’t stop; but if we are, please, PLEASE do!’ + </p> + <p> + The officer pulled his moustache and looked as if he did not know; but at + last he said ‘Yes’, and we were very glad, though but Alice and Oswald + knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting in their youthful + nuts. + </p> + <p> + The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should like to + see your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished silver.’ + </p> + <p> + The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But Oswald + said hurriedly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t. Not yet. We shan’t ever have a chance like this. If you’d only + show us the pursuing practice! Albert’s uncle knows it; but he only does + it on an armchair, because he hasn’t a horse.’ + </p> + <p> + And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his horse + right into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the cuts, + thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was splendid. The + morning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his good steed stood with all + its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. + </p> + <p> + Then we opened the paddock gate, and he did it again, while the horse + galloped as if upon the bloody battlefield among the fierce foes of his + native land, and this was far more ripping still. + </p> + <p> + Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men with him. + And the guns of course. + </p> + <p> + Then we wrote to my father, and he said ‘Yes’, as we knew he would, and + next time the soldiers came by—but they had no guns this time, only + the captive Arabs of the desert—we had the keepsakes ready in a + wheelbarrow, and we were on the churchyard wall. + </p> + <p> + And the bold captain called an immediate halt. + </p> + <p> + Then the girls had the splendid honour and pleasure of giving a pipe and + four whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier. + </p> + <p> + Then we shook hands with the captain, and the sergeant and the corporals, + and the girls kissed the captain—I can’t think why girls will kiss + everybody—and we all cheered for the Queen. It was grand. And I wish + my father had been there to see how much you can do with L12 if you order + the things from the Stores. + </p> + <p> + We have never seen those brave soldiers again. + </p> + <p> + I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about soldiers, + and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the white cottage in + her desolate and oppressedness. + </p> + <p> + Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the churchyard, on + the other side from our house. On the different military occasions which I + have remarked upon this widow woman stood at her garden gate and looked + on. And after the cheering she rubbed her eyes with her apron. Alice + noticed this slight but signifying action. + </p> + <p> + We feel quite sure Mrs Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt friendly to + her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. She told us to go + along with us, do, and not bother her. And Oswald, with his usual delicacy + and good breeding, made the others do as she said. + </p> + <p> + But we were not to be thus repulsed with impunity. We made complete but + cautious inquiries, and found out that the reason she cried when she saw + soldiers was that she had only one son, a boy. He was twenty-two, and he + had gone to the War last April. So that she thought of him when she saw + the soldiers, and that was why she cried. Because when your son is at the + wars you always think he is being killed. I don’t know why. A great many + of them are not. If I had a son at the wars I should never think he was + dead till I heard he was, and perhaps not then, considering everything. + After we had found this out we held a council. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘We must do something for the soldier’s widowed mother.’ + </p> + <p> + We all agreed, but added ‘What?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘The gift of money might be deemed an insult by that proud, + patriotic spirit. Besides, we haven’t more than eighteenpence among us.’ + </p> + <p> + We had put what we had to father’s L12 to buy the baccy and pipes. + </p> + <p> + The Mouse then said, ‘Couldn’t we make her a flannel petticoat and leave + it without a word upon her doorstep?’ + </p> + <p> + But everyone said, ‘Flannel petticoats in this weather?’ so that was no + go. + </p> + <p> + Noel said he would write her a poem, but Oswald had a deep, inward feeling + that Mrs Simpkins would not understand poetry. Many people do not. + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘Why not sing “Rule Britannia” under her window after she had + gone to bed, like waits,’ but no one else thought so. + </p> + <p> + Denny thought we might get up a subscription for her among the wealthy and + affluent, but we said again that we knew money would be no balm to the + haughty mother of a brave British soldier. + </p> + <p> + ‘What we want,’ Alice said, ‘is something that will be a good deal of + trouble to us and some good to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little help is worth a deal of poetry,’ said Denny. + </p> + <p> + I should not have said that myself. Noel did look sick. + </p> + <p> + ‘What DOES she do that we can help in?’ Dora asked. ‘Besides, she won’t + let us help.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘She does nothing but work in the garden. At least if she does + anything inside you can’t see it, because she keeps the door shut.’ + </p> + <p> + Then at once we saw. And we agreed to get up the very next day, ere yet + the rosy dawn had flushed the east, and have a go at Mrs Simpkins’s + garden. + </p> + <p> + We got up. We really did. But too often when you mean to, overnight, it + seems so silly to do it when you come to waking in the dewy morn. We crept + downstairs with our boots in our hands. Denny is rather unlucky, though a + most careful boy. It was he who dropped his boot, and it went blundering + down the stairs, echoing like thunderbolts, and waking up Albert’s uncle. + But when we explained to him that we were going to do some gardening he + let us, and went back to bed. + </p> + <p> + Everything is very pretty and different in the early morning, before + people are up. I have been told this is because the shadows go a different + way from what they do in the awake part of the day. But I don’t know. Noel + says the fairies have just finished tidying up then. Anyhow it all feels + quite otherwise. + </p> + <p> + We put on our boots in the porch, and we got our gardening tools and we + went down to the white cottage. It is a nice cottage, with a thatched + roof, like in the drawing copies you get at girls’ schools, and you do the + thatch—if you can—with a B.B. pencil. If you cannot, you just + leave it. It looks just as well, somehow, when it is mounted and framed. + </p> + <p> + We looked at the garden. It was very neat. Only one patch was coming up + thick with weeds. I could see groundsel and chickweed, and others that I + did not know. We set to work with a will. We used all our tools—spades, + forks, hoes, and rakes—and Dora worked with the trowel, sitting + down, because her foot was hurt. We cleared the weedy patch beautifully, + scraping off all the nasty weeds and leaving the nice clean brown dirt. We + worked as hard as ever we could. And we were happy, because it was + unselfish toil, and no one thought then of putting it in the Book of + Golden Deeds, where we had agreed to write down our virtuous actions and + the good doings of each other, when we happen to notice them. + </p> + <p> + We had just done, and we were looking at the beautiful production of our + honest labour, when the cottage door burst open, and the soldier’s widowed + mother came out like a wild tornado, and her eyes looked like upas trees—death + to the beholder. + </p> + <p> + ‘You wicked, meddlesome, nasty children!’ she said, ain’t you got enough + of your own good ground to runch up and spoil, but you must come into MY + little lot?’ + </p> + <p> + Some of us were deeply alarmed, but we stood firm. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have only been weeding your garden,’ Dora said; ‘we wanted to do + something to help you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dratted little busybodies,’ she said. It was indeed hard, but everyone in + Kent says ‘dratted’ when they are cross. ‘It’s my turnips,’ she went on, + ‘you’ve hoed up, and my cabbages. My turnips that my boy sowed afore he + went. There, get along with you do, afore I come at you with my + broom-handle.’ + </p> + <p> + She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even the + boldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. ‘They looked like + weeds right enough,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + And Dicky said, ‘It all comes of trying to do golden deeds.’ This was when + we were out in the road. + </p> + <p> + As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met the postman. + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s the letters for the Moat,’ and passed on hastily. He was a bit + late. + </p> + <p> + When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all for + Albert’s uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in a + magazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs Simpkins. + We honourably only looked at the address, although it is allowed by the + rules of honourableness to read postcards that come to your house if you + like, even if they are not for you. + </p> + <p> + After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not afraid, + whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding the postcard + right way up, so that we should not look at the lettery part of it, but + only the address. + </p> + <p> + With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up to the + white cottage door. + </p> + <p> + It opened with a bang when we knocked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in books + call ‘sourly’. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and we will + ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way.’ + </p> + <p> + She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody. + </p> + <p> + ‘We came back,’ Oswald went on, with his always unruffled politeness, + ‘because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with our letters, and + it is addressed to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We haven’t read it,’ Alice said quickly. I think she needn’t have said + that. Of course we hadn’t. But perhaps girls know better than we do what + women are likely to think you capable of. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but ‘took’ + is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at the address a + long time. Then she turned it over and read what was on the back. Then she + drew her breath in as far as it would go, and caught hold of the + door-post. Her face got awful. It was like the wax face of a dead king I + saw once at Madame Tussaud’s. + </p> + <p> + Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier’s mother’s hand and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, NO—it’s NOT your boy Bill!’ + </p> + <p> + And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice’s hand, and + we both read it—and it WAS her boy Bill. + </p> + <p> + Alice gave her back the card. She had held on to the woman’s hand all the + time, and now she squeezed the hand, and held it against her face. But she + could not say a word because she was crying so. The soldier’s mother took + the card again and she pushed Alice away, but it was not an unkind push, + and she went in and shut the door; and as Alice and Oswald went down the + road Oswald looked back, and one of the windows of the cottage had a white + blind. Afterwards the other windows had too. There were no blinds really + to the cottage. It was aprons and things she had pinned up. + </p> + <p> + Alice cried most of the morning, and so did the other girls. We wanted to + do something for the soldier’s mother, but you can do nothing when + people’s sons are shot. It is the most dreadful thing to want to do + something for people who are unhappy, and not to know what to do. + </p> + <p> + It was Noel who thought of what we COIULD do at last. + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I suppose they don’t put up tombstones to soldiers when they die + in war. But there—I mean Oswald said, ‘Of course not.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel said, ‘I daresay you’ll think it’s silly, but I don’t care. Don’t you + think she’d like it, if we put one up to HIM? Not in the churchyard, of + course, because we shouldn’t be let, but in our garden, just where it + joins on to the churchyard?’ + </p> + <p> + And we all thought it was a first-rate idea. + </p> + <p> + This is what we meant to put on the tombstone: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies + + BILL SIMPKINS + + Who died fighting for Queen + + and Country.’ +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A faithful son, + A son so dear, + A soldier brave + Lies buried here.’ +</pre> + <p> + Then we remembered that poor brave Bill was really buried far away in the + Southern hemisphere, if at all. So we altered it to— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘A soldier brave + We weep for here.’ +</pre> + <p> + Then we looked out a nice flagstone in the stable-yard, and we got a cold + chisel out of the Dentist’s toolbox, and began. + </p> + <p> + But stone-cutting is difficult and dangerous work. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went at it a bit, but he chipped his thumb, and it bled so he had + to chuck it. Then Dicky tried, and then Denny, but Dicky hammered his + finger, and Denny took all day over every stroke, so that by tea-time we + had only done the H, and about half the E—and the E was awfully + crooked. Oswald chipped his thumb over the H. + </p> + <p> + We looked at it the next morning, and even the most sanguinary of us saw + that it was a hopeless task. + </p> + <p> + Then Denny said, ‘Why not wood and paint?’ and he showed us how. We got a + board and two stumps from the carpenter’s in the village, and we painted + it all white, and when that was dry Denny did the words on it. + </p> + <p> + It was something like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘IN MEMORY OF + BILL SIMPKINS + + DEAD FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY. + + HONOUR TO HIS NAME AND ALL + + OTHER BRAVE SOLDIERS.’ +</pre> + <p> + We could not get in what we meant to at first, so we had to give up the + poetry. + </p> + <p> + We fixed it up when it was dry. We had to dig jolly deep to get the posts + to stand up, but the gardener helped us. + </p> + <p> + Then the girls made wreaths of white flowers, roses and Canterbury bells, + and lilies and pinks, and sweet-peas and daisies, and put them over the + posts. And I think if Bill Simpkins had known how sorry we were, he would + have been glad. Oswald only hopes if he falls on the wild battlefield, + which is his highest ambition, that somebody will be as sorry about him as + he was about Bill, that’s all! + </p> + <p> + When all was done, and what flowers there were over from the wreaths + scattered under the tombstone between the posts, we wrote a letter to Mrs + Simpkins, and said— + </p> + <p> + DEAR MRS SIMPKINS— + </p> + <p> + We are very, very sorry about the turnips and things, and we beg your + pardon humbly. We have put up a tombstone to your brave son. + </p> + <p> + And we signed our names. Alice took the letter. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother read it, and said something about our oughting to + know better than to make fun of people’s troubles with our tombstones and + tomfoolery. + </p> + <p> + Alice told me she could not help crying. + </p> + <p> + She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not! it’s NOT! Dear, DEAR Mrs Simpkins, do come with me and see! You + don’t know how sorry we are about Bill. Do come and see. + </p> + <p> + We can go through the churchyard, and the others have all gone in, so as + to leave it quiet for you. Do come.’ + </p> + <p> + And Mrs Simpkins did. And when she read what we had put up, and Alice told + her the verse we had not had room for, she leant against the wall by the + grave—I mean the tombstone—and Alice hugged her, and they both + cried bitterly. The poor soldier’s mother was very, very pleased, and she + forgave us about the turnips, and we were friends after that, but she + always liked Alice the best. A great many people do, somehow. + </p> + <p> + After that we used to put fresh flowers every day on Bill’s tombstone, and + I do believe his mother was pleased, though she got us to move it away + from the churchyard edge and put it in a corner of our garden under a + laburnum, where people could not see it from the church. But you could + from the road, though I think she thought you couldn’t. She came every day + to look at the new wreaths. When the white flowers gave out we put + coloured, and she liked it just as well. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight after the erecting of the tombstone the girls were + putting fresh wreaths on it when a soldier in a red coat came down the + road, and he stopped and looked at us. He walked with a stick, and he had + a bundle in a blue cotton handkerchief, and one arm in a sling. + </p> + <p> + And he looked again, and he came nearer, and he leaned on the wall, so + that he could read the black printing on the white paint. + </p> + <p> + And he grinned all over his face, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I AM blessed!’ + </p> + <p> + And he read it all out in a sort of half whisper, and when he came to the + end, where it says, ‘and all such brave soldiers’, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I really AM!’ I suppose he meant he really was blessed. Oswald + thought it was like the soldier’s cheek, so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay you aren’t so very blessed as you think. What’s it to do with + you, anyway, eh, Tommy?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald knew from Kipling that an infantry soldier is called + that. The soldier said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Tommy yourself, young man. That’s ME!’ and he pointed to the tombstone. + </p> + <p> + We stood rooted to the spot. Alice spoke first. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’re Bill, and you’re not dead,’ she said. ‘Oh, Bill, I am so + glad! Do let ME tell your mother.’ + </p> + <p> + She started running, and so did we all. Bill had to go slowly because of + his leg, but I tell you he went as fast as ever he could. + </p> + <p> + We all hammered at the soldier’s mother’s door, and shouted— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come out! come out!’ and when she opened the door we were going to speak, + but she pushed us away, and went tearing down the garden path like + winking. I never saw a grown-up woman run like it, because she saw Bill + coming. + </p> + <p> + She met him at the gate, running right into him, and caught hold of him, + and she cried much more than when she thought he was dead. + </p> + <p> + And we all shook his hand and said how glad we were. + </p> + <p> + The soldier’s mother kept hold of him with both hands, and I couldn’t help + looking at her face. It was like wax that had been painted on both pink + cheeks, and the eyes shining like candles. And when we had all said how + glad we were, she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank the dear Lord for His mercies,’ and she took her boy Bill into the + cottage and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + We went home and chopped up the tombstone with the wood-axe and had a + blazing big bonfire, and cheered till we could hardly speak. + </p> + <p> + The postcard was a mistake; he was only missing. There was a pipe and a + whole pound of tobacco left over from our keepsake to the other soldiers. + We gave it to Bill. Father is going to have him for under-gardener when + his wounds get well. He’ll always be a bit lame, so he cannot fight any + more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + It was very rough on Dora having her foot bad, but we took it in turns to + stay in with her, and she was very decent about it. Daisy was most with + her. I do not dislike Daisy, but I wish she had been taught how to play. + Because Dora is rather like that naturally, and sometimes I have thought + that Daisy makes her worse. + </p> + <p> + I talked to Albert’s uncle about it one day, when the others had gone to + church, and I did not go because of ear-ache, and he said it came from + reading the wrong sort of books partly—she has read Ministering + Children, and Anna Ross, or The Orphan of Waterloo, and Ready Work for + Willing Hands, and Elsie, or Like a Little Candle, and even a horrid + little blue book about the something or other of Little Sins. After this + conversation Oswald took care she had plenty of the right sort of books to + read, and he was surprised and pleased when she got up early one morning + to finish Monte Cristo. Oswald felt that he was really being useful to a + suffering fellow-creature when he gave Daisy books that were not all about + being good. + </p> + <p> + A few days after Dora was laid up, Alice called a council of the + Wouldbegoods, and Oswald and Dicky attended with darkly-clouded brows. + Alice had the minute-book, which was an exercise-book that had not much + written in it. She had begun at the other end. I hate doing that myself, + because there is so little room at the top compared with right way up. + </p> + <p> + Dora and a sofa had been carried out on to the lawn, and we were on the + grass. It was very hot and dry. We had sherbet. Alice read: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Society of the Wouldbegoods. + </p> + <p> + ‘“We have not done much. Dicky mended a window, and we got the milk-pan + out of the moat that dropped through where he mended it. Dora, Oswald, + Dicky and me got upset in the moat. This was not goodness. Dora’s foot was + hurt. We hope to do better next time.”’ + </p> + <p> + Then came Noel’s poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘We are the Wouldbegoods Society, + We are not good yet, but we mean to try, + And if we try, and if we don’t succeed, + It must mean we are very bad indeed.’ +</pre> + <p> + This sounded so much righter than Noel’s poetry generally does, that + Oswald said so, and Noel explained that Denny had helped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He seems to know the right length for lines of poetry. I suppose it comes + of learning so much at school,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald proposed that anybody should be allowed to write in the book + if they found out anything good that anyone else had done, but not things + that were public acts; and nobody was to write about themselves, or + anything other people told them, only what they found out. + </p> + <p> + After a brief jaw the others agreed, and Oswald felt, not for the first + time in his young life, that he would have made a good diplomatic hero to + carry despatches and outwit the other side. For now he had put it out of + the minute-book’s power to be the kind of thing readers of Ministering + Children would have wished. + </p> + <p> + ‘And if anyone tells other people any good thing he’s done he is to go to + Coventry for the rest of the day.’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny remarked, ‘We shall do good by stealth, and blush to find it + shame.’ + </p> + <p> + After that nothing was written in the book for some time. I looked about, + and so did the others, but I never caught anyone in the act of doing + anything extra; though several of the others have told me since of things + they did at this time, and really wondered nobody had noticed. + </p> + <p> + I think I said before that when you tell a story you cannot tell + everything. It would be silly to do it. Because ordinary kinds of play are + dull to read about; and the only other thing is meals, and to dwell on + what you eat is greedy and not like a hero at all. A hero is always + contented with a venison pasty and a horn of sack. All the same, the meals + were very interesting; with things you do not get at home—Lent pies + with custard and currants in them, sausage rolls and fiede cakes, and + raisin cakes and apple turnovers, and honeycomb and syllabubs, besides as + much new milk as you cared about, and cream now and then, and cheese + always on the table for tea. Father told Mrs Pettigrew to get what meals + she liked, and she got these strange but attractive foods. + </p> + <p> + In a story about Wouldbegoods it is not proper to tell of times when only + some of us were naughty, so I will pass lightly over the time when Noel + got up the kitchen chimney and brought three bricks and an old starling’s + nest and about a ton of soot down with him when he fell. They never use + the big chimney in the summer, but cook in the wash-house. Nor do I wish + to dwell on what H. O. did when he went into the dairy. I do not know what + his motive was. But Mrs Pettigrew said SHE knew; and she locked him in, + and said if it was cream he wanted he should have enough, and she wouldn’t + let him out till tea-time. The cat had also got into the dairy for some + reason of her own, and when H. O. was tired of whatever he went in for he + poured all the milk into the churn and tried to teach the cat to swim in + it. He must have been desperate. The cat did not even try to learn, and H. + O. had the scars on his hands for weeks. I do not wish to tell tales of H. + O., for he is very young, and whatever he does he always catches it for; + but I will just allude to our being told not to eat the greengages in the + garden. And we did not. And whatever H. O. did was Noel’s fault—for + Noel told H. O. that greengages would grow again all right if you did not + bite as far as the stone, just as wounds are not mortal except when you + are pierced through the heart. So the two of them bit bites out of every + greengage they could reach. And of course the pieces did not grow again. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not do things like these, but then he is older than his + brothers. The only thing he did just about then was making a booby-trap + for Mrs Pettigrew when she had locked H. O. up in the dairy, and + unfortunately it was the day she was going out in her best things, and + part of the trap was a can of water. Oswald was not willingly vicious; it + was but a light and thoughtless act which he had every reason to be sorry + for afterwards. And he is sorry even without those reasons, because he + knows it is ungentlemanly to play tricks on women. + </p> + <p> + I remember Mother telling Dora and me when we were little that you ought + to be very kind and polite to servants, because they have to work very + hard, and do not have so many good times as we do. I used to think about + Mother more at the Moat House than I did at Blackheath, especially in the + garden. She was very fond of flowers, and she used to tell us about the + big garden where she used to live; and I remember Dora and I helped her to + plant seeds. But it is no use wishing. She would have liked that garden, + though. + </p> + <p> + The girls and the white mice did not do anything boldly wicked—though + of course they used to borrow Mrs Pettigrew’s needles, which made her very + nasty. Needles that are borrowed might just as well be stolen. But I say + no more. + </p> + <p> + I have only told you these things to show the kind of events which + occurred on the days I don’t tell you about. On the whole, we had an + excellent time. + </p> + <p> + It was on the day we had the pillow-fight that we went for the long walk. + Not the Pilgrimage—that is another story. We did not mean to have a + pillow-fight. It is not usual to have them after breakfast, but Oswald had + come up to get his knife out of the pocket of his Etons, to cut some wire + we were making rabbit snares of. It is a very good knife, with a file in + it, as well as a corkscrew and other things—and he did not come down + at once, because he was detained by having to make an apple-pie bed for + Dicky. Dicky came up after him to see what he was up to, and when he did + see he buzzed a pillow at Oswald, and the fight began. The others, hearing + the noise of battle from afar, hastened to the field of action, all except + Dora, who couldn’t because of being laid up with her foot, and Daisy, + because she is a little afraid of us still, when we are all together. She + thinks we are rough. This comes of having only one brother. + </p> + <p> + Well, the fight was a very fine one. Alice backed me up, and Noel and H. + O. backed Dicky, and Denny heaved a pillow or two; but he cannot shy + straight, so I don’t know which side he was on. + </p> + <p> + And just as the battle raged most fiercely, Mrs Pettigrew came in and + snatched the pillows away, and shook those of the warriors who were small + enough for it. SHE was rough if you like. She also used language I should + have thought she would be above. She said, Drat you!’ and ‘Drabbit you!’ + The last is a thing I have never heard said before. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no peace of your life with you children. Drat your antics! And + that poor, dear, patient gentleman right underneath, with his headache and + his handwriting: and you rampaging about over his head like young + bull-calves. I wonder you haven’t more sense, a great girl like you.’ + </p> + <p> + She said this to Alice, and Alice answered gently, as we are told to do— + </p> + <p> + ‘I really am awfully sorry; we forgot about the headache. Don’t be cross, + Mrs Pettigrew; we didn’t mean to; we didn’t think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never do,’ she said, and her voice, though grumpy, was no longer + violent. ‘Why on earth you can’t take yourselves off for the day I don’t + know.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said, ‘But may we?’ + </p> + <p> + She said, ‘Of course you may. Now put on your boots and go for a good long + walk. And I’ll tell you what—I’ll put you up a snack, and you can + have an egg to your tea to make up for missing your dinner. Now don’t go + clattering about the stairs and passages, there’s good children. See if + you can’t be quiet this once, and give the good gentleman a chance with + his copying.’ + </p> + <p> + She went off. Her bark is worse than her bite. She does not understand + anything about writing books, though. She thinks Albert’s uncle copies + things out of printed books, when he is really writing new ones. I wonder + how she thinks printed books get made first of all. Many servants are like + this. + </p> + <p> + She gave us the ‘snack’ in a basket, and sixpence to buy milk with. She + said any of the farms would let us have it, only most likely it would be + skim. We thanked her politely, and she hurried us out of the front door as + if we’d been chickens on a pansy bed. + </p> + <p> + (I did not know till after I had left the farm gate open, and the hens had + got into the garden, that these feathered bipeds display a great + partiality for the young buds of plants of the genus viola, to which they + are extremely destructive. I was told that by the gardener. I looked it up + in the gardening book afterwards to be sure he was right. You do learn a + lot of things in the country.) + </p> + <p> + We went through the garden as far as the church, and then we rested a bit + in the porch, and just looked into the basket to see what the ‘snack’ was. + It proved to be sausage rolls and queen cakes, and a Lent pie in a round + tin dish, and some hard-boiled eggs, and some apples. We all ate the + apples at once, so as not to have to carry them about with us. The + churchyard smells awfully good. It is the wild thyme that grows on the + graves. This is another thing we did not know before we came into the + country. + </p> + <p> + Then the door of the church tower was ajar, and we all went up; it had + always been locked before when we had tried it. + </p> + <p> + We saw the ringers’ loft where the ends of the bellropes hang down with + long, furry handles to them like great caterpillars, some red, and some + blue and white, but we did not pull them. And then we went up to where the + bells are, very big and dusty among large dirty beams; and four windows + with no glass, only shutters like Venetian blinds, but they won’t pull up. + There were heaps of straws and sticks on the window ledges. We think they + were owls’ nests, but we did not see any owls. + </p> + <p> + Then the tower stairs got very narrow and dark, and we went on up, and we + came to a door and opened it suddenly, and it was like being hit in the + face, the light was so sudden. And there we were on the top of the tower, + which is flat, and people have cut their names on it, and a turret at one + corner, and a low wall all round, up and down, like castle battlements. + And we looked down and saw the roof of the church, and the leads, and the + churchyard, and our garden, and the Moat House, and the farm, and Mrs + Simpkins’s cottage, looking very small, and other farms looking like toy + things out of boxes, and we saw corn-fields and meadows and pastures. A + pasture is not the same thing as a meadow, whatever you may think. And we + saw the tops of trees and hedges, looking like the map of the United + States, and villages, and a tower that did not look very far away standing + by itself on the top of a hill. Alice pointed to it, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not a church,’ said Noel, ‘because there’s no churchyard. Perhaps + it’s a tower of mystery that covers the entrance to a subterranean vault + with treasure in it.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Subterranean fiddlestick!’ and ‘A waterworks, more likely.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice thought perhaps it was a ruined castle, and the rest of its + crumbling walls were concealed by ivy, the growth of years. + </p> + <p> + Oswald could not make his mind up what it was, so he said, ‘Let’s go and + see! We may as well go there as anywhere.’ + </p> + <p> + So we got down out of the church tower and dusted ourselves, and set out. + </p> + <p> + The Tower of Mystery showed quite plainly from the road, now that we knew + where to look for it, because it was on the top of a hill. We began to + walk. But the tower did not seem to get any nearer. And it was very hot. + </p> + <p> + So we sat down in a meadow where there was a stream in the ditch and ate + the ‘snack’. We drank the pure water from the brook out of our hands, + because there was no farm to get milk at just there, and it was too much + fag to look for one—and, besides, we thought we might as well save + the sixpence. + </p> + <p> + Then we started again, and still the tower looked as far off as ever. + Denny began to drag his feet, though he had brought a walking-stick which + none of the rest of us had, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish a cart would come along. We might get a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + He knew all about getting lifts, of course, from having been in the + country before. He is not quite the white mouse we took him for at first. + Of course when you live in Lewisham or Blackheath you learn other things. + If you asked for a lift in Lewisham, High Street, your only reply would be + jeers. We sat down on a heap of stones, and decided that we would ask for + a lift from the next cart, whichever way it was going. It was while we + were waiting that Oswald found out about plantain seeds being good to eat. + </p> + <p> + When the sound of wheels came we remarked with joy that the cart was going + towards the Tower of Mystery. It was a cart a man was going to fetch a pig + home in. Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, you might give us a lift. Will you?’ + </p> + <p> + The man who was going for the pig said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What, all that little lot?’ but he winked at Alice, and we saw that he + meant to aid us on our way. So we climbed up, and he whipped up the horse + and asked us where we were going. He was a kindly old man, with a face + like a walnut shell, and white hair and beard like a jack-in-the-box. + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to get to the tower,’ Alice said. ‘Is it a ruin, or not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t no ruin,’ the man said; ‘no fear of that! The man wot built it + he left so much a year to be spent on repairing of it! Money that might + have put bread in honest folks’ mouths.’ + </p> + <p> + We asked was it a church then, or not. + </p> + <p> + ‘Church?’ he said. ‘Not it. It’s more of a tombstone, from all I can make + out. They do say there was a curse on him that built it, and he wasn’t to + rest in earth or sea. So he’s buried half-way up the tower—if you + can call it buried.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you go up it?’ Oswald asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord love you! yes; a fine view from the top they say. I’ve never been up + myself, though I’ve lived in sight of it, boy and man, these sixty-three + years come harvest.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice asked whether you had to go past the dead and buried person to get + to the top of the tower, and could you see the coffin. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ the man said; ‘that’s all hid away behind a slab of stone, that + is, with reading on it. You’ve no call to be afraid, missy. It’s daylight + all the way up. But I wouldn’t go there after dark, so I wouldn’t. It’s + always open, day and night, and they say tramps sleep there now and again. + Anyone who likes can sleep there, but it wouldn’t be me.’ + </p> + <p> + We thought that it would not be us either, but we wanted to go more than + ever, especially when the man said— + </p> + <p> + ‘My own great-uncle of the mother’s side, he was one of the masons that + set up the stone slab. Before then it was thick glass, and you could see + the dead man lying inside, as he’d left it in his will. He was lying there + in a glass coffin with his best clothes—blue satin and silver, my + uncle said, such as was all the go in his day, with his wig on, and his + sword beside him, what he used to wear. My uncle said his hair had grown + out from under his wig, and his beard was down to the toes of him. My + uncle he always upheld that that dead man was no deader than you and me, + but was in a sort of fit, a transit, I think they call it, and looked for + him to waken into life again some day. But the doctor said not. It was + only something done to him like Pharaoh in the Bible afore he was buried.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice whispered to Oswald that we should be late for tea, and wouldn’t it + be better to go back now directly. But he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘If you’re afraid, say so; and you needn’t come in anyway—but I’m + going on.’ + </p> + <p> + The man who was going for the pig put us down at a gate quite near the + tower—at least it looked so until we began to walk again. We thanked + him, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite welcome,’ and drove off. + </p> + <p> + We were rather quiet going through the wood. What we had heard made us + very anxious to see the tower—all except Alice, who would keep + talking about tea, though not a greedy girl by nature. None of the others + encouraged her, but Oswald thought himself that we had better be home + before dark. + </p> + <p> + As we went up the path through the wood we saw a poor wayfarer with dusty + bare feet sitting on the bank. + </p> + <p> + He stopped us and said he was a sailor, and asked for a trifle to help him + to get back to his ship. + </p> + <p> + I did not like the look of him much myself, but Alice said, ‘Oh, the poor + man, do let’s help him, Oswald.’ So we held a hurried council, and decided + to give him the milk sixpence. Oswald had it in his purse, and he had to + empty the purse into his hand to find the sixpence, for that was not all + the money he had, by any means. Noel said afterwards that he saw the + wayfarer’s eyes fastened greedily upon the shining pieces as Oswald + returned them to his purse. Oswald has to own that he purposely let the + man see that he had more money, so that the man might not feel shy about + accepting so large a sum as sixpence. + </p> + <p> + The man blessed our kind hearts and we went on. + </p> + <p> + The sun was shining very brightly, and the Tower of Mystery did not look + at all like a tomb when we got to it. The bottom Storey was on arches, all + open, and ferns and things grew underneath. There was a round stone stair + going up in the middle. Alice began to gather ferns while we went up, but + when we had called out to her that it was as the pig-man had said, and + daylight all the way up, she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’m not afraid. I’m only afraid of being late home,’ and came + up after us. And perhaps, though not downright manly truthfulness, this + was as much as you could expect from a girl. + </p> + <p> + There were holes in the little tower of the staircase to let light in. At + the top of it was a thick door with iron bolts. We shot these back, and it + was not fear but caution that made Oswald push open the door so very + slowly and carefully. + </p> + <p> + Because, of course, a stray dog or cat might have got shut up there by + accident, and it would have startled Alice very much if it had jumped out + on us. + </p> + <p> + When the door was opened we saw that there was no such thing. It was a + room with eight sides. Denny says it is the shape called octogenarian; + because a man named Octagius invented it. There were eight large arched + windows with no glass, only stone-work, like in churches. The room was + full of sunshine, and you could see the blue sky through the windows, but + nothing else, because they were so high up. It was so bright we began to + think the pig-man had been kidding us. Under one of the windows was a + door. We went through, and there was a little passage and then a + turret-twisting stair, like in the church, but quite light with windows. + When we had gone some way up this, we came to a sort of landing, and there + was a block of stone let into the wall—polished—Denny said it + was Aberdeen graphite, with gold letters cut in it. It said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies the body of Mr Richard Ravenal + Born 1720. Died 1779.’ +</pre> + <p> + and a verse of poetry: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lie I, between earth and sky, + Think upon me, dear passers-by, + And you who do my tombstone see + Be kind to say a prayer for me.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘How horrid!’ Alice said. ‘Do let’s get home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We may as well go to the top,’ Dicky said, ‘just to say we’ve been.’ + </p> + <p> + And Alice is no funk—so she agreed; though I could see she did not + like it. + </p> + <p> + Up at the top it was like the top of the church tower, only octogenarian + in shape, instead of square. + </p> + <p> + Alice got all right there; because you cannot think much about ghosts and + nonsense when the sun is shining bang down on you at four o’clock in the + afternoon, and you can see red farm-roofs between the trees, and the safe + white roads, with people in carts like black ants crawling. + </p> + <p> + It was very jolly, but we felt we ought to be getting back, because tea is + at five, and we could not hope to find lifts both ways. + </p> + <p> + So we started to go down. Dicky went first, then Oswald, then Alice—and + H. O. had just stumbled over the top step and saved himself by Alice’s + back, which nearly upset Oswald and Dicky, when the hearts of all stood + still, and then went on by leaps and bounds, like the good work in + missionary magazines. + </p> + <p> + For, down below us, in the tower where the man whose beard grew down to + his toes after he was dead was buried, there was a noise—a loud + noise. And it was like a door being banged and bolts fastened. We tumbled + over each other to get back into the open sunshine on the top of the + tower, and Alice’s hand got jammed between the edge of the doorway and H. + O.‘s boot; it was bruised black and blue, and another part bled, but she + did not notice it till long after. + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other, and Oswald said in a firm voice (at least, I hope + it was)— + </p> + <p> + ‘What was that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He HAS waked up,’ Alice said. ‘Oh, I know he has. Of course there is a + door for him to get out by when he wakes. He’ll come up here. I know he + will.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, and his voice was not at all firm (I noticed that at the + time), ‘It doesn’t matter, if he’s ALIVE.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless he’s come to life a raving lunatic,’ Noel said, and we all stood + with our eyes on the doorway of the turret—and held our breath to + hear. + </p> + <p> + But there was no more noise. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald said—and nobody ever put it in the Golden Deed book, + though they own that it was brave and noble of him—he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it was only the wind blowing one of the doors to. I’ll go down + and see, if you will, Dick.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky only said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The wind doesn’t shoot bolts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A bolt from the blue,’ said Denny to himself, looking up at the sky. His + father is a sub-editor. He had gone very red, and he was holding on to + Alice’s hand. Suddenly he stood up quite straight and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not afraid. I’ll go and see.’ + </p> + <p> + THIS was afterwards put in the Golden Deed book. It ended in Oswald and + Dicky and Denny going. Denny went first because he said he would rather—and + Oswald understood this and let him. If Oswald had pushed first it would + have been like Sir Lancelot refusing to let a young knight win his spurs. + Oswald took good care to go second himself, though. The others never + understood this. You don’t expect it from girls; but I did think father + would have understood without Oswald telling him, which of course he never + could. + </p> + <p> + We all went slowly. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the turret stairs we stopped short. Because the door + there was bolted fast and would not yield to shoves, however desperate and + united. + </p> + <p> + Only now somehow we felt that Mr Richard Ravenal was all right and quiet, + but that some one had done it for a lark, or perhaps not known about + anyone being up there. So we rushed up, and Oswald told the others in a + few hasty but well-chosen words, and we all leaned over between the + battlements, and shouted, ‘Hi! you there!’ + </p> + <p> + Then from under the arches of the quite-downstairs part of the tower a + figure came forth—and it was the sailor who had had our milk + sixpence. He looked up and he spoke to us. He did not speak loud, but he + spoke loud enough for us to hear every word quite plainly. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Drop that.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Drop what?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘That row.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘Because if you don’t I’ll come up and make you, and pretty quick + too, so I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Did you bolt the door?’ + </p> + <p> + The man said, ‘I did so, my young cock.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said—and Oswald wished to goodness she had held her tongue, + because he saw right enough the man was not friendly—‘Oh, do come + and let us out—do, please.’ + </p> + <p> + While she was saying it Oswald suddenly saw that he did not want the man + to come up. So he scurried down the stairs because he thought he had seen + something on the door on the top side, and sure enough there were two + bolts, and he shot them into their sockets. This bold act was not put in + the Golden Deed book, because when Alice wanted to, the others said it was + not GOOD of Oswald to think of this, but only CLEVER. I think sometimes, + in moments of danger and disaster, it is as good to be clever as it is to + be good. But Oswald would never demean himself to argue about this. + </p> + <p> + When he got back the man was still standing staring up. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Oswald, he says he won’t let us out unless we give him all our money. + And we might be here for days and days and all night as well. No one knows + where we are to come and look for us. Oh, do let’s give it him ALL.’ + </p> + <p> + She thought the lion of the English nation, which does not know when it is + beaten, would be ramping in her brother’s breast. But Oswald kept calm. He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ and he made the others turn out their pockets. Denny had a + bad shilling, with a head on both sides, and three halfpence. H. O. had a + halfpenny. Noel had a French penny, which is only good for chocolate + machines at railway stations. Dicky had tenpence-halfpenny, and Oswald had + a two-shilling piece of his own that he was saving up to buy a gun with. + Oswald tied the whole lot up in his handkerchief, and looking over the + battlements, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You are an ungrateful beast. We gave you sixpence freely of our own + will.’ + </p> + <p> + The man did look a little bit ashamed, but he mumbled something about + having his living to get. Then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here you are. Catch!’ and he flung down the handkerchief with the money + in it. + </p> + <p> + The man muffed the catch—butter-fingered idiot!—but he picked + up the handkerchief and undid it, and when he saw what was in it he swore + dreadfully. The cad! + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here,’ he called out, ‘this won’t do, young shaver. I want those + there shiners I see in your pus! Chuck ‘em along!’ + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald laughed. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall know you again anywhere, and you’ll be put in prison for this. + Here are the SHINERS.’ And he was so angry he chucked down purse and all. + The shiners were not real ones, but only card-counters that looked like + sovereigns on one side. Oswald used to carry them in his purse so as to + look affluent. He does not do this now. + </p> + <p> + When the man had seen what was in the purse he disappeared under the + tower, and Oswald was glad of what he had done about the bolts—and + he hoped they were as strong as the ones on the other side of the door. + </p> + <p> + They were. + </p> + <p> + We heard the man kicking and pounding at the door, and I am not ashamed to + say that we were all holding on to each other very tight. I am proud, + however, to relate that nobody screamed or cried. + </p> + <p> + After what appeared to be long years, the banging stopped, and presently + we saw the brute going away among the trees. Then Alice did cry, and I do + not blame her. Then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use. Even if he’s undone the door, he may be in ambush. We must + hold on here till somebody comes.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, speaking chokily because she had not quite done crying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s wave a flag.’ + </p> + <p> + By the most fortunate accident she had on one of her Sunday petticoats, + though it was Monday. This petticoat is white. She tore it out at the + gathers, and we tied it to Denny’s stick, and took turns to wave it. We + had laughed at his carrying a stick before, but we were very sorry now + that we had done so. + </p> + <p> + And the tin dish the Lent pie was baked in we polished with our + handkerchiefs, and moved it about in the sun so that the sun might strike + on it and signal our distress to some of the outlying farms. + </p> + <p> + This was perhaps the most dreadful adventure that had then ever happened + to us. Even Alice had now stopped thinking of Mr Richard Ravenal, and + thought only of the lurker in ambush. + </p> + <p> + We all felt our desperate situation keenly. I must say Denny behaved like + anything but a white mouse. When it was the others’ turn to wave, he sat + on the leads of the tower and held Alice’s and Noel’s hands, and said + poetry to them—yards and yards of it. By some strange fatality it + seemed to comfort them. It wouldn’t have me. + </p> + <p> + He said ‘The Battle of the Baltic’, and ‘Gray’s Elegy’, right through, + though I think he got wrong in places, and the ‘Revenge’, and Macaulay’s + thing about Lars Porsena and the Nine Gods. And when it was his turn he + waved like a man. + </p> + <p> + I will try not to call him a white mouse any more. He was a brick that + day, and no mouse. + </p> + <p> + The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and very + hungry, when we saw a cart in the road below. We waved like mad, and + shouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a thing none + of us had known before that he could do. + </p> + <p> + And the cart stopped. And presently we saw a figure with a white beard + among the trees. It was our Pig-man. + </p> + <p> + We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in—he + thought at first we were kidding—he came up and let us out. + </p> + <p> + He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one—and we were not + particular. Denny and Alice sat on the front of the cart with the Pig-man, + and the rest of us got in with the pig, and the man drove us right home. + You may think we talked it over on the way. Not us. We went to sleep, + among the pig, and before long the Pig-man stopped and got us to make room + for Alice and Denny. There was a net over the cart. I never was so sleepy + in my life, though it was not more than bedtime. + </p> + <p> + Generally, after anything exciting, you are punished—but this could + not be, because we had only gone for a walk, exactly as we were told. + </p> + <p> + There was a new rule made, though. No walks except on the high-roads, and + we were always to take Pincher and either Lady, the deer-hound, or Martha, + the bulldog. We generally hate rules, but we did not mind this one. + </p> + <p> + Father gave Denny a gold pencil-case because he was first to go down into + the tower. Oswald does not grudge Denny this, though some might think he + deserved at least a silver one. But Oswald is above such paltry + jealousies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS + </h2> + <p> + This is the story of one of the most far-reaching and influentially + naughty things we ever did in our lives. We did not mean to do such a + deed. And yet we did do it. These things will happen with the + best-regulated consciences. + </p> + <p> + The story of this rash and fatal act is intimately involved—which + means all mixed up anyhow—with a private affair of Oswald’s, and the + one cannot be revealed without the other. Oswald does not particularly + want his story to be remembered, but he wishes to tell the truth, and + perhaps it is what father calls a wholesome discipline to lay bare the + awful facts. + </p> + <p> + It was like this. + </p> + <p> + On Alice’s and Noel’s birthday we went on the river for a picnic. Before + that we had not known that there was a river so near us. Afterwards father + said he wished we had been allowed to remain on our pristine ignorance, + whatever that is. And perhaps the dark hour did dawn when we wished so + too. But a truce to vain regrets. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a fine thing in birthdays. The uncle sent a box of toys and + sweets, things that were like a vision from another and a brighter world. + Besides that Alice had a knife, a pair of shut-up scissors, a silk + handkerchief, a book—it was The Golden Age and is A1 except where it + gets mixed with grown-up nonsense. Also a work-case lined with pink plush, + a boot-bag, which no one in their senses would use because it had flowers + in wool all over it. And she had a box of chocolates and a musical box + that played ‘The Man who broke’ and two other tunes, and two pairs of kid + gloves for church, and a box of writing-paper—pink—with + ‘Alice’ on it in gold writing, and an egg coloured red that said ‘A. + Bastable’ in ink on one side. These gifts were the offerings of Oswald, + Dora, Dicky, Albert’s uncle, Daisy, Mr Foulkes (our own robber), Noel, H. + O., father and Denny. Mrs Pettigrew gave the egg. It was a kindly + housekeeper’s friendly token. + </p> + <p> + I shall not tell you about the picnic on the river because the happiest + times form but dull reading when they are written down. I will merely + state that it was prime. Though happy, the day was uneventful. The only + thing exciting enough to write about was in one of the locks, where there + was a snake—a viper. It was asleep in a warm sunny corner of the + lock gate, and when the gate was shut it fell off into the water. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Dora screamed hideously. So did Daisy, but her screams were + thinner. + </p> + <p> + The snake swam round and round all the time our boat was in the lock. It + swam with four inches of itself—the head end—reared up out of + the water, exactly like Kaa in the Jungle Book—so we know Kipling is + a true author and no rotter. We were careful to keep our hands well inside + the boat. A snake’s eyes strike terror into the boldest breast. + </p> + <p> + When the lock was full father killed the viper with a boat-hook. I was + sorry for it myself. It was indeed a venomous serpent. But it was the + first we had ever seen, except at the Zoo. And it did swim most awfully + well. + </p> + <p> + Directly the snake had been killed H. O. reached out for its corpse, and + the next moment the body of our little brother was seen wriggling + conclusively on the boat’s edge. This exciting spectacle was not of a + lasting nature. He went right in. Father clawed him out. He is very + unlucky with water. + </p> + <p> + Being a birthday, but little was said. H. O. was wrapped in everybody’s + coats, and did not take any cold at all. + </p> + <p> + This glorious birthday ended with an iced cake and ginger wine, and + drinking healths. Then we played whatever we liked. There had been + rounders during the afternoon. It was a day to be for ever marked by + memory’s brightest what’s-its-name. + </p> + <p> + I should not have said anything about the picnic but for one thing. It was + the thin edge of the wedge. It was the all-powerful lever that moved but + too many events. You see, WE WERE NO LONGER STRANGERS TO THE RIVER. + </p> + <p> + And we went there whenever we could. Only we had to take the dogs, and to + promise no bathing without grown-ups. But paddling in back waters was + allowed. I say no more. + </p> + <p> + I have not numerated Noel’s birthday presents because I wish to leave + something to the imagination of my young readers. (The best authors always + do this.) If you will take the large, red catalogue of the Army and Navy + Stores, and just make a list of about fifteen of the things you would like + best—prices from 2s. to 25s.—you will get a very good idea of + Noel’s presents, and it will help you to make up your mind in case you are + asked just before your next birthday what you really NEED. + </p> + <p> + One of Noel’s birthday presents was a cricket ball. He cannot bowl for + nuts, and it was a first-rate ball. So some days after the birthday Oswald + offered him to exchange it for a coconut he had won at the fair, and two + pencils (new), and a brand-new note-book. Oswald thought, and he still + thinks, that this was a fair exchange, and so did Noel at the time, and he + agreed to it, and was quite pleased till the girls said it wasn’t fair, + and Oswald had the best of it. And then that young beggar Noel wanted the + ball back, but Oswald, though not angry, was firm. + </p> + <p> + ‘You said it was a bargain, and you shook hands on it,’ he said, and he + said it quite kindly and calmly. + </p> + <p> + Noel said he didn’t care. He wanted his cricket ball back. And the girls + said it was a horrid shame. + </p> + <p> + If they had not said that, Oswald might yet have consented to let Noel + have the beastly ball, but now, of course, he was not going to. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, I daresay. And then you would be wanting the coconut and things + again the next minute.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I shouldn’t,’ Noel said. It turned out afterwards he and H. O. had + eaten the coconut, which only made it worse. And it made them worse too—which + is what the book calls poetic justice. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘I don’t think it was fair,’ and even Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Do let him have it back, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + I wish to be just to Alice. She did not know then about the coconut having + been secretly wolfed up. + </p> + <p> + We were in the garden. Oswald felt all the feelings of the hero when the + opposing forces gathered about him are opposing as hard as ever they can. + He knew he was not unfair, and he did not like to be jawed at just because + Noel had eaten the coconut and wanted the ball back. Though Oswald did not + know then about the eating of the coconut, but he felt the injustice in + his soul all the same. + </p> + <p> + Noel said afterwards he meant to offer Oswald something else to make up + for the coconut, but he said nothing about this at the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give it me, I say,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said, ‘Shan’t!’ + </p> + <p> + Then Noel called Oswald names, and Oswald did not answer back but just + kept smiling pleasantly, and carelessly throwing up the ball and catching + it again with an air of studied indifference. + </p> + <p> + It was Martha’s fault that what happened happened. She is the bull-dog, + and very stout and heavy. She had just been let loose and she came + bounding along in her clumsy way, and jumped up on Oswald, who is beloved + by all dumb animals. (You know how sagacious they are.) Well, Martha + knocked the ball out of Oswald’s hands, and it fell on the grass, and Noel + pounced on it like a hooded falcon on its prey. Oswald would scorn to deny + that he was not going to stand this, and the next moment the two were + rolling over on the grass, and very soon Noel was made to bite the dust. + And serve him right. He is old enough to know his own mind. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald walked slowly away with the ball, and the others picked Noel + up, and consoled the beaten, but Dicky would not take either side. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald went up into his own room and lay on his bed, and reflected + gloomy reflections about unfairness. + </p> + <p> + Presently he thought he would like to see what the others were doing + without their knowing he cared. So he went into the linen-room and looked + out of its window, and he saw they were playing Kings and Queens—and + Noel had the biggest paper crown and the longest stick sceptre. + </p> + <p> + Oswald turned away without a word, for it really was sickening. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly his weary eyes fell upon something they had not before + beheld. It was a square trap-door in the ceiling of the linen-room. + </p> + <p> + Oswald never hesitated. He crammed the cricket ball into his pocket and + climbed up the shelves and unbolted the trap-door, and shoved it up, and + pulled himself up through it. Though above all was dark and smelt of + spiders, Oswald fearlessly shut the trap-door down again before he struck + a match. He always carries matches. He is a boy fertile in every subtle + expedient. Then he saw he was in the wonderful, mysterious place between + the ceiling and the roof of the house. The roof is beams and tiles. Slits + of light show through the tiles here and there. The ceiling, on its other + and top side, is made of rough plaster and beams. If you walk on the beams + it is all right—if you walk on the plaster you go through with your + feet. Oswald found this out later, but some fine instinct now taught the + young explorer where he ought to tread and where not. It was splendid. He + was still very angry with the others and he was glad he had found out a + secret they jolly well didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + He walked along a dark, narrow passage. Every now and then cross-beams + barred his way, and he had to creep under them. At last a small door + loomed before him with cracks of light under and over. He drew back the + rusty bolts and opened it. It opened straight on to the leads, a flat + place between two steep red roofs, with a parapet two feet high back and + front, so that no one could see you. It was a place no one could have + invented better than, if they had tried, for hiding in. + </p> + <p> + Oswald spent the whole afternoon there. He happened to have a volume of + Percy’s Anecdotes in his pocket, the one about lawyers, as well as a few + apples. While he read he fingered the cricket ball, and presently it + rolled away, and he thought he would get it by-and-by. + </p> + <p> + When the tea-bell rang he forgot the ball and went hurriedly down, for + apples do not keep the inside from the pangs of hunger. + </p> + <p> + Noel met him on the landing, got red in the face, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It wasn’t QUITE fair about the ball, because H. O. and I had eaten the + coconut. YOU can have it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want your beastly ball,’ Oswald said, ‘only I hate unfairness. + However, I don’t know where it is just now. When I find it you shall have + it to bowl with as often as you want.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’re not waxy?’ + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said ‘No’ and they went in to tea together. So that was all + right. There were raisin cakes for tea. + </p> + <p> + Next day we happened to want to go down to the river quite early. I don’t + know why; this is called Fate, or Destiny. We dropped in at the ‘Rose and + Crown’ for some ginger-beer on our way. The landlady is a friend of ours + and lets us drink it in her back parlour, instead of in the bar, which + would be improper for girls. + </p> + <p> + We found her awfully busy, making pies and jellies, and her two sisters + were hurrying about with great hams, and pairs of chickens, and rounds of + cold beef and lettuces, and pickled salmon and trays of crockery and + glasses. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s for the angling competition,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘What’s that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ she said, slicing cucumber like beautiful machinery while she said + it, ‘a lot of anglers come down some particular day and fish one + particular bit of the river. And the one that catches most fish gets the + prize. They’re fishing the pen above Stoneham Lock. And they all come here + to dinner. So I’ve got my hands full and a trifle over.’ + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘Couldn’t we help?’ + </p> + <p> + But she said, ‘Oh, no, thank you. Indeed not, please. I really am so I + don’t know which way to turn. Do run along, like dears.’ + </p> + <p> + So we ran along like these timid but graceful animals. + </p> + <p> + Need I tell the intellectual reader that we went straight off to the pen + above Stoneham Lock to see the anglers competing? Angling is the same + thing as fishing. + </p> + <p> + I am not going to try and explain locks to you. If you’ve never seen a + lock you could never understand even if I wrote it in words of one + syllable and pages and pages long. And if you have, you’ll understand + without my telling you. It is harder than Euclid if you don’t know + beforehand. But you might get a grown-up person to explain it to you with + books or wooden bricks. + </p> + <p> + I will tell you what a pen is because that is easy. It is the bit of river + between one lock and the next. In some rivers ‘pens’ are called ‘reaches’, + but pen is the proper word. + </p> + <p> + We went along the towing-path; it is shady with willows, aspens, alders, + elders, oaks and other trees. On the banks are flowers—yarrow, + meadow-sweet, willow herb, loosestrife, and lady’s bed-straw. Oswald + learned the names of all these trees and plants on the day of the picnic. + The others didn’t remember them, but Oswald did. He is a boy of what they + call relenting memory. + </p> + <p> + The anglers were sitting here and there on the shady bank among the grass + and the different flowers I have named. Some had dogs with them, and some + umbrellas, and some had only their wives and families. + </p> + <p> + We should have liked to talk to them and ask how they liked their lot, and + what kinds of fish there were, and whether they were nice to eat, but we + did not like to. + </p> + <p> + Denny had seen anglers before and he knew they liked to be talked to, but + though he spoke to them quite like to equals he did not ask the things we + wanted to know. He just asked whether they’d had any luck, and what bait + they used. + </p> + <p> + And they answered him back politely. I am glad I am not an angler. + </p> + <p> + It is an immovable amusement, and, as often as not, no fish to speak of + after all. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and Dora had stayed at home: Dora’s foot was nearly well but they + seem really to like sitting still. I think Dora likes to have a little + girl to order about. Alice never would stand it. When we got to Stoneham + Lock Denny said he should go home and fetch his fishing-rod. H. O. went + with him. This left four of us—Oswald, Alice, Dicky, and Noel. We + went on down the towing-path. The lock shuts up (that sounds as if it was + like the lock on a door, but it is very otherwise) between one pen of the + river and the next; the pen where the anglers were was full right up over + the roots of the grass and flowers. But the pen below was nearly empty. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can see the poor river’s bones,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + And so you could. + </p> + <p> + Stones and mud and dried branches, and here and there an old kettle or a + tin pail with no bottom to it, that some bargee had chucked in. + </p> + <p> + From walking so much along the river we knew many of the bargees. Bargees + are the captains and crews of the big barges that are pulled up and down + the river by slow horses. The horses do not swim. They walk on the + towing-path, with a rope tied to them, and the other end to the barge. So + it gets pulled along. The bargees we knew were a good friendly sort, and + used to let us go all over the barges when they were in a good temper. + They were not at all the sort of bullying, cowardly fiends in human form + that the young hero at Oxford fights a crowd of, single-handed, in books. + </p> + <p> + The river does not smell nice when its bones are showing. But we went + along down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler’s wax in Falding + village for a bird-net he was making. + </p> + <p> + But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and straight, we + saw a sad and gloomy sight—a big barge sitting flat on the mud + because there was not water enough to float her. + </p> + <p> + There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat that was + spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to friends of ours. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, ‘They have gone to find the man who turns on the water to + fill the pen. I daresay they won’t find him. He’s gone to his dinner, I + shouldn’t wonder. What a lovely surprise it would be if they came back to + find their barge floating high and dry on a lot of water! DO let’s do it. + It’s a long time since any of us did a kind action deserving of being put + in the Book of Golden Deeds.’ + </p> + <p> + We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly ‘Society of the + Wouldbegoods’. Then you could think of the book if you wanted to without + remembering the Society. I always tried to forget both of them. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘But how? YOU don’t know how. And if you did we haven’t got a + crowbar.’ + </p> + <p> + I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crowbars. You push + and push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It is rather + like the little sliding door in the big door of a hen-house. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know where the crowbar is,’ Alice said. ‘Dicky and I were down here + yesterday when you were su—’ She was going to say sulking, I know, + but she remembered manners ere too late so Oswald bears her no malice. She + went on: ‘Yesterday, when you were upstairs. And we saw the water-tender + open the lock and the weir sluices. It’s quite easy, isn’t it, Dicky?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As easy as kiss your hand,’ said Dicky; ‘and what’s more, I know where he + keeps the other thing he opens the sluices with. I votes we do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do let’s, if we can,’ Noel said, ‘and the bargees will bless the names of + their unknown benefactors. They might make a song about us, and sing it on + winter nights as they pass round the wassail bowl in front of the cabin + fire.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel wanted to very much; but I don’t think it was altogether for + generousness, but because he wanted to see how the sluices opened. Yet + perhaps I do but wrong the boy. + </p> + <p> + We sat and looked at the barge a bit longer, and then Oswald said, well, + he didn’t mind going back to the lock and having a look at the crowbars. + You see Oswald did not propose this; he did not even care very much about + it when Alice suggested it. + </p> + <p> + But when we got to Stoneham Lock, and Dicky dragged the two heavy crowbars + from among the elder bushes behind a fallen tree, and began to pound away + at the sluice of the lock, Oswald felt it would not be manly to stand idly + apart. So he took his turn. + </p> + <p> + It was very hard work but we opened the lock sluices, and we did not drop + the crowbar into the lock either, as I have heard of being done by older + and sillier people. + </p> + <p> + The water poured through the sluices all green and solid, as if it had + been cut with a knife, and where it fell on the water underneath the white + foam spread like a moving counterpane. When we had finished the lock we + did the weir—which is wheels and chains—and the water pours + through over the stones in a magnificent waterfall and sweeps out all + round the weir-pool. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the foaming waterfalls was quite enough reward for our heavy + labours, even without the thought of the unspeakable gratitude that the + bargees would feel to us when they got back to their barge and found her + no longer a stick-in-the-mud, but bounding on the free bosom of the river. + </p> + <p> + When we had opened all the sluices we gazed awhile on the beauties of + Nature, and then went home, because we thought it would be more truly + noble and good not to wait to be thanked for our kind and devoted action—and + besides, it was nearly dinner-time and Oswald thought it was going to + rain. + </p> + <p> + On the way home we agreed not to tell the others, because it would be like + boasting of our good acts. + </p> + <p> + ‘They will know all about it,’ Noel said, ‘when they hear us being blessed + by the grateful bargees, and the tale of the Unknown Helpers is being told + by every village fireside. And then they can write it in the Golden Deed + book.’ + </p> + <p> + So we went home. Denny and H. O. had thought better of it, and they were + fishing in the moat. They did not catch anything. + </p> + <p> + Oswald is very weather-wise—at least, so I have heard it said, and + he had thought there would be rain. There was. It came on while we were at + dinner—a great, strong, thundering rain, coming down in sheets—the + first rain we had had since we came to the Moat House. + </p> + <p> + We went to bed as usual. No presentiment of the coming awfulness clouded + our young mirth. I remember Dicky and Oswald had a wrestling match, and + Oswald won. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the night Oswald was awakened by a hand on his face. It + was a wet hand and very cold. Oswald hit out, of course, but a voice said, + in a hoarse, hollow whisper— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be a young ass! Have you got any matches? My bed’s full of water; + it’s pouring down from the ceiling.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s first thoughts was that perhaps by opening those sluices we had + flooded some secret passage which communicated with the top of Moat House, + but when he was properly awake he saw that this could not be, on account + of the river being so low. + </p> + <p> + He had matches. He is, as I said before, a boy full of resources. He + struck one and lit a candle, and Dicky, for it was indeed he, gazed with + Oswald at the amazing spectacle. + </p> + <p> + Our bedroom floor was all wet in patches. Dicky’s bed stood in a pond, and + from the ceiling water was dripping in rich profusion at a dozen different + places. There was a great wet patch in the ceiling, and that was blue, + instead of white like the dry part, and the water dripped from different + parts of it. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Oswald was quite unmanned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Krikey!’ he said, in a heart-broken tone, and remained an instant plunged + in thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth are we to do?’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + And really for a short time even Oswald did not know. It was a + blood-curdling event, a regular facer. Albert’s uncle had gone to London + that day to stay till the next. Yet something must be done. + </p> + <p> + The first thing was to rouse the unconscious others from their deep sleep, + because the water was beginning to drip on to their beds, and though as + yet they knew it not, there was quite a pool on Noel’s bed, just in the + hollow behind where his knees were doubled up, and one of H. O.‘s boots + was full of water, that surged wildly out when Oswald happened to kick it + over. + </p> + <p> + We woke them—a difficult task, but we did not shrink from it. + </p> + <p> + Then we said, ‘Get up, there is a flood! Wake up, or you will be drowned + in your beds! And it’s half past two by Oswald’s watch.’ + </p> + <p> + They awoke slowly and very stupidly. H. O. was the slowest and stupidest. + </p> + <p> + The water poured faster and faster from the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + We looked at each other and turned pale, and Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Hadn’t we better call Mrs Pettigrew?’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald simply couldn’t consent to this. He could not get rid of the + feeling that this was our fault somehow for meddling with the river, + though of course the clear star of reason told him it could not possibly + be the case. + </p> + <p> + We all devoted ourselves, heart and soul, to the work before us. We put + the bath under the worst and wettest place, and the jugs and basins under + lesser streams, and we moved the beds away to the dry end of the room. + Ours is a long attic that runs right across the house. + </p> + <p> + But the water kept coming in worse and worse. Our nightshirts were wet + through, so we got into our other shirts and knickerbockers, but preserved + bareness in our feet. And the floor kept on being half an inch deep in + water, however much we mopped it up. + </p> + <p> + We emptied the basins out of the window as fast as they filled, and we + baled the bath with a jug without pausing to complain how hard the work + was. All the same, it was more exciting than you can think. But in + Oswald’s dauntless breast he began to see that they would HAVE to call Mrs + Pettigrew. + </p> + <p> + A new waterfall broke out between the fire-grate and the mantelpiece, and + spread in devastating floods. Oswald is full of ingenious devices. I think + I have said this before, but it is quite true; and perhaps even truer this + time than it was last time I said it. + </p> + <p> + He got a board out of the box-room next door, and rested one end in the + chink between the fireplace and the mantelpiece, and laid the other end on + the back of a chair, then we stuffed the rest of the chink with our + nightgowns, and laid a towel along the plank, and behold, a noble stream + poured over the end of the board right into the bath we put there ready. + It was like Niagara, only not so round in shape. The first lot of water + that came down the chimney was very dirty. The wind whistled outside. Noel + said, ‘If it’s pipes burst, and not the rain, it will be nice for the + water-rates.’ Perhaps it was only natural after this for Denny to begin + with his everlasting poetry. He stopped mopping up the water to say: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘By this the storm grew loud apace, + The water-rats were shrieking, + And in the howl of Heaven each face + Grew black as they were speaking.’ +</pre> + <p> + Our faces were black, and our hands too, but we did not take any notice; + we only told him not to gas but to go on mopping. And he did. And we all + did. + </p> + <p> + But more and more water came pouring down. You would not believe so much + could come off one roof. + </p> + <p> + When at last it was agreed that Mrs Pettigrew must be awakened at all + hazards, we went and woke Alice to do the fatal errand. + </p> + <p> + When she came back, with Mrs Pettigrew in a nightcap and red flannel + petticoat, we held our breath. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs Pettigrew did not even say, ‘What on earth have you children been + up to NOW?’ as Oswald had feared. + </p> + <p> + She simply sat down on my bed and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!’ ever so many times. + </p> + <p> + Then Denny said, ‘I once saw holes in a cottage roof. The man told me it + was done when the water came through the thatch. He said if the water lies + all about on the top of the ceiling, it breaks it down, but if you make + holes the water will only come through the holes and you can put pails + under the holes to catch it.’ + </p> + <p> + So we made nine holes in the ceiling with the poker, and put pails, baths + and tubs under, and now there was not so much water on the floor. But we + had to keep on working like niggers, and Mrs Pettigrew and Alice worked + the same. + </p> + <p> + About five in the morning the rain stopped; about seven the water did not + come in so fast, and presently it only dripped slowly. Our task was done. + </p> + <p> + This is the only time I was ever up all night. I wish it happened oftener. + We did not go back to bed then, but dressed and went down. We all went to + sleep in the afternoon, though. Quite without meaning to. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went up on the roof, before breakfast, to see if he could find the + hole where the rain had come in. He did not find any hole, but he found + the cricket ball jammed in the top of a gutter pipe which he afterwards + knew ran down inside the wall of the house and ran into the moat below. It + seems a silly dodge, but so it was. + </p> + <p> + When the men went up after breakfast to see what had caused the flood they + said there must have been a good half-foot of water on the leads the night + before for it to have risen high enough to go above the edge of the lead, + and of course when it got above the lead there was nothing to stop it + running down under it, and soaking through the ceiling. The parapet and + the roofs kept it from tumbling off down the sides of the house in the + natural way. They said there must have been some obstruction in the pipe + which ran down into the house, but whatever it was the water had washed it + away, for they put wires down, and the pipe was quite clear. + </p> + <p> + While we were being told this Oswald’s trembling fingers felt at the wet + cricket ball in his pocket. And he KNEW, but he COULD not tell. He heard + them wondering what the obstruction could have been, and all the time he + had the obstruction in his pocket, and never said a single word. + </p> + <p> + I do not seek to defend him. But it really was an awful thing to have been + the cause of; and Mrs Pettigrew is but harsh and hasty. But this, as + Oswald knows too well, is no excuse for his silent conduct. + </p> + <p> + That night at tea Albert’s uncle was rather silent too. At last he looked + upon us with a glance full of intelligence, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a queer thing happened yesterday. You know there was an angling + competition. The pen was kept full on purpose. Some mischievous busybody + went and opened the sluices and let all the water out. The anglers’ + holiday was spoiled. No, the rain wouldn’t have spoiled it anyhow, Alice; + anglers LIKE rain. The ‘Rose and Crown’ dinner was half of it wasted + because the anglers were so furious that a lot of them took the next train + to town. And this is the worst of all—a barge, that was on the mud + in the pen below, was lifted and jammed across the river and the water + tilted her over, and her cargo is on the river bottom. It was coals.’ + </p> + <p> + During this speech there were four of us who knew not where to turn our + agitated glances. Some of us tried bread-and-butter, but it seemed dry and + difficult, and those who tried tea choked and spluttered and were sorry + they had not let it alone. When the speech stopped Alice said, ‘It was + us.’ + </p> + <p> + And with deepest feelings she and the rest of us told all about it. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not say much. He was turning the obstruction round and round in + his pocket, and wishing with all his sentiments that he had owned up like + a man when Albert’s uncle asked him before tea to tell him all about what + had happened during the night. + </p> + <p> + When they had told all, Albert’s uncle told us four still more plainly, + and exactly, what we had done, and how much pleasure we had spoiled, and + how much of my father’s money we had wasted—because he would have to + pay for the coals being got up from the bottom of the river, if they could + be, and if not, for the price of the coals. And we saw it ALL. + </p> + <p> + And when he had done Alice burst out crying over her plate and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no use! We HAVE tried to be good since we’ve been down here. + </p> + <p> + You don’t know how we’ve tried! And it’s all no use. I believe we are the + wickedest children in the whole world, and I wish we were all dead!’ + </p> + <p> + This was a dreadful thing to say, and of course the rest of us were all + very shocked. But Oswald could not help looking at Albert’s uncle to see + how he would take it. + </p> + <p> + He said very gravely, ‘My dear kiddie, you ought to be sorry, and I wish + you to be sorry for what you’ve done. And you will be punished for it.’ + (We were; our pocket-money was stopped and we were forbidden to go near + the river, besides impositions miles long.) ‘But,’ he went on, ‘you + mustn’t give up trying to be good. You are extremely naughty and tiresome, + as you know very well.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice, Dicky, and Noel began to cry at about this time. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are not the wickedest children in the world by any means.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he stood up and straightened his collar, and put his hands in his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re very unhappy now,’ he said, ‘and you deserve to be. But I will say + one thing to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he said a thing which Oswald at least will never forget (though but + little he deserved it, with the obstruction in his pocket, unowned up to + all the time). + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘I have known you all for four years—and you know as well + as I do how many scrapes I’ve seen you in and out of—but I’ve never + known one of you tell a lie, and I’ve never known one of you do a mean or + dishonourable action. And when you have done wrong you are always sorry. + Now this is something to stand firm on. You’ll learn to be good in the + other ways some day.’ + </p> + <p> + He took his hands out of his pockets, and his face looked different, so + that three of the four guilty creatures knew he was no longer adamant, and + they threw themselves into his arms. Dora, Denny, Daisy, and H. O., of + course, were not in it, and I think they thanked their stars. + </p> + <p> + Oswald did not embrace Albert’s uncle. He stood there and made up his mind + he would go for a soldier. He gave the wet ball one last squeeze, and took + his hand out of his pocket, and said a few words before going to enlist. + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The others may deserve what you say. I hope they do, I’m sure. But I + don’t, because it was my rotten cricket ball that stopped up the pipe and + caused the midnight flood in our bedroom. And I knew it quite early this + morning. And I didn’t own up.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald stood there covered with shame, and he could feel the hateful + cricket ball heavy and cold against the top of his leg, through the + pocket. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said—and his voice made Oswald hot all over, but not + with shame—he said— + </p> + <p> + I shall not tell you what he said. It is no one’s business but Oswald’s; + only I will own it made Oswald not quite so anxious to run away for a + soldier as he had been before. + </p> + <p> + That owning up was the hardest thing I ever did. They did put that in the + Book of Golden Deeds, though it was not a kind or generous act, and did no + good to anyone or anything except Oswald’s own inside feelings. I must say + I think they might have let it alone. Oswald would rather forget it. + Especially as Dicky wrote it in and put this: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oswald acted a lie, which, he knows, is as bad as telling one. But he + owned up when he needn’t have, and this condones his sin. We think he was + a thorough brick to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice scratched this out afterwards and wrote the record of the incident + in more flattering terms. But Dicky had used Father’s ink, and she used + Mrs Pettigrew’s, so anyone can read his underneath the scratching outs. + </p> + <p> + The others were awfully friendly to Oswald, to show they agreed with + Albert’s uncle in thinking I deserved as much share as anyone in any + praise there might be going. + </p> + <p> + It was Dora who said it all came from my quarrelling with Noel about that + rotten cricket ball; but Alice, gently yet firmly, made her shut up. + </p> + <p> + I let Noel have the ball. It had been thoroughly soaked, but it dried all + right. But it could never be the same to me after what it had done and + what I had done. + </p> + <p> + I hope you will try to agree with Albert’s uncle and not think foul scorn + of Oswald because of this story. Perhaps you have done things nearly as + bad yourself sometimes. If you have, you will know how ‘owning up’ soothes + the savage breast and alleviates the gnawings of remorse. + </p> + <p> + If you have never done naughty acts I expect it is only because you never + had the sense to think of anything. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS + </h2> + <p> + The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods began, at + about this time, to bother. + </p> + <p> + They said we had not done anything really noble—not worth speaking + of, that is—for over a week, and that it was high time to begin + again—‘with earnest endeavour’, Daisy said. So then Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let’s each of us + think of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others shall help to + work it out, like we did when we were Treasure Seekers. Then when + everybody’s had their go-in we’ll write every single thing down in the + Golden Deed book, and we’ll draw two lines in red ink at the bottom, like + Father does at the end of an account. And after that, if anyone wants to + be good they can jolly well be good on our own, if at all.’ + </p> + <p> + The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, but + Dicky and Oswald were firm. + </p> + <p> + So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness and + obstinacy have to give way. + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘It would be a noble action to have all the school-children + from the village and give them tea and games in the paddock. They would + think it so nice and good of us.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dicky showed her that this would not be OUR good act, but Father’s, + because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had already stood us the + keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump up heavily over the + coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generous when someone else + is paying for it all the time, even if it happens to be your father. Then + three others had ideas at the same time and began to explain what they + were. + </p> + <p> + We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of a row. + Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert’s uncle for opening his door + and saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much. But if + you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek or howl—anything + to vary the monotony of your well-sustained conversation.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said kindly, ‘We’re awfully sorry. Are you busy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Busy?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘My heroine is now hesitating on the verge of + an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequent career. + You wouldn’t like her to decide in the middle of such a row that she can’t + hear herself think?’ + </p> + <p> + We said, ‘No, we wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to you this + bright mid-summer day.’ So we all went out. + </p> + <p> + Then Daisy whispered to Dora—they always hang together. Daisy is not + nearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fear the + deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Daisy’s idea is a game that’ll take us all day. She thinks keeping out of + the way when he’s making his heroine decide right would be a noble act, + and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well be playing + something at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said ‘Yes, but what?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a silent interval. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speak up, Daisy, my child.’ Oswald said; ‘fear not to lay bare the utmost + thoughts of that faithful heart.’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle—they laugh right out or + hold their tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisy + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once read a + story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had to go + how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. There was a + tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs, and a + kitten.’ + </p> + <p> + This proposal left us cold, as Albert’s uncle says, because we knew there + could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you may be ever + ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if there’s going to be a + prize there must BE a prize and there’s an end of it. + </p> + <p> + Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, ‘Let’s go into + the barn and make a fort.’ + </p> + <p> + So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about with like + it does hay. + </p> + <p> + The downstairs—I mean down-ladder—part of the barn was fun + too, especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you could + wish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running kindly beside + the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. This is the noble + bull-dog’s gentle and affectionate nature coming out. We all enjoyed the + ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, in the girls crying because of + the poor rats. Girls cannot help this; we must not be waxy with them on + account of it, they have their nature, the same as bull-dogs have, and it + is this that makes them so useful in smoothing the pillows of the sick-bed + and tending wounded heroes. + </p> + <p> + However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having to be + thumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till dinner. There was + roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly pudding. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually, which + means we hadn’t bothered. + </p> + <p> + So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told us his + heroine was by no means out of the wood yet. + </p> + <p> + And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling and you do + not at first care if you never play any runabout game ever any more. But + after a while the torpor begins to pass away. Oswald was the first to + recover from his. + </p> + <p> + He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he turned over + on his back and kicked his legs up, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here; let’s do something.’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of grass, + but I could see she was still thinking about that animal race. So I + explained to her that it would be very poor fun without a tortoise and a + peacock, and she saw this, though not willingly. + </p> + <p> + It was H. O. who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Doing anything with animals is prime, if they only will. Let’s have a + circus!’ + </p> + <p> + At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald’s memory, + and he stretched himself, sat up, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Bully for H. O. Let’s!’ + </p> + <p> + The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up and said + ‘Let’s!’ too. + </p> + <p> + Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of animals at + our command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even all the bright, + glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented jungle paled into + insignificance before the number of live things on the farm. + </p> + <p> + (I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. I know + they are the right words. And Albert’s uncle says your style is always + altered a bit by what you read. And I have been reading the Vicomte de + Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come out of those.) + </p> + <p> + ‘The worst of a circus is,’ Dora said, ‘that you’ve got to teach the + animals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn’t learned + performing would be a bit silly. Let’s give up a week to teaching them and + then have the circus.’ + </p> + <p> + Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of those + who do not understand that when you want to do a thing you do want to, and + not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, a week later. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then perhaps,’ he said, ‘we may find that they have hidden talents + hitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters.’ + </p> + <p> + So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required. This is + it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE + CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE +</pre> + <pre> + 1 Bull for bull-fight. + 1 Horse for ditto (if possible). + 1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring. + 1 Donkey to play see-saw. + 2 White pigs—one to be Learned, and the other to play with the + clown. + Turkeys, as many as possible, because they can make a noise that + that sounds like an audience applauding + The dogs, for any odd parts. + 1 Large black pig—to be the Elephant in the procession. + Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs. + </pre> + <p> + Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but she + let Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock at the + side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good all + round. When we’ve got the performers all there we’ll make a programme, and + then dress for our parts. It’s a pity there won’t be any audience but the + turkeys.’ + </p> + <p> + We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny’s list. The + bull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cowhouse with the + other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away. Oswald + and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bull by, and a + whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind. + </p> + <p> + The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone. + </p> + <p> + Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas. + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay,’ he said, ‘the bull will be shy at first, and he’ll have to be + goaded into the arena.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But goads hurt,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + ‘They don’t hurt the bull,’ Oswald said; ‘his powerful hide is too thick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why does he attend to it,’ Alice asked, ‘if it doesn’t hurt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,’ Oswald + said. ‘I think I shall ride the bull,’ the brave boy went on. ‘A + bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing its joys + and sorrows. It would be something quite new.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t ride bulls,’ Alice said; ‘at least, not if their backs are + sharp like cows.’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood and + prickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climb on + the roof of his house at all comfortably. + </p> + <p> + When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, and + he was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was a + very hot day. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll see,’ Alice said, ‘he won’t want a goad. He’ll be so glad to get + out for a walk he’ll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, and follow + me lovingly all the way.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald called to him. He said, ‘Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!’ because we did + not know the animal’s real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswald + picked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just to make + it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing’s worth of it. So + then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull’s yard and just flicked + the bull with the whiplash. And then the bull DID pay attention. He + started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, uttering a + roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting his head down + close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where we were standing. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoy the + bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the field so as + not to keep the others waiting. + </p> + <p> + As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that perhaps + the bull had rooted up the gate with one paralysing blow, and was now + tearing across the field after him and Alice, with the broken gate + balanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly and looked back; the + bull was still on the right side of the gate. + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘I think we’ll do without the bull. He did not seem to want + to come. We must be kind to dumb animals.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, between laughing and crying— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Oswald, how can you!’ But we did do without the bull, and we did not + tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just said, ‘The bull + didn’t seem to care about coming.’ + </p> + <p> + The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the cart-horse, but + she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not to use her in the + bull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The Elephant’s is a nice quiet + part, and she was quite big enough for a young one. Then the black pig + could be Learned, and the other two could be something else. They had also + got the goat; he was tethered to a young tree. + </p> + <p> + The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter. The dogs were + there, of course—they always are. + </p> + <p> + So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause and the calves and + pigs. + </p> + <p> + The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. There + were five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got them out after + long and patient toil, and persuaded them that they wanted to go into the + paddock, where the circus was to be. This is done by pretending to drive + them the other way. A pig only knows two ways—the way you want him + to go, and the other. But the turkeys knew thousands of different ways, + and tried them all. They made such an awful row, we had to drop all ideas + of ever hearing applause from their lips, so we came away and left them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ H. O. said, ‘they’ll be sorry enough afterwards, nasty, + unobliging things, because now they won’t see the circus. I hope the other + animals will tell them about it.’ + </p> + <p> + While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky had found + three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, so we let them. + </p> + <p> + Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circus performers + to make friends with each other while we dressed. + </p> + <p> + Oswald and H. O. were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert’s uncle’s + pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they do the + brick-floors with. + </p> + <p> + Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair and + round her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white muslin stuff off + the dressing-table in the girls’ room fastened with pins and tied round + the waist with a small bath towel. She was to be the Dauntless + Equestrienne, and to give her enhancing act a barebacked daring, riding + either a pig or a sheep, whichever we found was freshest and most + skittish. Dora was dressed for the Haute ecole, which means a riding-habit + and a high hat. She took Dick’s topper that he wears with his Etons, and a + skirt of Mrs Pettigrew’s. Daisy, dressed the same as Alice, taking the + muslin from Mrs Pettigrew’s dressing-table without saying anything + beforehand. None of us would have advised this, and indeed we were + thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel, who were wishing + to look like highwaymen, with brown-paper top-boots and slouch hats and + Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing and gazed out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + ‘Krikey!’ said Dick, ‘come on, Oswald!’ and he bounded like an antelope + from the room. + </p> + <p> + Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the window. + Noel had got brown-paper boots too, and a Turkish towel cloak. H. O. had + been waiting for Dora to dress him up for the other clown. He had only his + shirt and knickerbockers and his braces on. He came down as he was—as + indeed we all did. And no wonder, for in the paddock, where the circus was + to be, a blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs were chasing the + sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country to know the fell + nature of our dogs’ improper conduct. + </p> + <p> + We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, and Lady. + Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up dog—Oswald + trained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is awfully deaf, but she did + not matter so much, because the sheep could walk away from her easily. She + has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. She is used to pursuing + that fleet and antlered pride of the forest—the stag—and she + can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distant region of the + paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight. I am sure if + ever anybody’s eyes did start out of their heads with horror, like in + narratives of adventure, ours did then. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Lady + pull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, to + say nothing of its own personal feelings. + </p> + <p> + Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run swiftly as + the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamas belonging to + a grown-up person—as I was—but even so I beat Dicky. He said + afterwards it was because his brown-paper boots came undone and tripped + him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-table muslin and ran + jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all was very nearly up with + the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and looked round. She must have + heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she came towards us, prancing + with happiness, but we said ‘Down!’ and ‘Bad dog!’ and ran sternly on. + </p> + <p> + When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of the paddock + we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep, and I + believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth, if it + had liked, but it would not try. + </p> + <p> + It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into the + water, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheep up + by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on the bank. + It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kick at last, + that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy, panting, silly + donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog; and Dicky got his + shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly to keep it from + flumping off into the water again, while the others fetched the shepherd. + </p> + <p> + When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, and then + he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Good thing master didn’t come along. He would ha’ called you some tidy + names.’ + </p> + <p> + He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calves too. + He did not seem to care about the other performing animals. + </p> + <p> + Alice, Oswald and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, so we + sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of the circus. + This was it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PROGRAMME +</pre> + <p> + 1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing sheep. Real + water, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O. A. and D. Bastable. (We + thought we might as well put that in though it was over and had happened + accidentally.) + </p> + <p> + 2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, Eliza. A. + Bastable. 3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, + and the other white pig. H. O. and O. Bastable. + </p> + <p> + 4. The See-Saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. said we had only one donkey, so + Dicky said H. O. could be the other. When peace was restored we went on to + 5.) + </p> + <p> + 5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. Haute ecole, on Clover, the + incomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela. + </p> + <p> + 6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, the + well-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes out of + hurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always happens. + (This is the unexpected. (This is a saying Father told me—but I see + I am three deep in brackets so I will close them before I get into any + more).).). + </p> + <p> + 7. The Black but Learned Pig. (‘I daresay he knows something,’ Alice said, + ‘if we can only find out what.’ We DID find out all too soon.) + </p> + <p> + We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly dry—all + except Dick’s brown-paper top-boots, which were mingled with the gurgling + waters of the brook. + </p> + <p> + We went back to the seat of action—which was the iron trough where + the sheep have their salt put—and began to dress up the creatures. + </p> + <p> + We had just tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy’s flannel petticoat + and cetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round the waist of the + Black and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from the back part of the + house, and suddenly we saw that Billy, the acrobatic goat, had got loose + from the tree we had tied him to. (He had eaten all the parts of its bark + that he could get at, but we did not notice it until next day, when led to + the spot by a grown-up.) + </p> + <p> + The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge that goes + over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily proceeded in the + direction of the screams, and, guided by the sound, threaded our way into + the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever fertile in melancholy ideas, said he + wondered whether Mrs Pettigrew was being robbed, or only murdered. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was neither. Mrs + Pettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a broom, occupied the + foreground. In the distance the maid was shrieking in a hoarse and + monotonous way, and trying to shut herself up inside a clothes-horse on + which washing was being aired. + </p> + <p> + On the dresser—which he had ascended by a chair—was Billy, the + acrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. He had found out his Andes + for himself, and even as we gazed he turned and tossed his head in a way + that showed us some mysterious purpose was hidden beneath his calm + exterior. The next moment he put his off-horn neatly behind the end plate + of the next to the bottom row, and ran it along against the wall. The + plates fell crashing on to the soup tureen and vegetable dishes which + adorned the lower range of the Andes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Pettigrew’s screams were almost drowned in the discarding crash and + crackle of the falling avalanche of crockery. + </p> + <p> + Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved the most + dauntless coolness. + </p> + <p> + Disregarding the mop which Mrs Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat in a + timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his trusty + followers, ‘Stand by to catch him!’ + </p> + <p> + But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry out his + long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught the goat’s legs + and tripped it up. The goat fell against another row of plates, righted + itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the soup tureen and the sauce-boats, + and then fell again, this time towards Dicky. The two fell heavily on the + ground together. The trusty followers had been so struck by the daring of + Dicky and his lion-hearted brother, that they had not stood by to catch + anything. + </p> + <p> + The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had a sprained thumb and a lump on his + head like a black marble door-knob. He had to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs Pettigrew said. Also + Albert’s uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her screams. Few + words escaped our lips. There are times when it is not wise to argue; + however, little what has occurred is really our fault. + </p> + <p> + When they had said what they deemed enough and we were let go, we all went + out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she vainly strove to + render firm— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s give up the circus. Let’s put the toys back in the boxes—no, + I don’t mean that—the creatures in their places—and drop the + whole thing. I want to go and read to Dicky.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to be + beaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and we went + out to collect the performing troop and sort it out into its proper + places. + </p> + <p> + Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether Mrs + Pettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not, we had left both gates + open again. The old horse—I mean the trained elephant from Venezuela—was + there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten and tied up after the first + act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, as it says in the programme. The two + white pigs were there, but the donkey was gone. We heard his hoofs down + the road, growing fainter and fainter, in the direction of the ‘Rose and + Crown’. And just round the gatepost we saw a flash of red and white and + blue and black that told us, with dumb signification, that the pig was off + in exactly the opposite direction. Why couldn’t they have gone the same + way? But no, one was a pig and the other was a donkey, as Denny said + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Daisy and H. O. started after the donkey; the rest of us, with one accord, + pursued the pig—I don’t know why. It trotted quietly down the road; + it looked very black against the white road, and the ends on the top, + where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it trotted. At first we + thought it would be easy to catch up to it. This was an error. + </p> + <p> + When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and looked + round at us, and nodded. (I daresay you won’t swallow this, but you may + safely. It’s as true as true, and so’s all that about the goat. I give you + my sacred word of honour.) I tell you the pig nodded as much as to say— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes. You think you will, but you won’t!’ and then as soon as we moved + again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o’er miles and miles of + strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. When we met people, + which wasn’t often, we called out to them to help us, but they only waved + their arms and roared with laughter. One chap on a bicycle almost tumbled + off his machine, and then he got off it and propped it against a gate and + sat down in the hedge to laugh properly. You remember Alice was still + dressed up as the gay equestrienne in the dressing-table pink and white, + with rosy garlands, now very droopy, and she had no stockings on, only + white sand-shoes, because she thought they would be easier than boots for + balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backed act. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. It is + really IMPOSSIBLE to run speedfully in another man’s pyjamas, so Oswald + had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockers belonging to his + Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck, to carry them easily. He + was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as Alice suggested, because he did + not know the roads, and for aught he recked they might have been infested + with footpads. If it had been his own pyjamas it would have been + different. (I’m going to ask for pyjamas next winter, they are so useful + in many ways.) + </p> + <p> + Noel was a highwayman in brown-paper gaiters and bath towels and a cocked + hat of newspaper. I don’t know how he kept it on. And the pig was + encircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the same, I think if + I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter distress about a pig I + should have tried to lend a helping hand and not sat roaring in the hedge, + no matter how the travellers and the pig might have been dressed. + </p> + <p> + It was hotter than anyone would believe who has never had occasion to hunt + the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got out of Oswald’s + hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet with what the village + blacksmith’s was wet with, and not his fair brow alone. It ran down his + face and washed the red off in streaks, and when he rubbed his eyes he + only made it worse. Alice had to run holding the equestrienne skirts on + with both hands, and I think the brown-paper boots bothered Noel from the + first. Dora had her skirt over her arm and carried the topper in her hand. + It was no use to tell ourselves it was a wild boar hunt—we were long + past that. + </p> + <p> + At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted man. I + think, perhaps, he had a pig of his own—or, perhaps, children. + Honour to his name! + </p> + <p> + He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pig + right-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up the + drive. We followed. What else were we to do, I should like to know? + </p> + <p> + The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to the right + and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, all together!’ cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to give the + word of command. ‘Surround him!—cut off his retreat!’ + </p> + <p> + We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’ve got him!’ cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got on to a bed + of yellow pansies close against the red house wall. + </p> + <p> + All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank from + meeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig pass him, and + the next moment, with a squeak that said ‘There now!’ as plain as words, + the pig bolted into a French window. The pursuers halted not. This was no + time for trivial ceremony. In another moment the pig was a captive. Alice + and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of a table that had + had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their prey stood the + startled members of a parish society for making clothes for the poor + heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. They were + reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarry to earth + under their table. Even as he crossed the threshold I heard something + about ‘black brothers being already white to the harvest’. All the ladies + had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while the curate read + aloud to them. You think they screamed when they saw the Pig and Us? You + are right. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved badly. + Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig’s doing, and asked pardon + quite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and Alice said how sorry + we were but really it was NOT our fault this time. The curate looked a bit + nasty, but the presence of ladies made him keep his hot blood to himself. + </p> + <p> + When we had explained, we said, ‘Might we go?’ The curate said, ‘The + sooner the better.’ But the Lady of the House asked for our names and + addresses, and said she should write to our Father. (She did, and we heard + of it too.) They did not do anything to us, as Oswald at one time believed + to be the curate’s idea. They let us go. + </p> + <p> + And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig by. + </p> + <p> + ‘In case it should come back into your nice room,’ Alice said. ‘And that + would be such a pity, wouldn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as soon as + the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came away. The scene + in the drawing-room had not been long. The pig went slowly, + </p> + <p> + ‘Like the meandering brook,’ + </p> + <p> + Denny said. Just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened, and the little + girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here,’ she said. ‘You must be hungry if you’ve come all that way. + </p> + <p> + I think they might have given you some tea after all the trouble you’ve + had.’ We took the cake with correct thanks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I could play at circuses,’ she said. ‘Tell me about it.’ + </p> + <p> + We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said perhaps + it was better to hear about than do, especially the goat’s part and + Dicky’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do wish auntie had given you tea,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to make + allowances for grown-up people. When we parted she said she would never + forget us, and Oswald gave her his pocket button-hook and corkscrew + combined for a keepsake. + </p> + <p> + Dicky’s act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only thing + out of that day that was put in the Golden Deed book, and he put that in + himself while we were hunting the pig. + </p> + <p> + Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to write + our own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us all away; and + you must pity the dull, and not blame them. + </p> + <p> + I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how the + donkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). Nor will I + tell you a word of all that was said and done to the intrepid hunters of + the Black and Learned. I have told you all the interesting part. Seek not + to know the rest. It is better buried in obliquity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE) + </h2> + <p> + You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how people who + live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in town because the + country is so dull. I do not agree with this at all. In London, or at any + rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless you make it happen; or if it happens + it doesn’t happen to you, and you don’t know the people it does happen to. + But in the country the most interesting events occur quite freely, and + they seem to happen to you as much as to anyone else. Very often quite + without your doing anything to help. + </p> + <p> + The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country are much + jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing things with + animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or bakering or + oil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of course, a plumber’s and + gasfitter’s, and he is the same in town or country—most interesting + and like an engineer. + </p> + <p> + I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off once at our + old house in Lewisham, when my father’s business was feeling so poorly. He + was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky over two yards and a + quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that only wanted a washer, + and a whole handful of screws to do what we liked with. We screwed the + back door up with the screws, I remember, one night when Eliza was out + without leave. There was an awful row. We did not mean to get her into + trouble. We only thought it would be amusing for her to find the door + screwed up when she came down to take in the milk in the morning. But I + must not say any more about the Lewisham house. It is only the pleasures + of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, or any sort of exploring. + </p> + <p> + I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very good, + and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald’s destiny looks at + present as if it might be different. + </p> + <p> + We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the North + Pole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and doing dull and + praiseable things, like sewing, and helping with the cooking, and taking + invalid delicacies to the poor and indignant, Daisy and Dora were wholly + out of it both times, though Dora’s foot was now quite well enough to have + gone to the North Pole or the Equator either. They said they did not mind + the first time, because they like to keep themselves clean; it is another + of their queer ways. And they said they had had a better time than us. (It + was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hot cakes for tea.) The + second time they said they were lucky not to have been in it. And perhaps + they were right. But let me to my narrating. I hope you will like it. I am + going to try to write it a different way, like the books they give you for + a prize at a girls’ school—I mean a ‘young ladies’ school’, of + course—not a high school. High schools are not nearly so silly as + some other kinds. Here goes: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Ah, me!” sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing her elegant + hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fair tresses, “how + sad it is—is it not?—to see able-bodied youths and young + ladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and luxury.” + </p> + <p> + ‘The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, at the + group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaous beech tree + and ate black currants. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Dear brothers and sisters,” the blushing girl went on, “could we not, + even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted lives of + ours, and seek some occupation at once improving and agreeable?” + </p> + <p> + ‘“I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister,” replied the cleverest + of her brothers, on whose brow—’ + </p> + <p> + It’s no use. I can’t write like these books. I wonder how the books’ + authors can keep it up. + </p> + <p> + What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in the + orchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here, let’s do something. It’s simply silly to waste a day + like this. It’s just on eleven. Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + And Oswald said, ‘Where to?’ + </p> + <p> + This was the beginning of it. + </p> + <p> + The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of them is a + sort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that flows at the + other side of the orchard. + </p> + <p> + It was this stream that Alice meant when she said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real live + Egyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it lurked + undisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to say so. It is a + great thing to know when not to say things. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not have it an Arctic expedition?’ said Dicky; ‘then we could take an + ice-axe, and live on blubber and things. Besides, it sounds cooler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vote! vote!’ cried Oswald. So we did. Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Denny + voted for the river of the ibis and the crocodile. Dicky, H. O., and the + other girls for the region of perennial winter and rich blubber. + </p> + <p> + So Alice said, ‘We can decide as we go. Let’s start anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted to take + something different, and nobody thought the other people’s things would be + the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with grown-up expeditions. So + then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest emergency that ever emerged yet, + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the shed in the + corner of the stableyard where we got the door for the raft. Then the + captain can decide who’s to take what.’ + </p> + <p> + This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit out an + expedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not whether your + exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or merely to the world of + icebergs and the Polar bear. + </p> + <p> + Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and a + mackintosh. + </p> + <p> + H. O. brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a pair of + old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in case the + expedition turned out icy. + </p> + <p> + Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, and had + also obtained—I know not by what means—a jar of pickled + onions. + </p> + <p> + Denny had a walking-stick—we can’t break him of walking with it—a + book to read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a butterfly net + and a box with a cork in it, a tennis ball, if we happened to want to play + rounders in the pauses of exploring, two towels and an umbrella in the + event of camping or if the river got big enough to bathe in or to be + fallen into. + </p> + <p> + Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of scissors and + needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. + </p> + <p> + And she had thoughtfully brought the tablecloth off the small table in the + dining-room, so that we could make all the things up into one bundle and + take it in turns to carry it. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the others + neglected this. + </p> + <p> + All the stores for the expedition were put down on the tablecloth and the + corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald’s muscley arms could + raise from the ground, so we decided not to take it, but only the + best-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw loft, for there are many + ups and downs in life, and grub is grub at any time, and so are stores of + all kinds. The pickled onions we had to leave, but not for ever. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other’s necks as + usual, like a picture on a grocer’s almanac, and said they weren’t coming. + </p> + <p> + It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were differences of + opinion among the explorers about what eatables we ought to have taken, + and H. O. had lost one of his garters and wouldn’t let Alice tie it up + with her handkerchief, which the gentle sister was quite willing to do. So + it was a rather gloomy expedition that set off that bright sunny day to + seek the source of the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare (or the + frozen plains Mr Nansen wrote that big book about). + </p> + <p> + But the balmy calm of peaceful Nature soon made the others less cross—Oswald + had not been cross exactly but only disinclined to do anything the others + wanted—and by the time we had followed the stream a little way, and + had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or two at him, harmony was + restored. We did not hit the rat. + </p> + <p> + You will understand that we were not the sort of people to have lived so + long near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed it was the same + stream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we had the circus. And + of course we had often paddled in it—in the shallower parts. But now + our hearts were set on exploring. At least they ought to have been, but + when we got to the place where the stream goes under a wooden + sheep-bridge, Dicky cried, ‘A camp! a camp!’ and we were all glad to sit + down at once. Not at all like real explorers, who know no rest, day or + night, till they have got there (whether it’s the North Pole, or the + central point of the part marked ‘Desert of Sahara’ on old-fashioned + maps). + </p> + <p> + The food supplies obtained by various members were good and plenty of it. + Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon cheese-cakes, raisins, and + cold apple dumplings. It was all very decent, but Oswald could not help + feeling that the source of the Nile (or North Pole) was a long way off, + and perhaps nothing much when you got there. + </p> + <p> + So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking into + the bank when the things to eat were all gone— + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls out of + clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book called Foul Play, + and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or something, at the same + time.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do putty + when you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that had hung over + the explorers became expelled, and we all got under the shadow of the + bridge and messed about with clay. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be jolly!’ Alice said, ‘and we can give the huge platters to poor + cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. That would really + be a very golden deed.’ + </p> + <p> + It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make huge + platters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any size, unless + you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up the edges they + crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had all got our shoes and + stockings off. It is impossible to go on being cross when your feet are in + cold water; and there is something in the smooth messiness of clay, and + not minding how dirty you get, that would soothe the savagest breast that + ever beat. + </p> + <p> + After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and tried + little things. We made some platters—they were like flower-pot + saucers; and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel + to slab the clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out + with wet fingers, and it was a bowl—at least they said it was. When + we’d made a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it + seemed a pity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and + when it had burnt down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among + the little red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuel + over the top. It was a fine fire. + </p> + <p> + Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to come + back next day and get our pots. + </p> + <p> + As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The bonfire’s going pretty strong.’ + </p> + <p> + We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against the evening + sky. And we had left it,a smouldering flat heap. + </p> + <p> + ‘The clay must have caught alight,’ H. O. said. ‘Perhaps it’s the kind + that burns. I know I’ve heard of fireclay. And there’s another sort you + can eat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, shut up!’ Dicky said with anxious scorn. + </p> + <p> + With one accord we turned back. We all felt THE feeling—the one that + means something fatal being up and it being your fault. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, Alice said, ‘a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was + passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agony + enveloped in flames.’ + </p> + <p> + We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but we + hoped Alice was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we saw it + was as bad nearly as Alice’s wild dream. For the wooden fence leading up + to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billy oh. + </p> + <p> + Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself, + ‘This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!’ + </p> + <p> + And he was. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hats + full of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never put + the bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly the sort + of wigging you get for an accident like this. + </p> + <p> + So he said, ‘Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuck them + along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl’s clothes’ll catch as sure + as fate.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would not + let him and H. O. wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced warily to the + end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over the end bit, like a + linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering invalid who has got + bronchitis. The burning wood hissed and smouldered, and Oswald fell back, + almost choked with the smoke. But at once he caught up the other wet + jacket and put it on another place, and of course it did the trick as he + had known it would do. But it was a long job, and the smoke in his eyes + made the young hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turn as they had + bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; the devouring element + was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire with clay to keep it from + getting into mischief again, and then Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we must go and tell.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ Oswald said shortly. He had meant to tell all the time. + </p> + <p> + So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went at once, + because if you have any news like that to tell it only makes it worse if + you wait about. When we had told him he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You little —-.’ I shall not say what he said besides that, because + I am sure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when he went to + church, if not before. + </p> + <p> + We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying how + sorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but only said + he daresayed, just like a woman does. Then he went to look at his bridge, + and we went in to our tea. The jackets were never quite the same again. + </p> + <p> + Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the daresaying of a + farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. Albert’s + uncle was away so we got no double slating; and next day we started again + to discover the source of the river of cataracts (or the region of + mountain-like icebergs). + </p> + <p> + We set out, heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora had made + themselves, and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real explorers most + likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter to carry than stone + bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, which would come cheaper; and + you could make the girls carry it on their back, like in pictures of the + daughters of regiments. + </p> + <p> + We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thought of the + fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer and leave the + bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, determined to reach + our destination, Tropic or Polar, that day. + </p> + <p> + Denny and H. O. wanted to stop and try to make a fashionable + watering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like a + small-sized sea, but Noel said, ‘No.’ We did not like fashionableness. + </p> + <p> + ‘YOU ought to, at any rate,’ Denny said. ‘A Mr Collins wrote an Ode to the + Fashions, and he was a great poet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan,’ Noel said, ‘but I’m not + bound to like HIM.’ I think it was smart of Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘People aren’t obliged to like everything they write about even, let alone + read,’ Alice said. ‘Look at “Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!” and all the + pieces of poetry about war, and tyrants, and slaughtered saints—and + the one you made yourself about the black beetle, Noel.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay was + past; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a field and a + half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. The stream was broad + and shallow at this part, and you could see the stones and gravel at the + bottom, and millions of baby fishes, and a sort of skating-spiders walking + about on the top of the water. Denny said the water must be ice for them + to be able to walk on it, and this showed we were getting near the North + Pole. But Oswald had seen a kingfisher by the wood, and he said it was an + ibis, so this was even. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear he said, ‘Let’s be + beavers and make a dam.’ And everybody was so hot they agreed joyously, + and soon our clothes were tucked up as far as they could go and our legs + looked green through the water, though they were pink out of it. + </p> + <p> + Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about beavers + take care to let you know. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on the way + to the Polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, and Dicky + owned it was warm for Polar regions. He had brought the ice-axe (it is + called the wood chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever ready and able to + command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the bank while we heaped + stones across the stream. It was clayey here, or of course dam making + would have been vain, even for the best-trained beaver. + </p> + <p> + When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against them—nearly + across the stream, leaving about two feet for the water to go through—then + more stones, and then lumps of clay stamped down as hard as we could. The + industrious beavers spent hours over it, with only one easy to eat cake + in. And at last the dam rose to the level of the bank. Then the beavers + collected a great heap of clay, and four of them lifted it and dumped it + down in the opening where the water was running. It did splash a little, + but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind a bit of a wetting, as + Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more clay the work was completed. + We must have used tons of clay; there was quite a big long hole in the + bank above the dam where we had taken it out. + </p> + <p> + When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot he had + to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs. + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went through + fields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got steeper and + higher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their mysterious branches, + and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale who go out to seek their + fortunes. + </p> + <p> + And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way for; the + stream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, and however much + you stood in the water and stuck your head down between your knees you + could not see any light at the other end. + </p> + <p> + The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers. + </p> + <p> + Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Alice, you’ve got a candle. Let’s explore.’ This gallant proposal met but + a cold response. The others said they didn’t care much about it, and what + about tea? + </p> + <p> + I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind their + teas is simply beastly. + </p> + <p> + Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, not at + all like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’M going. If you funk it you’d better cut along home and ask + your nurses to put you to bed.’ So then, of course, they agreed to go. + Oswald went first with the candle. It was not comfortable; the architect + of that dark subterranean passage had not imagined anyone would ever be + brave enough to lead a band of beavers into its inky recesses, or he would + have built it high enough to stand upright in. As it was, we were bent + almost at a right angle, and this is very awkward if for long. + </p> + <p> + But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to the groans + of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about their backs. + </p> + <p> + It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not sorry to + say, ‘I see daylight.’ The followers cheered as well as they could as they + splashed after him. The floor was stone as well as the roof, so it was + easy to walk on. I think the followers would have turned back if it had + been sharp stones or gravel. + </p> + <p> + And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger and + larger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself blinking in the + full sun, and the candle he carried looked simply silly. He emerged, and + the others too, and they stretched their backs and the word ‘krikey’ fell + from more than one lip. It had indeed been a cramping adventure. Bushes + grew close to the mouth of the tunnel, so we could not see much landscape, + and when we had stretched our backs we went on upstream and nobody said + they’d had jolly well enough of it, though in more than one young heart + this was thought. + </p> + <p> + It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how cold it + was underground. The stream was getting smaller and smaller. + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘This can’t be the way. I expect there was a turning to the + North Pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was cold enough + there.’ + </p> + <p> + But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, and Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest profusion. Such + blossoms as these never opened in a frigid what’s-its-name.’ + </p> + <p> + It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy place + like I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and it was simply + crammed with queer plants, and flowers we never saw before or since. And + the stream was quite thin. It was torridly hot, and softish to walk on. + There were rushes and reeds and small willows, and it was all tangled over + with different sorts of grasses—and pools here and there. We saw no + wild beasts, but there were more different kinds of wild flies and beetles + than you could believe anybody could bear, and dragon-flies and gnats. The + girls picked a lot of flowers. I know the names of some of them, but I + will not tell you them because this is not meant to be instructing. So I + will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, loose-strife, lady’s bed-straw and + willow herb—both the larger and the lesser. + </p> + <p> + Everyone now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than in natural + fields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and play at savages, + instead of keeping respectable in your boots. + </p> + <p> + But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly. + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home the + same way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the distance + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There must be a road there, let’s make for it,’ which was quite a simple + and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any credit for it. So + we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the brambles, and the water + squelched in our boots, and Alice’s blue muslin frock was torn all over in + those crisscross tears which are considered so hard to darn. + </p> + <p> + We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, so we + knew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and hotter and + hotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our brows and rolled down + our noses and off our chins. And the flies buzzed, and the gnats stung, + and Oswald bravely sought to keep up Dicky’s courage, when he tripped on a + snag and came down on a bramble bush, by saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘You see it IS the source of the Nile we’ve discovered. What price North + Poles now?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it HAD been the + Pole, anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what is his + own idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties besides just + leading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of the expedition, + whether Polar or Equatorish. + </p> + <p> + So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the tottering + Denny a hand over the rough places. Denny’s feet hurt him, because when he + was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of his pocket, and boots + without stockings are not a bed of luxuriousness. And he is often unlucky + with his feet. + </p> + <p> + Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s paddle.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the boy, and + generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting late and the others + were ahead, so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, rot! come on.’ + </p> + <p> + Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they are hot + enough, and if their feet are hurting them. ‘I don’t care, I shall!’ he + said. + </p> + <p> + Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He just said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well don’t be all day about it,’ for he is a kind-hearted boy and can + make allowances. So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool. ‘Oh, + it’s ripping!’ he said. ‘You ought to come in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It looks beastly muddy,’ said his tolerating leader. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a bit,’ Denny said, ‘but the mud’s just as cool as the water, and + so soft, it squeezes between your toes quite different to boots.’ + </p> + <p> + And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in. + </p> + <p> + But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may have been + because both his bootlaces were in hard knots. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, or + whatever it was. + </p> + <p> + Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing about, and + getting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you would have thought + his was a most envious and happy state. But alas! the brightest cloud had + a waterproof lining. He was just saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a silly, Oswald. You’d much better—’ when he gave a + blood-piercing scream, and began to kick about. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s up?’ cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the way + Denny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in this quiet + and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the shark bit Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, it’s biting me. Oh, it’s biting me all over my legs! Oh, + what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!’ remarked Denny, among his + screams, and he splashed towards the bank. Oswald went into the water and + caught hold of him and helped him out. It is true that Oswald had his + boots on, but I trust he would not have funked the unknown terrors of the + deep, even without his boots, I am almost sure he would not have. + </p> + <p> + When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror and + amaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black, slug-looking + things. Denny turned green in the face—and even Oswald felt a bit + queer, for he knew in a moment what the black dreadfulnesses were. He had + read about them in a book called Magnet Stories, where there was a girl + called Theodosia, and she could play brilliant trebles on the piano in + duets, but the other girl knew all about leeches which is much more useful + and golden deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but they wouldn’t, + and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered from the Magnet + Stories how to make the leeches begin biting—the girl did it with + cream—but he could not remember how to stop them, and they had not + wanted any showing how to begin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, oh!’ Denny + observed, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Be a man! Buck up! If you won’t let me take them off you’ll just have to + walk home in them.’ + </p> + <p> + At this thought the unfortunate youth’s tears fell fast. But Oswald gave + him an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he consented to buck up, + and the two struggled on towards the others, who were coming back, + attracted by Denny’s yells. He did not stop howling for a moment, except + to breathe. No one ought to blame him till they have had eleven leeches on + their right leg and six on their left, making seventeen in all, as Dicky + said, at once. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on the road—where + the telegraph wires were—was interested by his howls, and came + across the marsh to us as hard as he could. When he saw Denny’s legs he + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Blest if I didn’t think so,’ and he picked Denny up and carried him under + one arm, where Denny went on saying ‘Oh!’ and ‘It does hurt’ as hard as + ever. + </p> + <p> + Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom of youth, + and a farm-labourer by trade, in corduroys, carried the wretched sufferer + to the cottage where he lived with his aged mother; and then Oswald found + that what he had forgotten about the leeches was SALT. The young man in + the bloom of youth’s mother put salt on the leeches, and they squirmed + off, and fell with sickening, slug-like flops on the brick floor. + </p> + <p> + Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc., carried Denny home on + his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he looked like + ‘wounded warriors returning’. + </p> + <p> + It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way the + young explorers had come. + </p> + <p> + He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness are their + own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns Albert’s uncle + gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not sure Alice ought to + have put him in the Golden Deed book which was supposed to be reserved for + Us. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile (or + North Pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the gentlest reader may + be. + </p> + <p> + The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the sofa, + and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white currants, which + we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when Mrs Pettigrew, the + housekeeper, put her head in at the door and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir?’ to Albert’s uncle. And + her voice was the kind that makes you look at each other when the grown-up + has gone out, and you are silent, with your bread-and-butter halfway to + the next bite, or your teacup in mid flight to your lips. + </p> + <p> + It was as we suppose. Albert’s uncle did not come back for a long while. + We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that time, of course, + and we thought we might as well finish the raspberries and white currants. + We kept some for Albert’s uncle, of course, and they were the best ones + too but when he came back he did not notice our thoughtful unselfishness. + </p> + <p> + He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very likely no + supper. + </p> + <p> + He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is something + like the calmness of despair. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a dam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We were being beavers,’ said H. O., in proud tones. He did not see as we + did where Albert’s uncle’s tone pointed to. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ said Albert’s uncle, rubbing his hands through his hair. ‘No + doubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build dams with your + bolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you took for it left a + channel through which it has run down and ruined about seven pounds’ worth + of freshly-reaped barley. Luckily the farmer found it out in time or you + might have spoiled seventy pounds’ worth. And you burned a bridge + yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice added, + ‘We didn’t MEAN to be naughty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course not,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘you never do. Oh, yes, I’ll kiss + you—but it’s bed and it’s two hundred lines to-morrow, and the line + is—“Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread Dams.” It + will be a capital exercise in capital B’s and D’s.’ + </p> + <p> + We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went to bed. + </p> + <p> + I got jolly sick of capital B’s and D’s before sunset on the morrow. That + night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ retorted his brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is one thing about it,’ Oswald went on, ‘it does show it was a + rattling good dam anyhow.’ + </p> + <p> + And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or explorers, + Polar or otherwise) fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE + </h2> + <p> + It really was not such a bad baby—for a baby. Its face was round and + quite clean, which babies’ faces are not always, as I daresay you know by + your own youthful relatives; and Dora said its cape was trimmed with real + lace, whatever that may be—I don’t see myself how one kind of lace + can be realler than another. It was in a very swagger sort of perambulator + when we saw it; and the perambulator was standing quite by itself in the + lane that leads to the mill. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder whose baby it is,’ Dora said. ‘Isn’t it a darling, Alice?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice agreed to its being one, and said she thought it was most likely the + child of noble parents stolen by gipsies. + </p> + <p> + ‘These two, as likely as not,’ Noel said. ‘Can’t you see something + crime-like in the very way they’re lying?’ + </p> + <p> + They were two tramps, and they were lying on the grass at the edge of the + lane on the shady side fast asleep, only a very little further on than + where the Baby was. They were very ragged, and their snores did have a + sinister sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect they stole the titled heir at dead of night, and they’ve been + travelling hot-foot ever since, so now they’re sleeping the sleep of + exhaustedness,’ Alice said. ‘What a heart-rending scene when the patrician + mother wakes in the morning and finds the infant aristocrat isn’t in bed + with his mamma.’ + </p> + <p> + The Baby was fast asleep or else the girls would have kissed it. They are + strangely fond of kissing. The author never could see anything in it + himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘If the gipsies DID steal it,’ Dora said ‘perhaps they’d sell it to us. I + wonder what they’d take for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What could you do with it if you’d got it?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, adopt it, of course,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve often thought I should enjoy + adopting a baby. It would be a golden deed, too. We’ve hardly got any in + the book yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought there were enough of us,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, but you’re none of you babies,’ said Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless you count H. O. as a baby: he behaves jolly like one sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + This was because of what had happened that morning when Dicky found H. O. + going fishing with a box of worms, and the box was the one Dicky keeps his + silver studs in, and the medal he got at school, and what is left of his + watch and chain. The box is lined with red velvet and it was not nice + afterwards. And then H. O. said Dicky had hurt him, and he was a beastly + bully, and he cried. We thought all this had been made up, and were sorry + to see it threaten to break out again. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, bother the Baby! Come along, do!’ + </p> + <p> + And the others came. + </p> + <p> + We were going to the miller’s with a message about some flour that hadn’t + come, and about a sack of sharps for the pigs. + </p> + <p> + After you go down the lane you come to a clover-field, and then a + cornfield, and then another lane, and then it is the mill. It is a jolly + fine mill: in fact it is two—water and wind ones—one of each + kind—with a house and farm buildings as well. I never saw a mill + like it, and I don’t believe you have either. + </p> + <p> + If we had been in a story-book the miller’s wife would have taken us into + the neat sanded kitchen where the old oak settle was black with time and + rubbing, and dusted chairs for us—old brown Windsor chairs—and + given us each a glass of sweet-scented cowslip wine and a thick slice of + rich home-made cake. And there would have been fresh roses in an old china + bowl on the table. As it was, she asked us all into the parlour and gave + us Eiffel Tower lemonade and Marie biscuits. The chairs in her parlour + were ‘bent wood’, and no flowers, except some wax ones under a glass + shade, but she was very kind, and we were very much obliged to her. We got + out to the miller, though, as soon as we could; only Dora and Daisy stayed + with her, and she talked to them about her lodgers and about her relations + in London. + </p> + <p> + The miller is a MAN. He showed us all over the mills—both kinds—and + let us go right up into the very top of the wind-mill, and showed us how + the top moved round so that the sails could catch the wind, and the great + heaps of corn, some red and some yellow (the red is English wheat), and + the heaps slice down a little bit at a time into a square hole and go down + to the mill-stones. The corn makes a rustling soft noise that is very + jolly—something like the noise of the sea—and you can hear it + through all the other mill noises. + </p> + <p> + Then the miller let us go all over the water-mill. It is fairy palaces + inside a mill. Everything is powdered over white, like sugar on pancakes + when you are allowed to help yourself. And he opened a door and showed us + the great water-wheel working on slow and sure, like some great, round, + dripping giant, Noel said, and then he asked us if we fished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ was our immediate reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why not try the mill-pool?’ he said, and we replied politely; and + when he was gone to tell his man something we owned to each other that he + was a trump. + </p> + <p> + He did the thing thoroughly. He took us out and cut us ash saplings for + rods; he found us in lines and hooks, and several different sorts of bait, + including a handsome handful of meal-worms, which Oswald put loose in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + When it came to bait, Alice said she was going home with Dora and Daisy. + Girls are strange, mysterious, silly things. Alice always enjoys a rat + hunt until the rat is caught, but she hates fishing from beginning to end. + We boys have got to like it. We don’t feel now as we did when we turned + off the water and stopped the competition of the competing anglers. We had + a grand day’s fishing that day. I can’t think what made the miller so kind + to us. Perhaps he felt a thrill of fellow-feeling in his manly breast for + his fellow-sportsmen, for he was a noble fisherman himself. + </p> + <p> + We had glorious sport—eight roach, six dace, three eels, seven + perch, and a young pike, but he was so very young the miller asked us to + put him back, and of course we did. ‘He’ll live to bite another day,’ said + the miller. + </p> + <p> + The miller’s wife gave us bread and cheese and more Eiffel Tower lemonade, + and we went home at last, a little damp, but full of successful ambition, + with our fish on a string. + </p> + <p> + It had been a strikingly good time—one of those times that happen in + the country quite by themselves. Country people are much more friendly + than town people. I suppose they don’t have to spread their friendly + feelings out over so many persons, so it’s thicker, like a pound of butter + on one loaf is thicker than on a dozen. Friendliness in the country is not + scrape, like it is in London. Even Dicky and H. O. forgot the affair of + honour that had taken place in the morning. H. O. changed rods with Dicky + because H. O.‘s was the best rod, and Dicky baited H. O.‘s hook for him, + just like loving, unselfish brothers in Sunday School magazines. + </p> + <p> + We were talking fishlikely as we went along down the lane and through the + cornfield and the cloverfield, and then we came to the other lane where we + had seen the Baby. The tramps were gone, and the perambulator was gone, + and, of course, the Baby was gone too. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder if those gipsies HAD stolen the Baby?’ Noel said dreamily. He + had not fished much, but he had made a piece of poetry. It was this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘How I wish + I was a fish. + I would not look + At your hook, + But lie still and be cool + At the bottom of the pool + And when you went to look + At your cruel hook, + You would not find me there, + So there!’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘If they did steal the Baby,’ Noel went on, ‘they will be tracked by the + lordly perambulator. You can disguise a baby in rags and walnut juice, but + there isn’t any disguise dark enough to conceal a perambulator’s person.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You might disguise it as a wheel-barrow,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or cover it with leaves,’ said H. O., ‘like the robins.’ + </p> + <p> + We told him to shut up and not gibber, but afterwards we had to own that + even a young brother may sometimes talk sense by accident. + </p> + <p> + For we took the short cut home from the lane—it begins with a large + gap in the hedge and the grass and weeds trodden down by the hasty feet of + persons who were late for church and in too great a hurry to go round by + the road. Our house is next to the church, as I think I have said before, + some time. + </p> + <p> + The short cut leads to a stile at the edge of a bit of wood (the Parson’s + Shave, they call it, because it belongs to him). The wood has not been + shaved for some time, and it has grown out beyond the stile and here, + among the hazels and chestnuts and young dogwood bushes, we saw something + white. We felt it was our duty to investigate, even if the white was only + the under side of the tail of a dead rabbit caught in a trap. + </p> + <p> + It was not—it was part of the perambulator. I forget whether I said + that the perambulator was enamelled white—not the kind of enamelling + you do at home with Aspinall’s and the hairs of the brush come out and it + is gritty-looking, but smooth, like the handles of ladies very best lace + parasols. And whoever had abandoned the helpless perambulator in that + lonely spot had done exactly as H. O. said, and covered it with leaves, + only they were green and some of them had dropped off. + </p> + <p> + The others were wild with excitement. Now or never, they thought, was a + chance to be real detectives. Oswald alone retained a calm exterior. It + was he who would not go straight to the police station. + </p> + <p> + He said: ‘Let’s try and ferret out something for ourselves before we tell + the police. They always have a clue directly they hear about the finding + of the body. And besides, we might as well let Alice be in anything there + is going. And besides, we haven’t had our dinners yet.’ + </p> + <p> + This argument of Oswald’s was so strong and powerful—his arguments + are often that, as I daresay you have noticed—that the others + agreed. It was Oswald, too, who showed his artless brothers why they had + much better not take the deserted perambulator home with them. + </p> + <p> + ‘The dead body, or whatever the clue is, is always left exactly as it is + found,’ he said, ‘till the police have seen it, and the coroner, and the + inquest, and the doctor, and the sorrowing relations. Besides, suppose + someone saw us with the beastly thing, and thought we had stolen it; then + they would say, “What have you done with the Baby?” and then where should + we be?’ Oswald’s brothers could not answer this question, but once more + Oswald’s native eloquence and far-seeing discerningness conquered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Anyway,’ Dicky said, ‘let’s shove the derelict a little further under + cover.’ + </p> + <p> + So we did. + </p> + <p> + Then we went on home. Dinner was ready and so were Alice and Daisy, but + Dora was not there. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s got a—well, she’s not coming to dinner anyway,’ Alice said + when we asked. ‘She can tell you herself afterwards what it is she’s got.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought it was headache, or pain in the temper, or in the pinafore, + so he said no more, but as soon as Mrs Pettigrew had helped us and left + the room he began the thrilling tale of the forsaken perambulator. He told + it with the greatest thrillingness anyone could have, but Daisy and Alice + seemed almost unmoved. Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, very strange,’ and things like that, but both the girls seemed to be + thinking of something else. They kept looking at each other and trying not + to laugh, so Oswald saw they had got some silly secret and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all right! I don’t care about telling you. I only thought you’d like + to be in it. It’s going to be a really big thing, with policemen in it, + and perhaps a judge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In what?’ H. O. said; ‘the perambulator?’ + </p> + <p> + Daisy choked and then tried to drink, and spluttered and got purple, and + had to be thumped on the back. But Oswald was not appeased. When Alice + said, ‘Do go on, Oswald. I’m sure we all like it very much,’ he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no, thank you,’ very politely. ‘As it happens,’ he went on, ‘I’d just + as soon go through with this thing without having any girls in it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the perambulator?’ said H. O. again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a man’s job,’ Oswald went on, without taking any notice of H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you really think so,’ said Alice, ‘when there’s a baby in it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there isn’t,’ said H. O., ‘if you mean in the perambulator.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Blow you and your perambulator,’ said Oswald, with gloomy forbearance. + </p> + <p> + Alice kicked Oswald under the table and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be waxy, Oswald. Really and truly Daisy and I HAVE got a secret, + only it’s Dora’s secret, and she wants to tell you herself. If it was mine + or Daisy’s we’d tell you this minute, wouldn’t we, Mouse?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This very second,’ said the White Mouse. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald consented to take their apologies. + </p> + <p> + Then the pudding came in, and no more was said except asking for things to + be passed—sugar and water, and bread and things. + </p> + <p> + Then when the pudding was all gone, Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come on.’ + </p> + <p> + And we came on. We did not want to be disagreeable, though really we were + keen on being detectives and sifting that perambulator to the very dregs. + But boys have to try to take an interest in their sisters’ secrets, + however silly. This is part of being a good brother. + </p> + <p> + Alice led us across the field where the sheep once fell into the brook, + and across the brook by the plank. At the other end of the next field + there was a sort of wooden house on wheels, that the shepherd sleeps in at + the time of year when lambs are being born, so that he can see that they + are not stolen by gipsies before the owners have counted them. + </p> + <p> + To this hut Alice now led her kind brothers and Daisy’s kind brother. + ‘Dora is inside,’ she said, ‘with the Secret. We were afraid to have it in + the house in case it made a noise.’ + </p> + <p> + The next moment the Secret was a secret no longer, for we all beheld Dora, + sitting on a sack on the floor of the hut, with the Secret in her lap. + </p> + <p> + It was the High-born Babe! + </p> + <p> + Oswald was so overcome that he sat down suddenly, just like Betsy Trotwood + did in David Copperfield, which just shows what a true author Dickens is. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve done it this time,’ he said. ‘I suppose you know you’re a + baby-stealer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not,’ Dora said. ‘I’ve adopted him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it was you,’ Dicky said, ‘who scuttled the perambulator in the + wood?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Alice said; ‘we couldn’t get it over the stile unless Dora put down + the Baby, and we were afraid of the nettles for his legs. His name is to + be Lord Edward.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Dora—really, don’t you think—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you’d been there you’d have done the same,’ said Dora firmly. ‘The + gipsies had gone. Of course something had frightened them and they fled + from justice. And the little darling was awake and held out his arms to + me. No, he hasn’t cried a bit, and I know all about babies; I’ve often + nursed Mrs Simpkins’s daughter’s baby when she brings it up on Sundays. + They have bread and milk to eat. You take him, Alice, and I’ll go and get + some bread and milk for him.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice took the noble brat. It was horribly lively, and squirmed about in + her arms, and wanted to crawl on the floor. She could only keep it quiet + by saying things to it a boy would be ashamed even to think of saying, + such as ‘Goo goo’, and ‘Did ums was’, and ‘Ickle ducksums, then’. + </p> + <p> + When Alice used these expressions the Baby laughed and chuckled and + replied— + </p> + <p> + ‘Daddadda’, ‘Bababa’, or ‘Glueglue’. + </p> + <p> + But if Alice stopped her remarks for an instant the thing screwed its face + up as if it was going to cry, but she never gave it time to begin. + </p> + <p> + It was a rummy little animal. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora came back with the bread and milk, and they fed the noble + infant. It was greedy and slobbery, but all three girls seemed unable to + keep their eyes and hands off it. They looked at it exactly as if it was + pretty. + </p> + <p> + We boys stayed watching them. There was no amusement left for us now, for + Oswald saw that Dora’s Secret knocked the bottom out of the perambulator. + </p> + <p> + When the infant aristocrat had eaten a hearty meal it sat on Alice’s lap + and played with the amber heart she wears that Albert’s uncle brought her + from Hastings after the business of the bad sixpence and the nobleness of + Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Dora, ‘this is a council, so I want to be business-like. The + Duckums Darling has been stolen away; its wicked stealers have deserted + the Precious. We’ve got it. Perhaps its ancestral halls are miles and + miles away. I vote we keep the little Lovey Duck till it’s advertised + for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If Albert’s uncle lets you,’ said Dicky darkly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t say “you” like that,’ Dora said; ‘I want it to be all of our + baby. It will have five fathers and three mothers, and a grandfather and a + great Albert’s uncle, and a great grand-uncle. I’m sure Albert’s uncle + will let us keep it—at any rate till it’s advertised for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And suppose it never is,’ Noel said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then so much the better,’ said Dora, ‘the little Duckyux.’ + </p> + <p> + She began kissing the baby again. Oswald, ever thoughtful, said—‘Well, + what about your dinner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bother dinner!’ Dora said—so like a girl. ‘Will you all agree to be + his fathers and mothers?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anything for a quiet life,’ said Dicky, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, if you like. But you’ll see we shan’t be allowed to keep it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You talk as if he was rabbits or white rats,’ said Dora, ‘and he’s not—he’s + a little man, he is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, he’s no rabbit, but a man. Come on and get some grub, Dora,’ + rejoined the kind-hearted Oswald, and Dora did, with Oswald and the other + boys. Only Noel stayed with Alice. He really seemed to like the baby. When + I looked back he was standing on his head to amuse it, but the baby did + not seem to like him any better whichever end of him was up. + </p> + <p> + Dora went back to the shepherd’s house on wheels directly she had had her + dinner. Mrs Pettigrew was very cross about her not being in to it, but she + had kept her some mutton hot all the same. She is a decent sort. And there + were stewed prunes. We had some to keep Dora company. Then we boys went + fishing again in the moat, but we caught nothing. + </p> + <p> + Just before tea-time we all went back to the hut, and before we got half + across the last field we could hear the howling of the Secret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor little beggar,’ said Oswald, with manly tenderness. ‘They must be + sticking pins in it.’ + </p> + <p> + We found the girls and Noel looking quite pale and breathless. Daisy was + walking up and down with the Secret in her arms. It looked like Alice in + Wonderland nursing the baby that turned into a pig. Oswald said so, and + added that its screams were like it too. + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth is the matter with it?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> don’t know,’ said Alice. ‘Daisy’s tired, and Dora and I are + quite worn out. He’s been crying for hours and hours. YOU take him a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not me,’ replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the Secret. + </p> + <p> + Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the hut. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s cold,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d take off my flannelette + petticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard knot. Here, Oswald, + let’s have your knife.’ + </p> + <p> + With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald’s jacket pocket, and next + moment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and screaming + almost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and to cry at the same + time. This is called hysterics. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that his pocket + was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly given him. And, + anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always carries his knife in + his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one. + </p> + <p> + Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the pile of + sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams for a moment to + listen to Dora’s, but almost at once it went on again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, get some water!’ said Alice. ‘Daisy, run!’ + </p> + <p> + The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into the arms + of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have fallen a wreck + to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He tried to pass it on to + the others, but they wouldn’t. Noel would have, but he was busy kissing + Dora and begging her not to. So our hero, for such I may perhaps term him, + found himself the degraded nursemaid of a small but furious kid. + </p> + <p> + He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat its + brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however + innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walked + earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back, while + the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. He + looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithful + eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house. + </p> + <p> + The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms and + Dora, but he answered without anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up,’ he said in a whisper of imperial command. ‘Can’t you see it’s + GONE TO SLEEP?’ + </p> + <p> + As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a very + long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends dragged + their weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was compelled to go on + holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changed hands, + and begin to yell again. Dora’s flannelette petticoat had been got off + somehow—how I do not seek to inquire—and the Secret was + covered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with a + view to concealment if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear. + Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn’t come + there much, it’s too many stairs. + </p> + <p> + With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed, but + did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that it did + not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furious fits, + it would just as soon have done as not. + </p> + <p> + We expected Albert’s uncle every minute. + </p> + <p> + At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out and + saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebald + horse—one of the miller’s horses. + </p> + <p> + A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember having + done anything wrong at the miller’s. But you never know. And it seemed + strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we had looked a + bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For we saw that + the distracted one was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Presently he rode off, and Albert’s uncle came in. A deputation met him at + the door—all the boys and Dora, because the baby was her idea. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve found something,’ Dora said, ‘and we want to know whether we may + keep it.’ + </p> + <p> + The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to keep it + after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. Even Noel had said + he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora said it only cried because + it was sleepy, but we reflected that it would certainly be sleepy once a + day, if not oftener. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Let’s see this treasure-trove. Is it a + wild beast?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and see,’ said Dora, and we led him to our room. + </p> + <p> + Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, and + showed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping. + </p> + <p> + ‘A baby!’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘THE Baby! Oh, my cat’s alive!’ + </p> + <p> + That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed with anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where did you?—but that doesn’t matter. We’ll talk of this later.’ + </p> + <p> + He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount his + bicycle and ride off. + </p> + <p> + Quite shortly he returned with the distracted horse-man. + </p> + <p> + It was HIS baby, and not titled at all. The horseman and his wife were the + lodgers at the mill. The nursemaid was a girl from the village. + </p> + <p> + She SAID she only left the Baby five minutes while she went to speak to + her sweetheart who was gardener at the Red House. But we knew she left it + over an hour, and nearly two. + </p> + <p> + I never saw anyone so pleased as the distracted horseman. + </p> + <p> + When we were asked we explained about having thought the Baby was the prey + of gipsies, and the distracted horseman stood hugging the Baby, and + actually thanked us. + </p> + <p> + But when he had gone we had a brief lecture on minding our own business. + But Dora still thinks she was right. As for Oswald and most of the others, + they agreed that they would rather mind their own business all their lives + than mind a baby for a single hour. + </p> + <p> + If you have never had to do with a baby in the frenzied throes of + sleepiness you can have no idea what its screams are like. + </p> + <p> + If you have been through such a scene you will understand how we managed + to bear up under having no baby to adopt. Oswald insisted on having the + whole thing written in the Golden Deed book. Of course his share could not + be put in without telling about Dora’s generous adopting of the forlorn + infant outcast, and Oswald could not and cannot forget that he was the one + who did get that baby to sleep. + </p> + <p> + What a time Mr and Mrs Distracted Horseman must have of it, though—especially + now they’ve sacked the nursemaid. + </p> + <p> + If Oswald is ever married—I suppose he must be some day—he + will have ten nurses to each baby. Eight is not enough. We know that + because we tried, and the whole eight of us were not enough for the needs + of that deserted infant who was not so extra high-born after all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX + </h2> + <p> + It is idle to expect everyone to know everything in the world without + being told. If we had been brought up in the country we should have known + that it is not done—to hunt the fox in August. But in the Lewisham + Road the most observing boy does not notice the dates when it is proper to + hunt foxes. + </p> + <p> + And there are some things you cannot bear to think that anybody would + think you would do; that is why I wish to say plainly at the very + beginning that none of us would have shot a fox on purpose even to save + our skins. Of course, if a man were at bay in a cave, and had to defend + girls from the simultaneous attack of a herd of savage foxes it would be + different. A man is bound to protect girls and take care of them—they + can jolly well take care of themselves really it seems to me—still, + this is what Albert’s uncle calls one of the ‘rules of the game’, so we + are bound to defend them and fight for them to the death, if needful. + Denny knows a quotation which says— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘What dire offence from harmless causes springs, + What mighty contests rise from trefoil things.’ +</pre> + <p> + He says this means that all great events come from three things—threefold, + like the clover or trefoil, and the causes are always harmless. Trefoil is + short for threefold. + </p> + <p> + There were certainly three things that led up to the adventure which is + now going to be told you. The first was our Indian uncle coming down to + the country to see us. The second was Denny’s tooth. The third was only + our wanting to go hunting; but if you count it in it makes the thing about + the trefoil come right. And all these causes were harmless. + </p> + <p> + It is a flattering thing to say, and it was not Oswald who said it, but + Dora. She said she was certain our uncle missed us, and that he felt he + could no longer live without seeing his dear ones (that was us). + </p> + <p> + Anyway, he came down, without warning, which is one of the few bad habits + that excellent Indian man has, and this habit has ended in unpleasantness + more than once, as when we played jungles. + </p> + <p> + However, this time it was all right. He came on rather a dull kind of day, + when no one had thought of anything particularly amusing to do. So that, + as it happened to be dinner-time and we had just washed our hands and + faces, we were all spotlessly clean (com-pared with what we are sometimes, + I mean, of course). + </p> + <p> + We were just sitting down to dinner, and Albert’s uncle was just plunging + the knife into the hot heart of the steak pudding, when there was the + rumble of wheels, and the station fly stopped at the garden gate. And in + the fly, sitting very upright, with his hands on his knees, was our Indian + relative so much beloved. He looked very smart, with a rose in his + buttonhole. How different from what he looked in other days when he helped + us to pretend that our currant pudding was a wild boar we were killing + with our forks. Yet, though tidier, his heart still beat kind and true. + You should not judge people harshly because their clothes are tidy. He had + dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, and told him + everything we thought he would like to hear, and about the Tower of + Mystery, and he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes my blood boil to think of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told it to + had owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the Uncle, ‘but in India we learn how to freeze our blood and + boil it at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always near boiling-point, + which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for the curry and pepper + they eat. But I must not wander; there is no curry at all in this story. + About temper I will not say. + </p> + <p> + Then Uncle let us all go with him to the station when the fly came back + for him; and when we said good-bye he tipped us all half a quid, without + any insidious distinctions about age or considering whether you were a boy + or a girl. Our Indian uncle is a true-born Briton, with no nonsense about + him. + </p> + <p> + We cheered him like one man as the train went off, and then we offered the + fly-driver a shilling to take us back to the four cross-roads, and the + grateful creature did it for nothing because, he said, the gent had tipped + him something like. How scarce is true gratitude! So we cheered the driver + too for this rare virtue, and then went home to talk about what we should + do with our money. I cannot tell you all that we did with it, because + money melts away ‘like snow-wreaths in thaw-jean’, as Denny says, and + somehow the more you have the more quickly it melts. We all went into + Maidstone, and came back with the most beautiful lot of brown-paper + parcels, with things inside that supplied long-felt wants. But none of + them belongs to this narration, except what Oswald and Denny clubbed to + buy. + </p> + <p> + This was a pistol, and it took all the money they both had, but when + Oswald felt the uncomfortable inside sensation that reminds you who it is + and his money that are soon parted he said to himself— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care. We ought to have a pistol in the house, and one that will + go off, too—not those rotten flintlocks. Suppose there should be + burglars and us totally unarmed?’ + </p> + <p> + We took it in turns to have the pistol, and we decided always to practise + with it far from the house, so as not to frighten the grown-ups, who are + always much nervouser about firearms than we are. + </p> + <p> + It was Denny’s idea getting it; and Oswald owns it surprised him, but the + boy was much changed in his character. We got it while the others were + grubbing at the pastry-cook’s in the High Street, and we said nothing till + after tea, though it was hard not to fire at the birds on the telegraph + wires as we came home in the train. + </p> + <p> + After tea we called a council in the straw-loft, and Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Denny and I have got a secret.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what it is,’ Dicky said contemptibly. ‘You’ve found out that shop + in Maidstone where peppermint rock is four ounces a penny. H. O. and I + found it out before you did.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘You shut-up. If you don’t want to hear the secret you’d + better bunk. I’m going to administer the secret oath.’ + </p> + <p> + This is a very solemn oath, and only used about real things, and never for + pretending ones, so Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all right; go ahead! I thought you were only rotting.’ + </p> + <p> + So they all took the secret oath. Noel made it up long before, when he had + found the first thrush’s nest we ever saw in the Blackheath garden: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I will not tell, I will not reveal, + I will not touch, or try to steal; + And may I be called a beastly sneak, + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ +</pre> + <p> + It is a little wrong about the poetry, but it is a very binding promise. + They all repeated it, down to H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then,’ Dicky said, ‘what’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald, in proud silence, drew the pistol from his breast and held it out, + and there was a murmur of awful amazement and respect from every one of + the council. The pistol was not loaded, so we let even the girls have it + to look at. And then Dicky said, ‘Let’s go hunting.’ + </p> + <p> + And we decided that we would. H. O. wanted to go down to the village and + get penny horns at the shop for the huntsmen to wind, like in the song, + but we thought it would be more modest not to wind horns or anything + noisy, at any rate not until we had run down our prey. But his talking of + the song made us decide that it was the fox we wanted to hunt. We had not + been particular which animal we hunted before that. + </p> + <p> + Oswald let Denny have first go with the pistol, and when we went to bed he + slept with it under his pillow, but not loaded, for fear he should have a + nightmare and draw his fell weapon before he was properly awake. + </p> + <p> + Oswald let Denny have it, because Denny had toothache, and a pistol is + consoling though it does not actually stop the pain of the tooth. The + toothache got worse, and Albert’s uncle looked at it, and said it was very + loose, and Denny owned he had tried to crack a peach-stone with it. Which + accounts. He had creosote and camphor, and went to bed early, with his + tooth tied up in red flannel. + </p> + <p> + Oswald knows it is right to be very kind when people are ill, and he + forbore to wake the sufferer next morning by buzzing a pillow at him, as + he generally does. He got up and went over to shake the invalid, but the + bird had flown and the nest was cold. The pistol was not in the nest + either, but Oswald found it afterwards under the looking-glass on the + dressing-table. He had just awakened the others (with a hair-brush because + they had not got anything the matter with their teeth), when he heard + wheels, and, looking out, beheld Denny and Albert’s uncle being driven + from the door in the farmer’s high cart with the red wheels. + </p> + <p> + We dressed extra quick, so as to get downstairs to the bottom of the + mystery. And we found a note from Albert’s uncle. It was addressed to + Dora, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Denny’s toothache got him up in the small hours. He’s off to the dentist + to have it out with him, man to man. Home to dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + Dora said, ‘Denny’s gone to the dentist.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect it’s a relation,’ H. O. said. ‘Denny must be short for Dentist.’ + </p> + <p> + I suppose he was trying to be funny—he really does try very hard. He + wants to be a clown when he grows up. The others laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ said Dicky, ‘whether he’ll get a shilling or half-a-crown for + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald had been meditating in gloomy silence, now he cheered up and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course! I’d forgotten that. He’ll get his tooth money, and the drive + too. So it’s quite fair for us to have the fox-hunt while he’s gone. I was + thinking we should have to put it off.’ + </p> + <p> + The others agreed that it would not be unfair. + </p> + <p> + ‘We can have another one another time if he wants to,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + We know foxes are hunted in red coats and on horseback—but we could + not do this—but H. O. had the old red football jersey that was + Albert’s uncle’s when he was at Loretto. He was pleased. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do wish we’d had horns,’ he said grievingly. ‘I should have liked + to wind the horn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We can pretend horns,’ Dora said; but he answered, ‘I didn’t want to + pretend. I wanted to wind something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wind your watch,’ Dicky said. And that was unkind, because we all know H. + O.‘s watch is broken, and when you wind it, it only rattles inside without + going in the least. + </p> + <p> + We did not bother to dress up much for the hunting expedition—just + cocked hats and lath swords; and we tied a card on to H. O.‘s chest with + ‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’ on it; and we tied red flannel round all the + dogs’ necks to show they were fox-hounds. Yet it did not seem to show it + plainly; somehow it made them look as if they were not fox-hounds, but + their own natural breeds—only with sore throats. + </p> + <p> + Oswald slipped the pistol and a few cartridges into his pocket. He knew, + of course, that foxes are not shot; but as he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Who knows whether we may not meet a bear or a crocodile.’ + </p> + <p> + We set off gaily. Across the orchard and through two cornfields, and along + the hedge of another field, and so we got into the wood, through a gap we + had happened to make a day or two before, playing ‘follow my leader’. + </p> + <p> + The wood was very quiet and green; the dogs were happy and most busy. Once + Pincher started a rabbit. We said, ‘View Halloo!’ and immediately started + in pursuit; but the rabbit went and hid, so that even Pincher could not + find him, and we went on. But we saw no foxes. So at last we made Dicky be + a fox, and chased him down the green rides. A wide walk in a wood is + called a ride, even if people never do anything but walk in it. + </p> + <p> + We had only three hounds—Lady, Pincher and Martha—so we joined + the glad throng and were being hounds as hard as we could, when we + suddenly came barking round a corner in full chase and stopped short, for + we saw that our fox had stayed his hasty flight. The fox was stooping over + something reddish that lay beside the path, and he cried— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, look here!’ in tones that thrilled us throughout. + </p> + <p> + Our fox—whom we must now call Dicky, so as not to muddle the + narration—pointed to the reddy thing that the dogs were sniffing at. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a real live fox,’ he said. And so it was. At least it was real—only + it was quite dead—and when Oswald lifted it up its head was + bleeding. It had evidently been shot through the brain and expired + instantly. Oswald explained this to the girls when they began to cry at + the sight of the poor beast; I do not say he did not feel a bit sorry + himself. + </p> + <p> + The fox was cold, but its fur was so pretty, and its tail and its little + feet. Dicky strung the dogs on the leash; they were so much interested we + thought it was better. + </p> + <p> + ‘It does seem horrid to think it’ll never see again out of its poor little + eyes,’ Dora said, blowing her nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘And never run about through the wood again, lend me your hanky, Dora’ + said Alice. + </p> + <p> + ‘And never be hunted or get into a hen-roost or a trap or anything + exciting, poor little thing,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + The girls began to pick green chestnut leaves to cover up the poor fox’s + fatal wound, and Noel began to walk up and down making faces, the way he + always does when he’s making poetry. He cannot make one without the other. + It works both ways, which is a comfort. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are we going to do now?’ H. O. said; ‘the huntsman ought to cut off + its tail, I’m quite certain. Only, I’ve broken the big blade of my knife, + and the other never was any good.’ + </p> + <p> + The girls gave H. O. a shove, and even Oswald said, ‘Shut up’, for somehow + we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more that day. When + his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked dead at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I wish it wasn’t true!’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, ‘I should like to + pray God to make it not true.’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good—only she might + pray God to take care of the fox’s poor little babies, if it had had any, + which I believe she has done ever since. + </p> + <p> + ‘If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really set + out to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox’s feet looked so + helpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I know would not + have been there if it had been alive and able to wash itself. + </p> + <p> + Noel now said, ‘This is the piece of poetry’: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Here lies poor Reynard who is slain, + He will not come to life again. + I never will the huntsman’s horn + Wind since the day that I was born + Until the day I die— + For I don’t like hunting, and this is why.’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Let’s have a funeral,’ said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we got Dora + to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we could carry it to + our garden and bury it without bloodying our jackets. Girls’ clothes are + silly in one way, but I think they are useful too. A boy cannot take off + more than his jacket and waistcoat in any emergency, or he is at once + entirely undressed. But I have known Dora take off two petticoats for + useful purposes and look just the same outside afterwards. + </p> + <p> + We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. When we got + near the edge of the wood Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk funeral + songs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come and cry if + they want to.’ He dumped the fox down on the moss under a young oak tree + as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and then he + could tie up the dogs at the same time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re sick of carrying it,’ Dicky remarked, ‘that’s what it is.’ But he + went on condition the rest of us boys went too. + </p> + <p> + While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the wood; it + was a different edge to the one we went in by—close to a lane—and + while they waited for the digging or fatigue party to come back, they + collected a lot of moss and green things to make the fox’s long home soft + for it to lie in. There are no flowers in the woods in August, which is a + pity. + </p> + <p> + When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the fox in. + We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too interested in the + funeral to behave with real, respectable calmness. + </p> + <p> + The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped away the + broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild honeysuckle; Oswald + used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel made faces and poetry—he + was struck so that morning—and the girls sat stroking the clean + parts of the fox’s fur till the grave was deep enough. At last it was; + then Daisy threw in the leaves and grass, and Alice and Dora took the poor + dead fox by his two ends and we helped to put him in the grave. We could + not lower him slowly—he was dropped in, really. Then we covered the + furry body with leaves, and Noel said the Burial Ode he had made up. He + says this was it, but it sounds better now than it did then, so I think he + must have done something to it since: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE FOX’S BURIAL ODE +</pre> + <pre> + ‘Dear Fox, sleep here, and do not wake, + We picked these leaves for your sake + You must not try to rise or move, + We give you this with our love. + Close by the wood where once you grew + Your mourning friends have buried you. + If you had lived you’d not have been + (Been proper friends with us, I mean), + But now you’re laid upon the shelf, + Poor fox, you cannot help yourself, + So, as I say, we are your loving friends— + And here your + Burial Ode, dear Foxy, ends. + P. S.—When in the moonlight bright + The foxes wander of a night, + They’ll pass your grave and fondly think of you, + Exactly like we mean to always do. + So now, dear fox, adieu! + Your friends are few + But true To you. + Adieu!’ + </pre> + <p> + When this had been said we filled in the grave and covered the top of it + with dry leaves and sticks to make it look like the rest of the wood. + People might think it was a treasure, and dig it up, if they thought there + was anything buried there, and we wished the poor fox to sleep sound and + not to be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The interring was over. We folded up Dora’s bloodstained pink cotton + petticoat, and turned to leave the sad spot. + </p> + <p> + We had not gone a dozen yards down the lane when we heard footsteps and a + whistle behind us, and a scrabbling and whining, and a gentleman with two + fox-terriers had called a halt just by the place where we had laid low the + ‘little red rover’. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman stood in the lane, but the dogs were digging—we could + see their tails wagging and see the dust fly. And we SAW WHERE. We ran + back. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, please, do stop your dogs digging there!’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman said ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because we’ve just had a funeral, and that’s the grave.’ + </p> + <p> + The gentleman whistled, but the fox-terriers were not trained like + Pincher, who was brought up by Oswald. The gentleman took a stride through + the hedge gap. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you been burying—pet dicky bird, eh?’ said the gentleman, + kindly. He had riding breeches and white whiskers. + </p> + <p> + We did not answer, because now, for the first time, it came over all of + us, in a rush of blushes and uncomfortableness, that burying a fox is a + suspicious act. I don’t know why we felt this, but we did. + </p> + <p> + Noel said dreamily— + </p> + <pre> + ‘We found his murdered body in the wood, + And dug a grave by which the mourners stood.’ + </pre> + <p> + But no one heard him except Oswald, because Alice and Dora and Daisy were + all jumping about with the jumps of unrestrained anguish, and saying, ‘Oh, + call them off! Do! do!—oh, don’t, don’t! Don’t let them dig.’ + </p> + <p> + Alas! Oswald was, as usual, right. The ground of the grave had not been + trampled down hard enough, and he had said so plainly at the time, but his + prudent counsels had been overruled. Now these busy-bodying, meddling, + mischief-making fox-terriers (how different from Pincher, who minds his + own business unless told otherwise) had scratched away the earth and laid + bare the reddish tip of the poor corpse’s tail. + </p> + <p> + We all turned to go without a word, it seemed to be no use staying any + longer. + </p> + <p> + But in a moment the gentleman with the whiskers had got Noel and Dicky + each by an ear—they were nearest him. H. O. hid in the hedge. + Oswald, to whose noble breast sneakishness is, I am thankful to say, a + stranger, would have scorned to escape, but he ordered his sisters to bunk + in a tone of command which made refusal impossible. + </p> + <p> + ‘And bunk sharp, too’ he added sternly. ‘Cut along home.’ + </p> + <p> + So they cut. The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his angry + fox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue their vile and + degrading occupation; holding on all the time to the ears of Dicky and + Noel, who scorned to ask for mercy. Dicky got purple and Noel got white. + It was Oswald who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t hang on to them, sir. We won’t cut. I give you my word of honour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘YOUR word of honour,’ said the gentleman, in tones for which, in happier + days, when people drew their bright blades and fought duels, I would have + had his heart’s dearest blood. But now Oswald remained calm and polite as + ever. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, on my honour,’ he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears of + Oswald’s brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones. He dropped + the ears and pulled out the body of the fox and held it up. + </p> + <p> + The dogs jumped up and yelled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you talk very big about words of honour. Can you speak + the truth?’ + </p> + <p> + Dickie said, ‘If you think we shot it, you’re wrong. We know better than + that.’ + </p> + <p> + The white-whiskered one turned suddenly to H. O. and pulled him out of the + hedge. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what does that mean?’ he said, and he was pink with fury to the ends + of his large ears, as he pointed to the card on H. O.‘s breast, which + said, ‘Moat House Fox-Hunters’. + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald said, ‘We WERE playing at fox-hunting, but we couldn’t find + anything but a rabbit that hid, so my brother was being the fox; and then + we found the fox shot dead, and I don’t know who did it; and we were sorry + for it and we buried it—and that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not quite,’ said the riding-breeches gentleman, with what I think you + call a bitter smile, ‘not quite. This is my land and I’ll have you up for + trespass and damage. Come along now, no nonsense! I’m a magistrate and I’m + Master of the Hounds. A vixen, too! What did you shoot her with? You’re + too young to have a gun. Sneaked your Father’s revolver, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought it was better to be goldenly silent. But it was vain. The + Master of the Hounds made him empty his pockets, and there was the pistol + and the cartridges. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate laughed a harsh laugh of successful disagreeableness. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said he, ‘where’s your licence? You come with me. A week or + two in prison.’ + </p> + <p> + I don’t believe now he could have done it, but we all thought then he + could and would, what’s more. + </p> + <p> + So H. O. began to cry, but Noel spoke up. His teeth were chattering yet he + spoke up like a man. + </p> + <p> + He said, ‘You don’t know us. You’ve no right not to believe us till you’ve + found us out in a lie. We don’t tell lies. You ask Albert’s uncle if we + do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold your tongue,’ said the White-Whiskered. But Noel’s blood was up. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you do put us in prison without being sure,’ he said, trembling more + and more, ‘you are a horrible tyrant like Caligula, and Herod, or Nero, + and the Spanish Inquisition, and I will write a poem about it in prison, + and people will curse you for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ said White Whiskers. ‘We’ll see about that,’ and he turned + up the lane with the fox hanging from one hand and Noel’s ear once more + reposing in the other. + </p> + <p> + I thought Noel would cry or faint. But he bore up nobly—exactly like + an early Christian martyr. + </p> + <p> + The rest of us came along too. I carried the spade and Dicky had the fork. + H. O. had the card, and Noel had the magistrate. At the end of the lane + there was Alice. She had bunked home, obeying the orders of her thoughtful + brother, but she had bottled back again like a shot, so as not to be out + of the scrape. She is almost worthy to be a boy for some things. + </p> + <p> + She spoke to Mr Magistrate and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you taking him?’ + </p> + <p> + The outraged majesty of the magistrate said, ‘To prison, you naughty + little girl.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘Noel will faint. Somebody once tried to take him to prison + before—about a dog. Do please come to our house and see our uncle—at + least he’s not—but it’s the same thing. We didn’t kill the fox, if + that’s what you think—indeed we didn’t. Oh, dear, I do wish you’d + think of your own little boys and girls if you’ve got any, or else about + when you were little. You wouldn’t be so horrid if you did.’ + </p> + <p> + I don’t know which, if either, of these objects the fox-hound master + thought of, but he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, lead on,’ and he let go Noel’s ear and Alice snuggled up to Noel + and put her arm round him. + </p> + <p> + It was a frightened procession, whose cheeks were pale with alarm—except + those between white whiskers, and they were red—that wound in at our + gate and into the hall among the old oak furniture, and black and white + marble floor and things. + </p> + <p> + Dora and Daisy were at the door. The pink petticoat lay on the table, all + stained with the gore of the departed. Dora looked at us all, and she saw + that it was serious. She pulled out the big oak chair and said, ‘Won’t you + sit down?’ very kindly to the white-whiskered magistrate. + </p> + <p> + He grunted, but did as she said. + </p> + <p> + Then he looked about him in a silence that was not comforting, and so did + we. At last he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, you didn’t try to bolt. Speak the truth, and I’ll say no more.’ + </p> + <p> + We said we had. + </p> + <p> + Then he laid the fox on the table, spreading out the petticoat under it, + and he took out a knife and the girls hid their faces. Even Oswald did not + care to look. Wounds in battle are all very well, but it’s different to + see a dead fox cut into with a knife. + </p> + <p> + Next moment the magistrate wiped something on his handkerchief and then + laid it on the table, and put one of my cartridges beside it. It was the + bullet that had killed the fox. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here!’ he said. And it was too true. The bullets were the same. + </p> + <p> + A thrill of despair ran through Oswald. He knows now how a hero feels when + he is innocently accused of a crime and the judge is putting on the black + cap, and the evidence is convulsive and all human aid is despaired of. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help it,’ he said, ‘we didn’t kill it, and that’s all there is to + it.’ + </p> + <p> + The white-whiskered magistrate may have been master of the fox-hounds, but + he was not master of his temper, which is more important, I should think, + than a lot of beastly dogs. + </p> + <p> + He said several words which Oswald would never repeat, much less in his + own conversing, and besides that he called us ‘obstinate little beggars’. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Albert’s uncle entered in the midst of a silence freighted + with despairing reflections. The M.F.H. got up and told his tale: it was + mainly lies, or, to be more polite, it was hardly any of it true, though I + supposed he believed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very sorry, sir’ said Albert’s uncle, looking at the bullets. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll excuse my asking for the children’s version?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly, sir, certainly,’ fuming, the fox-hound magistrate replied. + </p> + <p> + Then Albert’s uncle said, ‘Now Oswald, I know I can trust you to speak the + exact truth.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald did. + </p> + <p> + Then the white-whiskered fox-master laid the bullets before Albert’s + uncle, and I felt this would be a trial to his faith far worse than the + rack or the thumb-screw in the days of the Armada. + </p> + <p> + And then Denny came in. He looked at the fox on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘You found it, then?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The M.F.H. would have spoken but Albert’s uncle said, ‘One moment, Denny; + you’ve seen this fox before?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather,’ said Denny; ‘I—’ + </p> + <p> + But Albert’s uncle said, ‘Take time. Think before you speak and say the + exact truth. No, don’t whisper to Oswald. This boy,’ he said to the + injured fox-master, ‘has been with me since seven this morning. His tale, + whatever it is, will be independent evidence.’ + </p> + <p> + But Denny would not speak, though again and again Albert’s uncle told him + to. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t till I’ve asked Oswald something,’ he said at last. White + Whiskers said, ‘That looks bad—eh?’ + </p> + <p> + But Oswald said, ‘Don’t whisper, old chap. Ask me whatever you like, but + speak up.’ + </p> + <p> + So Denny said, ‘I can’t without breaking the secret oath.’ + </p> + <p> + So then Oswald began to see, and he said, ‘Break away for all you’re + worth, it’s all right.’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny said, drawing relief’s deepest breath, ‘Well then, Oswald and I + have got a pistol—shares—and I had it last night. And when I + couldn’t sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and went out + early this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded it just for fun. + And down in the wood I heard a whining like a dog, and I went, and there + was the poor fox caught in an iron trap with teeth. And I went to let it + out and it bit me—look, here’s the place—and the pistol went + off and the fox died, and I am so sorry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why didn’t you tell the others?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They weren’t awake when I went to the dentist’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why didn’t you tell your uncle if you’ve been with him all the + morning?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was the oath,’ H. O. said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘May I be called a beastly sneak + If this great secret I ever repeat.’ +</pre> + <p> + White Whiskers actually grinned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I see it was an accident, my boy.’ Then he turned to us + and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I owe you an apology for doubting your word—all of you. I hope it’s + accepted.’ + </p> + <p> + We said it was all right and he was to never mind. + </p> + <p> + But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for his + unbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert’s uncle to shoot rabbits; but + we did not really forgive him till the day when he sent the fox’s brush to + Alice, mounted in silver with a note about her plucky conduct in standing + by her brothers. + </p> + <p> + We got a lecture about not playing with firearms, but no punishment, + because our conduct had not been exactly sinful, Albert’s uncle said, but + merely silly. + </p> + <p> + The pistol and the cartridges were confiscated. + </p> + <p> + I hope the house will never be attacked by burglars. When it is, Albert’s + uncle will only have himself to thank if we are rapidly overpowered, + because it will be his fault that we shall have to meet them totally + unarmed, and be their almost unresisting prey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES + </h2> + <p> + It began one morning at breakfast. It was the fifteenth of August—the + birthday of Napoleon the Great, Oswald Bastable, and another very nice + writer. Oswald was to keep his birthday on the Saturday, so that his + Father could be there. A birthday when there are only many happy returns + is a little like Sunday or Christmas Eve. Oswald had a birthday-card or + two—that was all; but he did not repine, because he knew they always + make it up to you for putting off keeping your birthday, and he looked + forward to Saturday. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently he + tossed one over to Dora, and said, ‘What do you say, little lady? Shall we + let them come?’ + </p> + <p> + But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and Noel + both had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place where the + bacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake of bacon fat was + slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the marmalade, and then H. + O. got it, and Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want the nasty thing now—all grease and stickiness.’ So H. + O. read it aloud— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES AND FIELD CLUB + Aug. 14, 1900 +</pre> + <p> + ‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the—’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like a spider + that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the paper without + stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald took the letter. + He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began to read. It ran + thus: + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not Antiquities, you little silly,’ he said; ‘it’s Antiquaries.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The other’s a very good word,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘and I never call + names at breakfast myself—it upsets the digestion, my egregious + Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a name though,’ said Alice, ‘and you got it out of “Stalky”, too. + Go on, Oswald.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted: + </p> + <p> + ‘MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF “ANTIQUARIES” AND FIELD CLUB + </p> + <p> + Aug. 14,1900. + </p> + <p> + ‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was + agreed that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the Society + proposes to visit the interesting church of Ivybridge and also the Roman + remains in the vicinity. Our president, Mr Longchamps, F.R.S., has + obtained permission to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We + venture to ask whether you would allow the members of the Society to walk + through your grounds and to inspect—from without, of course—your + beautiful house, which is, as you are doubtless aware, of great historic + interest, having been for some years the residence of the celebrated Sir + Thomas Wyatt.—I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully, + </p> + <p> + ‘EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec.).’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘well, shall we permit the eye of the + Maidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and the foot of + the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our gravel is all grass,’ H. O. said. + </p> + <p> + And the girls said, ‘Oh, do let them come!’ It was Alice who said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not ask them to tea? They’ll be very tired coming all the way from + Maidstone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you really like it?’ Albert’s uncle asked. ‘I’m afraid they’ll be + but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen with amphorae in + their buttonholes instead of orchids, and pedigrees poking out of all + their pockets.’ + </p> + <p> + We laughed—because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don’t you + might look it up in the dicker. It’s not a flower, though it sounds like + one out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of anyone growing. + </p> + <p> + Dora said she thought it would be splendid. + </p> + <p> + ‘And we could have out the best china,’ she said, ‘and decorate the table + with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We’ve never had a party + since we’ve been here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your own + way,’ Albert’s uncle said; and he went off to write the invitation to tea + to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the wrong word but somehow we + all used it whenever we spoke of them, which was often. + </p> + <p> + In a day or two Albert’s uncle came in to tea with a lightly-clouded brow. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve let me in for a nice thing,’ he said. ‘I asked the Antiquities to + tea, and I asked casually how many we might expect. I thought we might + need at least the full dozen of the best teacups. Now the secretary writes + accepting my kind invitation—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, good!’ we cried. ‘And how many are coming?’ ‘Oh, only about sixty,’ + was the groaning rejoinder. ‘Perhaps more, should the weather be + exceptionally favourable.’ + </p> + <p> + Though stunned at first, we presently decided that we were pleased. + </p> + <p> + We had never, never given such a big party. + </p> + <p> + The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew made + cakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys be there, + though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a cake before it is + baked, and then licking your finger, if you are careful to put a different + finger in the cake next time. Cake before it is baked is delicious—like + a sort of cream. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said he was the prey of despair. He drove in to Maidstone + one day. When we asked him where he was going, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly tear it + out by double handfuls in the extremity of my anguish every time I think + of those innumerable Antiquities.’ + </p> + <p> + But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china and things + to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have his hair cut + too, because he is the soul of truth and honour. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as well as + other presents. I think these were meant to make up for the pistol that + was taken away after the adventure of the fox-hunting. These gave us boys + something to do between the birthday-keeping, which was on the Saturday, + and the Wednesday when the Antiquities were to come. + </p> + <p> + We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, because they + had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was little or no + unpleasantness over this. + </p> + <p> + On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where the + Antiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate nuts. And + as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field two labourers with + picks and shovels, and a very young man with thin legs and a bicycle. It + turned out afterwards to be a free-wheel, the first we had ever seen. + </p> + <p> + They stopped at a mound inside the Roman wall, and the men took their + coats off and spat on their hands. + </p> + <p> + We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist explained his + machine to us very fully and carefully when we asked him, and then we saw + the men were cutting turfs and turning them over and rolling them up and + putting them in a heap. So we asked the gentleman with the thin legs what + they were doing. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘They are beginning the preliminary excavation in readiness for + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s up to-morrow?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then YOU’RE the Antiquities?’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m the secretary,’ said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you’re all coming to tea with us,’ Dora said, and added anxiously, + ‘how many of you do you think there’ll be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think,’ replied the + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, who + notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light and careless, + saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, ‘What’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve got an idea,’ the Dentist said. ‘Let’s call a council.’ The Dentist + had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him Dentist ever since + the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he had been used to calling + such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereas we all know + that his former existing was that of a white mouse in a trap, with that + cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars. + </p> + <p> + (That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert’s uncle told me.) + </p> + <p> + Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, and the + straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it’s nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Denny in a hurry: ‘quite the opposite.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it’s nothing wrong,’ said Dora and Daisy together. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s—it’s “Hail to thee, blithe spirit—bird thou never + wert”,’ said Denny. ‘I mean, I think it’s what is called a lark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?’ + </p> + <p> + We didn’t. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge,’ Daisy interrupted, ‘and it’s about a + family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be good, and they + were confirmed, and had a bazaar, and went to church at the Minster, and + one of them got married and wore black watered silk and silver ornaments. + So her baby died, and then she was sorry she had not been a good mother to + it. And—’ Here Dicky got up and said he’d got some snares to attend + to, and he’d receive a report of the Council after it was over. But he + only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, the fleet of foot, + closed with him, and they rolled together on the floor, while all the + others called out ‘Come back! Come back!’ like guinea-hens on a fence. + </p> + <p> + Through the rustle and bustle and hustle of the struggle with Dicky, + Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his everlasting + quotations— + </p> + <pre> + ‘“Come back, come back!” he cried in Greek, “ + Across the stormy water, + And I’ll forgive your Highland cheek, + My daughter, O my daughter!”’ + </pre> + <p> + When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with the + Council, Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It’s a ripping book. One + of the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, and another tries to + hit his little sister with a hoe. It’s jolly fine, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He would + never have learnt such words as ‘ripping’ and ‘jolly fine’ while under the + auntal tyranny. + </p> + <p> + Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book for girls + and little boys. + </p> + <p> + But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so Oswald + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘But what’s your lark?’ Denny got pale pink and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t hurry me. I’ll tell you directly. Let me think a minute.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he shut his pale pink eyelids a moment in thought, and then opened + them and stood up on the straw and said very fast— + </p> + <p> + ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, pots. You + know Albert’s uncle said they were going to open the barrow, to look for + Roman remains to-morrow. Don’t you think it seems a pity they shouldn’t + find any?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps they will,’ Dora said. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald saw, and he said ‘Primus! Go ahead, old man.’ + </p> + <p> + The Dentist went ahead. + </p> + <p> + ‘In The Daisy Chain,’ he said, ‘they dug in a Roman encampment and the + children went first and put some pottery there they’d made themselves, and + Harry’s old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The doctor helped them to + some stuff to partly efface the inscription, and all the grown-ups were + sold. I thought we might— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘You may break, you may shatter + The vase if you will; + But the scent of the Romans + Will cling round it still.’ +</pre> + <p> + Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least for + HIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the Maidstone + Antiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly would be indeed + splendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that we had not got + an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we hadn’t any doctor who + would ‘help us to stuff to efface’, and etcetera; but we sternly bade her + stow it. We weren’t going to do EXACTLY like those Daisy Chain kids. + </p> + <p> + The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream—which + was the Nile when we discovered its source—and dried it in the sun, + and then baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul Play. And most of the + things were such queer shapes that they should have done for almost + anything—Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or antediluvian, or + household milk-jugs of the cavemen, Albert’s uncle said. The pots were, + fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because we had already buried them in + mixed sand and river mud to improve the colour, and not remembered to wash + it off. + </p> + <p> + So the Council at once collected it all—and some rusty hinges and + some brass buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl Councillors + carried it all concealed in their pinafores, while the men members carried + digging tools. H. O. and Daisy were sent on ahead as scouts to see if the + coast was clear. We have learned the true usefulness of scouts from + reading about the Transvaal War. But all was still in the hush of evening + sunset on the Roman ruin. + </p> + <p> + We posted sentries, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls and + give a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached. + </p> + <p> + Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when we + happened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it be said that + a Bastable grudged time or trouble when a lark was at stake. We put the + things in as naturally as we could, and shoved the dirt back, till + everything looked just as before. Then we went home, late for tea. But it + was in a good cause; and there was no hot toast, only bread-and-butter, + which does not get cold with waiting. + </p> + <p> + That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up to bed— + </p> + <p> + ‘Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not a word.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘No kid?’ And she replied in the affirmation. + </p> + <p> + So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair—for he + shrinks from no pain if it is needful and right. + </p> + <p> + And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got up and + went out, and there was Alice dressed. + </p> + <p> + She said, ‘I’ve found some broken things that look ever so much more Roman—they + were on top of the cupboard in the library. If you’ll come with me, we’ll + bury them just to see how surprised the others will be.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind. + </p> + <p> + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait half a shake.’ And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, and + slipped a few peppermints into his pocket in case of catching cold. It is + these thoughtful expedients which mark the born explorer and adventurer. + </p> + <p> + It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, and we + decided we’d do some other daring moonlight act some other day. We got out + of the front door, which is never locked till Albert’s uncle goes to bed + at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and silently across the bridge and + through the fields to the Roman ruin. + </p> + <p> + Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had been dark. + But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your dreams. + </p> + <p> + Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper. + </p> + <p> + We did not take all the pots Alice had found—but just the two that + weren’t broken—two crooked jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots are + made of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the turf up and + scratched the earth under, and took it out very carefully in handfuls on + to the newspaper, till the hole was deepish. Then we put in the jugs, and + filled it up with earth and flattened the turf over. Turf stretches like + elastic. This we did a couple of yards from the place where the mound was + dug into by the men, and we had been so careful with the newspaper that + there was no loose earth about. + </p> + <p> + Then we went home in the wet moonlight—at least the grass was very + wet—chuckling through the peppermint, and got up to bed without + anyone knowing a single thing about it. + </p> + <p> + The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and the tables + were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and very grand + Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different kinds of cake, and + bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and gooseberries and plums and jam + sandwiches. And the girls decorated the tables with flowers—blue + larkspur and white Canterbury bells. And at about three there was a noise + of people walking in the road, and presently the Antiquities began to come + in at the front gate, and stood about on the lawn by twos and threes and + sixes and sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, exactly like a Sunday-school + treat. Presently some gentlemen came, who looked like the teachers; they + were not shy, and they came right up to the door. So Albert’s uncle, who + had not been too proud to be up in our room with us watching the people on + the lawn through the netting of our short blinds, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose that’s the Committee. Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + So we all went down—we were in our Sunday things—and Albert’s + uncle received the Committee like a feudal system baron, and we were his + retainers. + </p> + <p> + He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, and + foundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and Julius + Caesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and dog’s-tooth + moulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose that Albert’s uncle + remarked that all our mouths were open, which is a sign of reels in the + brain, for he whispered— + </p> + <p> + ‘Go hence, and mingle unsuspected with the crowd!’ + </p> + <p> + So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and women + and one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to talk to her, + though we did not like her. (She was covered in red velvet like an + arm-chair.) But she wouldn’t. We thought at first she was from a + deaf-and-dumb asylum, where her kind teachers had only managed to teach + the afflicted to say ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. But afterwards we knew better, for + Noel heard her say to her mother, ‘I wish you hadn’t brought me, mamma. I + didn’t have a pretty teacup, and I haven’t enjoyed my tea one bit.’ And + she had had five pieces of cake, besides little cakes and nearly a whole + plate of plums, and there were only twelve pretty teacups altogether. + </p> + <p> + Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and then the + President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn’t understand, + and other people made speeches we couldn’t understand either, except the + part about kind hospitality, which made us not know where to look. + </p> + <p> + Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, and we + handed cups and plates. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was left of his + hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-three Antiquities + present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary that ‘tea always + fetched them’. + </p> + <p> + Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we took + our hats—it was exactly like Sunday—and joined the crowded + procession of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, + though the weather was fiery and without a cloud. That is the sort of + people they were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets, and no one took their + gloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it is not + wrong to take your gloves off there. + </p> + <p> + We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert’s + uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart. + </p> + <p> + Then he said: ‘The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The hosts + and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly informed, an + excellent view may be obtained.’ + </p> + <p> + So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of the + lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw that + things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passed round + for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Roman + remains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, though we + heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchanged + meaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in the extras. + Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and we knew we + really HAD sold the Antiquities this time. + </p> + <p> + Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle towards + the house and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut home + the back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert’s uncle— + </p> + <p> + ‘A genuine find—most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have ONE. + Well, if you insist—’ + </p> + <p> + And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquities + melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups and + plates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures of memory were left. + </p> + <p> + We had a very beautiful supper—out of doors, too—with jam + sandwiches and cakes and things that were over; and as we watched the + setting monarch of the skies—I mean the sun—Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s tell.’ + </p> + <p> + We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but we + helped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, because he has yet + to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + When he had done, and we had done, Albert’s uncle said, ‘Well, it amused + you; and you’ll be glad to learn that it amused your friends the + Antiquities.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Didn’t they think they were Roman?’ Daisy said; ‘they did in The Daisy + Chain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘but the Treasurer and Secretary + were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their reception.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We didn’t want them to be disappointed,’ said Dora. + </p> + <p> + ‘They weren’t,’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Steady on with those plums, H.O. A + little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found two + specimens of REAL Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them home + thanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Those were our jugs,’ said Alice, ‘and we really HAVE sold the + Antiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and burying + them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened with deeply + respectful interest. ‘We really have done it this time, haven’t we?’ she + added in tones of well-deserved triumph. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert’s uncle from almost the + beginning of Alice’s recital; and he now had the sensation of something + being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The silence + of Albert’s uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t we?’ repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive brother’s + delicate feelings had already got hold of. ‘We have done it this time, + haven’t we?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since you ask me thus pointedly,’ answered Albert’s uncle at last, ‘I + cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots on the + top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The amphorae which you hid + in the mound are probably—I can’t say for certain, mind—priceless. + They are the property of the owner of this house. You have taken them out + and buried them. The President of the Maidstone Antiquarian Society has + taken them away in his bag. Now what are you going to do?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others added + to our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs about our not being so + jolly clever as we thought ourselves. + </p> + <p> + There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + As Albert’s uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained to ask him for + any. + </p> + <p> + Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat down on + the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never tried to have a + private lark of their very own with the Antiquities—‘A Private + Sale’, Albert’s uncle called it afterwards. But regrets, as nearly always + happens, were vain. Something had to be done. + </p> + <p> + But what? + </p> + <p> + Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of the gay + and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, heartless in their + youngness, they were playing tag. I don’t know how they could. Oswald + would not like to play tag when his brother and sister were in a hole, but + Oswald is an exception to some boys. + </p> + <p> + But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of Albert’s + uncle’s. + </p> + <p> + The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from the + leaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted with hard thinking, but + they could not think of anything. And it grew so dark that the moonlight + began to show. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice jumped up—just as Oswald was opening his mouth to say the + same thing—and said, ‘Of course—how silly! I know. Come on in, + Oswald.’ And they went on in. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just asked + carelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next day to buy + some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after one or two things. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the bailiff + from the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and to buy pigs. At + any other time Oswald would not have been able to bear to leave the + bailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now it was different. For he + and Alice had the weight on their bosoms of being thieves without having + meant it—and nothing, not even pigs, had power to charm the young + but honourable Oswald till that stain had been wiped away. + </p> + <p> + So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities’ house, and + Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly told us where the + President lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the unfortunate + brother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of Camperdown Villa. + </p> + <p> + When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. Then they + waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large room with books + and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking odds and ends in them. + Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means he stuck to anything, no matter + how ugly and silly, if only it was old. + </p> + <p> + He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very well, + he said, and asked what he could do for us. + </p> + <p> + Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to own himself + the ass he had been. But Alice was less delicately moulded. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, if you please, we are most awfully sorry, and we hope you’ll forgive + us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all the other poor + dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find nothing Roman—so + we put some pots and things in the barrow for you to find.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I perceived,’ said the President, stroking his white beard and smiling + most agreeably at us; ‘a harmless joke, my dear! Youth’s the season for + jesting. There’s no harm done—pray think no more about it. It’s very + honourable of you to come and apologize, I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + His brow began to wear the furrowed, anxious look of one who would fain be + rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before they + interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘We didn’t come for that. It’s MUCH worse. Those were two REAL + true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they aren’t ours. We + didn’t know they were real Roman. We wanted to sell the Antiquities—I + mean Antiquaries—and we were sold ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is serious,’ said the gentleman. ‘I suppose you’d know the—the + “jugs” if you saw them again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Anywhere,’ said Oswald, with the confidential rashness of one who does + not know what he is talking about. + </p> + <p> + Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the one we + were in, and beckoned us to follow. We found ourselves amid shelves and + shelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves—small ones—were + filled with the sort of jug we wanted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, like a + wicked cardinal, ‘which is it?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘I don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I should know if I had it in my hand.’ + </p> + <p> + The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and Alice + tried to look inside them. And one after another she shook her head and + gave them back. At last she said, ‘You didn’t WASH them?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Longchamps shuddered and said ‘No’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Alice, ‘there is something written with lead-pencil inside + both the jugs. I wish I hadn’t. I would rather you didn’t read it. I + didn’t know it would be a nice old gentleman like you would find it. I + thought it would be the younger gentleman with the thin legs and the + narrow smile.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Turnbull.’ The President seemed to recognize the description + unerringly. ‘Well, well—boys will be boys—girls, I mean. I + won’t be angry. Look at all the “jugs” and see if you can find yours.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice did—and the next one she looked at she said, ‘This is one’—and + two jugs further on she said, ‘This is the other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ the President said, ‘these are certainly the specimens which I + obtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will return them to + him. But it’s a disappointment. Yes, I think you must let me look inside.’ + </p> + <p> + He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘we can’t expect old heads on young shoulders. + You’re not the first who went forth to shear and returned shorn. Nor, it + appears, am I. Next time you have a Sale of Antiquities, take care that + you yourself are not “sold”. Good-day to you, my dear. Don’t let the + incident prey on your mind,’ he said to Alice. ‘Bless your heart, I was a + boy once myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye.’ + </p> + <p> + We were in time to see the pigs bought after all. + </p> + <p> + I asked Alice what on earth it was she’d scribbled inside the beastly + jugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she had written + ‘Sucks’ in one of the jugs, and ‘Sold again, silly’, in the other. + </p> + <p> + But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we have any + Antiquities to tea again, they shan’t find so much as a Greek waistcoat + button if we can help it. + </p> + <p> + Unless it’s the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For a man + of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can picture a very + different scene having been enacted over those rotten pots if the + President had been an otherwise sort of man. + </p> + <p> + But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress you by + drawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for yourself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR + </h2> + <p> + The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes were + very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, and he + touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little as + though he would rather not. + </p> + <p> + We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Tree + pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows—the + ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscated + after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox. + </p> + <p> + To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, in his + thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire masks. + </p> + <p> + Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the Moat + House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands at each + other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti + (that’s real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing among + the village people—but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked + it. + </p> + <p> + And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from Rome, + which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their mouths and + eyes. + </p> + <p> + So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in attacking + or defending a fort your real strength is not in your equipment, but in + your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Denny defended the fort. We + were much the strongest side, but that was how Dicky and Oswald picked up. + </p> + <p> + The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hit + Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only through + the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while the defending + party weren’t looking he sneaked up the wall at the back and shoved Oswald + off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now that it had lost its + gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besieged party, was of + course soon overpowered, and had to surrender. + </p> + <p> + Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert’s uncle brought us + a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman pottery we + tried to sell the Antiquities with. + </p> + <p> + The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun on the + big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in the heat. + </p> + <p> + We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty blot on the + fair scene. + </p> + <p> + When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I have + said, and remarked— + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, but if + you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way to the nearest + pub. It’s a dry day and no error.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Rose and Crown” is the best pub,’ said Dicky, ‘and the landlady is a + friend of ours. It’s about a mile if you go by the field path.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor’ love a duck!’ said the tramp, ‘a mile’s a long way, and walking’s a + dry job this ‘ere weather.’ We said we agreed with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my sacred,’ said the tramp, ‘if there was a pump handy I believe I’d + take a turn at it—I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn’t! Though + water always upsets me and makes my ‘and shaky.’ + </p> + <p> + We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainous + sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wall with + us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her long + deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend. + Besides the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it. And + we considerably outnumbered the tramp, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and the + tramp’s need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to the + hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges and + get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without when the + others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty. Meanwhile + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve got some ginger-beer; my brother’s getting it. I hope you won’t + mind drinking out of our glass. We can’t wash it, you know—unless we + rinse it out with a little ginger-beer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t ye do it, miss,’ he said eagerly; ‘never waste good liquor on + washing.’ + </p> + <p> + The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beer and + handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on his young + stomach to do this. + </p> + <p> + The tramp was really quite polite—one of Nature’s gentlemen, and a + man as well, we found out afterwards. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s to you!’ before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rim + rested on his nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Swelp me, but I WAS dry,’ he said. ‘Don’t seem to matter much what it is, + this weather, do it?—so long as it’s suthink wet. Well, here’s + thanking you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re very welcome,’ said Dora; ‘I’m glad you liked it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like it?’—said he. ‘I don’t suppose you know what it’s like to have + a thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free baths + and wash-houses and such! Why don’t someone start free DRINKS? He’d be a + ‘ero, he would. I’d vote for him any day of the week and one over. Ef yer + don’t objec I’ll set down a bit and put on a pipe.’ + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questions about + himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows—especially about + there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he dropped asleep + in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for that hadn’t acted + fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I don’t know if vestry + is singular or plural), and we went home. But before we went we held a + hurried council and collected what money we could from the little we had + with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an old envelope + Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowing middle of the + poor tramp’s sleeping waistcoat, so that he would find it when he woke. + None of the dogs said a single syllable while we were doing this, so we + knew they believed him to be poor but honest, and we always find it safe + to take their word for things like that. + </p> + <p> + As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwards + that those words of the poor tramp’s about free drinks had sunk deep in + all our hearts, and rankled there. + </p> + <p> + After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. People tell + you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just after meals, but + it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the stream that just + seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can’t get their feet into + the water properly because of the bushes, so we keep changing places. We + had got some liquorice root to chew. This helps thought. Dora broke a + peaceful silence with this speech— + </p> + <p> + ‘Free drinks.’ + </p> + <p> + The words awoke a response in every breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder someone doesn’t,’ H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly + toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadly + peril. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.,’ observed Alice. ‘It would be a + glorious act! I wish WE could.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What, sit still?’ asked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my child,’ replied Oswald, ‘most of us can do that when we try. Your + angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poor and + thirsty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for all of them,’ Alice said, ‘just a few. Change places now, Dicky. + My feet aren’t properly wet at all.’ + </p> + <p> + It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changers + have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight and + hold on for all they’re worth. But the hard task was accomplished and then + Alice went on— + </p> + <p> + ‘And we couldn’t do it for always, only a day or two—just while our + money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade’s the best, and you get a jolly lot + of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerely thirsty + persons go along the Dover Road every day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t be bad. We’ve got a little chink between us,’ said Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell us + about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. We + could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like All the + Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do let’s!’ + </p> + <p> + Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to make her + calm. + </p> + <p> + ‘We might do it, just for one day,’ Oswald said, ‘but it wouldn’t be much—only + a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of all the people + in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaid said when + she cried into the sea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know a piece of poetry about that,’ Denny said. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Small things are best. + Care and unrest + To wealth and rank are given, + But little things + On little wings— +</pre> + <p> + do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswald was + saying about the mermaid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Noel, coming out of a dream. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Free Drinks game.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘It’s a horrid shame + If the Free Drinks game + Doesn’t have a name. + You would be to blame + If anyone came + And—’ +</pre> + <p> + ‘Oh, shut up!’ remarked Dicky. ‘You’ve been making that rot up all the + time we’ve been talking instead of listening properly.’ Dicky hates + poetry. I don’t mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay’s and + Kipling’s and Noel’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a lot more—“lame” and “dame” and “name” and “game” and + things—and now I’ve forgotten it,’ Noel said in gloom. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ Alice answered, ‘it’ll come back to you in the silent + watches of the night; you see if it doesn’t. But really, Noel’s right, it + OUGHT to have a name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Free Drinks Company.’ ‘Thirsty Travellers’ Rest.’ ‘The Travellers’ Joy.’ + </p> + <p> + These names were suggested, but not cared for extra. + </p> + <p> + Then someone said—I think it was Oswald—‘Why not “The House + Beautiful”?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It can’t be a house, it must be in the road. It’ll only be a stall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Stall Beautiful” is simply silly,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + ‘The “Bar Beautiful” then,’ said Dicky, who knows what the ‘Rose and + Crown’ bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, wait a minute,’ cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like he + always does when he is trying to remember things. ‘I thought of something, + only Daisy tickled me and it’s gone—I know—let’s call it the + Benevolent Bar!’ + </p> + <p> + It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. ‘Benevolent’ + showed it was free and ‘Bar’ showed what was free; e.g. things to drink. + The ‘Benevolent Bar’ it was. + </p> + <p> + We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meant to + do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know what—and delays + are dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to spend our + money on something else. + </p> + <p> + The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hates tramps. + Most people do who keep fowls. Albert’s uncle was in London till the next + evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is always chock full + of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy. + </p> + <p> + Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the + Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of the + skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girls + sewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so we + added the girls’ striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turn up + so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful, especially + when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew’s + sewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, which + we did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before. + They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the + noise and ask bothering questions. + </p> + <p> + They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not easy. + While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got willow poles and + chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we could to put up the + awning. + </p> + <p> + When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the village + for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then we + made a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothing + else to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy’s to show + we belonged to the Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocent slumbers, + and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked down the day + before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to give drinks to as + many people as possible. + </p> + <p> + We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to brekker. + </p> + <p> + After break we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and after + filling it with clean water we just had to empty it again because it was + too heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the trysting-spot and left + H. O. and Noel to guard it while we went and fetched separate pails of + water; very heavy work, and no one who wasn’t really benevolent would have + bothered about it for an instant. Oswald alone carried three pails. So did + Dicky and the Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrels and stood up + three of them by the roadside, and put planks on them. This made a very + first-class table, and we covered it with the best tablecloth we could + find in the linen cupboard. We brought out several glasses and some + teacups—not the best ones, Oswald was firm about that—and the + kettle and spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, in case any weary tramp-woman + fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. and Noel had to go + down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; they had not + carried any of the water. And their having to go the second time was only + because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to put on the bar + to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The man at the shop + kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out of our next + week’s pocket-money. + </p> + <p> + Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but no one + said anything except the man who said, ‘Bloomin’ Sunday-school treat’, and + as it was too early in the day for anyone to be thirsty we did not stop + the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slaked without cost at + our Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened on our + breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard we had + made with ‘Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers’, in white + wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. We had meant + to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pin it to the + front of the tablecloth, because I am sorry to say the awning went wrong + from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into the road; it was + much too hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besides being no use. So + we had just to cover our benevolent heads with our hats, and take it in + turns to go into the shadow of the tree on the other side of the road. For + we had pitched our table on the sunny side of the way, of course, relying + on our broken-reed-like awning, and wishing to give it a fair chance. + </p> + <p> + Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody really + miserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress. + </p> + <p> + A man and woman were the first: they stopped and stared, but when Alice + said, ‘Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren’t you thirsty?’ they said, ‘No thank + you,’ and went on. Then came a person from the village—he didn’t + even say ‘Thank you’ when we asked him, and Oswald began to fear it might + be like the awful time when we wandered about on Christmas Day trying to + find poor persons and persuade them to eat our Conscience pudding. + </p> + <p> + But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald’s fears by being + willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, ‘Thank you, I’m + sure’ quite nicely. + </p> + <p> + After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty of thirsty + people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from the cross-road. + </p> + <p> + We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the dregs + ere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea. + </p> + <p> + More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn’t have it + because they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for his own + liquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn’t over and above, at + present; and others asked if we hadn’t any beer, and when we said ‘No’, + they said it showed what sort we were—as if the sort was not a good + one, which it is. + </p> + <p> + And another man said, ‘Slops again! You never get nothing for nothing, not + this side of heaven you don’t. Look at the bloomin’ blue ribbon on ‘em! + Oh, Lor’!’ and went on quite sadly without having a drink. + </p> + <p> + Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and we + hailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, and asked + him to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said we were a real good + sort. How different from the man who wanted the beer. Then he went on. + </p> + <p> + One thing I didn’t like, and that was the way boys began to gather. Of + course we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who was old + enough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three glasses of lemonade + and asked for another, Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you’ve had jolly well enough. You can’t be really thirsty after + all that lot.’ + </p> + <p> + The boy said, ‘Oh, can’t I? You’ll just see if I can’t,’ and went away. + Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than Oswald; and + they all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the four new ones, but he + was determined in his behaviour to the other one, and wouldn’t give him a + drop. Then the five of them went and sat on a gate a little way off and + kept laughing in a nasty way, and whenever a boy went by they called out— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, ‘ere’s a go,’ and as often as not the new boy would hang about + with them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly all had lemonade + we could see it had not made them friendly. + </p> + <p> + A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together and are + called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp coming down the + road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at the boys or the + beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the dogs with us, but of + course we had, because we had promised never to go out without them.) + Oswald said, ‘Hullo,’ and the tramp said, ‘Hullo.’ Then Alice said, ‘You + see we’ve taken your advice; we’re giving free drinks. Doesn’t it all look + nice?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It does that,’ said the tramp. ‘I don’t mind if I do.’ + </p> + <p> + So we gave him two glasses of lemonade succeedingly, and thanked him for + giving us the idea. He said we were very welcome, and if we’d no objection + he’d sit down a bit and put on a pipe. He did, and after talking a little + more he fell asleep. Drinking anything seemed to end in sleep with him. I + always thought it was only beer and things made people sleepy, but he was + not so. When he was asleep he rolled into the ditch, but it did not wake + him up. + </p> + <p> + The boys were getting very noisy, and they began to shout things, and to + make silly noises with their mouths, and when Oswald and Dicky went over + to them and told them to just chuck it, they were worse than ever. I think + perhaps Oswald and Dicky might have fought and settled them—though + there were eleven, yet back to back you can always do it against + overwhelming numbers in a book—only Alice called out— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oswald, here’s some more, come back!’ + </p> + <p> + We went. Three big men were coming down the road, very red and hot, and + not amiable-looking. They stopped in front of the Benevolent Bar and + slowly read the wadding and red-stuff label. + </p> + <p> + Then one of them said he was blessed, or something like that, and another + said he was too. The third one said, ‘Blessed or not, a drink’s a drink. + Blue ribbon, though, by ——’ (a word you ought not to say, + though it is in the Bible and the catechism as well). ‘Let’s have a + liquor, little missy.’ + </p> + <p> + The dogs were growling, but Oswald thought it best not to take any notice + of what the dogs said, but to give these men each a drink. So he did. They + drank, but not as if they cared about it very much, and then they set + their glasses down on the table, a liberty no one else had entered into, + and began to try and chaff Oswald. Oswald said in an undervoice to H. O.— + </p> + <p> + ‘Just take charge. I want to speak to the girls a sec. Call if you want + anything.’ And then he drew the others away, to say he thought there’d + been enough of it, and considering the boys and new three men, perhaps + we’d better chuck it and go home. We’d been benevolent nearly four hours + anyway. + </p> + <p> + While this conversation and the objections of the others were going on, H. + O. perpetuated an act which nearly wrecked the Benevolent Bar. + </p> + <p> + Of course Oswald was not an eye or ear witness of what happened, but from + what H. O. said in the calmer moments of later life, I think this was + about what happened. One of the big disagreeable men said to H. O.— + </p> + <p> + ‘Ain’t got such a thing as a drop o’ spirit, ‘ave yer?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. said no, we hadn’t, only lemonade and tea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lemonade and tea! blank’ (bad word I told you about) ‘and blazes,’ + replied the bad character, for such he afterwards proved to be. ‘What’s + THAT then?’ + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a bottle labelled Dewar’s whisky, which stood on the table + near the spirit-kettle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, is THAT what you want?’ said H. O. kindly. + </p> + <p> + The man is understood to have said he should bloomin’ well think so, but + H. O. is not sure about the ‘bloomin’. + </p> + <p> + He held out his glass with about half the lemonade in it, and H. O. + generously filled up the tumbler out of the bottle, labelled Dewar’s + whisky. The man took a great drink, and then suddenly he spat out what + happened to be left in his mouth just then, and began to swear. It was + then that Oswald and Dicky rushed upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + The man was shaking his fist in H. O.‘s face, and H. O. was still holding + on to the bottle we had brought out the methylated spirit in for the lamp, + in case of anyone wanting tea, which they hadn’t. ‘If I was Jim,’ said the + second ruffian, for such indeed they were, when he had snatched the bottle + from H. O. and smelt it, ‘I’d chuck the whole show over the hedge, so I + would, and you young gutter-snipes after it, so I wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw in a moment that in point of strength, if not numbers, he and + his party were out-matched, and the unfriendly boys were drawing gladly + near. It is no shame to signal for help when in distress—the best + ships do it every day. Oswald shouted ‘Help, help!’ Before the words were + out of his brave yet trembling lips our own tramp leapt like an antelope + from the ditch and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, what’s up?’ + </p> + <p> + The biggest of the three men immediately knocked him down. He lay still. + </p> + <p> + The biggest then said, ‘Come on—any more of you? Come on!’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald was so enraged at this cowardly attack that he actually hit out at + the big man—and he really got one in just above the belt. Then he + shut his eyes, because he felt that now all was indeed up. There was a + shout and a scuffle, and Oswald opened his eyes in astonishment at finding + himself still whole and unimpaired. Our own tramp had artfully simulated + insensibleness, to get the men off their guard, and then had suddenly got + his arms round a leg each of two of the men, and pulled them to the + ground, helped by Dicky, who saw his game and rushed in at the same time, + exactly like Oswald would have done if he had not had his eyes shut ready + to meet his doom. + </p> + <p> + The unpleasant boys shouted, and the third man tried to help his + unrespectable friends, now on their backs involved in a desperate struggle + with our own tramp, who was on top of them, accompanied by Dicky. It all + happened in a minute, and it was all mixed up. The dogs were growling and + barking—Martha had one of the men by the trouser leg and Pincher had + another; the girls were screaming like mad and the strange boys shouted + and laughed (little beasts!), and then suddenly our Pig-man came round the + corner, and two friends of his with him. He had gone and fetched them to + take care of us if anything unpleasant occurred. It was a very thoughtful, + and just like him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch the police!’ cried the Pig-man in noble tones, and H. O. started + running to do it. But the scoundrels struggled from under Dicky and our + tramp, shook off the dogs and some bits of trouser, and fled heavily down + the road. + </p> + <p> + Our Pig-man said, ‘Get along home!’ to the disagreeable boys, and ‘Shoo’d’ + them as if they were hens, and they went. H. O. ran back when they began + to go up the road, and there we were, all standing breathless in tears on + the scene of the late desperate engagement. Oswald gives you his word of + honour that his and Dicky’s tears were tears of pure rage. There are such + things as tears of pure rage. Anyone who knows will tell you so. + </p> + <p> + We picked up our own tramp and bathed the lump on his forehead with + lemonade. The water in the zinc bath had been upset in the struggle. Then + he and the Pig-man and his kind friends helped us carry our things home. + </p> + <p> + The Pig-man advised us on the way not to try these sort of kind actions + without getting a grown-up to help us. We’ve been advised this before, but + now I really think we shall never try to be benevolent to the poor and + needy again. At any rate not unless we know them very well first. + </p> + <p> + We have seen our own tramp often since. The Pig-man gave him a job. He has + got work to do at last. The Pig-man says he is not such a very bad chap, + only he will fall asleep after the least drop of drink. We know that is + his failing. We saw it at once. But it was lucky for us he fell asleep + that day near our benevolent bar. + </p> + <p> + I will not go into what my father said about it all. There was a good deal + in it about minding your own business—there generally is in most of + the talkings-to we get. But he gave our tramp a sovereign, and the Pig-man + says he went to sleep on it for a solid week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS + </h2> + <p> + The author of these few lines really does hope to goodness that no one + will be such an owl as to think from the number of things we did when we + were in the country, that we were wretched, neglected little children, + whose grown-up relations sparkled in the bright haunts of pleasure, and + whirled in the giddy what’s-its-name of fashion, while we were left to + weep forsaken at home. It was nothing of the kind, and I wish you to know + that my father was with us a good deal—and Albert’s uncle (who is + really no uncle of ours, but only of Albert next door when we lived in + Lewisham) gave up a good many of his valuable hours to us. And the father + of Denny and Daisy came now and then, and other people, quite as many as + we wished to see. And we had some very decent times with them; and enjoyed + ourselves very much indeed, thank you. In some ways the good times you + have with grown-ups are better than the ones you have by yourselves. At + any rate they are safer. It is almost impossible, then, to do anything + fatal without being pulled up short by a grown-up ere yet the deed is + done. And, if you are careful, anything that goes wrong can be looked on + as the grown-up’s fault. But these secure pleasures are not so interesting + to tell about as the things you do when there is no one to stop you on the + edge of the rash act. + </p> + <p> + It is curious, too, that many of our most interesting games happened when + grown-ups were far away. For instance when we were pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + It was just after the business of the Benevolent Bar, and it was a wet + day. It is not easy to amuse yourself indoors on a wet day as older people + seem to think, especially when you are far removed from your own home, and + haven’t got all your own books and things. The girls were playing Halma—which + is a beastly game—Noel was writing poetry, H. O. was singing ‘I + don’t know what to do’ to the tune of ‘Canaan’s happy shore’. It goes like + this, and is very tiresome to listen to— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘I don’t know what to do—oo—oo—oo! + I don’t know what to do—oo—oo! + It IS a beastly rainy day + And I don’t know what to do.’ +</pre> + <p> + The rest of us were trying to make him shut up. We put a carpet bag over + his head, but he went on inside it; and then we sat on him, but he sang + under us; we held him upside down and made him crawl head first under the + sofa, but when, even there, he kept it up, we saw that nothing short of + violence would induce him to silence, so we let him go. And then he said + we had hurt him, and we said we were only in fun, and he said if we were + he wasn’t, and ill feeling might have grown up even out of a playful + brotherly act like ours had been, only Alice chucked the Halma and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let dogs delight. Come on—let’s play something.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Dora said, ‘Yes, but look here. Now we’re together I do want to say + something. What about the Wouldbegoods Society?’ + </p> + <p> + Many of us groaned, and one said, ‘Hear! hear!’ I will not say which one, + but it was not Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, but really,’ Dora said, ‘I don’t want to be preachy—but you + know we DID say we’d try to be good. And it says in a book I was reading + only yesterday that NOT being naughty is not enough. You must BE good. And + we’ve hardly done anything. The Golden Deed book’s almost empty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we have a book of leaden deeds?’ said Noel, coming out of his + poetry, ‘then there’d be plenty for Alice to write about if she wants to, + or brass or zinc or aluminium deeds? We shan’t ever fill the book with + golden ones.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. had rolled himself in the red tablecloth and said Noel was only + advising us to be naughty, and again peace waved in the balance. But Alice + said, ‘Oh, H. O., DON’T—he didn’t mean that; but really and truly, I + wish wrong things weren’t so interesting. You begin to do a noble act, and + then it gets so exciting, and before you know where you are you are doing + something wrong as hard as you can lick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And enjoying it too’ Dick said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s very curious,’ Denny said, ‘but you don’t seem to be able to be + certain inside yourself whether what you’re doing is right if you happen + to like doing it, but if you don’t like doing it you know quite well. I + only thought of that just now. I wish Noel would make a poem about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ Noel said; ‘it began about a crocodile but it is finishing itself + up quite different from what I meant it to at first. Just wait a minute.’ + </p> + <p> + He wrote very hard while his kind brothers and sisters and his little + friends waited the minute he had said, and then he read: + </p> + <pre> + ‘The crocodile is very wise, + He lives in the Nile with little eyes, + He eats the hippopotamus too, + And if he could he would eat up you. + + ‘The lovely woods and starry skies + He looks upon with glad surprise! + He sees the riches of the east, + And the tiger and lion, kings of beast. + + ‘So let all be good and beware + Of saying shan’t and won’t and don’t care; + For doing wrong is easier far + Than any of the right things I know about are. +</pre> + <p> + And I couldn’t make it king of beasts because of it not rhyming with east, + so I put the s off beasts on to king. It comes even in the end.’ + </p> + <p> + We all said it was a very nice piece of poetry. Noel gets really ill if + you don’t like what he writes, and then he said, ‘If it’s trying that’s + wanted, I don’t care how hard we TRY to be good, but we may as well do it + some nice way. Let’s be Pilgrim’s Progress, like I wanted to at first.’ + </p> + <p> + And we were all beginning to say we didn’t want to, when suddenly Dora + said, ‘Oh, look here! I know. We’ll be the Canterbury Pilgrims. People + used to go pilgrimages to make themselves good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With peas in their shoes,’ the Dentist said. ‘It’s in a piece of poetry—only + the man boiled his peas—which is quite unfair.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes,’ said H. O., ‘and cocked hats.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not cocked—cockled’—it was Alice who said this. ‘And they had + staffs and scrips, and they told each other tales. We might as well.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald and Dora had been reading about the Canterbury Pilgrims in a book + called A Short History of the English People. It is not at all short + really—three fat volumes—but it has jolly good pictures. It + was written by a gentleman named Green. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I’ll be the Knight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll be the wife of Bath,’ Dora said. ‘What will you be, Dicky?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I don’t care, I’ll be Mr Bath if you like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t know much about the people,’ Alice said. ‘How many were there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirty,’ Oswald replied, ‘but we needn’t be all of them. There’s a + Nun-Priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that a man or a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said he could not be sure by the picture, but Alice and Noel could + be it between them. So that was settled. Then we got the book and looked + at the dresses to see if we could make up dresses for the parts. At first + we thought we would, because it would be something to do, and it was a + very wet day; but they looked difficult, especially the Miller’s. Denny + wanted to be the Miller, but in the end he was the Doctor, because it was + next door to Dentist, which is what we call him for short. Daisy was to be + the Prioress—because she is good, and has ‘a soft little red mouth’, + and H. O. WOULD be the Manciple (I don’t know what that is), because the + picture of him is bigger than most of the others, and he said Manciple was + a nice portmanteau word—half mandarin and half disciple. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s get the easiest parts of the dresses ready first.’ Alice said—‘the + pilgrims’ staffs and hats and the cockles.’ + </p> + <p> + So Oswald and Dicky braved the fury of the elements and went into the wood + beyond the orchard to cut ash-sticks. We got eight jolly good long ones. + Then we took them home, and the girls bothered till we changed our + clothes, which were indeed sopping with the elements we had faced. + </p> + <p> + Then we peeled the sticks. They were nice and white at first, but they + soon got dirty when we carried them. It is a curious thing: however often + you wash your hands they always seem to come off on anything white. And we + nailed paper rosettes to the tops of them. That was the nearest we could + get to cockle-shells. + </p> + <p> + ‘And we may as well have them there as on our hats,’ Alice said. ‘And + let’s call each other by our right names to-day, just to get into it. + Don’t you think so, Knight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yea, Nun-Priest,’ Oswald was replying, but Noel said she was only half + the Nun-Priest, and again a threat of unpleasantness darkened the air. But + Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be a piggy-wiggy, Noel, dear; you can have it all, I don’t want it. + I’ll just be a plain pilgrim, or Henry who killed Becket.’ + </p> + <p> + So she was called the Plain Pilgrim, and she did not mind. + </p> + <p> + We thought of cocked hats, but they are warm to wear, and the big garden + hats that make you look like pictures on the covers of plantation songs + did beautifully. We put cockle-shells on them. Sandals we did try, with + pieces of oil-cloth cut the shape of soles and fastened with tape, but the + dust gets into your toes so, and we decided boots were better for such a + long walk. Some of the pilgrims who were very earnest decided to tie their + boots with white tape crossed outside to pretend sandals. Denny was one of + these earnest palmers. As for dresses, there was no time to make them + properly, and at first we thought of nightgowns; but we decided not to, in + case people in Canterbury were not used to that sort of pilgrim nowadays. + We made up our minds to go as we were—or as we might happen to be + next day. + </p> + <p> + You will be ready to believe we hoped next day would be fine. It was. + </p> + <p> + Fair was the morn when the pilgrims arose and went down to breakfast. + Albert’s uncle had had brekker early and was hard at work in his study. We + heard his quill pen squeaking when we listened at the door. It is not + wrong to listen at doors when there is only one person inside, because + nobody would tell itself secrets aloud when it was alone. + </p> + <p> + We got lunch from the housekeeper, Mrs Pettigrew. She seems almost to LIKE + us all to go out and take our lunch with us. Though I should think it must + be very dull for her all alone. I remember, though, that Eliza, our late + general at Lewisham, was just the same. We took the dear dogs of course. + Since the Tower of Mystery happened we are not allowed to go anywhere + without the escort of these faithful friends of man. We did not take + Martha, because bull-dogs do not like walks. Remember this if you ever + have one of those valuable animals. + </p> + <p> + When we were all ready, with our big hats and cockle-shells, and our + staves and our tape sandals, the pilgrims looked very nice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Only we haven’t any scrips,’ Dora said. ‘What is a scrip?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think it’s something to read. A roll of parchment or something.’ + </p> + <p> + So we had old newspapers rolled up, and carried them in our hands. We took + the Globe and the Westminster Gazette because they are pink and green. The + Dentist wore his white sandshoes, sandalled with black tape, and bare + legs. They really looked almost as good as bare feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘We OUGHT to have peas in our shoes,’ he said. But we did not think so. We + knew what a very little stone in your boot will do, let alone peas. + </p> + <p> + Of course we knew the way to go to Canterbury, because the old Pilgrims’ + Road runs just above our house. It is a very pretty road, narrow, and + often shady. It is nice for walking, but carts do not like it because it + is rough and rutty; so there is grass growing in patches on it. + </p> + <p> + I have said that it was a fine day, which means that it was not raining, + but the sun did not shine all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘’Tis well, O Knight,’ said Alice, ‘that the orb of day shines not in undi—what’s-its-name?—splendour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thou sayest sooth, Plain Pilgrim,’ replied Oswald. ‘’Tis jolly warm even + as it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish I wasn’t two people,’ Noel said, ‘it seems to make me hotter. I + think I’ll be a Reeve or something.’ + </p> + <p> + But we would not let him, and we explained that if he hadn’t been so + beastly particular Alice would have been half of him, and he had only + himself to thank if being all of a Nun-Priest made him hot. + </p> + <p> + But it WAS warm certainly, and it was some time since we’d gone so far in + boots. Yet when H. O. complained we did our duty as pilgrims and made him + shut up. He did as soon as Alice said that about whining and grizzling + being below the dignity of a Manciple. + </p> + <p> + It was so warm that the Prioress and the wife of Bath gave up walking with + their arms round each other in their usual silly way (Albert’s uncle calls + it Laura Matildaing), and the Doctor and Mr Bath had to take their jackets + off and carry them. + </p> + <p> + I am sure if an artist or a photographer, or any person who liked + pilgrims, had seen us he would have been very pleased. The paper + cockle-shells were first-rate, but it was awkward having them on the top + of the staffs, because they got in your way when you wanted the staff to + use as a walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + We stepped out like a man all of us, and kept it up as well as we could in + book-talk, and at first all was merry as a dinner-bell; but presently + Oswald, who was the ‘very perfect gentle knight’, could not help noticing + that one of us was growing very silent and rather pale, like people are + when they have eaten something that disagrees with them before they are + quite sure of the fell truth. + </p> + <p> + So he said, ‘What’s up, Dentist, old man?’ quite kindly and like a perfect + knight, though, of course, he was annoyed with Denny. It is sickening when + people turn pale in the middle of a game and everything is spoiled, and + you have to go home, and tell the spoiler how sorry you are that he is + knocked up, and pretend not to mind about the game being spoiled. + </p> + <p> + Denny said, ‘Nothing’, but Oswald knew better. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice said, ‘Let’s rest a bit, Oswald, it IS hot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir Oswald, if you please, Plain Pilgrim,’ returned her brother + dignifiedly. ‘Remember I’m a knight.’ + </p> + <p> + So then we sat down and had lunch, and Denny looked better. We played + adverbs, and twenty questions, and apprenticing your son, for a bit in the + shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail if we meant to make the + port of Canterbury that night. Of course, pilgrims reck not of ports, but + Dicky never does play the game thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right and quite + early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently Oswald saw, beyond + any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shoes hurt you, Dentist?’ he said, still with kind striving cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much—it’s all right,’ returned the other. + </p> + <p> + So on we went—but we were all a bit tired now—and the sun was + hotter and hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to sing to + keep up our spirits. We sang ‘The British Grenadiers’ and ‘John Brown’s + Body’, which is grand to march to, and a lot of others. We were just + starting on ‘Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching’, when Denny + stopped short. He stood first on one foot and then on the other, and + suddenly screwed up his face and put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down + on a heap of stones by the roadside. When we pulled his hands down he was + actually crying. The author does not wish to say it is babyish to cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever is up?’ we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to get him + to say, but he only went on howling, and said it was nothing, only would + we go on and leave him, and call for him as we came back. + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the stomach-ache, and + he did not like to say so before all of us, so he sent the others away and + told them to walk on a bit. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, ‘Now, Denny, don’t be a young ass. What is it? Is it + stomach-ache?’ + </p> + <p> + And Denny stopped crying to say ‘No!’ as loud as he could. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ Oswald said, ‘look here, you’re spoiling the whole thing. + Don’t be a jackape, Denny. What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t tell the others if I tell you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not if you say not,’ Oswald answered in kindly tones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s my shoes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take them off, man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t laugh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘NO!’ cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to see why + he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble gentleness began to + undo the black-tape sandals. + </p> + <p> + Denny let him, crying hard all the time. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! Of all the—’ he said in proper indignation. + </p> + <p> + Denny quailed—though he said he did not—but then he doesn’t + know what quailing is, and if Denny did not quail then Oswald does not + know what quailing is either. + </p> + <p> + For when Oswald took the shoe off he naturally chucked it down and gave it + a kick, and a lot of little pinky yellow things rolled out. And Oswald + look closer at the interesting sight. And the little things were SPLIT + peas. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you’ll tell me,’ said the gentle knight, with the politeness of + despair, ‘why on earth you’ve played the goat like this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t be angry,’ Denny said; and now his shoes were off, he curled + and uncurled his toes and stopped crying. ‘I KNEW pilgrims put peas in + their shoes—and—oh, I wish you wouldn’t laugh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not,’ said Oswald, still with bitter politeness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be better + than all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to you’d want to + too, and you wouldn’t when I said it first. So I just put some peas in my + pocket and dropped one or two at a time into my shoes when you weren’t + looking.’ + </p> + <p> + In his secret heart Oswald said, ‘Greedy young ass.’ For it IS greedy to + want to have more of anything than other people, even goodness. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly Oswald said nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see’—Denny went on—‘I do want to be good. And if + pilgriming is to do you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn’t + mind being hurt in my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. And + besides, I wanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say I don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you’re quite good enough,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch back the others—no, + they won’t laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. But + Oswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old enough to see + that being good was all very well, but after all you had to get the boy + home somehow. + </p> + <p> + When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right—someone will give me a lift.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift,’ Dicky + said, and he did not speak lovingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘So it can,’ said Denny, ‘when it’s your feet. I shall easily get a lift + home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not here you won’t,’ said Alice. ‘No one goes down this road; but the + high road’s just round the corner, where you see the telegraph wires.’ + </p> + <p> + Dickie and Oswald made a sedan chair and carried Denny to the high road, + and we sat down in a ditch to wait. For a long time nothing went by but a + brewer’s dray. We hailed it, of course, but the man was so sound asleep + that our hails were vain, and none of us thought soon enough about + springing like a flash to the horses’ heads, though we all thought of it + directly the dray was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + So we had to keep on sitting there by the dusty road, and more than one + pilgrim was heard to say it wished we had never come. Oswald was not one + of those who uttered this useless wish. + </p> + <p> + At last, just when despair was beginning to eat into the vital parts of + even Oswald, there was a quick tap-tapping of horses’ feet on the road, + and a dogcart came in sight with a lady in it all alone. + </p> + <p> + We hailed her like the desperate shipwrecked mariners in the long-boat + hail the passing sail. + </p> + <p> + She pulled up. She was not a very old lady—twenty-five we found out + afterwards her age was—and she looked jolly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s this poor little boy,’ Dora said, pointing to the Dentist, who had + gone to sleep in the dry ditch, with his mouth open as usual. ‘His feet + hurt him so, and will you give him a lift?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why are you all rigged out like this?’ asked the lady, looking at our + cockle-shells and sandals and things. We told her. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how has he hurt his feet?’ she asked. And we told her that. + </p> + <p> + She looked very kind. ‘Poor little chap,’ she said. ‘Where do you want to + go?’ + </p> + <p> + We told her that too. We had no concealments from this lady. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I have to go on to—what is its name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Canterbury,’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes, Canterbury,’ she said; ‘it’s only about half a mile. I’ll take + the poor little pilgrim—and, yes, the three girls. You boys must + walk. Then we’ll have tea and see the sights, and I’ll drive you home—at + least some of you. How will that do?’ + </p> + <p> + We thanked her very much indeed, and said it would do very nicely. + </p> + <p> + Then we helped Denny into the cart, and the girls got up, and the red + wheels of the cart spun away through the dust. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish it had been an omnibus the lady was driving,’ said H. O., ‘then we + could all have had a ride.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you be so discontented,’ Dicky said. And Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to be jolly thankful you haven’t got to carry Denny all the way + home on your back. You’d have had to if you’d been out alone with him.’ + </p> + <p> + When we got to Canterbury it was much smaller than we expected, and the + cathedral not much bigger than the Church that is next to the Moat House. + There seemed to be only one big street, but we supposed the rest of the + city was hidden away somewhere. There was a large inn, with a green before + it, and the red-wheeled dogcart was standing in the stableyard and the + lady, with Denny and the others, sitting on the benches in the porch, + looking out for us. The inn was called the ‘George and Dragon’, and it + made me think of the days when there were coaches and highwaymen and + foot-pads and jolly landlords, and adventures at country inns, like you + read about. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve ordered tea,’ said the lady. ‘Would you like to wash your hands?’ + </p> + <p> + We saw that she wished us to, so we said yes, we would. The girls and + Denny were already much cleaner than when we parted from them. + </p> + <p> + There was a courtyard to the inn and a wooden staircase outside the house. + We were taken up this, and washed our hands in a big room with a fourpost + wooden bed and dark red hangings—just the sort of hangings that + would not show the stains of gore in the dear old adventurous times. + </p> + <p> + Then we had tea in a great big room with wooden chairs and tables, very + polished and old. + </p> + <p> + It was a very nice tea, with lettuces, and cold meat, and three kinds of + jam, as well as cake, and new bread, which we are not allowed at home. + </p> + <p> + While tea was being had, the lady talked to us. She was very kind. + </p> + <p> + There are two sorts of people in the world, besides others; one sort + understand what you’re driving at, and the other don’t. This lady was the + one sort. + </p> + <p> + After everyone had had as much to eat as they could possibly want, the + lady said, ‘What was it you particularly wanted to see at Canterbury?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cathedral,’ Alice said, ‘and the place where Thomas A Becket was + murdered.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the Danejohn,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + Oswald wanted to see the walls, because he likes the Story of St Alphege + and the Danes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said the lady, and she put on her hat; it was a really + sensible one—not a blob of fluffy stuff and feathers put on sideways + and stuck on with long pins, and no shade to your face, but almost as big + as ours, with a big brim and red flowers, and black strings to tie under + your chin to keep it from blowing off. + </p> + <p> + Then we went out all together to see Canterbury. Dicky and Oswald took it + in turns to carry Denny on their backs. The lady called him ‘The Wounded + Comrade’. + </p> + <p> + We went first to the church. Oswald, whose quick brain was easily aroused + to suspicions, was afraid the lady might begin talking in the church, but + she did not. The church door was open. I remember mother telling us once + it was right and good for churches to be left open all day, so that tired + people could go in and be quiet, and say their prayers, if they wanted to. + But it does not seem respectful to talk out loud in church. (See Note A.) + </p> + <p> + When we got outside the lady said, ‘You can imagine how on the chancel + steps began the mad struggle in which Becket, after hurling one of his + assailants, armour and all, to the ground—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would have been much cleverer,’ H. O. interrupted, ‘to hurl him + without his armour, and leave that standing up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on,’ said Alice and Oswald, when they had given H. O. a withering + glance. And the lady did go on. She told us all about Becket, and then + about St Alphege, who had bones thrown at him till he died, because he + wouldn’t tax his poor people to please the beastly rotten Danes. + </p> + <p> + And Denny recited a piece of poetry he knows called ‘The Ballad of + Canterbury’. + </p> + <p> + It begins about Danish warships snake-shaped, and ends about doing as + you’d be done by. It is long, but it has all the beef-bones in it, and all + about St Alphege. + </p> + <p> + Then the lady showed us the Danejohn, and it was like an oast-house. And + Canterbury walls that Alphege defied the Danes from looked down on a quite + common farmyard. The hospital was like a barn, and other things were like + other things, but we went all about and enjoyed it very much. The lady was + quite amusing, besides sometimes talking like a real cathedral guide I met + afterwards. (See Note B.) When at last we said we thought Canterbury was + very small considering, the lady said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it seemed a pity to come so far and not at least hear something + about Canterbury.’ + </p> + <p> + And then at once we knew the worst, and Alice said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What a horrid sell!’ But Oswald, with immediate courteousness, said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care. You did it awfully well.’ And he did not say, though he + owns he thought of it— + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew it all the time,’ though it was a great temptation. Because really + it was more than half true. He had felt from the first that this was too + small for Canterbury. (See Note C.) + </p> + <p> + The real name of the place was Hazelbridge, and not Canterbury at all. We + went to Canterbury another time. (See Note D.) We were not angry with the + lady for selling us about it being Canterbury, because she had really kept + it up first-rate. And she asked us if we minded, very handsomely, and we + said we liked it. But now we did not care how soon we got home. The lady + saw this, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, our chariots are ready, and our horses caparisoned.’ + </p> + <p> + That is a first-rate word out of a book. It cheered Oswald up, and he + liked her for using it, though he wondered why she said chariots. When we + got back to the inn I saw her dogcart was there, and a grocer’s cart too, + with B. Munn, grocer, Hazelbridge, on it. She took the girls in her cart, + and the boys went with the grocer. His horse was a very good one to go, + only you had to hit it with the wrong end of the whip. But the cart was + very bumpety. + </p> + <p> + The evening dews were falling—at least, I suppose so, but you do not + feel dew in a grocer’s cart—when we reached home. We all thanked the + lady very much, and said we hoped we should see her again some day. She + said she hoped so. + </p> + <p> + The grocer drove off, and when we had all shaken hands with the lady and + kissed her, according as we were boys or girls, or little boys, she + touched up her horse and drove away. + </p> + <p> + She turned at the corner to wave to us, and just as we had done waving, + and were turning into the house, Albert’s uncle came into our midst like a + whirling wind. He was in flannels, and his shirt had no stud in at the + neck, and his hair was all rumpled up and his hands were inky, and we knew + he had left off in the middle of a chapter by the wildness of his eye. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who was that lady?’ he said. ‘Where did you meet her?’ + </p> + <p> + Mindful, as ever, of what he was told, Oswald began to tell the story from + the beginning. + </p> + <p> + ‘The other day, protector of the poor,’ he began; ‘Dora and I were reading + about the Canterbury pilgrims...’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought Albert’s uncle would be pleased to find his instructions + about beginning at the beginning had borne fruit, but instead he + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stow it, you young duffer! Where did you meet her?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald answered briefly, in wounded accents, ‘Hazelbridge.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Albert’s uncle rushed upstairs three at a time, and as he went he + called out to Oswald— + </p> + <p> + ‘Get out my bike, old man, and blow up the back tyre.’ + </p> + <p> + I am sure Oswald was as quick as anyone could have been, but long ere the + tyre was thoroughly blowed Albert’s uncle appeared, with a collar-stud and + tie and blazer, and his hair tidy, and wrenching the unoffending machine + from Oswald’s surprised fingers. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle finished pumping up the tyre, and then flinging himself + into the saddle he set off, scorching down the road at a pace not + surpassed by any highwayman, however black and high-mettled his steed. We + were left looking at each other. ‘He must have recognized her,’ Dicky + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps,’ Noel said, ‘she is the old nurse who alone knows the dark + secret of his highborn birth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not old enough, by chalks,’ Oswald said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said Alice, ‘if she holds the secret of the will + that will make him rolling in long-lost wealth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder if he’ll catch her,’ Noel said. ‘I’m quite certain all his + future depends on it. Perhaps she’s his long-lost sister, and the estate + was left to them equally, only she couldn’t be found, so it couldn’t be + shared up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps he’s only in love with her,’ Dora said, ‘parted by cruel Fate at + an early age, he has ranged the wide world ever since trying to find her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope to goodness he hasn’t—anyway, he’s not ranged since we knew + him—never further than Hastings,’ Oswald said. ‘We don’t want any of + that rot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What rot?’ Daisy asked. And Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Getting married, and all that sort of rubbish.’ + </p> + <p> + And Daisy and Dora were the only ones that didn’t agree with him. Even + Alice owned that being bridesmaids must be fairly good fun. It’s no good. + You may treat girls as well as you like, and give them every comfort and + luxury, and play fair just as if they were boys, but there is something + unmanly about the best of girls. They go silly, like milk goes sour, + without any warning. + </p> + <p> + When Albert’s uncle returned he was very hot, with a beaded brow, but pale + as the Dentist when the peas were at their worst. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you catch her?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle’s brow looked black as the cloud that thunder will + presently break from. ‘No,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she your long-lost nurse?’ H. O. went on, before we could stop him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Long-lost grandmother! I knew the lady long ago in India,’ said Albert’s + uncle, as he left the room, slamming the door in a way we should be + forbidden to. + </p> + <p> + And that was the end of the Canterbury Pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + As for the lady, we did not then know whether she was his long-lost + grandmother that he had known in India or not, though we thought she + seemed youngish for the part. We found out afterwards whether she was or + not, but that comes in another part. His manner was not the one that makes + you go on asking questions. The Canterbury Pilgriming did not exactly make + us good, but then, as Dora said, we had not done anything wrong that day. + So we were twenty-four hours to the good. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note A.—Afterwards we went and saw real Canterbury. It is +very large. A disagreeable man showed us round the cathedral, and jawed +all the time quite loud as if it wasn’t a church. I remember one thing +he said. It was this: +</pre> + <p> + ‘This is the Dean’s Chapel; it was the Lady Chapel in the wicked days when + people used to worship the Virgin Mary.’ + </p> + <p> + And H. O. said, ‘I suppose they worship the Dean now?’ + </p> + <p> + Some strange people who were there laughed out loud. I think this is worse + in church than not taking your cap off when you come in, as H. O. forgot + to do, because the cathedral was so big he didn’t think it was a church. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note B. (See Note C.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note C. (See Note D.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note D. (See Note E.) +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Note E. (See Note A.) +</pre> + <p> + This ends the Canterbury Pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON’S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED + </h2> + <p> + Albert’s uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when we + became Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart with red + wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost grandmother he had known + years ago in India, he spent not nearly so much of his time in writing, + and he used to shave every morning instead of only when requisite, as in + earlier days. And he was always going out on his bicycle in his new + Norfolk suit. We are not so unobserving as grown-up people make out. We + knew well enough he was looking for the long-lost. And we jolly well + wished he might find her. Oswald, always full of sympathy with misfortune, + however undeserved, had himself tried several times to find the lady. So + had the others. But all this is what they call a digression; it has + nothing to do with the dragon’s teeth I am now narrating. + </p> + <p> + It began with the pig dying—it was the one we had for the circus, + but it having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its illness + and death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and perhaps if we + hadn’t made it run so that day it might have been spared to us. But Oswald + cannot pretend that people were right just because they happen to be dead, + and as long as that pig was alive we all knew well enough that it was it + that made us run—and not us it. + </p> + <p> + The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made the tombstone + for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner we took a turn at + digging, because we like to be useful, and besides, when you dig you never + know what you may turn up. I knew a man once that found a gold ring on the + point of his fork when he was digging potatoes, and you know how we found + two half-crowns ourselves once when we were digging for treasure. + </p> + <p> + Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were sitting on + the gravel and telling him how to do it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Work with a will,’ Dicky said, yawning. + </p> + <p> + Alice said, ‘I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig without + finding something. I think I’d rather it was a secret passage than + anything.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying. + </p> + <p> + ‘A secret’s nothing when you’ve found it out. Look at the secret + staircase. It’s no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of its + squeaking. I’d rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for when we were + little.’ It was really only last year, but you seem to grow old very + quickly after you have once passed the prime of your youth, which is at + ten, I believe. + </p> + <p> + ‘How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist soldiers + foully done to death by nasty Ironsides?’ Noel asked, with his mouth full + of plum. + </p> + <p> + ‘If they were really dead it wouldn’t matter,’ Dora said. ‘What I’m afraid + of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your legs when you’re + going upstairs to bed.’ ‘Skeletons can’t walk,’ Alice said in a hurry; + ‘you know they can’t, Dora.’ + </p> + <p> + And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what she had. + The things you are frightened of, or even those you would rather not meet + in the dark, should never be mentioned before the little ones, or else + they cry when it comes to bed-time, and say it was because of what you + said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shan’t find anything. No jolly fear,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, and it + felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that we had found + that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, seemed to be longish; + longer, that is, than a pot of gold would naturally be. And as I uncovered + it I saw that it was not at all pot-of-gold-colour, but like a bone + Pincher has buried. So Oswald said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It IS the skeleton.’ + </p> + <p> + The girls all drew back, and Alice said, ‘Oswald, I wish you wouldn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it up, with + both hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a dragon’s head,’ Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. + </p> + <p> + It was long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth sticking + in the jaw. + </p> + <p> + Bill came back just then and said it was a horse’s head, but H. O. and + Noel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has ever seen + had a head at all that shape. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who showed me + how to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him about ferrets, so + he went off and Dicky and Denny and Alice with him. Also Daisy and Dora + went off to finish reading Ministering Children. So H. O. and Noel were + left with the bony head. They took it away. + </p> + <p> + The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But just + before breakfast Noel and H. O. came in, looking hot and anxious. They had + got up early and had not washed at all—not even their hands and + faces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the others saw it, and with + proper delicate feeling pretended not to have. + </p> + <p> + When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O. in obedience to the secret + signal, Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘You know that dragon’s head yesterday?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ Oswald said quickly, but not crossly—the two things are + quite different. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed + dragon’s teeth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They came up armed men,’ said H. O., but Noel sternly bade him shut up, + and Oswald said ‘Well,’ again. If he spoke impatiently it was because he + smelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ Noel went on, ‘what do you suppose would have come up if we’d + sowed those dragon’s teeth we found yesterday?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, nothing, you young duffer,’ said Oswald, who could now smell the + coffee. ‘All that isn’t History it’s Humbug. Come on in to brekker.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s NOT humbug,’ H. O. cried, ‘it is history. We DID sow—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up,’ said Noel again. ‘Look here, Oswald. We did sow those dragon’s + teeth in Randall’s ten-acre meadow, and what do you think has come up?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Toadstools I should think,’ was Oswald’s contemptible rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + ‘They have come up a camp of soldiers,’ said Noel—ARMED MEN. So you + see it WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it has + come up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that helped it along.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve—his brother or his ears. + So, disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way to the + bacon and the banqueting hall. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. O. But + after the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good elder brother + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?’ + </p> + <p> + So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions of doubt. + It was Dicky who observed— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go and have a squint at Randall’s ten-acre, anyhow. I saw a hare + there the other day.’ + </p> + <p> + We went. It is some little way, and as we went, disbelief reigned superb + in every breast except Noel’s and H. O.‘s, so you will see that even the + ready pen of the present author cannot be expected to describe to you his + variable sensations when he got to the top of the hill and suddenly saw + that his little brothers had spoken the truth. I do not mean that they + generally tell lies, but people make mistakes sometimes, and the effect is + the same as lies if you believe them. + </p> + <p> + There WAS a camp there with real tents and soldiers in grey and red + tunics. I daresay the girls would have said coats. We stood in ambush, too + astonished even to think of lying in it, though of course we know that + this is customary. The ambush was the wood on top of the little hill, + between Randall’s ten-acre meadow and Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. + </p> + <p> + ‘There would be cover here for a couple of regiments,’ whispered Oswald, + who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of a born + general. + </p> + <p> + Alice merely said ‘Hist’, and we went down to mingle with the troops as + though by accident, and seek for information. + </p> + <p> + The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a sort of + cauldron thing like witches brew bats in. + </p> + <p> + We went up to him and said, ‘Who are you? Are you English, or are you the + enemy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re the enemy,’ he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being what he + was. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a foreigner. + </p> + <p> + ‘The enemy!’ Oswald echoed in shocked tones. It is a terrible thing to a + loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy cleaning a pot in an English + field, with English sand, and looking as much at home as if he was in his + foreign fastnesses. + </p> + <p> + The enemy seemed to read Oswald’s thoughts with deadly unerringness. He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. They are + trying to keep us out of Maidstone.’ + </p> + <p> + After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth going + on with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in reading Oswald’s + innermost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other things, or he would + never have given away his secret plans like this, for he must have known + from our accents that we were Britons to the backbone. Or perhaps (Oswald + thought this, and it made his blood at once boil and freeze, which our + uncle had told us was possible, but only in India), perhaps he thought + that Maidstone was already as good as taken and it didn’t matter what he + said. While Oswald was debating within his intellect what to say next, and + how to say it so as to discover as many as possible of the enemy’s dark + secrets, Noel said— + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you get here? You weren’t here yesterday at tea-time.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I daresay it does seem quick work—the camp seems as if it had + sprung up in the night, doesn’t it?—like a mushroom.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. The + words ‘sprung up in the night’ seemed to touch a string in every heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ whispered Noel, ‘he won’t tell us how he came here. NOW, is it + humbug or history?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up and not + bother, remarked, ‘Then you’re an invading army?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the soldier, ‘we’re a skeleton battalion, as a matter of + fact, but we’re invading all right enough.’ + </p> + <p> + And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as the + quick-witted Oswald’s had done earlier in the interview. Even H. O. opened + his mouth and went the colour of mottled soap; he is so fat that this is + the nearest he can go to turning pale. Denny said, ‘But you don’t look + like skeletons.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier stared, then he laughed and said, ‘Ah, that’s the padding in + our tunics. You should see us in the grey dawn taking our morning bath in + a bucket.’ It was a dreadful picture for the imagination. A skeleton, with + its bones all loose most likely, bathing anyhow in a pail. There was a + silence while we thought it over. + </p> + <p> + Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about taking + Maidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald’s jacket behind, and he had + kept on not taking any notice. But now he could not stand it any longer, + so he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what is it?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that he + nearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, ‘Come along, don’t + stay parlaying with the foe. He’s only talking to you to gain time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for?’ said Oswald. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, so that we shouldn’t warn the other army, you silly,’ Alice said, + and Oswald was so upset by what she said, that he forgot to be properly + angry with her for the wrong word she used. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we ought to warn them at home,’ she said—’ suppose the Moat + House was burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the foe?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice turned boldly to the soldier. ‘DO you burn down farms?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, not as a rule,’ he said, and he had the cheek to wink at Oswald, + but Oswald would not look at him. ‘We’ve not burned a farm since—oh, + not for years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A farm in Greek history it was, I expect,’ Denny murmured. ‘Civilized + warriors do not burn farms nowadays,’ Alice said sternly, ‘whatever they + did in Greek times. You ought to know that.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. + </p> + <p> + So we said good morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to be polite + even to your enemy, except just at the moments when it has really come to + rifles and bayonets or other weapons. + </p> + <p> + The soldier said ‘So long!’ in quite a modern voice, and we retraced our + footsteps in silence to the ambush—I mean the wood. Oswald did think + of lying in the ambush then, but it was rather wet, because of the rain + the night before, that H. O. said had brought the army-seed up. And Alice + walked very fast, saying nothing but ‘Hurry up, can’t you!’ and dragging + H. O. by one hand and Noel by the other. So we got into the road. + </p> + <p> + Then Alice faced round and said, ‘This is all our fault. If we hadn’t + sowed those dragon’s teeth there wouldn’t have been any invading army.’ + </p> + <p> + I am sorry to say Daisy said, ‘Never mind, Alice, dear. WE didn’t sow the + nasty things, did we, Dora?’ + </p> + <p> + But Denny told her it was just the same. It was WE had done it, so long as + it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into trouble. Oswald was + very pleased to see that the Dentist was beginning to understand the + meaning of true manliness, and about the honour of the house of Bastable, + though of course he is only a Foulkes. Yet it is something to know he does + his best to learn. + </p> + <p> + If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I daresay you will now have + thought of a great many things. If you have you need not say anything, + especially if you’re reading this aloud to anybody. It’s no good putting + in what you think in this part, because none of us thought anything of the + kind at the time. + </p> + <p> + We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, filled + with shame and distress to think of what might happen owing to the + dragon’s teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to sow seed without + being quite sure what sort it is. This is particularly true of the penny + packets, which sometimes do not come up at all, quite unlike dragon’s + teeth. + </p> + <p> + Of course H. O. and Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. This was + only fair. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?’ Dickie said. + ‘Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from the bodies of + dead English soldiers, I shouldn’t wonder.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they’re the old Greek kind of dragon’s-teeth soldiers, they ought to + fight each other to death,’ Noel said; ‘at least, if we had a helmet to + throw among them.’ + </p> + <p> + But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be of no use for H. + O. to go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he wanted to. Denny + said suddenly— + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn’t know the way to + Maidstone?’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. + </p> + <p> + He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch all the tools out of your chest—Dicky go too, there’s a good + chap, and don’t let him cut his legs with the saw.’ He did once, tumbling + over it. ‘Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, where we had the + Benevolent Bar. Courage and dispatch, and look sharp about it.’ + </p> + <p> + When they had gone we hastened to the crossroads, and there a great idea + occurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably that in a + very short time the board in the field which says ‘No thoroughfare. + Trespassers will be prosecuted’ was set up in the middle of the road to + Maidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the road, behind it to make it + stand up. + </p> + <p> + Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post and + sawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it said ‘To + Maidstone’ on the Dover Road, and ‘To Dover’ on the road to Maidstone. We + decided to leave the Trespassers board on the real Maidstone road, as an + extra guard. + </p> + <p> + Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone. + </p> + <p> + Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been unkind to + say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt a pang of joy + when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather stay where they were + and tell anybody who came by which was the real road. + </p> + <p> + ‘Because it would be so dreadful if someone was going to buy pigs or fetch + a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had got to Dover + instead of where they wanted to go to,’ Dora said. But when it came to + dinner-time they went home, so that they were entirely out of it. This + often happens to them by some strange fatalism. + </p> + <p> + We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher went + with us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to remember no one + said anything about their dinners, whatever they may have thought. We + cannot always help our thoughts. We happened to know it was roast rabbits + and currant jelly that day. + </p> + <p> + We walked two and two, and sang the ‘British Grenadiers’ and ‘Soldiers of + the queen’ so as to be as much part of the British Army as possible. The + Cauldron-Man had said the English were the other side of the hill. But we + could not see any scarlet anywhere, though we looked for it as carefully + as if we had been fierce bulls. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into a lot of + soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were dressed in grey and + silver. And it was a sort of furzy-common place, and three roads branching + out. The men were lying about, with some of their belts undone, smoking + pipes and cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not British soldiers,’ Alice said. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, I’m afraid + it’s more enemy. You didn’t sow the army-seed anywhere else, did you, H. + O. dear?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. was positive he hadn’t. ‘But perhaps lots more came up where we did + sow them,’ he said; ‘they’re all over England by now very likely. <i>I</i> + don’t know how many men can grow out of one dragon’s tooth.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Noel said, ‘It was my doing anyhow, and I’m not afraid,’ and he + walked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his pipe with + a piece of grass, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, are you the enemy?’ The man said— + </p> + <p> + ‘No, young Commander-in-Chief, we’re the English.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Oswald took command. ‘Where is the General?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re out of generals just now, Field-Marshal,’ the man said, and his + voice was a gentleman’s voice. ‘Not a single one in stock. We might suit + you in majors now—and captains are quite cheap. Competent corporals + going for a song. And we have a very nice colonel, too quiet to ride or + drive.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one. + </p> + <p> + ‘You seem to be taking it very easy,’ he said with disdainful expression. + </p> + <p> + ‘This IS an easy,’ said the grey soldier, sucking at his pipe to see if it + would draw. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose YOU don’t care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!’ + exclaimed Oswald bitterly. ‘If I were a soldier I’d rather die than be + beaten.’ + </p> + <p> + The soldier saluted. ‘Good old patriotic sentiment’ he said, smiling at + the heart-felt boy. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald could bear no more. ‘Which is the Colonel?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Over there—near the grey horse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The one lighting a cigarette?’ H. O. asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes—but I say, kiddie, he won’t stand any jaw. There’s not an ounce + of vice about him, but he’s peppery. He might kick out. You’d better + bunk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Better what?’ asked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit,’ said the soldier. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what you’d do when the fighting begins,’ said H. O. He is often + rude like that—but it was what we all thought, all the same. + </p> + <p> + The soldier only laughed. + </p> + <p> + A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended in our + allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the Colonel. It was she who + wanted to. ‘However peppery he is he won’t kick a girl,’ she said, and + perhaps this was true. + </p> + <p> + But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to stand in + front of the Colonel. And as we went along we agreed that we would salute + him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick said, ‘One, two, three’, + and we all saluted very well—except H. O., who chose that minute to + trip over a rifle a soldier had left lying about, and was only saved from + falling by a man in a cocked hat who caught him deftly by the back of his + jacket and stood him on his legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let go, can’t you,’ said H. O. ‘Are you the General?’ + </p> + <p> + Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to the + Colonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as we + threaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really said was— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how CAN you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I WHAT?’ said the Colonel, rather crossly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, SMOKE?’ said Alice. + </p> + <p> + ‘My good children, if you’re an infant Band of Hope, let me recommend you + to play in some other backyard,’ said the Cock-Hatted Man. + </p> + <p> + H. O. said, ‘Band of Hope yourself’—but no one noticed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’re NOT a Band of Hope,’ said Noel. ‘We’re British, and the man over + there told us you are. And Maidstone’s in danger, and the enemy not a mile + off, and you stand SMOKING.’ Noel was standing crying, himself, or + something very like it. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s quite true,’ Alice said. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel said, ‘Fiddle-de-dee.’ + </p> + <p> + But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, ‘What was the enemy like?’ We told him + exactly. And even the Colonel then owned there might be something in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you show me the place where they are on the map?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not on the map, we can’t,’ said Dicky—‘at least, I don’t think so, + but on the ground we could. We could take you there in a quarter of an + hour.’ + </p> + <p> + The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the Colonel, who returned his scrutiny, + then he shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, we’ve got to do something,’ he said, as if to himself. ‘Lead on, + Macduff.’ + </p> + <p> + The Colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words of + command which the present author is sorry he can’t remember. + </p> + <p> + Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, marching at + the head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One’s horse. + It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been in a ballad. + They call a grey-roan a ‘blue’ in South Africa, the Cocked-Hatted One + said. + </p> + <p> + We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate of + Sugden’s Waste Wake pasture. Then the Colonel called a whispered halt, and + choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerning commander + went on, on foot, with an orderly. He chose Dicky and Oswald as guides. So + we led him to the ambush, and we went through it as quietly as we could. + But twigs do crackle and snap so when you are reconnoitring, or anxious to + escape detection for whatever reason. + </p> + <p> + Our Colonel’s orderly crackled most. If you’re not near enough to tell a + colonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you can tell him by + the orderly behind him, like ‘follow my leader’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look out!’ said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, ‘the camp’s down + in that field. You can see if you take a squint through this gap.’ + </p> + <p> + The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, baffled + beyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with his baffledness + the British Colonel had his squint. He also drew back, and said a word + that he must have known was not right—at least when he was a boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care,’ said Oswald, ‘they were there this morning. White tents + like mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a cauldron.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With sand,’ said Dicky. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s most convincing,’ said the Colonel, and I did not like the way he + said it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ Oswald said, ‘let’s get to the top corner of the ambush—the + wood, I mean. You can see the crossroads from there.’ + </p> + <p> + We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer dismayed our + almost despairing spirits. + </p> + <p> + We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald’s patriotic heart really did + give a jump, and he cried, ‘There they are, on the Dover Road.’ + </p> + <p> + Our miscellaneous signboard had done its work. + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, young un, you’re right! And in quarter column, too! We’ve got em + on toast—on toast—egad!’ I never heard anyone not in a book + say ‘egad’ before, so I saw something really out of the way was indeed up. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the orderly + to tell the Major to advance two companies on the left flank and take + cover. Then we led him back through the wood the nearest way, because he + said he must rejoin the main body at once. We found the main body very + friendly with Noel and H. O. and the others, and Alice was talking to the + Cocked-Hatted One as if she had known him all her life. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s a general in disguise,’ Noel said. ‘He’s been giving us + chocolate out of a pocket in his saddle.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald thought about the roast rabbit then—and he is not ashamed to + own it—yet he did not say a word. But Alice is really not a bad + sort. She had saved two bars of chocolate for him and Dicky. Even in war + girls can sometimes be useful in their humble way. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel fussed about and said, ‘Take cover there!’ and everybody hid + in the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with Alice, retreated + down the road out of sight. We were in the ditch too. It was muddy—but + nobody thought of their boots in that perilous moment. It seemed a long + time we were crouching there. Oswald began to feel the water squelching in + his boots, so we held our breath and listened. Oswald laid his ear to the + road like a Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace, but when + your country is in danger you care but little about keeping your ears + clean. His backwoods’ strategy was successful. He rose and dusted himself + and said—‘They’re coming!’ + </p> + <p> + It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be heard + quite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The wicked enemy + approached. They were marching with a careless swaggeringness that showed + how little they suspected the horrible doom which was about to teach them + England’s might and supremeness. + </p> + <p> + Just as the enemy turned the corner so that we could see them, the Colonel + shouted—‘Right section, fire!’ and there was a deafening banging. + </p> + <p> + The enemy’s officer said something, and then the enemy got confused and + tried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was vain. There + was firing now from our men, on the left as well as the right. And then + our Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy’s Colonel and demanded surrender. + He told me so afterwards. His exact words are only known to himself and + the other Colonel. But the enemy’s Colonel said, ‘I would rather die than + surrender,’ or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, and + even Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of the amount of + blood to be shed. What would have happened can never now be revealed. For + at this moment a man on a piebald horse came clattering over a hedge—as + carelessly as if the air was not full of lead and steel at all. Another + man rode behind him with a lance and a red pennon on it. I think he must + have been the enemy’s General coming to tell his men not to throw away + their lives on a forlorn hope, for directly he said they were captured the + enemy gave in and owned that they were. The enemy’s Colonel saluted and + ordered his men to form quarter column again. I should have thought he + would have had about enough of that myself. + </p> + <p> + He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter end. He + rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek to say to our + Colonel— + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to have + marked us down uncommonly neatly.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand on Oswald’s + shoulder and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my chief scout’ which were high words, but not undeserved, and + Oswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard them. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you are the traitor, young man,’ said the wicked Colonel, going on + with his cheek. + </p> + <p> + Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous to a + fallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you haven’t. + </p> + <p> + He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might have + done, but he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We aren’t traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a Foulkes. We + only mingled unsuspected with the enemy’s soldiery and learned the secrets + of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell always does when the natives + rebel in South Africa; and Denis Foulkes thought of altering the + sign-posts to lead the foe astray. And if we did cause all this fighting, + and get Maidstone threatened with capture and all that, it was only + because we didn’t believe Greek things could happen in Great Britain and + Ireland, even if you sow dragon’s teeth, and besides, some of us were not + asked about sowing them.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and made us + tell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked Colonel listened + too, which was only another proof of his cheek. + </p> + <p> + And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some people + think he has, and gave the others all the credit they deserved. His + narration was interrupted no less than four times by shouts of ‘Bravo!’ in + which the enemy’s Colonel once more showed his cheek by joining. By the + time the story was told we were in sight of another camp. It was the + British one this time. The Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, and + it only shows the magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field of battle + that he asked the enemy’s Colonel too. With his usual cheek he accepted. + We were jolly hungry. + </p> + <p> + When everyone had had as much tea as they possibly could, the Colonel + shook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in my dispatches + to the War Office.’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. interrupted him to say, ‘His name’s Oswald Cecil Bastable, and mine + is Horace Octavius.’ I wish H. O. would learn to hold his tongue. No one + ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if he can possibly help + it. YOU didn’t know it till now. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Oswald Bastable,’ the Colonel went on—he had the decency not to + take any notice of the ‘Cecil’—‘you would be a credit to any + regiment. No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for what you + have done for your country. But meantime, perhaps, you’ll accept five + shillings from a grateful comrade-in-arms.’ Oswald felt heart-felt sorry + to wound the good Colonel’s feelings, but he had to remark that he had + only done his duty, and he was sure no British scout would take five bob + for doing that. ‘And besides,’ he said, with that feeling of justice which + is part of his young character, ‘it was the others just as much as me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your sentiments, Sir,’ said the Colonel who was one of the politest and + most discerning colonels I ever saw, ‘your sentiments do you honour. But, + Bastables all, and—and non-Bastables’ (he couldn’t remember Foulkes; + it’s not such an interesting name as Bastable, of course)—‘at least + you’ll accept a soldier’s pay?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!’ Alice and Denny said together. And + the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing your own mind and + knowing your own Kipling. + </p> + <p> + ‘A soldier,’ said the Colonel, ‘would certainly be lucky to touch it. You + see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is exactly right, + deducting twopence each for six teas.’ + </p> + <p> + This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and all the + strawberry jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well as what the + others ate, and Lady’s and Pincher’s teas, but I suppose soldiers get + things cheaper than civilians, which is only right. + </p> + <p> + Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any scruples + why he should not. + </p> + <p> + Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw a bicycle + coming. It was Albert’s uncle. He got off and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with those + volunteers?’ + </p> + <p> + We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and then he + said he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked. + </p> + <p> + But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was now + almost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without a moment’s + pause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He said nothing at the + time, but after supper he had it out with Albert’s uncle about the word + which had been withdrawn. + </p> + <p> + Albert’s uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the dragon’s + teeth hadn’t come up in the good old-fashioned way, but that, on the other + hand, it was barely possible that both the British and the enemy were only + volunteers having a field-day or sham fight, and he rather thought the + Cocked-Hatted Man was not a general, but a doctor. And the man with a red + pennon carried behind him MIGHT have been the umpire. + </p> + <p> + Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts were all + panting with joy because they had saved their country; and it would have + been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly they had been. + Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have been so taken in—if + he HAD been. Besides, Albert’s uncle did say that no one could be sure + about the dragon’s teeth. + </p> + <p> + The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole thing was a + beastly sell, was that we didn’t see any wounded. But he tries not to + think of this. And if he goes into the army when he grows up, he will not + go quite green. He has had experience of the arts of war and the tented + field. And a real colonel has called him ‘Comrade-in-Arms’, which is + exactly what Lord Roberts called his own soldiers when he wrote home about + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 14. ALBERT’S UNCLE’s GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST + </h2> + <p> + The shadow of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds upon + our devoted nobs. As Albert’s uncle said, ‘School now gaped for its prey’. + In a very short space of time we should be wending our way back to + Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness of the country would + soon be only preserved in memory’s faded flowers. (I don’t care for that + way of writing very much. It would be an awful swot to keep it up—looking + out the words and all that.) + </p> + <p> + To speak in the language of everyday life, our holiday was jolly nearly + up. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We really did feel + sorry—though, of course, it was rather decent to think of getting + back to Father and being able to tell the other chaps about our raft, and + the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and things like that. + </p> + <p> + When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by chance in an + apple-tree. (That sounds like ‘consequences’, but it is mere + truthfulness.) Dicky said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Only four more days.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald said, ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one thing,’ Dickie said, ‘that beastly society. We don’t want + that swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought to dissolve + it before we leave here.’ + </p> + <p> + The following dialogue now took place: + </p> + <p> + Oswald—‘Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky—‘So did I.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald—‘Let’s call a council. But don’t forget we’ve jolly well got + to put our foot down.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples. + </p> + <p> + The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made Oswald’s and + Dicky’s task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy despair about one + thing, they will agree to almost anything about something else. (Remarks + like this are called philosophic generalizations, Albert’s uncle says.) + Oswald began by saying— + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it’s done us good. + But now the time has come for each of us to be good or bad on his own, + without hanging on to the others.’ + </p> + <pre> + ‘The race is run by one and one, + But never by two and two,’ + </pre> + <p> + the Dentist said. + </p> + <p> + The others said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Oswald went on: ‘I move that we chuck—I mean dissolve—the + Wouldbegoods Society; its appointed task is done. If it’s not well done, + that’s ITS fault and not ours.’ + </p> + <p> + Dicky said, ‘Hear! hear! I second this prop.’ + </p> + <p> + The unexpected Dentist said, ‘I third it. At first I thought it would + help, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be naughty, just + because you were a Wouldbegood.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as not to + let Denny cool. H. O. and Noel and Alice voted with us, so Daisy and Dora + were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried to cheer their + hopelessness by letting them read the things out of the Golden Deed book + aloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that we should not see the faces + he made while he made poetry instead of listening, and when the + Wouldbegoods was by vote dissolved for ever he sat up, straws in his hair, + and said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE EPITAPH + + ‘The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone + But not the golden deeds they have done + These will remain upon Glory’s page + To be an example to every age, + And by this we have got to know + How to be good upon our ow—N. +</pre> + <p> + N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O, W, N, + own; do you see?’ + </p> + <p> + We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And the council + broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from his expanding + chest, and it is curious that he never felt so inclined to be good and a + model youth as he did then. As he went down the ladder out of the loft he + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We ought to + find Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother for him.’ + </p> + <p> + Alice’s heart beat true and steadfast. She said, ‘That’s just exactly what + Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, Oswald, you wretch, you’re + kicking chaff into my eyes.’ She was going down the ladder just under me. + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s younger sister’s thoughtful remark ended in another council. But + not in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite new place, and + disregarded H. O.‘s idea of the dairy and Noel’s of the cellars. We had + the new council on the secret staircase, and there we settled exactly what + we ought to do. This is the same thing, if you really wish to be good, as + what you are going to do. It was a very interesting council, and when it + was over Oswald was so pleased to think that the Wouldbegoods was + unrecoverishly dead that he gave Denny and Noel, who were sitting on the + step below him, a good-humoured, playful, gentle, loving, brotherly shove, + and said, ‘Get along down, it’s tea-time!’ + </p> + <p> + No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, and + who is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been Oswald’s + fault that the two other boys got along down by rolling over and over each + other, and bursting the door at the bottom of the stairs open by their + revolving bodies. And I should like to know whose fault it was that Mrs + Pettigrew was just on the other side of that door at that very minute? The + door burst open, and the impetuous bodies of Noel and Denny rolled out of + it into Mrs Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray. Both revolving boys + were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one or two cups and things + smashed. Mrs Pettigrew was knocked over, but none of her bones were + broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed, but Oswald said it + was all his fault. He really did this to give the others a chance of doing + a refined golden deed by speaking the truth and saying it was not his + fault. But you cannot really count on anyone. They did not say anything, + but only rubbed the lumps on their late-revolving heads. So it was bed for + Oswald, and he felt the injustice hard. + </p> + <p> + But he sat up in bed and read The Last of the Mohicans, and then he began + to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks of something. + He thought of something now, and it was miles better than the idea we had + decided on in the secret staircase, of advertising in the Kentish Mercury + and saying if Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother would call at the + Moat House she might hear of something much to her advantage. + </p> + <p> + What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and asked Mr B. + Munn, Grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse that liked the + wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the lady was in the red hat + and red wheels that paid him to drive us home that Canterbury night. He + must have been paid, of course, for even grocers are not generous enough + to drive perfect strangers, and five of them too, about the country for + nothing. Thus we may learn that even unjustness and sending the wrong + people to bed may bear useful fruit, which ought to be a great comfort to + everyone when they are unfairly treated. Only it most likely won’t be. For + if Oswald’s brothers and sisters had nobly stood by him as he expected, he + would not have had the solitary reflections that led to the great scheme + for finding the grandmother. + </p> + <p> + Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and squatted on + Oswald’s bed and said how sorry they were. He waived their apologies with + noble dignity, because there wasn’t much time, and said he had an idea + that would knock the council’s plan into a cocked hat. But he would not + tell them what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This was not + sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else to think of + besides the way they hadn’t stood by him in the bursting of the secret + staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk. + </p> + <p> + Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer for a + forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswald a + pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with any man + living. ‘And mind,’ he added, hiding the pang under a general-like + severeness, ‘I won’t have anyone in the expedition who has anything in his + shoes except his feet.’ + </p> + <p> + This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald is + often misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the peas up at + Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took some time + because Daisy cried, and Dora said, ‘There now, Oswald!’) there were seven + volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed, all of us. + There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, or scrips, or + anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who set out for + Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good and deedful—at + least Oswald, I know, was—than ever they had been in the days of the + beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either it was fine nearly + all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, or else nearly all the + interesting things we did came on fine days. + </p> + <p> + With hearts light and gay, and no peas in anyone’s shoes, the walk to + Hazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, and + the dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one of + them at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridge + is not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowed to + put on her things—I mean her collar—and come with us. She + walks slowly, but we had the day before us so there was no extra hurry. + </p> + <p> + At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn’s grocer’s shop and asked for + ginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised at us + wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm—it had just been + washed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B. + Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. You + cannot be too careful. However, when we had said it was first-class + ginger-beer, and paid for it, we found it not so easy to extract anything + more from B. Munn, grocer; and there was an anxious silence while he + fiddled about behind the counter among the tinned meats and sauce bottles, + with a fringe of hobnailed boots hanging over his head. + </p> + <p> + H. O. spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in where + angels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person that is). He + said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the cart?’ + </p> + <p> + Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word, it + means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said— + </p> + <p> + ‘I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don’t you terrify yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry. So Dora shoved in a + gentle oar. She said— + </p> + <p> + ‘We want to know the kind lady’s name and address, so that we can write + and thank her for being so jolly that day.’ + </p> + <p> + B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady’s address being goods + he was often asked for. Alice said, ‘But do tell us. We forgot to ask her. + She’s a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so want to thank + her properly. And if you’ve got any extra-strong peppermints at a penny an + ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound.’ + </p> + <p> + This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints his + heart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paper + bag, Dora said, ‘What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us.’ + </p> + <p> + And B. Munn’s heart was now quite melted, he said— + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars—about a mile down + the Maidstone Road.’ + </p> + <p> + We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a little + anxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had got the money + all right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good deal of + it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other. Then Dora said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it.’ + </p> + <p> + Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it’s such a + beastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divined hers—he + is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald’s—and the two said + together— + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not go and see her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She did say she would like to see us again some day,’ Dora replied. So + after we had argued a little about it we went. + </p> + <p> + And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha began to + make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. She began to + limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when he had the split + peas in his silly palmering shoes. + </p> + <p> + So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quite swollen + and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter with their feet, + and it always comes on when least required. They are not the right breed + for emergencies. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. She is very + stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A half-hearted +unadventurous person (I name no names, but Oswald, Alice, Noel, H. O., Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why not go straight home and come another + day without Martha? But the rest agreed with Oswald when he said it was + only a mile, and perhaps we might get a lift home with the poor invalid. + Martha was very grateful to us for our kindness. She put her fat white + arms round the person’s neck who happened to be carrying her. She is very + affectionate, but by holding her very close to you you can keep her from + kissing your face all the time. As Alice said, ‘Bulldogs do give you such + large, wet, pink kisses.’ + </p> + <p> + A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying Martha. + </p> + <p> + At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chains + swinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the ditch, and + a gate with ‘The Cedars’ on it in gold letters. All very neat and tidy, + and showing plainly that more than one gardener was kept. There we + stopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with exhaustedness, and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don’t believe a bit that it’s his + grandmother. I’m sure Dora was right, and it’s only his horrid sweetheart. + I feel it in my bones. Now, don’t you really think we’d better chuck it; + we’re sure to catch it for interfering. We always do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cross of true love never did come smooth,’ said the Dentist. ‘We + ought to help him to bear his cross.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But if we find her for him, and she’s not his grandmother, he’ll MARRY + her,’ Dicky said in tones of gloominess and despair. + </p> + <p> + Oswald felt the same, but he said, ‘Never mind. We should all hate it, but + perhaps Albert’s uncle MIGHT like it. You can never tell. If you want to + do a really unselfish action and no kid, now’s your time, my late + Wouldbegoods.’ + </p> + <p> + No one had the face to say right out that they didn’t want to be + unselfish. + </p> + <p> + But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the long gate + and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons and other + shrubberies towards the house. + </p> + <p> + I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of anybody is + called the representative of the family if his father isn’t there. This + was why Oswald now took the lead. When we got to the last turn of the + drive it was settled that the others were to noiselessly ambush in the + rhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on alone and ask at the house for the + grandmother from India—I mean Miss Ashleigh. + </p> + <p> + So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how neat the + flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all bright and + speckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green parrot in a cage + in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying clean and untrodden in + the sunshine, he stood still and thought of his boots and how dusty the + roads were, and wished he had not gone into the farmyard after eggs before + starting that morning. As he stood there in anxious uncertainness he heard + a low voice among the bushes. It said, ‘Hist! Oswald here!’ and it was the + voice of Alice. + </p> + <p> + So he went back to the others among the shrubs and they all crowded round + their leader full of importable news. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s not in the house; she’s HERE,’ Alice said in a low whisper that + seemed nearly all S’s. ‘Close by—she went by just this minute with a + gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And they’re sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and she’s + got her head on his shoulder, and he’s holding her hand. I never saw + anyone look so silly in all my born,’ Dicky said. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s sickening,’ Denny said, trying to look very manly with his legs wide + apart. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ Oswald whispered. ‘I suppose it wasn’t Albert’s uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not much,’ Dicky briefly replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then don’t you see it’s all right. If she’s going on like that with this + fellow she’ll want to marry him, and Albert’s uncle is safe. And we’ve + really done an unselfish action without having to suffer for it + afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as he spoke in real + joyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed. But we had + reckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping to look about her a + bit in the shrubbery. ‘Where’s Martha?’ Dora suddenly said. + </p> + <p> + ‘She went that way,’ pointingly remarked H. O. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for?’ + Oswald said. ‘And look sharp. Don’t make a row.’ + </p> + <p> + He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha—the one + she always gives when suddenly collared from behind—and a little + squeal in a lady-like voice, and a man say ‘Hallo!’ and then we knew that + H. O. had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about + it. We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late. We were just in + time to hear H. O. say— + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry if she frightened you. But we’ve been looking for you. Are you + Albert’s uncle’s long-lost grandmother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘NO,’ said our lady unhesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now going + on. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a clergyman, and I + found out afterwards he was the nicest we ever knew except our own Mr + Briston at Lewisham, who is now a canon or a dean, or something grand that + no one ever sees. At present I did not like him. He said, ‘No, this lady + is nobody’s grandmother. May I ask in return how long it is since you + escaped from the lunatic asylum, my poor child, and whence your keeper + is?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. took no notice of this at all, except to say, ‘I think you are very + rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are.’ + </p> + <p> + The lady said, ‘My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all the + others, and are you pilgrims again to-day?’ + </p> + <p> + H. O. does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and said— + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going to marry the lady?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Margaret,’ said the clergyman, ‘I never thought it would come to this: he + asks me my intentions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you ARE,’ said H. O., ‘it’s all right, because if you do Albert’s + uncle can’t—at least, not till you’re dead. And we don’t want him + to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flattering, upon my word,’ said the clergyman, putting on a deep frown. + ‘Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of you, or shall I + send for the police?’ + </p> + <p> + Alice now saw that H. O., though firm, was getting muddled and rather + scared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the scene. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t let him rag H. O. any more,’ she said, ‘it’s all our faults. You + see, Albert’s uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought perhaps you + were his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who alone knew the + secret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, and he said you were + his long-lost grandmother he had known in India. And we thought that must + be a mistake and that really you were his long-lost sweetheart. And we + tried to do a really unselfish act and find you for him. Because we don’t + want him to be married at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t because we don’t like YOU,’ Oswald cut in, now emerging from the + bushes, ‘and if he must marry, we’d sooner it was you than anyone. Really + we would.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A generous concession, Margaret,’ the strange clergyman uttered, ‘most + generous, but the plot thickens. It’s almost pea-soup-like now. One or two + points clamour for explanation. Who are these visitors of yours? Why this + Red Indian method of paying morning calls? Why the lurking attitude of the + rest of the tribe which I now discern among the undergrowth? Won’t you ask + the rest of the tribe to come out and join the glad throng?’ + </p> + <p> + Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs we + do, and books and tunes and things. + </p> + <p> + The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if she + was going to cry. But she couldn’t help laughing too, as more and more of + us came out. + </p> + <p> + ‘And who,’ the clergyman went on, ‘who in fortune’s name is Albert? And + who is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this galere—I + mean garden?’ + </p> + <p> + We all felt rather silly, and I don’t think I ever felt more than then + what an awful lot there were of us. + </p> + <p> + ‘Three years’ absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignorance of + these details, but still—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think we’d better go,’ said Dora. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve done anything + rude or wrong. We didn’t mean to. Good-bye. I hope you’ll be happy with + the gentleman, I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I HOPE so too,’ said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much nicer + Albert’s uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silent + compared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. But + now she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold of Dora + by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, dear, no,’ she said, ‘it’s all right, and you must have some tea—we’ll + have it on the lawn. John, don’t tease them any more. Albert’s uncle is + the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear children, this is my brother + that I haven’t seen for three years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then he’s a long-lost too,’ said H. O. + </p> + <p> + The lady said ‘Not now’ and smiled at him. + </p> + <p> + And the rest of us were dumb with confounding emotions. Oswald was + particularly dumb. He might have known it was her brother, because in + rotten grown-up books if a girl kisses a man in a shrubbery that is not + the man you think she’s in love with; it always turns out to be a brother, + though generally the disgrace of the family and not a respectable chaplain + from Calcutta. + </p> + <p> + The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and said, + ‘John, go and tell them we’ll have tea on the lawn.’ + </p> + <p> + When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said, ‘I’m going + to tell you something, but I want to put you on your honour not to talk + about it to other people. You see it isn’t everyone I would tell about it. + He, Albert’s uncle, I mean, has told me a lot about you, and I know I can + trust you.’ + </p> + <p> + We said ‘Yes’, Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too well + what was coming next. + </p> + <p> + The lady then said, ‘Though I am not Albert’s uncle’s grandmother I did + know him in India once, and we were going to be married, but we had a—a—misunderstanding.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quarrel?’ Row?’ said Noel and H. O. at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. And + then... well, we were both sorry, but well, anyway, when his ship came + back we’d gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he couldn’t find + us. And he says he’s been looking for me ever since.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not you for him?’ said Noel. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, perhaps,’ said the lady. + </p> + <p> + And the girls said ‘Ah!’ with deep interest. The lady went on more + quickly, ‘And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I must break + it to you. Try to bear up.’ + </p> + <p> + She stopped. The branches cracked, and Albert’s uncle was in our midst. He + took off his hat. ‘Excuse my tearing my hair,’ he said to the lady, ‘but + has the pack really hunted you down?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right,’ she said, and when she looked at him she got miles + prettier quite suddenly. ‘I was just breaking to them...’ + </p> +<p> +‘Don’t take that proud privilege from me,’ he said. ‘Kiddies, allow +me to present you to the future Mrs Albert’s uncle, or shall we say +Albert’s new aunt?’ +</p> +<hr> +<p> +There was a good deal of explaining done before tea—about how we got +there, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of disappointment +we felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. For Albert’s uncle’s +lady was very jolly to us, and her brother was awfully decent, and +showed us a lot of first-class native curiosities and things, unpacking +them on purpose; skins of beasts, and beads, and brass things, and +shells from different savage lands besides India. And the lady told the +girls that she hoped they would like her as much as she liked them, and +if they wanted a new aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction in +the new situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging to +Daisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert’s uncle +had married HER. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we might +think ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse. +</p> + <p> + Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot which he + had explored thoroughly before, and told him she was not like some people + in books. When she was married she would never try to separate her husband + from his bachelor friends, she only wanted them to be her friends as well. + </p> + <p> + Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the reverend + and friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha we shouldn’t + have had tea, or explanations, or lift or anything. So we honoured her, + and did not mind her being so heavy and walking up and down constantly on + our laps as we drove home. + </p> + <p> + And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert’s uncle. + I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important (to him), so I + felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers and getting married are + generally slow. I like a love-story where the hero parts with the girl at + the garden-gate in the gloaming and goes off and has adventures, and you + don’t see her any more till he comes home to marry her at the end of the + book. And I suppose people have to marry. Albert’s uncle is awfully old—more + than thirty, and the lady is advanced in years—twenty-six next + Christmas. They are to be married then. The girls are to be bridesmaids in + white frocks with fur. This quite consoles them. If Oswald repines + sometimes, he hides it. What’s the use? We all have to meet our fell + destiny, and Albert’s uncle is not extirpated from this awful law. + </p> + <p> + Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for the + sake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the Wouldbegoods, and + there are no more chapters after this. But Oswald hates books that finish + up without telling you the things you might want to know about the people + in the book. So here goes. + </p> + <p> + We went home to the beautiful Blackheath house. It seemed very stately and + mansion-like after the Moat House, and everyone was most frightfully + pleased to see us. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Pettigrew CRIED when we went away. I never was so astonished in my + life. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like a heart, and + each of us boys had a knife bought out of the housekeeping (I mean + housekeeper’s own) money. + </p> + <p> + Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert’s uncle’s lady’s + mother. They do keep three gardeners—I knew they did. And our tramp + still earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old Pig-man. + </p> + <p> + Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewell + sympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. We promised + to come and see them next year. I hope we shall. + </p> + <p> + Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. I + don’t think they’ll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone aunt—who + is really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the autumn of her days + as our new Albert’s-uncle aunt. I think they plucked up spirit enough to + tell their father they didn’t like her—which they’d never thought of + doing before. Our own robber says their holidays in the country did them + both a great deal of good. And he says us Bastables have certainly taught + Daisy and Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. I believe + they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirely on their + own—and done them too—since they came back from the Moat + House. + </p> + <p> + I wish you didn’t grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long he will + be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he feels + grown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of this. + </p> + <p> + And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles of the + Wouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the author will be + very glad, of course. But take my advice and don’t make a society for + trying in. It is much easier without. + </p> + <p> + And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. The + one beginning with C., I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed what it was. + If so, don’t look back for it. It is a name no manly boy would like to be + called by—if he spoke the truth. Oswald is said to be a very manly + boy, and he despises that name, and will never give it to his own son when + he has one. Not if a rich relative offered to leave him an immense fortune + if he did. Oswald would still be firm. He would, on the honour of the + House of Bastable. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOULDBEGOODS *** + +***** This file should be named 794-h.htm or 794-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/794/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/twbgd10.txt b/old/twbgd10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c320bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/twbgd10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9811 @@ +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit* +#3 in our series by E. Nesbit + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Wouldbegoods + +by E. Nesbit* + +January, 1997 [Etext #794] + + +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Wouldbegoods, by E. Nesbit* +*****This file should be named twbgd10.txt or twbgd10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, twbgd11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, twbgd10a.txt. + + +This etext was created by Jo Churcher, Scarborough, Ontario +(jchurche@interlog.com) + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month: or 400 more Etexts in 1996 for a total of 800. +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach 80 billion Etexts. We will try add 800 more, +during 1997, but it will take all the effort we can manage to do +the doubling of our library again this year, what with the other +massive requirements it is going to take to get incorporated and +establish something that will have some permanence. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg" + + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext97 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States +copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy +and distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association within the 60 + days following each date you prepare (or were legally + required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic) + tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE WOULDBEGOODS + +by E. NESBIT + + +BEING THE FURTHER ADVENTURES +OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS + + + +TO +My Dear Son +Fabian Bland + + +CONTENTS + +1. The Jungle +2. The Wouldbegoods +3. Bill's Tombstone +4. The Tower of Mystery +5. The Waterworks +6. The Circus +7. Being Beavers; or, The Young Explorers (Arctic or Otherwise) +8. The High-Born Babe +9. Hunting the Fox +10. The Sale of Antiquities +11. The Benevolent Bar +12. The Canterbury Pilgrims +13. The Dragon's Teeth; or, Army Seed +14. Albert's Uncle's Grandmother; or, The Long-Lost + + + + +CHAPTER 1 +THE JUNGLE + + + +Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you +can't stand them all over the shop--eh, what?' + +These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us +feel very young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by +calling him names to ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say +nasty things, because he is not nasty, but quite the exact opposite +when not irritated. And we could not think it ungentlemanly of him +to say we were like jam, because, as Alice says, jam is very nice +indeed--only not on furniture and improper places like that. My +father said, 'Perhaps they had better go to boarding-school.' And +that was awful, because we know Father disapproves of +boarding-schools. And he looked at us and said, 'I am ashamed of +them, sir!' + +Your lot is indeed a dark and terrible one when your father is +ashamed of you. And we all knew this, so that we felt in our +chests just as if we had swallowed a hard-boiled egg whole. At +least, this is what Oswald felt, and Father said once that Oswald, +as the eldest, was the representative of the family, so, of course, +the others felt the same. + +And then everybody said nothing for a short time. At last Father +said-- + +'You may go--but remember--' + +The words that followed I am not going to tell you. It is no use +telling you what you know before--as they do in schools. And you +must all have had such words said to you many times. We went away +when it was over. The girls cried, and we boys got out books and +began to read, so that nobody should think we cared. But we felt +it deeply in our interior hearts, especially Oswald, who is the +eldest and the representative of the family. + +We felt it all the more because we had not really meant to do +anything wrong. We only thought perhaps the grown-ups would not be +quite pleased if they knew, and that is quite different. Besides, +we meant to put all the things back in their proper places when we +had done with them before anyone found out about it. But I must +not anticipate (that means telling the end of the story before the +beginning. I tell you this because it is so sickening to have +words you don't know in a story, and to be told to look it up in +the dicker). + +We are the Bastables--Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Alice, Noel, and H. O. +If you want to know why we call our youngest brother H. O. you can +jolly well read The Treasure Seekers and find out. We were the +Treasure Seekers, and we sought it high and low, and quite +regularly, because we particularly wanted to find it. And at last +we did not find it, but we were found by a good, kind Indian uncle, +who helped Father with his business, so that Father was able to +take us all to live in a jolly big red house on Blackheath, instead +of in the Lewisham Road, where we lived when we were only poor but +honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poor but honest we always +used to think that if only Father had plenty of business, and we +did not have to go short of pocket money and wear shabby clothes (I +don't mind this myself, but the girls do), we should be happy and +very, very good. + +And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house we +thought now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries +and pineries, and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and +replete with every modern convenience, like it says in Dyer & +Hilton's list of Eligible House Property. I read all about it, and +I have copied the words quite right. + +It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no +casters off the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the +silver not dented; and lots of servants, and the most decent meals +every day--and lots of pocket-money. + +But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the +things you want most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them +frightfully; but when I had mine a week or two, after the +mainspring got broken and was repaired at Bennett's in the village, +I hardly cared to look at the works at all, and it did not make me +feel happy in my heart any more, though, of course, I should have +been very unhappy if it had been taken away from me. And the same +with new clothes and nice dinners and having enough of everything. +You soon get used to it all, and it does not make you extra happy, +although, if you had it all taken away, you would be very dejected. +(That is a good word, and one I have never used before.) You get +used to everything, as I said, and then you want something more. +Father says this is what people mean by the deceitfulness of +riches; but Albert's uncle says it is the spirit of progress, and +Mrs Leslie said some people called it 'divine discontent'. Oswald +asked them all what they thought one Sunday at dinner. Uncle said +it was rot, and what we wanted was bread and water and a licking; +but he meant it for a joke. This was in the Easter holidays. + +We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays +the girls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to +the Prop. (that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot +rather during term; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of +riches in the vac., when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes +and things. Then there was the summer term, and we swotted more +than ever; and it was boiling hot, and masters' tempers got short +and sharp, and the girls used to wish the exams came in cold +weather. I can't think why they don't. But I suppose schools +don't think of sensible thinks like that. They teach botany at +girls' schools. + +Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again--but only +for a few days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something, +and did not know what it was. We wanted something to happen--only +we didn't exactly know what. So we were very pleased when Father +said-- + +'I've asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two. +You know--the kids who came at Christmas. You must be jolly to +them, and see that they have a good time, don't you know.' + +We remembered them right enough--they were little pinky, frightened +things, like white mice, with very bright eyes. They had not been +to our house since Christmas, because Denis, the boy, had been ill, +and they had been with an aunt at Ramsgate. + +Alice and Dora would have liked to get the bedrooms ready for the +honoured guests, but a really good housemaid is sometimes more +ready to say 'Don't' than even a general. So the girls had to +chuck it. Jane only let them put flowers in the pots on the +visitors' mantelpieces, and then they had to ask the gardener which +kind they might pick, because nothing worth gathering happened to +be growing in our own gardens just then. + +Their train got in at 12.27. We all went to meet them. Afterwards +I thought that was a mistake, because their aunt was with them, and +she wore black with beady things and a tight bonnet, and she said, +when we took our hats off-- 'Who are you?' quite crossly. + +We said, 'We are the Bastables; we've come to meet Daisy and +Denny.' + +The aunt is a very rude lady, and it made us sorry for Daisy and +Denny when she said to them-- + +'Are these the children? Do you remember them?' We weren't very +tidy, perhaps, because we'd been playing brigands in the shrubbery; +and we knew we should have to wash for dinner as soon as we got +back, anyhow. But still-- + +Denny said he thought he remembered us. But Daisy said, 'Of course +they are,' and then looked as if she was going to cry. + +So then the aunt called a cab, and told the man where to drive, and +put Daisy and Denny in, and then she said-- + +'You two little girls may go too, if you like, but you little boys +must walk.' + +So the cab went off, and we were left. The aunt turned to us to +say a few last words. We knew it would have been about brushing +your hair and wearing gloves, so Oswald said, 'Good-bye', and +turned haughtily away, before she could begin, and so did the +others. No one but that kind of black beady tight lady would say +'little boys'. She is like Miss Murdstone in David Copperfield. +I should like to tell her so; but she would not understand. I +don't suppose she has ever read anything but Markham's History and +Mangnall's Questions--improving books like that. + +When we got home we found all four of those who had ridden in the +cab sitting in our sitting-room--we don't call it nursery +now--looking very thoroughly washed, and our girls were asking +polite questions and the others were saying 'Yes' and 'No', and 'I +don't know'. We boys did not say anything. We stood at the window +and looked out till the gong went for our dinner. We felt it was +going to be awful--and it was. The newcomers would never have done +for knight-errants, or to carry the Cardinal's sealed message +through the heart of France on a horse; they would never have +thought of anything to say to throw the enemy off the scent when +they got into a tight place. + +They said 'Yes, please', and 'No, thank you'; and they ate very +neatly, and always wiped their mouths before they drank, as well as +after, and never spoke with them full. + +And after dinner it got worse and worse. + +We got out all our books and they said 'Thank you', and didn't look +at them properly. And we got out all our toys, and they said +'Thank you, it's very nice' to everything. And it got less and +less pleasant, and towards teatime it came to nobody saying +anything except Noel and H. O.--and they talked to each other about +cricket. + +After tea Father came in, and he played 'Letters' with them and the +girls, and it was a little better; but while late dinner was going +on--I shall never forget it. Oswald felt like the hero of a +book--'almost at the end of his resources'. I don't think I was +ever glad of bedtime before, but that time I was. + +When they had gone to bed (Daisy had to have all her strings and +buttons undone for her, Dora told me, though she is nearly ten, and +Denny said he couldn't sleep without the gas being left a little +bit on) we held a council in the girls' room. We all sat on the +bed--it is a mahogany fourposter with green curtains very good for +tents, only the housekeeper doesn't allow it, and Oswald said-- + +'This is jolly nice, isn't it?' + +'They'll be better to-morrow,' Alice said, 'they're only shy.' + +Dicky said shy was all very well, but you needn't behave like a +perfect idiot. + +'They're frightened. You see we're all strange to them,' Dora +said. + +'We're not wild beasts or Indians; we shan't eat them. What have +they got to be frightened of?' Dicky said this. + +Noel told us he thought they were an enchanted prince and princess +who'd been turned into white rabbits, and their bodies had got +changed back but not their insides. + +But Oswald told him to dry up. + +'It's no use making things up about them,' he said. 'The thing is: +what are we going to DO? We can't have our holidays spoiled by +these snivelling kids.' + +'No,' Alice said, 'but they can't possibly go on snivelling for +ever. Perhaps they've got into the habit of it with that Murdstone +aunt. She's enough to make anyone snivel.' + +'All the same,' said Oswald, 'we jolly well aren't going to have +another day like today. We must do something to rouse them from +their snivelling leth--what's its name?--something sudden and--what +is it?--decisive.' + +'A booby trap,' said H. O., 'the first thing when they get up, and +an apple-pie bed at night.' + +But Dora would not hear of it, and I own she was right. + +'Suppose,' she said, 'we could get up a good play-- like we did +when we were Treasure Seekers.' + +We said, well what? But she did not say. + +'It ought to be a good long thing--to last all day,' Dicky said, +'and if they like they can play, and if they don't--' + +'If they don't, I'll read to them,' Alice said. + +But we all said 'No, you don't--if you begin that way you'll have +to go on.' + +And Dicky added, 'I wasn't going to say that at all. I was going +to say if they didn't like it they could jolly well do the other +thing.' + +We all agreed that we must think of something, but we none of us +could, and at last the council broke up in confusion because Mrs +Blake--she is the housekeeper--came up and turned off the gas. + +But next morning when we were having breakfast, and the two +strangers were sitting there so pink and clean, Oswald suddenly +said-- + +'I know; we'll have a jungle in the garden.' + +And the others agreed, and we talked about it till brek was over. +The little strangers only said 'I don't know' whenever we said +anything to them. + +After brekker Oswald beckoned his brothers and sisters mysteriously +apart and said-- + +'Do you agree to let me be captain today, because I thought of it?' + +And they said they would. + +Then he said, 'We'll play Jungle Book, and I shall be Mowgli. The +rest of you can be what you like--Mowgli's father and mother, or +any of the beasts.' + +'I don't suppose they know the book,' said Noel. 'They don't look +as if they read anything, except at lesson times.' + +'Then they can go on being beasts all the time,' Oswald said. +'Anyone can be a beast.' + +So it was settled. + +And now Oswald--Albert's uncle has sometimes said he is clever at +arranging things--began to lay his plans for the jungle. The day +was indeed well chosen. Our Indian uncle was away; Father was +away; Mrs Blake was going away, and the housemaid had an afternoon +off. Oswald's first conscious act was to get rid of the white +mice--I mean the little good visitors. He explained to them that +there would be a play in the afternoon, and they could be what they +liked, and gave them the Jungle Book to read the stories he told +them to--all the ones about Mowgli. He led the strangers to a +secluded spot among the sea-kale pots in the kitchen garden and +left them. Then he went back to the others, and we had a jolly +morning under the cedar talking about what we would do when Blakie +was gone. She went just after our dinner. + +When we asked Denny what he would like to be in the play, it turned +out he had not read the stories Oswald told him at all, but only +the 'White Seal' and 'Rikki Tikki'. + +We then agreed to make the jungle first and dress up for our parts +afterwards. Oswald was a little uncomfortable about leaving the +strangers alone all the morning, so he said Denny should be his +aide-de-camp, and he was really quite useful. He is rather handy +with his fingers, and things that he does up do not come untied. +Daisy might have come too, but she wanted to go on reading, so we +let her, which is the truest manners to a visitor. Of course the +shrubbery was to be the jungle, and the lawn under the cedar a +forest glade, and then we began to collect the things. The cedar +lawn is just nicely out of the way of the windows. It was a jolly +hot day--the kind of day when the sunshine is white and the shadows +are dark grey, not black like they are in the evening. + +We all thought of different things. Of course first we dressed up +pillows in the skins of beasts and set them about on the grass to +look as natural as we could. And then we got Pincher, and rubbed +him all over with powdered slate-pencil, to make him the right +colour for Grey Brother. But he shook it all off, and it had taken +an awful time to do. Then Alice said-- + +'Oh, I know!' and she ran off to Father's dressing-room, and came +back with the tube of creme d'amande pour la barbe et les mains, +and we squeezed it on Pincher and rubbed it in, and then the +slate-pencil stuff stuck all right, and he rolled in the dust-bin +of his own accord, which made him just the right colour. He is a +very clever dog, but soon after he went off and we did not find him +till quite late in the afternoon. Denny helped with Pincher, and +with the wild-beast skins, and when Pincher was finished he said-- + +'Please, may I make some paper birds to put in the trees? I know +how.' + +And of course we said 'Yes', and he only had red ink and +newspapers, and quickly he made quite a lot of large paper birds +with red tails. They didn't look half bad on the edge of the +shrubbery. + +While he was doing this he suddenly said, or rather screamed, 'Oh?' + +And we looked, and it was a creature with great horns and a fur +rug--something like a bull and something like a minotaur--and I +don't wonder Denny was frightened. It was Alice, and it was +first-class. + +Up to now all was not yet lost beyond recall. It was the stuffed +fox that did the mischief--and I am sorry to own it was Oswald who +thought of it. He is not ashamed of having THOUGHT of it. That +was rather clever of him. But he knows now that it is better not +to take other people's foxes and things without asking, even if you +live in the same house with them. + +It was Oswald who undid the back of the glass case in the hall and +got out the fox with the green and grey duck in its mouth, and when +the others saw how awfully like life they looked on the lawn, they +all rushed off to fetch the other stuffed things. Uncle has a +tremendous lot of stuffed things. He shot most of them +himself--but not the fox, of course. There was another fox's mask, +too, and we hung that in a bush to look as if the fox was peeping +out. And the stuffed birds we fastened on to the trees with +string. The duck-bill--what's its name?--looked very well sitting +on his tail with the otter snarling at him. Then Dicky had an +idea; and though not nearly so much was said about it afterwards as +there was about the stuffed things, I think myself it was just as +bad, though it was a good idea, too. He just got the hose and put +the end over a branch of the cedar-tree. Then we got the steps +they clean windows with, and let the hose rest on the top of the +steps and run. It was to be a waterfall, but it ran between the +steps and was only wet and messy; so we got Father's mackintosh and +uncle's and covered the steps with them, so that the water ran down +all right and was glorious, and it ran away in a stream across the +grass where we had dug a little channel for it--and the otter and +the duck-bill-thing were as if in their native haunts. I hope all +this is not very dull to read about. I know it was jolly good fun +to do. Taking one thing with another, I don't know that we ever +had a better time while it lasted. + +We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails +on to them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They +got away somehow, and before they were caught next day they had +eaten a good many lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry +for this. He rather likes the gardener. + +Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no +use our telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He +thought we were kidding until we showed him, and then he said, +'Well, never mind', and got the girls to give him bits of the blue +stuff left over from their dressing-gowns. + +'I'll make them sashes to tie round their little middles,' he said. +And he did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One +of the guinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the +tortoise when we had done his shell with vermilion paint. He +crawled away and returned no more. Perhaps someone collected him +and thought he was an expensive kind unknown in these cold +latitudes. + +The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty, +what with the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and the +waterfall. And Alice said-- + +'I wish the tigers did not look so flat.' For of course with +pillows you can only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready +to make a spring out at you. It is difficult to prop up +tiger-skins in a life-like manner when there are no bones inside +them, only pillows and sofa cushions. + +'What about the beer-stands?' I said. And we got two out of the +cellar. With bolsters and string we fastened insides to the +tigers--and they were really fine. The legs of the beer-stands did +for tigers' legs. It was indeed the finishing touch. + +Then we boys put on just our bathing drawers and vests--so as to be +able to play with the waterfall without hurting our clothes. I +think this was thoughtful. The girls only tucked up their frocks +and took their shoes and stockings off. H. O. painted his legs and +his hands with Condy's fluid--to make him brown, so that he might +be Mowgli, although Oswald was captain and had plainly said he was +going to be Mowgli himself. Of course the others weren't going to +stand that. So Oswald said-- + +'Very well. Nobody asked you to brown yourself like that. But now +you've done it, you've simply got to go and be a beaver, and live +in the dam under the waterfall till it washes off.' + +He said he didn't want to be beavers. And Noel said-- + +'Don't make him. Let him be the bronze statue in the palace +gardens that the fountain plays out of.' + +So we let him have the hose and hold it up over his head. It made +a lovely fountain, only he remained brown. So then Dicky and +Oswald and I did ourselves brown too, and dried H. O. as well as we +could with our handkerchiefs, because he was just beginning to +snivel. The brown did not come off any of us for days. + +Oswald was to be Mowgli, and we were just beginning to arrange the +different parts. The rest of the hose that was on the ground was +Kaa, the Rock Python, and Pincher was Grey Brother, only we +couldn't find him. And while most of us were talking, Dicky and +Noel got messing about with the beer-stand tigers. + +And then a really sad event instantly occurred, which was not +really our fault, and we did not mean to. + +That Daisy girl had been mooning indoors all the afternoon with the +Jungle Books, and now she came suddenly out, just as Dicky and Noel +had got under the tigers and were shoving them along to fright each +other. Of course, this is not in the Mowgli book at all: but they +did look jolly like real tigers, and I am very far from wishing to +blame the girl, though she little knew what would be the awful +consequence of her rash act. But for her we might have got out of +it all much better than we did. What happened was truly horrid. + +As soon as Daisy saw the tigers she stopped short, and uttering a +shriek like a railway whistle she fell flat on the ground. + +'Fear not, gentle Indian maid,' Oswald cried, thinking with +surprise that perhaps after all she did know how to play, 'I myself +will protect thee.' And he sprang forward with the native bow and +arrows out of uncle's study. + +The gentle Indian maiden did not move. + +'Come hither,' Dora said, 'let us take refuge in yonder covert +while this good knight does battle for us.' Dora might have +remembered that we were savages, but she did not. And that is Dora +all over. And still the Daisy girl did not move. + +Then we were truly frightened. Dora and Alice lifted her up, and +her mouth was a horrid violet-colour and her eyes half shut. She +looked horrid. Not at all like fair fainting damsels, who are +always of an interesting pallor. She was green, like a cheap +oyster on a stall. + +We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were. We rubbed her +hands and let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her +unconscious brow. The girls loosened her dress, though it was only +the kind that comes down straight without a waist. And we were all +doing what we could as hard as we could, when we heard the click of +the front gate. There was no mistake about it. + +'I hope whoever it is will go straight to the front door,' said +Alice. But whoever it was did not. There were feet on the gravel, +and there was the uncle's voice, saying in his hearty manner-- + +'This way. This way. On such a day as this we shall find our +young barbarians all at play somewhere about the grounds.' + +And then, without further warning, the uncle, three other gentlemen +and two ladies burst upon the scene. + +We had no clothes on to speak of--I mean us boys. We were all wet +through. Daisy was in a faint or a fit, or dead, none of us then +knew which. And all the stuffed animals were there staring the +uncle in the face. Most of them had got a sprinkling, and the +otter and the duck-bill brute were simply soaked. And three of us +were dark brown. Concealment, as so often happens, was impossible. + +The quick brain of Oswald saw, in a flash, exactly how it would +strike the uncle, and his brave young blood ran cold in his veins. +His heart stood still. + +'What's all this--eh, what?' said the tones of the wronged uncle. + +Oswald spoke up and said it was jungles we were playing, and he +didn't know what was up with Daisy. He explained as well as anyone +could, but words were now in vain. + +The uncle had a Malacca cane in his hand, and we were but ill +prepared to meet the sudden attack. Oswald and H. O. caught it +worst. The other boys were under the tigers--and of course my +uncle would not strike a girl. Denny was a visitor and so got off. + +But it was bread and water for us for the next three days, and our +own rooms. I will not tell you how we sought to vary the +monotonousness of imprisonment. Oswald thought of taming a mouse, +but he could not find one. The reason of the wretched captives +might have given way but for the gutter that you can crawl along +from our room to the girls'. But I will not dwell on this because +you might try it yourselves, and it really is dangerous. When my +father came home we got the talking to, and we said we were +sorry--and we really were--especially about Daisy, though she had +behaved with muffishness, and then it was settled that we were to +go into the country and stay till we had grown into better +children. + +Albert's uncle was writing a book in the country; we were to go to +his house. We were glad of this--Daisy and Denny too. This we +bore nobly. We knew we had deserved it. We were all very sorry +for everything, and we resolved that for the future we WOULD be +good. + +I am not sure whether we kept this resolution or not. Oswald +thinks now that perhaps we made a mistake in trying so very hard to +be good all at once. You should do everything by degrees. + +P.S.--It turned out Daisy was not really dead at all. It was only +fainting--so like a girl. + + +N.B.--Pincher was found on the drawing-room sofa. + + +Appendix.--I have not told you half the things we did for the +jungle--for instance, about the elephants' tusks and the horse-hair +sofa-cushions, and uncle's fishing-boots. + + + +CHAPTER 2 +THE WOULDBEGOODS + +When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we felt +it was rather good business, because we knew our being sent there +was really only to get us out of the way for a little while, and we +knew right enough that it wasn't a punishment, though Mrs Blake +said it was, because we had been punished thoroughly for taking the +stuffed animals out and making a jungle on the lawn with them, and +the garden hose. And you cannot be punished twice for the same +offence. This is the English law; at least I think so. And at any +rate no one would punish you three times, and we had had the +Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; and the uncle had kindly +explained to us that all ill-feeling between him and us was wiped +out entirely by the bread and water we had endured. And what with +the bread and water and being prisoners, and not being able to tame +any mice in our prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it up +thoroughly, and now we could start fair. + +I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but +I have sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell +you what you truly want to know. However, dull or not, here +goes--because you won't understand anything unless I tell you what +the place was like. + +The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a +house there since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on +having a house on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt +down once or twice in ancient centuries--I don't remember +which--but they always built a new one, and Cromwell's soldiers +smashed it about, but it was patched up again. It is a very odd +house: the front door opens straight into the dining-room, and +there are red curtains and a black-and-white marble floor like a +chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, only it is not secret +now--only rather rickety. It is not very big, but there is a +watery moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to the +front door. Then, on the other side of the moat there is the farm, +with barns and oast houses and stables, or things like that. And +the other way the garden lawn goes on till it comes to the +churchyard. The churchyard is not divided from the garden at all +except by a little grass bank. In the front of the house there is +more garden, and the big fruit garden is at the back. + +The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big +one with conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on +the top, and he left the Moat House. And Albert's uncle took it, +and my father was to come down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, +and Albert's uncle was to live with us all the time, and he would +be writing a book, and we were not to bother him, but he would give +an eye to us. I hope all this is plain. I have said it as short +as I can. + +We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see +the big bell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging +to it went right down the house, through our bedroom to the +dining-room. H. O. saw the rope and pulled it while he was washing +his hands for supper, and Dicky and I let him, and the bell tolled +solemnly. Father shouted to him not to, and we went down to +supper. + +But presently there were many feet trampling on the gravel, and +Father went out to see. When he came back he said-- +'The whole village, or half of it, has come up to see why the bell +rang. It's only rung for fire or burglars. Why can't you kids let +things alone?' + +Albert's uncle said-- + +'Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They'll do no +more mischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of +the things to be avoided in this bucolic retreat.' + +So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not +see much that night. + +But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to +have awakened in a new world rich in surprises beyond the dreams of +anybody, as it says in the quotation. + +We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was +breakfast-time we felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room +we had breakfast in was exactly like in a story--black oak panels +and china in corner cupboards with glass doors. These doors were +locked. There were green curtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. +After brekker my father went back to town, and Albert's uncle went +too, to see publishers. We saw them to the station, and Father +gave us a long list of what we weren't to do. It began with 'Don't +pull ropes unless you're quite sure what will happen at the other +end,' and it finished with 'For goodness sake, try to keep out of +mischief till I come down on Saturday'. There were lots of other +things in between. + +We all promised we would. And we saw them off and waved till the +train was quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy +was tired so Oswald carried her home on his back. When we got home +she said-- + +'I do like you, Oswald.' + +She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be +nice to her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over +everything. It was a glorious place. You did not know where to +begin. We were all a little tired before we found the hayloft, but +we pulled ourselves together to make a fort with the trusses of +hay--great square things--and we were having a jolly good time, all +of us, when suddenly a trap-door opened and a head bobbed up with +a straw in its mouth. We knew nothing about the country then, and +the head really did scare us rather, though, of course, we found +out directly that the feet belonging to it were standing on the bar +of the loose-box underneath. The head said-- + +'Don't you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay, +that's all.' And it spoke thickly because of the straw. + +It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can +hardly believe now that once we really did not know that it spoiled +hay to mess about with it. Horses don't like to eat it afterwards. + +Always remember this. + +When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we +turned the handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got +hurt, though the head HAD said we should cut our fingers off if we +touched it. + +And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice +clean dirt that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was +room for hung their legs down out of the top door, and we looked +down at the farmyard, which is very slushy when you get down into +it, but most interesting. + +Then Alice said-- + +'Now we're all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for +a minute, I want to have a council.' + +We said what about? And she said, 'I'll tell you.' H. O., don't +wriggle so; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs.' + +You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable +as anyone else. + +'Promise not to laugh' Alice said, getting very red, and looking at +Dora, who got red too. + +We did, and then she said: + +'Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisy too, and we have +written it down because it is easier than saying it. Shall I read +it? or will you, Dora?' + +Dora said it didn't matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and +though she gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. +This is what she read: + + + NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN + +'I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound +mind and body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that +jungle day, we thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we +made our minds up to be good for ever after. And we talked to +Daisy about it, and she had an idea. So we want to start a society +for being good in. It is Daisy's idea, but we think so too.' + +'You know,' Dora interrupted, 'when people want to do good things +they always make a society. There are thousands--there's the +Missionary Society.' + +'Yes,' Alice said, 'and the Society for the Prevention of something +or other, and the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society, and the +S.P.G.' + +'What's S.P.G.?' Oswald asked. + +'Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course,' said Noel, +who cannot always spell. + +'No, it isn't; but do let me go on.' + +Alice did go on. + +'We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer +and secretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we've done. If +that doesn't make us good it won't be my fault. + +'The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great and +unselfish deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up +people and to perform prodigies of real goodness. We wish to +spread our wings'--here Alice read very fast. She told me +afterwards Daisy had helped her with that part, and she thought +when she came to the wings they sounded rather silly--'to spread +our wings and rise above the kind of interesting things that you +ought not to do, but to do kindnesses to all, however low and +mean.' + + +Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times. + + 'Little words of kindness' (he said), + 'Little deeds of love, + Make this earth an eagle + Like the one above.' + +This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle does +have wings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls had +written. But there was no rest. + +'That's all,' said Alice, and Daisy said-- +'Don't you think it's a good idea?' + +'That depends,' Oswald answered, 'who is president and what you +mean by being good.' + +Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself, because being +good is not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper to talk about, +especially before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemed to +like it, so Oswald did not say exactly what he thought, especially +as it was Daisy's idea. This was true politeness. + +'I think it would be nice,' Noel said, 'if we made it a sort of +play. Let's do the Pilgrim's Progress.' + +We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to +anything, because we all wanted to be Mr Greatheart, except H. O., +who wanted to be the lions, and you could not have lions in a +Society for Goodness. + +Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books about +children who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he +told me afterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in +Sunday school, and we did not wish to be unkind. + +At last Oswald said, 'Well, let's draw up the rules of the society, +and choose the president and settle the name.' + +Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. +She was secretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money. + +Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these: + + + RULES + +1. Every member is to be as good as possible. + +2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. + (Oswald and Dicky put that rule in.) + +3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a +suffering fellow-creature. + +4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like. + +5. We are to do good to people we don't like as often as we can. + +6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all the + rest of us. + +7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the world + except us. + +8. The name of our Society is-- + +And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora +wanted it called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the +Society for Reformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, No, we +really were not so bad as all that. + +Then H. O. said, 'Call it the Good Society.' + +'Or the Society for Being Good In,' said Daisy. + +'Or the Society of Goods,' said Noel. + +'That's priggish,' said Oswald; 'besides, we don't know whether we +shall be so very.' + +'You see,' Alice explained, 'we only said if we COULD we would be +good.' + +'Well, then,' Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the +chopped hay off himself, 'call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods +and have done with it.' + +Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make +himself a little disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to +disappointment. For everyone else clapped hands and called out, +'That's the very thing!' Then the girls went off to write out the +rules, and took H. O. with them, and Noel went to write some poetry +to put in the minute book. That's what you call the book that a +society's secretary writes what it does in. Denny went with him to +help. He knows a lot of poetry. I think he went to a lady's +school where they taught nothing but that. He was rather shy of +us, but he took to Noel. I can't think why. Dicky and Oswald +walked round the garden and told each other what they thought of +the new society. + +'I'm not sure we oughtn't to have put our foot down at the +beginning,' Dicky said. 'I don't see much in it, anyhow.' + +'It pleases the girls,' Oswald said, for he is a kind brother. + +'But we're not going to stand jaw, and "words in season", and +"loving sisterly warnings". I tell you what it is, Oswald, we'll +have to run this thing our way, or it'll be jolly beastly for +everybody.' + +Oswald saw this plainly. + +'We must do something,' Dicky said; it's very very hard, though. +Still, there must be SOME interesting things that are not wrong.' + +'I suppose so,' Oswald said, 'but being good is so much like being +a muff, generally. Anyhow I'm not going to smooth the pillows of +the sick, or read to the aged poor, or any rot out of Ministering +Children.' + +'No more am I,' Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head +had in its mouth, 'but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let's +begin by looking out for something useful to do--something like +mending things or cleaning them, not just showing off.' + +'The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy +tea and tracts.' + +'Little beasts!' said Dick. 'I say, let's talk about something +else.' And Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jolly +uncomfortable. + +We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played +draughts with Daisy and the others yawned. I don't know when we've +had such a gloomy evening. And everyone was horribly polite, and +said 'Please' and 'Thank you' far more than requisite. + +Albert's uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us +stories, but he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what +blight had fallen on our young lives. Oswald could have answered +and said, 'It is the Society of the Wouldbegoods that is the +blight,' but of course he didn't and Albert's uncle said no more, +but he went up and kissed the girls when they were in bed, and +asked them if there was anything wrong. And they told him no, on +their honour. + +The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the +morning sun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms +of his dear little brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on +top of his head and was snoring like a kettle when it sings. +Oswald could not remember at first what was the matter with him, +and then he remembered the Wouldbegoods, and wished he hadn't. He +felt at first as if there was nothing you could do, and even +hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny's head. But he soon saw that +this could not be. So he chucked his boot and caught Denny right +in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began more brightly than he +had expected. + +Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before, +except that when no one was looking he polished the brass +candlestick in the girls' bedroom with one of his socks. And he +might just as well have let it alone, for the servants cleaned it +again with the other things in the morning, and he could never find +the sock afterwards. There were two servants. One of them had to +be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane and Eliza like others. She +was cook and managed things. + +After breakfast Albert's uncle said-- + +'I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate my +privacy before 1.30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant +the intrusion, and nothing short of man--or rather boy--slaughter +shall avenge it.' + +So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we +ought to play out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have +played out of doors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that. + +But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald-- + +'I say, come along here a minute, will you?' + +So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlour and +shut the door, and Oswald said-- + +'Well, spit it out: what is it?' He knows that is vulgar, and he +would not have said it to anyone but his own brother. Dicky said-- + +'It's a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be.' +And Oswald was patient with him, and said-- + +'What is? Don't be all day about it.' + +Dicky fidgeted about a bit, and then he said-- + +'Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. +And you know that dairy window that wouldn't open--only a little +bit like that? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whip cord +and it opened wide.' + +'And I suppose they didn't want it mended,' said Oswald. He knew +but too well that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things far +different from what we would, and you catch it if you try to do +otherwise. + +'I shouldn't have minded THAT,' Dicky said, 'because I could easily +have taken it all off again if they'd only said so. But the +sillies went and propped up a milk-pan against the window. They +never took the trouble to notice I had mended it. So the wretched +thing pushed the window open all by itself directly they propped it +up, and it tumbled through into the moat, and they are most awfully +waxy. All the men are out in the fields and they haven't any spare +milk-pans. If I were a farmer, I must say I wouldn't stick at an +extra milk-pan or two. Accidents must happen sometimes. I call it +mean.' + +Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, first +because it wasn't his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing +boy. + +'Never mind,' he said kindly. 'Keep your tail up. We'll get the +beastly milk-pan out all right. Come on.' He rushed hastily to +the garden and gave a low, signifying whistle, which the others +know well enough to mean something extra being up. + +And when they were all gathered round him he spoke. + +'Fellow countrymen,' he said, 'we're going to have a rousing good +time.' + +'It's nothing naughty, is it,' Daisy asked, 'like the last time you +had that was rousingly good?' + +Alice said 'Shish', and Oswald pretended not to hear. + +'A precious treasure,' he said, 'has inadvertently been laid low in +the moat by one of us.' + +'The rotten thing tumbled in by itself,' Dicky said. + +Oswald waved his hand and said, 'Anyhow, it's there. It's our duty +to restore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here--we're +going to drag the moat.' + +Everyone brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was +interesting too. This is very uncommon. + +So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the +moat. There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did +not take any till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. +Mrs Pettigrew said, 'Law! I suppose so; you'd eat 'em anyhow, +leave or no leave.' + +She little knows the honourable nature of the house of Bastable. +But she has much to learn. + +The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We +sat there in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny +said, 'How DO you drag moats?' + +And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times +about a moat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we +really had never thought about exactly how it was done. + +'Grappling-irons are right, I believe,' Denny said, 'but I don't +suppose they'd have any at the farm.' + +And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I think +myself he meant some other word, but he was quite positive. + +So then we got a sheet off Oswald's bed, and we all took our shoes +and stockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the +bottom of the moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would +keep floating on the top of the water, and when we tried sewing +stones into one end of it, it stuck on something in the bottom, and +when we got it up it was torn. We were very sorry, and the sheet +was in an awful mess; but the girls said they were sure they could +wash it in the basin in their room, and we thought as we had torn +it anyway, we might as well go on. That washing never came off. + +'No human being,' Noel said, 'knows half the treasures hidden in +this dark tarn.' + +And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work +gradually round to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. +We could not see that part very well, because of the bushes that +grow between the cracks of the stones where the house goes down +into the moat. And opposite the dairy window the barn goes +straight down into the moat too. It is like pictures of Venice; +but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow. + +We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts +together in a bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying-- + +'Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two, +three,' when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a +piercing shriek and cried out-- + +'Oh! it's all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle.' And she +was out of the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. + +The other girls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in +such a hurry that we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us +went right in, and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one +who went right in was only H. O.; but Dora made an awful fuss and +said it was our fault. We told her what we thought, and it ended +in the girls going in with H. O. to change his things. We had some +more gooseberries while they were gone. Dora was in an awful wax +when she went away, but she is not of a sullen disposition though +sometimes hasty, and when they all came back we saw it was all +right, so we said-- + +'What shall we do now?' + +Alice said, 'I don't think we need drag any more. It is wormy. I +felt it when Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit +of itself out of the water. I saw it through the dairy window.' + +'Couldn't we get it up with fish-hooks?' Noel said. But Alice +explained that the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out. +So then Oswald said-- + +'Look here, we'll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, +and we might as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner +stable that they don't use. You know. The one where they chop the +wood.' + +We got the door. + +We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is +better described in books, so we knew what to do. + +We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm +garden, and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so +we took them. Denny had a box of tools someone had given him for +his last birthday; they were rather rotten little things, but the +gimlet worked all right, so we managed to make holes in the edges +of the tubs and fasten them with string under the four corners of +the old door. This took us a long time. Albert's uncle asked us +at dinner what we had been playing at, and we said it was a secret, +and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished to atone for Dicky's +mistake before anything more was said. The house has no windows in +the side that faces the orchard. + +The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass +when at last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach +with the last shove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and +towed her back; he is not afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of +the other things that were in the bottom of that moat he would have +kept his boots on. So would the others, especially Dora, as you +will see. + +At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, +though not up to our full strength, because if more than four got +on the water came up too near our knees, and we feared she might +founder if over-manned. + +Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that +they were, so that was all right. And as H. O. had been wet +through once he was not very keen. Alice promised Noel her best +paint-brush if he'd give up and not go, because we knew well that +the voyage was fraught with deep dangers, though the exact danger +that lay in wait for us under the dairy window we never even +thought of. + +So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even +then, every time we moved the water swished up over the raft and +hid our feet. But I must say it was a jolly decent raft. + +Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles +from the hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the +girls stand together in the middle and hold on to each other to +keep steady. Then we christened our gallant vessel. We called it +the Richard, after Dicky, and also after the splendid admiral who +used to eat wine-glasses and died after the Battle of the Revenge +in Tennyson's poetry. + +Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with +the dampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to use to dry +our legs and feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and +slowly and stately the good ship moved away from shore, riding on +the waves as though they were her native element. + +We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the +same way, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we +could not always keep her in the wind's eye. That is to say, she +went where we did not want, and once she bumped her corner against +the barn wall, and all the crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid +falling overboard into a watery grave. Of course then the waves +swept her decks, and when we got up again we said that we should +have to change completely before tea. + +But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into +port, under the dairy window and there was the milk-pan, for whose +sake we had endured such hardships and privations, standing up on +its edge quite quietly. + +The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought +to have done; but they cried out, 'Oh, here it is!' and then both +reached out to get it. Anyone who has pursued a naval career will +see that of course the raft capsized. For a moment it felt like +standing on the roof of the house, and the next moment the ship +stood up on end and shot the whole crew into the dark waters. + +We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across the +Ladywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as +good; but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if +the water had been deep we should have. + +As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he +opened them on a horrid scene. + +Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft +had righted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front +of the house, where the bridge is, and Dora and Alice were rising +from the deep, with their hair all plastered over their faces--like +Venus in the Latin verses. + +There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine +voice, looking out of the dairy window and screaming-- + +'Lord love the children!' + +It was Mrs Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry +we were in such a situation that she would be able to get at +Albert's uncle before we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry. + +Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position Dora +staggered a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, 'Oh, my +foot! oh, it's a shark! I know it is--or a crocodile!' + +The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could not +see us properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told +me afterwards he never could care for that paint-brush. + +Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, +which are large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. +She screamed without stopping. I shoved her along to where there +was a ledge of brickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on +it, then she got her foot out of the water, still screaming. + +It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up +with her foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she +had put her foot right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he +did so blood began to pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut +it in several spots. It was very pale blood, because her foot was +wet, of course. + +She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was +going to faint, like Daisy did on the jungle day. + +Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of +the least agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, +and she couldn't have waded back anyway, and we didn't know how +deep the moat might be in other places. + +But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really. + +Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft +and get it back, a boat's nose shot out from under a dark archway +a little further up under the house. It was the boathouse, and +Albert's uncle had got the punt and took us back in it. When we +had regained the dark arch where the boat lives we had to go up the +cellar stairs. Dora had to be carried. + +There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to +bed--those who had not been on the raft the same as the others, for +they owned up all right, and Albert's uncle is the soul of justice. + +Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to--with +other things. + +The worst was when Dora couldn't get her shoe on, so they sent for +the doctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was +indeed poor luck. + +When the doctor had gone Alice said to me-- + +'It IS hard lines, but Dora's very jolly about it. Daisy's been +telling her about how we should all go to her with our little joys +and sorrows and things, and about the sweet influence from a sick +bed that can be felt all over the house, like in What Katy Did, and +Dora said she hoped she might prove a blessing to us all while +she's laid up.' + +Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sort +of jaw was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn't want to +have happen. + +The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the +garden railings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been +put out there 'to sweeten'. + +But as Denny said, 'After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes +of somewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again.' + +I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to +please ourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no +difference to our punishment when Father came down. I have known +this mistake occur before. + + + +CHAPTER 3 +BILL'S TOMBSTONE + +There were soldiers riding down the road, on horses two and two. +That is the horses were two and two, and the men not. Because each +man was riding one horse and leading another. To exercise them. +They came from Chatham Barracks. We all drew up in a line outside +the churchyard wall, and saluted as they went by, though we had not +read Toady Lion then. We have since. It is the only decent book +I have ever read written by Toady Lion's author. The others are +mere piffle. But many people like them. In Sir Toady Lion the +officer salutes the child. + +There was only a lieutenant with those soldiers, and he did not +salute me. He kissed his hand to the girls; and a lot of the +soldiers behind kissed theirs too. We waved ours back. + +Next day we made a Union Jack out of pocket-handkerchiefs and part +of a red flannel petticoat of the White Mouse's, which she did not +want just then, and some blue ribbon we got at the village shop. + +Then we watched for the soldiers, and after three days they went by +again, by twos and twos as before. It was A1. + +We waved our flag, and we shouted. We gave them three cheers. +Oswald can shout loudest. So as soon as the first man was level +with us (not the advance guard, but the first of the battery)--he +shouted-- + +'Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!' And then we +waved the flag, and bellowed. Oswald stood on the wall to bellow +better, and Denny waved the flag because he was a visitor, and so +politeness made us let him enjoy the fat of whatever there was +going. + +The soldiers did not cheer that day; they only grinned and kissed +their hands. + +The next day we all got up as much like soldiers as we could. H. +O. and Noel had tin swords, and we asked Albert's uncle to let us +wear some of the real arms that are on the wall in the dining-room. + +And he said, 'Yes', if we would clean them up afterwards. But we +jolly well cleaned them up first with Brooke's soap and brick dust +and vinegar, and the knife polish (invented by the great and +immortal Duke of Wellington in his spare time when he was not +conquering Napoleon. Three cheers for our Iron Duke!), and with +emery paper and wash leather and whitening. Oswald wore a cavalry +sabre in its sheath. Alice and the Mouse had pistols in their +belts, large old flint-locks, with bits of red flannel behind the +flints. Denny had a naval cutlass, a very beautiful blade, and old +enough to have been at Trafalgar. I hope it was. The others had +French sword-bayonets that were used in the Franco-German war. +They are very bright when you get them bright, but the sheaths are +hard to polish. Each sword-bayonet has the name on the blade of +the warrior who once wielded it. I wonder where they are now. +Perhaps some of them died in the war. Poor chaps! But it is a +very long time ago. + +I should like to be a soldier. It is better than going to the best +schools, and to Oxford afterwards, even if it is Balliol you go to. +Oswald wanted to go to South Africa for a bugler, but father would +not let him. And it is true that Oswald does not yet know how to +bugle, though he can play the infantry 'advance', and the 'charge' +and the 'halt' on a penny whistle. Alice taught them to him with +the piano, out of the red book Father's cousin had when he was in +the Fighting Fifth. Oswald cannot play the 'retire', and he would +scorn to do so. But I suppose a bugler has to play what he is +told, no matter how galling to the young boy's proud spirit. + +The next day, being thoroughly armed, we put on everything red, +white and blue that we could think of-- night-shirts are good for +white, and you don't know what you can do with red socks and blue +jerseys till you try--and we waited by the churchyard wall for the +soldiers. When the advance guard (or whatever you call it of +artillery--it's that for infantry, I know) came by, we got ready, +and when the first man of the first battery was level with us +Oswald played on his penny whistle the 'advance' and the +'charge'--and then shouted-- + +'Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!' This time they +had the guns with them. And every man of the battery cheered too. +It was glorious. It made you tremble all over. The girls said it +made them want to cry--but no boy would own to this, even if it +were true. It is babyish to cry. But it was glorious, and Oswald +felt differently to what he ever did before. + +Then suddenly the officer in front said, 'Battery! Halt!' and all +the soldiers pulled their horses up, and the great guns stopped +too. Then the officer said, 'Sit at ease,' and something else, and +the sergeant repeated it, and some of the men got off their horses +and lit their pipes, and some sat down on the grass edge of the +road, holding their horses' bridles. + +We could see all the arms and accoutrements as plain as plain. + +Then the officer came up to us. We were all standing on the wall +that day, except Dora, who had to sit, because her foot was bad, +but we let her have the three-edged rapier to wear, and the +blunderbuss to hold as well--it has a brass mouth and is like in Mr +Caldecott's pictures. + +He was a beautiful man the officer. Like a Viking. Very tall and +fair, with moustaches very long, and bright blue eyes. He said-- + +'Good morning.' + +So did we. + +Then he said-- + +'You seem to be a military lot.' + +We said we wished we were. + +'And patriotic,' said he. + +Alice said she should jolly well think so. + +Then he said he had noticed us there for several days, and he had +halted the battery because he thought we might like to look at the +guns. + +Alas! there are but too few grown-up people so far- seeing and +thoughtful as this brave and distinguished officer. + +We said, 'Oh, yes', and then we got off the wall, and that good and +noble man showed us the string that moves the detonator and the +breech-block (when you take it out and carry it away the gun is in +vain to the enemy, even if he takes it); and he let us look down +the gun to see the rifling, all clean and shiny--and he showed us +the ammunition boxes, but there was nothing in them. He also told +us how the gun was unlimbered (this means separating the gun from +the ammunition carriage), and how quick it could be done--but he +did not make the men do this then, because they were resting. +There were six guns. Each had painted on the carriage, in white +letters, 15 Pr., which the captain told us meant fifteen-pounder. + +'I should have thought the gun weighed more than fifteen pounds,' +Dora said. 'It would if it was beef, but I suppose wood and gun +are lighter.' + +And the officer explained to her very kindly and patiently that 15 +Pr. meant the gun could throw a SHELL weighing fifteen pounds. + +When we had told him how jolly it was to see the soldiers go by so +often, he said-- + +'You won't see us many more times. We're ordered to the front; and +we sail on Tuesday week; and the guns will be painted mud-colour, +and the men will wear mud-colour too, and so shall I.' + +The men looked very nice, though they were not wearing their +busbies, but only Tommy caps, put on all sorts of ways. + +We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, +looked with envy on those who would soon be allowed--being grown +up, and no nonsense about your education--to go and fight for their +Queen and country. + +Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said-- + +'All right; but tell him yourself.' + +So Alice said to the captain-- + +'Will you stop next time you pass?' + +He said, 'I'm afraid I can't promise that.' + +Alice said, 'You might; there's a particular reason.' + +He said, 'What?' which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is +with children. Alice said-- + +'We want to give the soldiers a keepsake and will write to ask my +father. He is very well off just now. Look here--if we're not on +the wall when you come by, don't stop; but if we are, please, +PLEASE do!' + +The officer pulled his moustache and looked as if he did not know; +but at last he said 'Yes', and we were very glad, though but Alice +and Oswald knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting +in their youthful nuts. + +The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said-- + +'I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should +like to see your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished +silver.' + +The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But +Oswald said hurriedly-- + +'Don't. Not yet. We shan't ever have a chance like this. If +you'd only show us the pursuing practice! Albert's uncle knows it; +but he only does it on an armchair, because he hasn't a horse.' + +And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his +horse right into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the +cuts, thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was +splendid. The morning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his +good steed stood with all its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. + +Then we opened the paddock gate, and he did it again, while the +horse galloped as if upon the bloody battlefield among the fierce +foes of his native land, and this was far more ripping still. + +Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men +with him. And the guns of course. + +Then we wrote to my father, and he said 'Yes', as we knew he would, +and next time the soldiers came by --but they had no guns this +time, only the captive Arabs of the desert--we had the keepsakes +ready in a wheelbarrow, and we were on the churchyard wall. + +And the bold captain called an immediate halt. + +Then the girls had the splendid honour and pleasure of giving a +pipe and four whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier. + +Then we shook hands with the captain, and the sergeant and the +corporals, and the girls kissed the captain--I can't think why +girls will kiss everybody-- and we all cheered for the Queen. +It was grand. And I wish my father had been there to see how much +you can do with L12 if you order the things from the Stores. + +We have never seen those brave soldiers again. + +I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about +soldiers, and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the +white cottage in her desolate and oppressedness. + +Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the +churchyard, on the other side from our house. On the different +military occasions which I have remarked upon this widow woman +stood at her garden gate and looked on. And after the cheering she +rubbed her eyes with her apron. Alice noticed this slight but +signifying action. + +We feel quite sure Mrs Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt +friendly to her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. +She told us to go along with us, do, and not bother her. And +Oswald, with his usual delicacy and good breeding, made the others +do as she said. + +But we were not to be thus repulsed with impunity. We made +complete but cautious inquiries, and found out that the reason she +cried when she saw soldiers was that she had only one son, a boy. +He was twenty-two, and he had gone to the War last April. So that +she thought of him when she saw the soldiers, and that was why she +cried. Because when your son is at the wars you always think he is +being killed. I don't know why. A great many of them are not. If +I had a son at the wars I should never think he was dead till I +heard he was, and perhaps not then, considering everything. After +we had found this out we held a council. + +Dora said, 'We must do something for the soldier's widowed mother.' + +We all agreed, but added 'What?' + +Alice said, 'The gift of money might be deemed an insult by that +proud, patriotic spirit. Besides, we haven't more than +eighteenpence among us.' + +We had put what we had to father's L12 to buy the baccy and pipes. + +The Mouse then said, 'Couldn't we make her a flannel petticoat and +leave it without a word upon her doorstep?' + +But everyone said, 'Flannel petticoats in this weather?' so that +was no go. + +Noel said he would write her a poem, but Oswald had a deep, inward +feeling that Mrs Simpkins would not understand poetry. Many people +do not. + +H. O. said, 'Why not sing "Rule Britannia" under her window after +she had gone to bed, like waits,' but no one else thought so. + +Denny thought we might get up a subscription for her among the +wealthy and affluent, but we said again that we knew money would be +no balm to the haughty mother of a brave British soldier. + +'What we want,' Alice said, 'is something that will be a good deal +of trouble to us and some good to her.' + +'A little help is worth a deal of poetry,' said Denny. + +I should not have said that myself. Noel did look sick. + +' What DOES she do that we can help in?' Dora asked. 'Besides, she +won't let us help.' + +H. O. said, 'She does nothing but work in the garden. At least if +she does anything inside you can't see it, because she keeps the +door shut.' + +Then at once we saw. And we agreed to get up the very next day, +ere yet the rosy dawn had flushed the east, and have a go at Mrs +Simpkins's garden. + +We got up. We really did. But too often when you mean to, +overnight, it seems so silly to do it when you come to waking in +the dewy morn. We crept downstairs with our boots in our hands. +Denny is rather unlucky, though a most careful boy. It was he who +dropped his boot, and it went blundering down the stairs, echoing +like thunderbolts, and waking up Albert's uncle. But when we +explained to him that we were going to do some gardening he let us, +and went back to bed. + +Everything is very pretty and different in the early morning, +before people are up. I have been told this is because the shadows +go a different way from what they do in the awake part of the day. +But I don't know. Noel says the fairies have just finished tidying +up then. Anyhow it all feels quite otherwise. + +We put on our boots in the porch, and we got our gardening tools +and we went down to the white cottage. It is a nice cottage, with +a thatched roof, like in the drawing copies you get at girls' +schools, and you do the thatch--if you can--with a B.B. pencil. If +you cannot, you just leave it. It looks just as well, somehow, +when it is mounted and framed. + +We looked at the garden. It was very neat. Only one patch was +coming up thick with weeds. I could see groundsel and chickweed, +and others that I did not know. We set to work with a will. We +used all our tools--spades, forks, hoes, and rakes--and Dora worked +with the trowel, sitting down, because her foot was hurt. We +cleared the weedy patch beautifully, scraping off all the nasty +weeds and leaving the nice clean brown dirt. We worked as hard as +ever we could. And we were happy, because it was unselfish toil, +and no one thought then of putting it in the Book of Golden Deeds, +where we had agreed to write down our virtuous actions and the good +doings of each other, when we happen to notice them. + +We had just done, and we were looking at the beautiful production +of our honest labour, when the cottage door burst open, and the +soldier's widowed mother came out like a wild tornado, and her eyes +looked like upas trees--death to the beholder. + +'You wicked, meddlesome, nasty children!' she said, ain't you got +enough of your own good ground to runch up and spoil, but you must +come into MY little lot?' + +Some of us were deeply alarmed, but we stood firm. + +'We have only been weeding your garden,' Dora said; 'we wanted to +do something to help you.' + +'Dratted little busybodies,' she said. It was indeed hard, but +everyone in Kent says 'dratted' when they are cross. 'It's my +turnips,' she went on, 'you've hoed up, and my cabbages. My +turnips that my boy sowed afore he went. There, get along with you +do, afore I come at you with my broom-handle.' + +She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even the +boldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. 'They +looked like weeds right enough,' he said. + +And Dicky said, 'It all comes of trying to do golden deeds.' This +was when we were out in the road. + +As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met the +postman. He said-- + +'Here's the letters for the Moat,' and passed on hastily. He was +a bit late. + +When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all for +Albert's uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in +a magazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs +Simpkins. We honourably only looked at the address, although it is +allowed by the rules of honourableness to read postcards that come +to your house if you like, even if they are not for you. + +After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not +afraid, whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding +the postcard right way up, so that we should not look at the +lettery part of it, but only the address. + +With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up +to the white cottage door. + +It opened with a bang when we knocked. + +'Well?' Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in +books call 'sourly'. + +Oswald said, 'We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and +we will ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way.' + +She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody. + +'We came back,' Oswald went on, with his always unruffled +politeness, 'because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with +our letters, and it is addressed to you.' + +'We haven't read it,' Alice said quickly. I think she needn't have +said that. Of course we hadn't. But perhaps girls know better +than we do what women are likely to think you capable of. + +The soldier's mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but +'took' is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at +the address a long time. Then she turned it over and read what was +on the back. Then she drew her breath in as far as it would go, +and caught hold of the door-post. Her face got awful. It was like +the wax face of a dead king I saw once at Madame Tussaud's. + +Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier's mother's hand +and said-- + +'Oh, NO--it's NOT your boy Bill!' + +And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice's +hand, and we both read it--and it WAS her boy Bill. + +Alice gave her back the card. She had held on to the woman's hand +all the time, and now she squeezed the hand, and held it against +her face. But she could not say a word because she was crying so. +The soldier's mother took the card again and she pushed Alice away, +but it was not an unkind push, and she went in and shut the door; +and as Alice and Oswald went down the road Oswald looked back, and +one of the windows of the cottage had a white blind. Afterwards +the other windows had too. There were no blinds really to the +cottage. It was aprons and things she had pinned up. + +Alice cried most of the morning, and so did the other girls. We +wanted to do something for the soldier's mother, but you can do +nothing when people's sons are shot. It is the most dreadful thing +to want to do something for people who are unhappy, and not to know +what to do. + +It was Noel who thought of what we COIULD do at last. + +He said, 'I suppose they don't put up tombstones to soldiers when +they die in war. But there--I mean Oswald said, 'Of course not.' + +Noel said, 'I daresay you'll think it's silly, but I don't care. +Don't you think she'd like it, if we put one up to HIM? Not in the +churchyard, of course, because we shouldn't be let, but in our +garden, just where it joins on to the churchyard?' + +And we all thought it was a first-rate idea. + +This is what we meant to put on the tombstone: + + + 'Here lies + + BILL SIMPKINS + + Who died fighting for Queen + + and Country.' + + + 'A faithful son, + A son so dear, + A soldier brave + Lies buried here.' + + +Then we remembered that poor brave Bill was really buried far away +in the Southern hemisphere, if at all. So we altered it to-- + + + 'A soldier brave + We weep for here.' + + +Then we looked out a nice flagstone in the stable-yard, and we got +a cold chisel out of the Dentist's toolbox, and began. + +But stone-cutting is difficult and dangerous work. + +Oswald went at it a bit, but he chipped his thumb, and it bled so +he had to chuck it. Then Dicky tried, and then Denny, but Dicky +hammered his finger, and Denny took all day over every stroke, so +that by tea-time we had only done the H, and about half the E--and +the E was awfully crooked. Oswald chipped his thumb over the H. + +We looked at it the next morning, and even the most sanguinary of +us saw that it was a hopeless task. + +Then Denny said, 'Why not wood and paint?' and he showed us how. +We got a board and two stumps from the carpenter's in the village, +and we painted it all white, and when that was dry Denny did the +words on it. + +It was something like this: + + 'IN MEMORY OF + BILL SIMPKINS + + DEAD FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY. + + HONOUR TO HIS NAME AND ALL + + OTHER BRAVE SOLDIERS.' + + +We could not get in what we meant to at first, so we had to give up +the poetry. + +We fixed it up when it was dry. We had to dig jolly deep to get +the posts to stand up, but the gardener helped us. + +Then the girls made wreaths of white flowers, roses and Canterbury +bells, and lilies and pinks, and sweet-peas and daisies, and put +them over the posts. And I think if Bill Simpkins had known how +sorry we were, he would have been glad. Oswald only hopes if he +falls on the wild battlefield, which is his highest ambition, that +somebody will be as sorry about him as he was about Bill, that's +all! + +When all was done, and what flowers there were over from the +wreaths scattered under the tombstone between the posts, we wrote +a letter to Mrs Simpkins, and said-- + + +DEAR MRS SIMPKINS-- + +We are very, very sorry about the turnips and things, and we beg +your pardon humbly. We have put up a tombstone to your brave son. + + +And we signed our names. Alice took the letter. + +The soldier's mother read it, and said something about our oughting +to know better than to make fun of people's troubles with our +tombstones and tomfoolery. + +Alice told me she could not help crying. + +She said-- + +'It's not! it's NOT! Dear, DEAR Mrs Simpkins, do come with me and +see! You don't know how sorry we are about Bill. Do come and see. + +We can go through the churchyard, and the others have all gone in, +so as to leave it quiet for you. Do come.' + +And Mrs Simpkins did. And when she read what we had put up, and +Alice told her the verse we had not had room for, she leant against +the wall by the grave-- I mean the tombstone--and Alice hugged her, +and they both cried bitterly. The poor soldier's mother was very, +very pleased, and she forgave us about the turnips, and we were +friends after that, but she always liked Alice the best. A great +many people do, somehow. + +After that we used to put fresh flowers every day on Bill's +tombstone, and I do believe his mother was pleased, though she got +us to move it away from the churchyard edge and put it in a corner +of our garden under a laburnum, where people could not see it from +the church. But you could from the road, though I think she +thought you couldn't. She came every day to look at the new +wreaths. When the white flowers gave out we put coloured, and she +liked it just as well. + +About a fortnight after the erecting of the tombstone the girls +were putting fresh wreaths on it when a soldier in a red coat came +down the road, and he stopped and looked at us. He walked with a +stick, and he had a bundle in a blue cotton handkerchief, and one +arm in a sling. + +And he looked again, and he came nearer, and he leaned on the wall, +so that he could read the black printing on the white paint. + +And he grinned all over his face, and he said-- + +'Well, I AM blessed!' + +And he read it all out in a sort of half whisper, and when he came +to the end, where it says, 'and all such brave soldiers', he said-- + +'Well, I really AM!' I suppose he meant he really was blessed. +Oswald thought it was like the soldier's cheek, so he said-- + +'I daresay you aren't so very blessed as you think. What's it to +do with you, anyway, eh, Tommy?' + +Of course Oswald knew from Kipling that an infantry soldier is +called that. The soldier said-- + +'Tommy yourself, young man. That's ME!' and he pointed to the +tombstone. + +We stood rooted to the spot. Alice spoke first. + +'Then you're Bill, and you're not dead,' she said. 'Oh, Bill, I am +so glad! Do let ME tell your mother.' + +She started running, and so did we all. Bill had to go slowly +because of his leg, but I tell you he went as fast as ever he +could. + +We all hammered at the soldier's mother's door, and shouted-- + +'Come out! come out!' and when she opened the door we were going to +speak, but she pushed us away, and went tearing down the garden +path like winking. I never saw a grown-up woman run like it, +because she saw Bill coming. + +She met him at the gate, running right into him, and caught hold of +him, and she cried much more than when she thought he was dead. + +And we all shook his hand and said how glad we were. + +The soldier's mother kept hold of him with both hands, and I +couldn't help looking at her face. It was like wax that had been +painted on both pink cheeks, and the eyes shining like candles. +And when we had all said how glad we were, she said-- + +'Thank the dear Lord for His mercies,' and she took her boy Bill +into the cottage and shut the door. + +We went home and chopped up the tombstone with the wood-axe and had +a blazing big bonfire, and cheered till we could hardly speak. + +The postcard was a mistake; he was only missing. There was a pipe +and a whole pound of tobacco left over from our keepsake to the +other soldiers. We gave it to Bill. Father is going to have him +for under-gardener when his wounds get well. He'll always be a bit +lame, so he cannot fight any more. + + + +CHAPTER 4 +THE TOWER OF MYSTERY + +It was very rough on Dora having her foot bad, but we took it in +turns to stay in with her, and she was very decent about it. Daisy +was most with her. I do not dislike Daisy, but I wish she had been +taught how to play. Because Dora is rather like that naturally, +and sometimes I have thought that Daisy makes her worse. + +I talked to Albert's uncle about it one day, when the others had +gone to church, and I did not go because of ear-ache, and he said +it came from reading the wrong sort of books partly--she has read +Ministering Children, and Anna Ross, or The Orphan of Waterloo, and +Ready Work for Willing Hands, and Elsie, or Like a Little Candle, +and even a horrid little blue book about the something or other of +Little Sins. After this conversation Oswald took care she had +plenty of the right sort of books to read, and he was surprised and +pleased when she got up early one morning to finish Monte Cristo. +Oswald felt that he was really being useful to a suffering +fellow-creature when he gave Daisy books that were not all about +being good. + +A few days after Dora was laid up, Alice called a council of the +Wouldbegoods, and Oswald and Dicky attended with darkly-clouded +brows. Alice had the minute-book, which was an exercise-book that +had not much written in it. She had begun at the other end. I +hate doing that myself, because there is so little room at the top +compared with right way up. + +Dora and a sofa had been carried out on to the lawn, and we were on +the grass. It was very hot and dry. We had sherbet. Alice read: + +'"Society of the Wouldbegoods. + +'"We have not done much. Dicky mended a window, and we got the +milk-pan out of the moat that dropped through where he mended it. +Dora, Oswald, Dicky and me got upset in the moat. This was not +goodness. Dora's foot was hurt. We hope to do better next time."' + + +Then came Noel's poem: + + + 'We are the Wouldbegoods Society, + We are not good yet, but we mean to try, + And if we try, and if we don't succeed, + It must mean we are very bad indeed.' + + +This sounded so much righter than Noel's poetry generally does, +that Oswald said so, and Noel explained that Denny had helped him. + +'He seems to know the right length for lines of poetry. I suppose +it comes of learning so much at school,' Noel said. + +Then Oswald proposed that anybody should be allowed to write in the +book if they found out anything good that anyone else had done, but +not things that were public acts; and nobody was to write about +themselves, or anything other people told them, only what they +found out. + +After a brief jaw the others agreed, and Oswald felt, not for the +first time in his young life, that he would have made a good +diplomatic hero to carry despatches and outwit the other side. For +now he had put it out of the minute-book's power to be the kind of +thing readers of Ministering Children would have wished. + +'And if anyone tells other people any good thing he's done he is to +go to Coventry for the rest of the day.' + +And Denny remarked, 'We shall do good by stealth, and blush to find +it shame.' + +After that nothing was written in the book for some time. I looked +about, and so did the others, but I never caught anyone in the act +of doing anything extra; though several of the others have told me +since of things they did at this time, and really wondered nobody +had noticed. + +I think I said before that when you tell a story you cannot tell +everything. It would be silly to do it. Because ordinary kinds of +play are dull to read about; and the only other thing is meals, and +to dwell on what you eat is greedy and not like a hero at all. A +hero is always contented with a venison pasty and a horn of sack. +All the same, the meals were very interesting; with things you do +not get at home--Lent pies with custard and currants in them, +sausage rolls and fiede cakes, and raisin cakes and apple +turnovers, and honeycomb and syllabubs, besides as much new milk as +you cared about, and cream now and then, and cheese always on the +table for tea. Father told Mrs Pettigrew to get what meals she +liked, and she got these strange but attractive foods. + +In a story about Wouldbegoods it is not proper to tell of times +when only some of us were naughty, so I will pass lightly over the +time when Noel got up the kitchen chimney and brought three bricks +and an old starling's nest and about a ton of soot down with him +when he fell. They never use the big chimney in the summer, but +cook in the wash-house. Nor do I wish to dwell on what H. O. did +when he went into the dairy. I do not know what his motive was. +But Mrs Pettigrew said SHE knew; and she locked him in, and said if +it was cream he wanted he should have enough, and she wouldn't let +him out till tea-time. The cat had also got into the dairy for +some reason of her own, and when H. O. was tired of whatever he +went in for he poured all the milk into the churn and tried to +teach the cat to swim in it. He must have been desperate. The cat +did not even try to learn, and H. O. had the scars on his hands for +weeks. I do not wish to tell tales of H. O., for he is very young, +and whatever he does he always catches it for; but I will just +allude to our being told not to eat the greengages in the garden. +And we did not. And whatever H. O. did was Noel's fault--for Noel +told H. O. that greengages would grow again all right if you did +not bite as far as the stone, just as wounds are not mortal except +when you are pierced through the heart. So the two of them bit +bites out of every greengage they could reach. And of course the +pieces did not grow again. + +Oswald did not do things like these, but then he is older than his +brothers. The only thing he did just about then was making a +booby-trap for Mrs Pettigrew when she had locked H. O. up in the +dairy, and unfortunately it was the day she was going out in her +best things, and part of the trap was a can of water. Oswald was +not willingly vicious; it was but a light and thoughtless act which +he had every reason to be sorry for afterwards. And he is sorry +even without those reasons, because he knows it is ungentlemanly to +play tricks on women. + +I remember Mother telling Dora and me when we were little that you +ought to be very kind and polite to servants, because they have to +work very hard, and do not have so many good times as we do. I +used to think about Mother more at the Moat House than I did at +Blackheath, especially in the garden. She was very fond of +flowers, and she used to tell us about the big garden where she +used to live; and I remember Dora and I helped her to plant seeds. +But it is no use wishing. She would have liked that garden, +though. + +The girls and the white mice did not do anything boldly +wicked--though of course they used to borrow Mrs Pettigrew's +needles, which made her very nasty. Needles that are borrowed +might just as well be stolen. But I say no more. + +I have only told you these things to show the kind of events which +occurred on the days I don't tell you about. On the whole, we had +an excellent time. + +It was on the day we had the pillow-fight that we went for the long +walk. Not the Pilgrimage--that is another story. We did not mean +to have a pillow-fight. It is not usual to have them after +breakfast, but Oswald had come up to get his knife out of the +pocket of his Etons, to cut some wire we were making rabbit snares +of. It is a very good knife, with a file in it, as well as a +corkscrew and other things--and he did not come down at once, +because he was detained by having to make an apple-pie bed for +Dicky. Dicky came up after him to see what he was up to, and when +he did see he buzzed a pillow at Oswald, and the fight began. The +others, hearing the noise of battle from afar, hastened to the +field of action, all except Dora, who couldn't because of being +laid up with her foot, and Daisy, because she is a little afraid of +us still, when we are all together. She thinks we are rough. This +comes of having only one brother. + +Well, the fight was a very fine one. Alice backed me up, and Noel +and H. O. backed Dicky, and Denny heaved a pillow or two; but he +cannot shy straight, so I don't know which side he was on. + +And just as the battle raged most fiercely, Mrs Pettigrew came in +and snatched the pillows away, and shook those of the warriors who +were small enough for it. SHE was rough if you like. She also +used language I should have thought she would be above. She said, + Drat you!' and 'Drabbit you!' The last is a thing I have never +heard said before. She said-- + +'There's no peace of your life with you children. Drat your +antics! And that poor, dear, patient gentleman right underneath, +with his headache and his handwriting: and you rampaging about over +his head like young bull-calves. I wonder you haven't more sense, +a great girl like you.' + +She said this to Alice, and Alice answered gently, as we are told +to do-- + +'I really am awfully sorry; we forgot about the headache. Don't be +cross, Mrs Pettigrew; we didn't mean to; we didn't think.' + +'You never do,' she said, and her voice, though grumpy, was no +longer violent. 'Why on earth you can't take yourselves off for +the day I don't know.' + +We all said, 'But may we?' + +She said, 'Of course you may. Now put on your boots and go for a +good long walk. And I'll tell you what--I'll put you up a snack, +and you can have an egg to your tea to make up for missing your +dinner. Now don't go clattering about the stairs and passages, +there's good children. See if you can't be quiet this once, and +give the good gentleman a chance with his copying.' + +She went off. Her bark is worse than her bite. She does not +understand anything about writing books, though. She thinks +Albert's uncle copies things out of printed books, when he is +really writing new ones. I wonder how she thinks printed books get +made first of all. Many servants are like this. + +She gave us the 'snack' in a basket, and sixpence to buy milk with. +She said any of the farms would let us have it, only most likely it +would be skim. We thanked her politely, and she hurried us out of +the front door as if we'd been chickens on a pansy bed. + +(I did not know till after I had left the farm gate open, and the +hens had got into the garden, that these feathered bipeds display +a great partiality for the young buds of plants of the genus viola, +to which they are extremely destructive. I was told that by the +gardener. I looked it up in the gardening book afterwards to be +sure he was right. You do learn a lot of things in the country.) + +We went through the garden as far as the church, and then we rested +a bit in the porch, and just looked into the basket to see what the +'snack' was. It proved to be sausage rolls and queen cakes, and a +Lent pie in a round tin dish, and some hard-boiled eggs, and some +apples. We all ate the apples at once, so as not to have to carry +them about with us. The churchyard smells awfully good. It is the +wild thyme that grows on the graves. This is another thing we did +not know before we came into the country. + +Then the door of the church tower was ajar, and we all went up; it +had always been locked before when we had tried it. + +We saw the ringers' loft where the ends of the bellropes hang down +with long, furry handles to them like great caterpillars, some red, +and some blue and white, but we did not pull them. And then we +went up to where the bells are, very big and dusty among large +dirty beams; and four windows with no glass, only shutters like +Venetian blinds, but they won't pull up. There were heaps of +straws and sticks on the window ledges. We think they were owls' +nests, but we did not see any owls. + +Then the tower stairs got very narrow and dark, and we went on up, +and we came to a door and opened it suddenly, and it was like being +hit in the face, the light was so sudden. And there we were on the +top of the tower, which is flat, and people have cut their names on +it, and a turret at one corner, and a low wall all round, up and +down, like castle battlements. And we looked down and saw the roof +of the church, and the leads, and the churchyard, and our garden, +and the Moat House, and the farm, and Mrs Simpkins's cottage, +looking very small, and other farms looking like toy things out of +boxes, and we saw corn-fields and meadows and pastures. A pasture +is not the same thing as a meadow, whatever you may think. And we +saw the tops of trees and hedges, looking like the map of the +United States, and villages, and a tower that did not look very far +away standing by itself on the top of a hill. Alice pointed to it, +and said-- + +'What's that?' + +'It's not a church,' said Noel, 'because there's no churchyard. +Perhaps it's a tower of mystery that covers the entrance to a +subterranean vault with treasure in it.' + +Dicky said, 'Subterranean fiddlestick!' and 'A waterworks, more +likely.' + +Alice thought perhaps it was a ruined castle, and the rest of its +crumbling walls were concealed by ivy, the growth of years. + +Oswald could not make his mind up what it was, so he said, 'Let's +go and see! We may as well go there as anywhere.' + +So we got down out of the church tower and dusted ourselves, and +set out. + +The Tower of Mystery showed quite plainly from the road, now that +we knew where to look for it, because it was on the top of a hill. +We began to walk. But the tower did not seem to get any nearer. +And it was very hot. + +So we sat down in a meadow where there was a stream in the ditch +and ate the 'snack'. We drank the pure water from the brook out of +our hands, because there was no farm to get milk at just there, and +it was too much fag to look for one--and, besides, we thought we +might as well save the sixpence. + +Then we started again, and still the tower looked as far off as +ever. Denny began to drag his feet, though he had brought a +walking-stick which none of the rest of us had, and said-- + +'I wish a cart would come along. We might get a lift.' + +He knew all about getting lifts, of course, from having been in the +country before. He is not quite the white mouse we took him for at +first. Of course when you live in Lewisham or Blackheath you learn +other things. If you asked for a lift in Lewisham, High Street, +your only reply would be jeers. We sat down on a heap of stones, +and decided that we would ask for a lift from the next cart, +whichever way it was going. It was while we were waiting that +Oswald found out about plantain seeds being good to eat. + +When the sound of wheels came we remarked with joy that the cart +was going towards the Tower of Mystery. It was a cart a man was +going to fetch a pig home in. Denny said-- + +'I say, you might give us a lift. Will you?' + +The man who was going for the pig said-- + +'What, all that little lot?' but he winked at Alice, and we saw +that he meant to aid us on our way. So we climbed up, and he +whipped up the horse and asked us where we were going. He was a +kindly old man, with a face like a walnut shell, and white hair and +beard like a jack-in-the-box. + +'We want to get to the tower,' Alice said. 'Is it a ruin, or not?' + +'It ain't no ruin,' the man said; 'no fear of that! The man wot +built it he left so much a year to be spent on repairing of it! +Money that might have put bread in honest folks' mouths.' + +We asked was it a church then, or not. + +'Church?' he said. 'Not it. It's more of a tombstone, from all I +can make out. They do say there was a curse on him that built it, +and he wasn't to rest in earth or sea. So he's buried half-way up +the tower--if you can call it buried.' + +'Can you go up it?' Oswald asked. + +'Lord love you! yes; a fine view from the top they say. I've never +been up myself, though I've lived in sight of it, boy and man, +these sixty-three years come harvest.' + +Alice asked whether you had to go past the dead and buried person +to get to the top of the tower, and could you see the coffin. + +'No, no,' the man said; 'that's all hid away behind a slab of +stone, that is, with reading on it. You've no call to be afraid, +missy. It's daylight all the way up. But I wouldn't go there +after dark, so I wouldn't. It's always open, day and night, and +they say tramps sleep there now and again. Anyone who likes can +sleep there, but it wouldn't be me.' + +We thought that it would not be us either, but we wanted to go more +than ever, especially when the man said-- + +'My own great-uncle of the mother's side, he was one of the masons +that set up the stone slab. Before then it was thick glass, and +you could see the dead man lying inside, as he'd left it in his +will. He was lying there in a glass coffin with his best +clothes--blue satin and silver, my uncle said, such as was all the +go in his day, with his wig on, and his sword beside him, what he +used to wear. My uncle said his hair had grown out from under his +wig, and his beard was down to the toes of him. My uncle he always +upheld that that dead man was no deader than you and me, but was in +a sort of fit, a transit, I think they call it, and looked for him +to waken into life again some day. But the doctor said not. It +was only something done to him like Pharaoh in the Bible afore he +was buried.' + +Alice whispered to Oswald that we should be late for tea, and +wouldn't it be better to go back now directly. But he said-- + +'If you're afraid, say so; and you needn't come in anyway--but I'm +going on.' + +The man who was going for the pig put us down at a gate quite near +the tower--at least it looked so until we began to walk again. We +thanked him, and he said-- + +'Quite welcome,' and drove off. + +We were rather quiet going through the wood. What we had heard +made us very anxious to see the tower-- all except Alice, who would +keep talking about tea, though not a greedy girl by nature. None +of the others encouraged her, but Oswald thought himself that we +had better be home before dark. + +As we went up the path through the wood we saw a poor wayfarer with +dusty bare feet sitting on the bank. + +He stopped us and said he was a sailor, and asked for a trifle to +help him to get back to his ship. + +I did not like the look of him much myself, but Alice said, 'Oh, +the poor man, do let's help him, Oswald.' So we held a hurried +council, and decided to give him the milk sixpence. Oswald had it +in his purse, and he had to empty the purse into his hand to find +the sixpence, for that was not all the money he had, by any means. +Noel said afterwards that he saw the wayfarer's eyes fastened +greedily upon the shining pieces as Oswald returned them to his +purse. Oswald has to own that he purposely let the man see that he +had more money, so that the man might not feel shy about accepting +so large a sum as sixpence. + +The man blessed our kind hearts and we went on. + +The sun was shining very brightly, and the Tower of Mystery did not +look at all like a tomb when we got to it. The bottom Storey was +on arches, all open, and ferns and things grew underneath. There +was a round stone stair going up in the middle. Alice began to +gather ferns while we went up, but when we had called out to her +that it was as the pig-man had said, and daylight all the way up, +she said-- + +'All right. I'm not afraid. I'm only afraid of being late home,' +and came up after us. And perhaps, though not downright manly +truthfulness, this was as much as you could expect from a girl. + +There were holes in the little tower of the staircase to let light +in. At the top of it was a thick door with iron bolts. We shot +these back, and it was not fear but caution that made Oswald push +open the door so very slowly and carefully. + +Because, of course, a stray dog or cat might have got shut up there +by accident, and it would have startled Alice very much if it had +jumped out on us. + +When the door was opened we saw that there was no such thing. It +was a room with eight sides. Denny says it is the shape called +octogenarian; because a man named Octagius invented it. There were +eight large arched windows with no glass, only stone-work, like in +churches. The room was full of sunshine, and you could see the +blue sky through the windows, but nothing else, because they were +so high up. It was so bright we began to think the pig-man had +been kidding us. Under one of the windows was a door. We went +through, and there was a little passage and then a turret-twisting +stair, like in the church, but quite light with windows. When we +had gone some way up this, we came to a sort of landing, and there +was a block of stone let into the wall--polished--Denny said it was +Aberdeen graphite, with gold letters cut in it. It said-- + + 'Here lies the body of Mr Richard Ravenal + Born 1720. Died 1779.' + +and a verse of poetry: + + 'Here lie I, between earth and sky, + Think upon me, dear passers -by, + And you who do my tombstone see + Be kind to say a prayer for me.' + +'How horrid!' Alice said. 'Do let's get home.' + +'We may as well go to the top,' Dicky said, 'just to say we've +been.' + +And Alice is no funk--so she agreed; though I could see she did not +like it. + +Up at the top it was like the top of the church tower, only +octogenarian in shape, instead of square. + +Alice got all right there; because you cannot think much about +ghosts and nonsense when the sun is shining bang down on you at +four o'clock in the afternoon, and you can see red farm-roofs +between the trees, and the safe white roads, with people in carts +like black ants crawling. + +It was very jolly, but we felt we ought to be getting back, because +tea is at five, and we could not hope to find lifts both ways. + +So we started to go down. Dicky went first, then Oswald, then +Alice--and H. O. had just stumbled over the top step and saved +himself by Alice's back, which nearly upset Oswald and Dicky, when +the hearts of all stood still, and then went on by leaps and +bounds, like the good work in missionary magazines. + +For, down below us, in the tower where the man whose beard grew +down to his toes after he was dead was buried, there was a noise--a +loud noise. And it was like a door being banged and bolts +fastened. We tumbled over each other to get back into the open +sunshine on the top of the tower, and Alice's hand got jammed +between the edge of the doorway and H. O.'s boot; it was bruised +black and blue, and another part bled, but she did not notice it +till long after. + +We looked at each other, and Oswald said in a firm voice (at least, +I hope it was)-- + +'What was that?' + +'He HAS waked up,' Alice said. 'Oh, I know he has. Of course +there is a door for him to get out by when he wakes. He'll come up +here. I know he will.' + +Dicky said, and his voice was not at all firm (I noticed that at +the time), 'It doesn't matter, if he's ALIVE.' + +'Unless he's come to life a raving lunatic,' Noel said, and we all +stood with our eyes on the doorway of the turret--and held our +breath to hear. + +But there was no more noise. + +Then Oswald said--and nobody ever put it in the Golden Deed book, +though they own that it was brave and noble of him--he said-- + +'Perhaps it was only the wind blowing one of the doors to. I'll go +down and see, if you will, Dick.' + +Dicky only said-- + +'The wind doesn't shoot bolts.' + +'A bolt from the blue,' said Denny to himself, looking up at the +sky. His father is a sub-editor. He had gone very red, and he was +holding on to Alice's hand. Suddenly he stood up quite straight +and said-- + +'I'm not afraid. I'll go and see.' + +THIS was afterwards put in the Golden Deed book. It ended in +Oswald and Dicky and Denny going. Denny went first because he said +he would rather-- and Oswald understood this and let him. If +Oswald had pushed first it would have been like Sir Lancelot +refusing to let a young knight win his spurs. Oswald took good +care to go second himself, though. The others never understood +this. You don't expect it from girls; but I did think father would +have understood without Oswald telling him, which of course he +never could. + +We all went slowly. + +At the bottom of the turret stairs we stopped short. Because the +door there was bolted fast and would not yield to shoves, however +desperate and united. + +Only now somehow we felt that Mr Richard Ravenal was all right and +quiet, but that some one had done it for a lark, or perhaps not +known about anyone being up there. So we rushed up, and Oswald +told the others in a few hasty but well-chosen words, and we all +leaned over between the battlements, and shouted, 'Hi! you there!' + +Then from under the arches of the quite-downstairs part of the +tower a figure came forth--and it was the sailor who had had our +milk sixpence. He looked up and he spoke to us. He did not speak +loud, but he spoke loud enough for us to hear every word quite +plainly. He said-- + +'Drop that.' + +Oswald said, 'Drop what?' + +He said, 'That row.' + +Oswald said, 'Why?' + +He said, 'Because if you don't I'll come up and make you, and +pretty quick too, so I tell you.' + +Dicky said, 'Did you bolt the door?' + +The man said, 'I did so, my young cock.' + +Alice said--and Oswald wished to goodness she had held her tongue, +because he saw right enough the man was not friendly--'Oh, do come +and let us out--do, please.' + +While she was saying it Oswald suddenly saw that he did not want +the man to come up. So he scurried down the stairs because he +thought he had seen something on the door on the top side, and sure +enough there were two bolts, and he shot them into their sockets. +This bold act was not put in the Golden Deed book, because when +Alice wanted to, the others said it was not GOOD of Oswald to think +of this, but only CLEVER. I think sometimes, in moments of danger +and disaster, it is as good to be clever as it is to be good. But +Oswald would never demean himself to argue about this. + +When he got back the man was still standing staring up. Alice +said-- + +'Oh, Oswald, he says he won't let us out unless we give him all our +money. And we might be here for days and days and all night as +well. No one knows where we are to come and look for us. Oh, do +let's give it him ALL.' + +She thought the lion of the English nation, which does not know +when it is beaten, would be ramping in her brother's breast. But +Oswald kept calm. He said-- + +'All right,' and he made the others turn out their pockets. Denny +had a bad shilling, with a head on both sides, and three halfpence. +H. O. had a halfpenny. Noel had a French penny, which is only good +for chocolate machines at railway stations. Dicky had +tenpence-halfpenny, and Oswald had a two-shilling piece of his own +that he was saving up to buy a gun with. Oswald tied the whole lot +up in his handkerchief, and looking over the battlements, he said-- + +'You are an ungrateful beast. We gave you sixpence freely of our +own will.' + +The man did look a little bit ashamed, but he mumbled something +about having his living to get. Then Oswald said-- + +'Here you are. Catch!' and he flung down the handkerchief with the +money in it. + +The man muffed the catch--butter-fingered idiot!-- but he picked up +the handkerchief and undid it, and when he saw what was in it he +swore dreadfully. The cad! + +'Look here,' he called out, 'this won't do, young shaver. I want +those there shiners I see in your pus! Chuck 'em along!' + +Then Oswald laughed. He said-- + +'I shall know you again anywhere, and you'll be put in prison for +this. Here are the SHINERS.' And he was so angry he chucked down +purse and all. The shiners were not real ones, but only +card-counters that looked like sovereigns on one side. Oswald used +to carry them in his purse so as to look affluent. He does not do +this now. + +When the man had seen what was in the purse he disappeared under +the tower, and Oswald was glad of what he had done about the +bolts--and he hoped they were as strong as the ones on the other +side of the door. + +They were. + +We heard the man kicking and pounding at the door, and I am not +ashamed to say that we were all holding on to each other very +tight. I am proud, however, to relate that nobody screamed or +cried. + +After what appeared to be long years, the banging stopped, and +presently we saw the brute going away among the trees. Then Alice +did cry, and I do not blame her. Then Oswald said-- + +'It's no use. Even if he's undone the door, he may be in ambush. +We must hold on here till somebody comes.' + +Then Alice said, speaking chokily because she had not quite done +crying-- + +'Let's wave a flag.' + +By the most fortunate accident she had on one of her Sunday +petticoats, though it was Monday. This petticoat is white. She +tore it out at the gathers, and we tied it to Denny's stick, and +took turns to wave it. We had laughed at his carrying a stick +before, but we were very sorry now that we had done so. + +And the tin dish the Lent pie was baked in we polished with our +handkerchiefs, and moved it about in the sun so that the sun might +strike on it and signal our distress to some of the outlying farms. + +This was perhaps the most dreadful adventure that had then ever +happened to us. Even Alice had now stopped thinking of Mr Richard +Ravenal, and thought only of the lurker in ambush. + +We all felt our desperate situation keenly. I must say Denny +behaved like anything but a white mouse. When it was the others' +turn to wave, he sat on the leads of the tower and held Alice's and +Noel's hands, and said poetry to them--yards and yards of it. By +some strange fatality it seemed to comfort them. It wouldn't have +me. + +He said 'The Battle of the Baltic', and 'Gray's Elegy', right +through, though I think he got wrong in places, and the 'Revenge', +and Macaulay's thing about Lars Porsena and the Nine Gods. And +when it was his turn he waved like a man. + +I will try not to call him a white mouse any more. He was a brick +that day, and no mouse. + +The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and very +hungry, when we saw a cart in the road below. We waved like mad, +and shouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a +thing none of us had known before that he could do. + +And the cart stopped. And presently we saw a figure with a white +beard among the trees. It was our Pig-man. + +We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in--he +thought at first we were kidding-- he came up and let us out. + +He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one-- and we were +not particular. Denny and Alice sat on the front of the cart with +the Pig-man, and the rest of us got in with the pig, and the man +drove us right home. You may think we talked it over on the way. +Not us. We went to sleep, among the pig, and before long the +Pig-man stopped and got us to make room for Alice and Denny. There +was a net over the cart. I never was so sleepy in my life, though +it was not more than bedtime. + + +Generally, after anything exciting, you are punished--but this +could not be, because we had only gone for a walk, exactly as we +were told. + +There was a new rule made, though. No walks except on the +high-roads, and we were always to take Pincher and either Lady, the +deer-hound, or Martha, the bulldog. We generally hate rules, but +we did not mind this one. + +Father gave Denny a gold pencil-case because he was first to go +down into the tower. Oswald does not grudge Denny this, though +some might think he deserved at least a silver one. But Oswald is +above such paltry jealousies. + + + +CHAPTER 5 +THE WATERWORKS + +This is the story of one of the most far-reaching and influentially +naughty things we ever did in our lives. We did not mean to do +such a deed. And yet we did do it. These things will happen with +the best-regulated consciences. + +The story of this rash and fatal act is intimately involved--which +means all mixed up anyhow--with a private affair of Oswald's, and +the one cannot be revealed without the other. Oswald does not +particularly want his story to be remembered, but he wishes to tell +the truth, and perhaps it is what father calls a wholesome +discipline to lay bare the awful facts. + +It was like this. + +On Alice's and Noel's birthday we went on the river for a picnic. +Before that we had not known that there was a river so near us. +Afterwards father said he wished we had been allowed to remain on +our pristine ignorance, whatever that is. And perhaps the dark +hour did dawn when we wished so too. But a truce to vain regrets. + +It was rather a fine thing in birthdays. The uncle sent a box of +toys and sweets, things that were like a vision from another and a +brighter world. Besides that Alice had a knife, a pair of shut-up +scissors, a silk handkerchief, a book--it was The Golden Age and is +Ai except where it gets mixed with grown-up nonsense. Also a +work-case lined with pink plush, a boot-bag, which no one in their +senses would use because it had flowers in wool all over it. And +she had a box of chocolates and a musical box that played 'The Man +who broke' and two other tunes, and two pairs of kid gloves for +church, and a box of writing-paper--pink--with 'Alice' on it in +gold writing, and an egg coloured red that said 'A. Bastable' in +ink on one side. These gifts were the offerings of Oswald, Dora, +Dicky, Albert's uncle, Daisy, Mr Foulkes (our own robber), Noel, H. +O., father and Denny. Mrs Pettigrew gave the egg. It was a kindly +housekeeper's friendly token. + +I shall not tell you about the picnic on the river because the +happiest times form but dull reading when they are written down. +I will merely state that it was prime. Though happy, the day was +uneventful. The only thing exciting enough to write about was in +one of the locks, where there was a snake--a viper. It was asleep +in a warm sunny corner of the lock gate, and when the gate was shut +it fell off into the water. + +Alice and Dora screamed hideously. So did Daisy, but her screams +were thinner. + +The snake swam round and round all the time our boat was in the +lock. It swam with four inches of itself--the head end--reared up +out of the water, exactly like Kaa in the Jungle Book--so we know +Kipling is a true author and no rotter. We were careful to keep +our hands well inside the boat. A snake's eyes strike terror into +the boldest breast. + +When the lock was full father killed the viper with a boat-hook. +I was sorry for it myself. It was indeed a venomous serpent. But +it was the first we had ever seen, except at the Zoo. And it did +swim most awfully well. + +Directly the snake had been killed H. O. reached out for its +corpse, and the next moment the body of our little brother was seen +wriggling conclusively on the boat's edge. This exciting spectacle +was not of a lasting nature. He went right in. Father clawed him +out. He is very unlucky with water. + +Being a birthday, but little was said. H. O. was wrapped in +everybody's coats, and did not take any cold at all. + +This glorious birthday ended with an iced cake and ginger wine, and +drinking healths. Then we played whatever we liked. There had +been rounders during the afternoon. It was a day to be for ever +marked by memory's brightest what's-its-name. + +I should not have said anything about the picnic but for one thing. +It was the thin edge of the wedge. It was the all-powerful lever +that moved but too many events. You see, WE WERE NO LONGER +STRANGERS TO THE RIVER. + +And we went there whenever we could. Only we had to take the dogs, +and to promise no bathing without grown-ups. But paddling in back +waters was allowed. I say no more. + +I have not numerated Noel's birthday presents because I wish to +leave something to the imagination of my young readers. (The best +authors always do this.) If you will take the large, red catalogue +of the Army and Navy Stores, and just make a list of about fifteen +of the things you would like best--prices from 2s. to 25s.--you +will get a very good idea of Noel's presents, and it will help you +to make up your mind in case you are asked just before your next +birthday what you really NEED. + +One of Noel's birthday presents was a cricket ball. He cannot bowl +for nuts, and it was a first-rate ball. So some days after the +birthday Oswald offered him to exchange it for a coconut he had won +at the fair, and two pencils (new), and a brand-new note-book. +Oswald thought, and he still thinks, that this was a fair exchange, +and so did Noel at the time, and he agreed to it, and was quite +pleased till the girls said it wasn't fair, and Oswald had the best +of it. And then that young beggar Noel wanted the ball back, but +Oswald, though not angry, was firm. + +'You said it was a bargain, and you shook hands on it,' he said, +and he said it quite kindly and calmly. + +Noel said he didn't care. He wanted his cricket ball back. And +the girls said it was a horrid shame. + +If they had not said that, Oswald might yet have consented to let +Noel have the beastly ball, but now, of course, he was not going +to. He said-- + +'Oh, yes, I daresay. And then you would be wanting the coconut and +things again the next minute.' + +'No, I shouldn't,' Noel said. It turned out afterwards he and H. +O. had eaten the coconut, which only made it worse. And it made +them worse too--which is what the book calls poetic justice. + +Dora said, 'I don't think it was fair,' and even Alice said-- + +'Do let him have it back, Oswald.' + +I wish to be just to Alice. She did not know then about the +coconut having been secretly wolfed up. + +We were in the garden. Oswald felt all the feelings of the hero +when the opposing forces gathered about him are opposing as hard as +ever they can. He knew he was not unfair, and he did not like to +be jawed at just because Noel had eaten the coconut and wanted the +ball back. Though Oswald did not know then about the eating of the +coconut, but he felt the injustice in his soul all the same. + +Noel said afterwards he meant to offer Oswald something else to +make up for the coconut, but he said nothing about this at the +time. + +'Give it me, I say,' Noel said. + +And Oswald said, 'Shan't!' + +Then Noel called Oswald names, and Oswald did not answer back but +just kept smiling pleasantly, and carelessly throwing up the ball +and catching it again with an air of studied indifference. + +It was Martha's fault that what happened happened. She is the +bull-dog, and very stout and heavy. She had just been let loose +and she came bounding along in her clumsy way, and jumped up on +Oswald, who is beloved by all dumb animals. (You know how +sagacious they are.) Well, Martha knocked the ball out of Oswald's +hands, and it fell on the grass, and Noel pounced on it like a +hooded falcon on its prey. Oswald would scorn to deny that he was +not going to stand this, and the next moment the two were rolling +over on the grass, and very soon Noel was made to bite the dust. +And serve him right. He is old enough to know his own mind. + +Then Oswald walked slowly away with the ball, and the others picked +Noel up, and consoled the beaten, but Dicky would not take either +side. + +And Oswald went up into his own room and lay on his bed, and +reflected gloomy reflections about unfairness. + +Presently he thought he would like to see what the others were +doing without their knowing he cared. So he went into the +linen-room and looked out of its window, and he saw they were +playing Kings and Queens--and Noel had the biggest paper crown and +the longest stick sceptre. + +Oswald turned away without a word, for it really was sickening. + +Then suddenly his weary eyes fell upon something they had not +before beheld. It was a square trap-door in the ceiling of the +linen-room. + +Oswald never hesitated. He crammed the cricket ball into his +pocket and climbed up the shelves and unbolted the trap-door, and +shoved it up, and pulled himself up through it. Though above all +was dark and smelt of spiders, Oswald fearlessly shut the trap-door +down again before he struck a match. He always carries matches. +He is a boy fertile in every subtle expedient. Then he saw he was +in the wonderful, mysterious place between the ceiling and the roof +of the house. The roof is beams and tiles. Slits of light show +through the tiles here and there. The ceiling, on its other and +top side, is made of rough plaster and beams. If you walk on the +beams it is all right--if you walk on the plaster you go through +with your feet. Oswald found this out later, but some fine +instinct now taught the young explorer where he ought to tread and +where not. It was splendid. He was still very angry with the +others and he was glad he had found out a secret they jolly well +didn't know. + +He walked along a dark, narrow passage. Every now and then +cross-beams barred his way, and he had to creep under them. At +last a small door loomed before him with cracks of light under and +over. He drew back the rusty bolts and opened it. It opened +straight on to the leads, a flat place between two steep red roofs, +with a parapet two feet high back and front, so that no one could +see you. It was a place no one could have invented better than, if +they had tried, for hiding in. + +Oswald spent the whole afternoon there. He happened to have a +volume of Percy's Anecdotes in his pocket, the one about lawyers, +as well as a few apples. While he read he fingered the cricket +ball, and presently it rolled away, and he thought he would get it +by-and-by. + +When the tea-bell rang he forgot the ball and went hurriedly down, +for apples do not keep the inside from the pangs of hunger. + +Noel met him on the landing, got red in the face, and said-- + +'It wasn't QUITE fair about the ball, because H. O. and I had eaten +the coconut. YOU can have it.' + +'I don't want your beastly ball,' Oswald said, 'only I hate +unfairness. However, I don't know where it is just now. When I +find it you shall have it to bowl with as often as you want.' + +'Then you're not waxy?' + +And Oswald said 'No' and they went in to tea together. So that was +all right. There were raisin cakes for tea. + +Next day we happened to want to go down to the river quite early. +I don't know why; this is called Fate, or Destiny. We dropped in +at the 'Rose and Crown' for some ginger-beer on our way. The +landlady is a friend of ours and lets us drink it in her back +parlour, instead of in the bar, which would be improper for girls. + +We found her awfully busy, making pies and jellies, and her two +sisters were hurrying about with great hams, and pairs of chickens, +and rounds of cold beef and lettuces, and pickled salmon and trays +of crockery and glasses. + +'It's for the angling competition,' she said. + +We said, 'What's that?' + +'Why,' she said, slicing cucumber like beautiful machinery while +she said it, 'a lot of anglers come down some particular day and +fish one particular bit of the river. And the one that catches +most fish gets the prize. They're fishing the pen above Stoneham +Lock. And they all come here to dinner. So I've got my hands full +and a trifle over.' + +We said, 'Couldn't we help?' + +But she said, 'Oh, no, thank you. Indeed not, please. I really am +so I don't know which way to turn. Do run along, like dears.' + +So we ran along like these timid but graceful animals. + +Need I tell the intellectual reader that we went straight off to +the pen above Stoneham Lock to see the anglers competing? Angling +is the same thing as fishing. + +I am not going to try and explain locks to you. If you've never +seen a lock you could never understand even if I wrote it in words +of one syllable and pages and pages long. And if you have, you'll +understand without my telling you. It is harder than Euclid if you +don't know beforehand. But you might get a grown-up person to +explain it to you with books or wooden bricks. + +I will tell you what a pen is because that is easy. It is the bit +of river between one lock and the next. In some rivers 'pens' are +called 'reaches', but pen is the proper word. + +We went along the towing-path; it is shady with willows, aspens, +alders, elders, oaks and other trees. On the banks are +flowers--yarrow, meadow-sweet, willow herb, loosestrife, and lady's +bed-straw. Oswald learned the names of all these trees and plants +on the day of the picnic. The others didn't remember them, but +Oswald did. He is a boy of what they call relenting memory. + +The anglers were sitting here and there on the shady bank among the +grass and the different flowers I have named. Some had dogs with +them, and some umbrellas, and some had only their wives and +families. + +We should have liked to talk to them and ask how they liked their +lot, and what kinds of fish there were, and whether they were nice +to eat, but we did not like to. + +Denny had seen anglers before and he knew they liked to be talked +to, but though he spoke to them quite like to equals he did not ask +the things we wanted to know. He just asked whether they'd had any +luck, and what bait they used. + +And they answered him back politely. I am glad I am not an angler. + +It is an immovable amusement, and, as often as not, no fish to +speak of after all. + +Daisy and Dora had stayed at home: Dora's foot was nearly well but +they seem really to like sitting still. I think Dora likes to have +a little girl to order about. Alice never would stand it. When we +got to Stoneham Lock Denny said he should go home and fetch his +fishing-rod. H. O. went with him. This left four of us--Oswald, +Alice, Dicky, and Noel. We went on down the towing-path. +The lock shuts up (that sounds as if it was like the lock on a +door, but it is very otherwise) between one pen of the river and +the next; the pen where the anglers were was full right up over the +roots of the grass and flowers. But the pen below was nearly +empty. + +'You can see the poor river's bones,' Noel said. + +And so you could. + +Stones and mud and dried branches, and here and there an old kettle +or a tin pail with no bottom to it, that some bargee had chucked +in. + +From walking so much along the river we knew many of the bargees. +Bargees are the captains and crews of the big barges that are +pulled up and down the river by slow horses. The horses do not +swim. They walk on the towing-path, with a rope tied to them, and +the other end to the barge. So it gets pulled along. The bargees +we knew were a good friendly sort, and used to let us go all over +the barges when they were in a good temper. They were not at all +the sort of bullying, cowardly fiends in human form that the young +hero at Oxford fights a crowd of, single-handed, in books. + +The river does not smell nice when its bones are showing. But we +went along down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler's wax in +Falding village for a bird-net he was making. + +But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and +straight, we saw a sad and gloomy sight--a big barge sitting flat +on the mud because there was not water enough to float her. + +There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat +that was spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to +friends of ours. + +Then Alice said, 'They have gone to find the man who turns on the +water to fill the pen. I daresay they won't find him. He's gone +to his dinner, I shouldn't wonder. What a lovely surprise it would +be if they came back to find their barge floating high and dry on +a lot of water! DO let's do it. It's a long time since any of us +did a kind action deserving of being put in the Book of Golden +Deeds.' + +We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly 'Society +of the Wouldbegoods'. Then you could think of the book if you +wanted to without remembering the Society. I always tried to +forget both of them. + +Oswald said, 'But how? YOU don't know how. And if you did we +haven't got a crowbar.' + +I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crowbars. You +push and push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It +is rather like the little sliding door in the big door of a +hen-house. + +'I know where the crowbar is,' Alice said. 'Dicky and I were down +here yesterday when you were su--' She was going to say sulking, I +know, but she remembered manners ere too late so Oswald bears her +no malice. She went on: 'Yesterday, when you were upstairs. And +we saw the water-tender open the lock and the weir sluices. It's +quite easy, isn't it, Dicky?' + +'As easy as kiss your hand,' said Dicky; 'and what's more, I know +where he keeps the other thing he opens the sluices with. I votes +we do.' + +'Do let's, if we can,' Noel said, 'and the bargees will bless the +names of their unknown benefactors. They might make a song about +us, and sing it on winter nights as they pass round the wassail +bowl in front of the cabin fire.' + +Noel wanted to very much; but I don't think it was altogether for +generousness, but because he wanted to see how the sluices opened. +Yet perhaps I do but wrong the boy. + +We sat and looked at the barge a bit longer, and then Oswald said, +well, he didn't mind going back to the lock and having a look at +the crowbars. You see Oswald did not propose this; he did not even +care very much about it when Alice suggested it. + +But when we got to Stoneham Lock, and Dicky dragged the two heavy +crowbars from among the elder bushes behind a fallen tree, and +began to pound away at the sluice of the lock, Oswald felt it would +not be manly to stand idly apart. So he took his turn. + +It was very hard work but we opened the lock sluices, and we did +not drop the crowbar into the lock either, as I have heard of being +done by older and sillier people. + +The water poured through the sluices all green and solid, as if it +had been cut with a knife, and where it fell on the water +underneath the white foam spread like a moving counterpane. When +we had finished the lock we did the weir--which is wheels and +chains-- and the water pours through over the stones in a +magnificent waterfall and sweeps out all round the weir-pool. + +The sight of the foaming waterfalls was quite enough reward for our +heavy labours, even without the thought of the unspeakable +gratitude that the bargees would feel to us when they got back to +their barge and found her no longer a stick-in-the-mud, but +bounding on the free bosom of the river. + +When we had opened all the sluices we gazed awhile on the beauties +of Nature, and then went home, because we thought it would be more +truly noble and good not to wait to be thanked for our kind and +devoted action--and besides, it was nearly dinner-time and Oswald +thought it was going to rain. + +On the way home we agreed not to tell the others, because it would +be like boasting of our good acts. + +'They will know all about it,' Noel said, 'when they hear us being +blessed by the grateful bargees, and the tale of the Unknown +Helpers is being told by every village fireside. And then they can +write it in the Golden Deed book.' + +So we went home. Denny and H. O. had thought better of it, and +they were fishing in the moat. They did not catch anything. + +Oswald is very weather-wise--at least, so I have heard it said, and +he had thought there would be rain. There was. It came on while +we were at dinner--a great, strong, thundering rain, coming down in +sheets--the first rain we had had since we came to the Moat House. + +We went to bed as usual. No presentiment of the coming awfulness +clouded our young mirth. I remember Dicky and Oswald had a +wrestling match, and Oswald won. + +In the middle of the night Oswald was awakened by a hand on his +face. It was a wet hand and very cold. Oswald hit out, of course, +but a voice said, in a hoarse, hollow whisper-- + +'Don't be a young ass! Have you got any matches? My bed's full of +water; it's pouring down from the ceiling.' + +Oswald's first thoughts was that perhaps by opening those sluices +we had flooded some secret passage which communicated with the top +of Moat House, but when he was properly awake he saw that this +could not be, on account of the river being so low. + +He had matches. He is, as I said before, a boy full of resources. +He struck one and lit a candle, and Dicky, for it was indeed he, +gazed with Oswald at the amazing spectacle. + +Our bedroom floor was all wet in patches. Dicky's bed stood in a +pond, and from the ceiling water was dripping in rich profusion at +a dozen different places. There was a great wet patch in the +ceiling, and that was blue, instead of white like the dry part, and +the water dripped from different parts of it. + +In a moment Oswald was quite unmanned. + +'Krikey!' he said, in a heart-broken tone, and remained an instant +plunged in thought. + +'What on earth are we to do?' Dicky said. + +And really for a short time even Oswald did not know. It was a +blood-curdling event, a regular facer. Albert's uncle had gone to +London that day to stay till the next. Yet something must be done. + +The first thing was to rouse the unconscious others from their deep +sleep, because the water was beginning to drip on to their beds, +and though as yet they knew it not, there was quite a pool on +Noel's bed, just in the hollow behind where his knees were doubled +up, and one of H. O.'s boots was full of water, that surged wildly +out when Oswald happened to kick it over. + +We woke them--a difficult task, but we did not shrink from it. + + +Then we said, 'Get up, there is a flood! Wake up, or you will be +drowned in your beds! And it's half past two by Oswald's watch.' + +They awoke slowly and very stupidly. H. O. was the slowest and +stupidest. + + +The water poured faster and faster from the ceiling. + +We looked at each other and turned pale, and Noel said-- + +'Hadn't we better call Mrs Pettigrew?' + +But Oswald simply couldn't consent to this. He could not get rid +of the feeling that this was our fault somehow for meddling with +the river, though of course the clear star of reason told him it +could not possibly be the case. + +We all devoted ourselves, heart and soul, to the work before us. +We put the bath under the worst and wettest place, and the jugs and +basins under lesser streams, and we moved the beds away to the dry +end of the room. Ours is a long attic that runs right across the +house. + +But the water kept coming in worse and worse. Our nightshirts were +wet through, so we got into our other shirts and knickerbockers, +but preserved bareness in our feet. And the floor kept on being +half an inch deep in water, however much we mopped it up. + +We emptied the basins out of the window as fast as they filled, and +we baled the bath with a jug without pausing to complain how hard +the work was. All the same, it was more exciting than you can +think. But in Oswald's dauntless breast he began to see that they +would HAVE to call Mrs Pettigrew. + +A new waterfall broke out between the fire-grate and the +mantelpiece, and spread in devastating floods. Oswald is full of +ingenious devices. I think I have said this before, but it is +quite true; and perhaps even truer this time than it was last time +I said it. + +He got a board out of the box-room next door, and rested one end in +the chink between the fireplace and the mantelpiece, and laid the +other end on the back of a chair, then we stuffed the rest of the +chink with our nightgowns, and laid a towel along the plank, and +behold, a noble stream poured over the end of the board right into +the bath we put there ready. It was like Niagara, only not so +round in shape. The first lot of water that came down the chimney +was very dirty. The wind whistled outside. Noel said, 'If it's +pipes burst, and not the rain, it will be nice for the +water-rates.' Perhaps it was only natural after this for Denny to +begin with his everlasting poetry. He stopped mopping up the water +to say: + + 'By this the storm grew loud apace, + The water-rats were shrieking, + And in the howl of Heaven each face + Grew black as they were speaking.' + +Our faces were black, and our hands too, but we did not take any +notice; we only told him not to gas but to go on mopping. And he +did. And we all did. + +But more and more water came pouring down. You would not believe +so much could come off one roof. + +When at last it was agreed that Mrs Pettigrew must be awakened at +all hazards, we went and woke Alice to do the fatal errand. + +When she came back, with Mrs Pettigrew in a nightcap and red +flannel petticoat, we held our breath. + +But Mrs Pettigrew did not even say, 'What on earth have you +children been up to NOW?' as Oswald had feared. + +She simply sat down on my bed and said-- + +'Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!' ever so many times. + +Then Denny said, 'I once saw holes in a cottage roof. The man told +me it was done when the water came through the thatch. He said if +the water lies all about on the top of the ceiling, it breaks it +down, but if you make holes the water will only come through the +holes and you can put pails under the holes to catch it.' + +So we made nine holes in the ceiling with the poker, and put pails, +baths and tubs under, and now there was not so much water on the +floor. But we had to keep on working like niggers, and Mrs +Pettigrew and Alice worked the same. + +About five in the morning the rain stopped; about seven the water +did not come in so fast, and presently it only dripped slowly. Our +task was done. + +This is the only time I was ever up all night. I wish it happened +oftener. We did not go back to bed then, but dressed and went +down. We all went to sleep in the afternoon, though. Quite +without meaning to. + +Oswald went up on the roof, before breakfast, to see if he could +find the hole where the rain had come in. He did not find any +hole, but he found the cricket ball jammed in the top of a gutter +pipe which he afterwards knew ran down inside the wall of the house +and ran into the moat below. It seems a silly dodge, but so it +was. + +When the men went up after breakfast to see what had caused the +flood they said there must have been a good half-foot of water on +the leads the night before for it to have risen high enough to go +above the edge of the lead, and of course when it got above the +lead there was nothing to stop it running down under it, and +soaking through the ceiling. The parapet and the roofs kept it +from tumbling off down the sides of the house in the natural way. +They said there must have been some obstruction in the pipe which +ran down into the house, but whatever it was the water had washed +it away, for they put wires down, and the pipe was quite clear. + +While we were being told this Oswald's trembling fingers felt at +the wet cricket ball in his pocket. And he KNEW, but he COULD +not tell. He heard them wondering what the obstruction could have +been, and all the time he had the obstruction in his pocket, and +never said a single word. + +I do not seek to defend him. But it really was an awful thing to +have been the cause of; and Mrs Pettigrew is but harsh and hasty. +But this, as Oswald knows too well, is no excuse for his silent +conduct. + +That night at tea Albert's uncle was rather silent too. At last he +looked upon us with a glance full of intelligence, and said-- + +'There was a queer thing happened yesterday. You know there was an +angling competition. The pen was kept full on purpose. Some +mischievous busybody went and opened the sluices and let all the +water out. The anglers' holiday was spoiled. No, the rain +wouldn't have spoiled it anyhow, Alice; anglers LIKEe rain. The +'Rose and Crown' dinner was half of it wasted because the anglers +were so furious that a lot of them took the next train to town. +And this is the worst of all--a barge, that was on the mud in the +pen below, was lifted and jammed across the river and the water +tilted her over, and her cargo is on the river bottom. It was +coals.' + +During this speech there were four of us who knew not where to turn +our agitated glances. Some of us tried bread-and-butter, but it +seemed dry and difficult, and those who tried tea choked and +spluttered and were sorry they had not let it alone. When the +speech stopped Alice said, 'It was us.' + +And with deepest feelings she and the rest of us told all about it. + +Oswald did not say much. He was turning the obstruction round and +round in his pocket, and wishing with all his sentiments that he +had owned up like a man when Albert's uncle asked him before tea to +tell him all about what had happened during the night. + +When they had told all, Albert's uncle told us four still more +plainly, and exactly, what we had done, and how much pleasure we +had spoiled, and how much of my father's money we had +wasted--because he would have to pay for the coals being got up +from the bottom of the river, if they could be, and if not, for the +price of the coals. And we saw it ALL. + +And when he had done Alice burst out crying over her plate and +said-- + +'It's no use! We HAVE tried to be good since we've been down here. + +You don't know how we've tried! And it's all no use. I believe we +are the wickedest children in the whole world, and I wish we were +all dead!' + +This was a dreadful thing to say, and of course the rest of us were +all very shocked. But Oswald could not help looking at Albert's +uncle to see how he would take it. + +He said very gravely, 'My dear kiddie, you ought to be sorry, and +I wish you to be sorry for what you've done. And you will be +punished for it.' (We were; our pocket-money was stopped and we +were forbidden to go near the river, besides impositions miles +long.) 'But,' he went on, 'you mustn't give up trying to be good. +You are extremely naughty and tiresome, as you know very well.' + +Alice, Dicky, and Noel began to cry at about this time. + +'But you are not the wickedest children in the world by any means.' + +Then he stood up and straightened his collar, and put his hands in +his pockets. + +'You're very unhappy now,' he said, 'and you deserve to be. But I +will say one thing to you.' + +Then he said a thing which Oswald at least will never forget +(though but little he deserved it, with the obstruction in his +pocket, unowned up to all the time). + +He said, 'I have known you all for four years--and you know as well +as I do how many scrapes I've seen you in and out of--but I've +never known one of you tell a lie, and I've never known one of you +do a mean or dishonourable action. And when you have done wrong +you are always sorry. Now this is something to stand firm on. +You'll learn to be good in the other ways some day.' + +He took his hands out of his pockets, and his face looked +different, so that three of the four guilty creatures knew he was +no longer adamant, and they threw themselves into his arms. Dora, +Denny, Daisy, and H. O., of course, were not in it, and I think +they thanked their stars. + +Oswald did not embrace Albert's uncle. He stood there and made up +his mind he would go for a soldier. He gave the wet ball one last +squeeze, and took his hand out of his pocket, and said a few words +before going to enlist. He said-- + +'The others may deserve what you say. I hope they do, I'm sure. +But I don't, because it was my rotten cricket ball that stopped up +the pipe and caused the midnight flood in our bedroom. And I knew +it quite early this morning. And I didn't own up.' + +Oswald stood there covered with shame, and he could feel the +hateful cricket ball heavy and cold against the top of his leg, +through the pocket. + +Albert's uncle said--and his voice made Oswald hot all over, but +not with shame--he said-- + +I shall not tell you what he said. It is no one's business but +Oswald's; only I will own it made Oswald not quite so anxious to +run away for a soldier as he had been before. + +That owning up was the hardest thing I ever did. They did put that +in the Book of Golden Deeds, though it was not a kind or generous +act, and did no good to anyone or anything except Oswald's own +inside feelings. I must say I think they might have let it alone. +Oswald would rather forget it. Especially as Dicky wrote it in and +put this: + +'Oswald acted a lie, which, he knows, is as bad as telling one. +But he owned up when he needn't have, and this condones his sin. +We think he was a thorough brick to do it.' + +Alice scratched this out afterwards and wrote the record of the +incident in more flattering terms. But Dicky had used Father's +ink, and she used Mrs Pettigrew's, so anyone can read his +underneath the scratching outs. + +The others were awfully friendly to Oswald, to show they agreed +with Albert's uncle in thinking I deserved as much share as anyone +in any praise there might be going. + +It was Dora who said it all came from my quarrelling with Noel +about that rotten cricket ball; but Alice, gently yet firmly, made +her shut up. + +I let Noel have the ball. It had been thoroughly soaked, but it +dried all right. But it could never be the same to me after what +it had done and what I had done. + +I hope you will try to agree with Albert's uncle and not think foul +scorn of Oswald because of this story. Perhaps you have done +things nearly as bad yourself sometimes. If you have, you will +know how 'owning up' soothes the savage breast and alleviates the +gnawings of remorse. + +If you have never done naughty acts I expect it is only because you +never had the sense to think of anything. + + + +CHAPTER 6 +THE CIRCUS + +The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods +began, at about this time, to bother. + +They said we had not done anything really noble-- not worth +speaking of, that is--for over a week, and that it was high time to +begin again--'with earnest endeavour', Daisy said. So then Oswald +said-- + +'All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let's each +of us think of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others +shall help to work it out, like we did when we were Treasure +Seekers. Then when everybody's had their go-in we'll write every +single thing down in the Golden Deed book, and we'll draw two lines +in red ink at the bottom, like Father does at the end of an +account. And after that, if anyone wants to be good they can jolly +well be good on our own, if at all.' + +The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, +but Dicky and Oswald were firm. + +So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness and +obstinacy have to give way. + +Dora said, 'It would be a noble action to have all the +school-children from the village and give them tea and games in the +paddock. They would think it so nice and good of us.' + +But Dicky showed her that this would not be OUR good act, but +Father's, because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had +already stood us the keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having +to stump up heavily over the coal barge. And it is in vain being +noble and generous when someone else is paying for it all the time, +even if it happens to be your father. Then three others had ideas +at the same time and began to explain what they were. + +We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of +a row. Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert's uncle for +opening his door and saying-- + +'I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too +much. But if you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek +or howl--anything to vary the monotony of your well-sustained +conversation.' + +Oswald said kindly, 'We're awfully sorry. Are you busy?' + +'Busy?' said Albert's uncle. 'My heroine is now hesitating on the +verge of an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole +subsequent career. You wouldn't like her to decide in the middle +of such a row that she can't hear herself think?' + +We said, 'No, we wouldn't.' + +Then he said, 'If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to +you this bright mid-summer day.' So we all went out. + +Then Daisy whispered to Dora--they always hang together. Daisy is +not nearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems +to fear the deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said-- + +'Daisy's idea is a game that'll take us all day. She thinks +keeping out of the way when he's making his heroine decide right +would be a noble act, and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we +might as well be playing something at the same time.' + +We all said 'Yes, but what?' + +There was a silent interval. + +'Speak up, Daisy, my child.' Oswald said; 'fear not to lay bare +the utmost thoughts of that faithful heart.' + +Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle--they laugh right out or +hold their tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. +Then Daisy said-- + +'If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once +read a story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and +they had to go how they liked, and the one that got in first got +the prize. There was a tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a +peacock, and sheep, and dogs, and a kitten.' + +This proposal left us cold, as Albert's uncle says, because we knew +there could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you +may be ever ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if +there's going to be a prize there must BE a prize and there's an +end of it. + +Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, 'Let's +go into the barn and make a fort.' + +So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about +with like it does hay. + +The downstairs--I mean down-ladder--part of the barn was fun too, +especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you +could wish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running +kindly beside the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. +This is the noble bull-dog's gentle and affectionate nature coming +out. We all enjoyed the ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, +in the girls crying because of the poor rats. Girls cannot help +this; we must not be waxy with them on account of it, they have +their nature, the same as bull-dogs have, and it is this that makes +them so useful in smoothing the pillows of the sick-bed and tending +wounded heroes. + +However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having +to be thumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till +dinner. There was roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly +pudding. + +Albert's uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually, +which means we hadn't bothered. + +So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told +us his heroine was by no means out of the wood yet. + +And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling +and you do not at first care if you never play any runabout game +ever any more. But after a while the torpor begins to pass away. +Oswald was the first to recover from his. + +He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he +turned over on his back and kicked his legs up, and said-- + +'I say, look here; let's do something.' + +Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of +grass, but I could see she was still thinking about that animal +race. So I explained to her that it would be very poor fun without +a tortoise and a peacock, and she saw this, though not willingly. + +It was H. O. who said-- + +'Doing anything with animals is prime, if they only will. Let's +have a circus!' + +At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald's +memory, and he stretched himself, sat up, and said-- + +'Bully for H. O. Let's!' + +The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up +and said 'Let's!' too. + +Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of +animals at our command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even +all the bright, glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented +jungle paled into insignificance before the number of live things +on the farm. + +(I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. +I know they are the right words. And Albert's uncle says your +style is always altered a bit by what you read. And I have been +reading the Vicomte de Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come +out of those.) + +'The worst of a circus is,' Dora said, 'that you've got to teach +the animals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn't +learned performing would be a bit silly. Let's give up a week to +teaching them and then have the circus.' + +Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of +those who do not understand that when you want to do a thing you do +want to, and not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, +a week later. + +Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals. + +'Then perhaps,' he said, 'we may find that they have hidden talents +hitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters.' + +So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required. +This is it: + + LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE + CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE + +1 Bull for bull-fight. +1 Horse for ditto (if possible). +1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring. +1 Donkey to play see-saw. +2 White pigs--one to be Learned, and the other to play with the + clown. +Turkeys, as many as possible, because they can make a noise that + sounds like an audience applauding. +The dogs, for any odd parts. +1 Large black pig--to be the Elephant in the procession. +Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs. + +Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, +but she let Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. +Oswald said-- + +'The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock +at the side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is +good all round. When we've got the performers all there we'll make +a programme, and then dress for our parts. It's a pity there won't +be any audience but the turkeys.' + +We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny's +list. The bull was the first. He is black. He does not live in +the cowhouse with the other horned people; he has a house all to +himself two fields away. Oswald and Alice went to fetch him. They +took a halter to lead the bull by, and a whip, not to hurt the bull +with, but just to make him mind. + +The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone. + +Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas. + +'I daresay,' he said, 'the bull will be shy at first, and he'll +have to be goaded into the arena.' + +'But goads hurt,' Alice said. + +'They don't hurt the bull,' Oswald said; 'his powerful hide is too +thick.' + +'Then why does he attend to it,' Alice asked, 'if it doesn't hurt?' + +'Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought,' +Oswald said. 'I think I shall ride the bull,' the brave boy went +on. 'A bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, +sharing its joys and sorrows. It would be something quite new.' + +'You can't ride bulls,' Alice said; 'at least, not if their backs +are sharp like cows.' + +But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of +wood and prickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You +cannot climb on the roof of his house at all comfortably. + +When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his +yard, and he was swinging his tail because of the flies which +bothered. It was a very hot day. + +'You'll see,' Alice said, 'he won't want a goad. He'll be so glad +to get out for a walk he'll drop his head in my hand like a tame +fawn, and follow me lovingly all the way.' + +Oswald called to him. He said, 'Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!' because +we did not know the animal's real name. The bull took no notice; +then Oswald picked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not +angrily, but just to make it pay attention. But the bull did not +pay a farthing's worth of it. So then Oswald leaned over the iron +gate of the bull's yard and just flicked the bull with the +whiplash. And then the bull DID pay attention. He started when +the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, uttering a roar +like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting his head down +close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where we were +standing. + +Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to +annoy the bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across +the field so as not to keep the others waiting. + +As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that +perhaps the bull had rooted up the gate with one paralysing blow, +and was now tearing across the field after him and Alice, with the +broken gate balanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly +and looked back; the bull was still on the right side of the gate. + +Oswald said, 'I think we'll do without the bull. He did not seem +to want to come. We must be kind to dumb animals.' + +Alice said, between laughing and crying-- + +'Oh, Oswald, how can you!' But we did do without the bull, and we +did not tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just +said, 'The bull didn't seem to care about coming.' + +The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the +cart-horse, but she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not +to use her in the bull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The +Elephant's is a nice quiet part, and she was quite big enough for +a young one. Then the black pig could be Learned, and the other +two could be something else. They had also got the goat; he was +tethered to a young tree. + +The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter. The +dogs were there, of course--they always are. + +So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause and the +calves and pigs. + +The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. +There were five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got +them out after long and patient toil, and persuaded them that they +wanted to go into the paddock, where the circus was to be. This is +done by pretending to drive them the other way. A pig only knows +two ways--the way you want him to go, and the other. But the +turkeys knew thousands of different ways, and tried them all. They +made such an awful row, we had to drop all ideas of ever hearing +applause from their lips, so we came away and left them. + +'Never mind,' H. O. said, 'they'll be sorry enough afterwards, +nasty, unobliging things, because now they won't see the circus. +I hope the other animals will tell them about it.' + +While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky +had found three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, +so we let them. + +Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circus +performers to make friends with each other while we dressed. + +Oswald and H. O. were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert's +uncle's pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they +do the brick-floors with. + +Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair +and round her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white +muslin stuff off the dressing-table in the girls' room fastened +with pins and tied round the waist with a small bath towel. She +was to be the Dauntless Equestrienne, and to give her enhancing act +a barebacked daring, riding either a pig or a sheep, whichever we +found was freshest and most skittish. Dora was dressed for the +Haute ecole, which means a riding-habit and a high hat. She took +Dick's topper that he wears with his Etons, and a skirt of Mrs +Pettigrew's. Daisy, dressed the same as Alice, taking the muslin +from Mrs Pettigrew's dressing-table with- out saying anything +beforehand. None of us would have advised this, and indeed we were +thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel, who were +wishing to look like highwaymen, with brown-paper top-boots and +slouch hats and Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing and +gazed out of the window. + +'Krikey!' said Dick, 'come on, Oswald!' and he bounded like an +antelope from the room. + +Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the +window. Noel had got brown-paper boots too, and a Turkish towel +cloak. H. O. had been waiting for Dora to dress him up for the +other clown. He had only his shirt and knickerbockers and his +braces on. He came down as he was--as indeed we all did. And no +wonder, for in the paddock, where the circus was to be, a +blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs were chasing the +sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country to know the +fell nature of our dogs' improper conduct. + +We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, and +Lady. Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up +dog--Oswald trained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is +awfully deaf, but she did not matter so much, because the sheep +could walk away from her easily. She has no pace and no wind. But +Lady is a deer-hound. She is used to pursuing that fleet and +antlered pride of the forest--the stag--and she can go like +billyo. She was now far away in a distant region of the paddock, +with a fat sheep just before her in full flight. I am sure if ever +anybody's eyes did start out of their heads with horror, like in +narratives of adventure, ours did then. + +There was a moment's pause of speechless horror. We expected to +see Lady pull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a +sheep costs, to say nothing of its own personal feelings. + +Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run +swiftly as the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing +pyjamas belonging to a grown-up person--as I was--but even so I +beat Dicky. He said afterwards it was because his brown-paper +boots came undone and tripped him up. Alice came in third. She +held on the dressing-table muslin and ran jolly well. But ere we +reached the fatal spot all was very nearly up with the sheep. We +heard a plop; Lady stopped and looked round. She must have heard +us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she came towards us, prancing +with happiness, but we said 'Down!' and 'Bad dog!' and ran sternly +on. + +When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of the +paddock we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very +deep, and I believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in +its depth, if it had liked, but it would not try. + +It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs +into the water, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us +hauled that sheep up by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice +and me as we sat on the bank. It kicked all the time we were +hauling. It gave one extra kick at last, that raised it up, and I +tell you that sopping wet, heavy, panting, silly donkey of a sheep +sat there on our laps like a pet dog; and Dicky got his shoulder +under it at the back and heaved constantly to keep it from flumping +off into the water again, while the others fetched the shepherd. + +When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, +and then he said-- + +'Good thing master didn't come along. He would ha' called you some +tidy names.' + +He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the +calves too. He did not seem to care about the other performing +animals. + +Alice, Oswald and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, +so we sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of +the circus. This was it: + + + PROGRAMME + +1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing +sheep. Real water, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O. A. +and D. Bastable. (We thought we might as well put +that in though it was over and had happened accidentally.) + +2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, +Eliza. A. Bastable. +3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, and +the other white pig. H. O. and O. Bastable. + +4. The See-Saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. said we had only one +donkey, so Dicky said H. O. could be the other. When peace was +restored we went on to 5.) + +5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. Haute ecole, on Clover, +the incomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela. + +6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, +the well-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes +out of hurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always +happens. (This is the unexpected. (This is a saying Father told +me--but I see I am three deep in brackets so I will close them +before I get into any more).).). + +7. The Black but Learned Pig. ('I daresay he knows something,' +Alice said, 'if we can only find out what.' We DID find out all +too soon.) + + +We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly +dry--all except Dick's brown-paper top-boots, which were mingled +with the gurgling waters of the brook. + +We went back to the seat of action--which was the iron trough where +the sheep have their salt put--and began to dress up the creatures. + +We had just tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy's flannel +petticoat and cetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round +the waist of the Black and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from +the back part of the house, and suddenly we saw that Billy, the +acrobatic goat, had got loose from the tree we had tied him to. +(He had eaten all the parts of its bark that he could get at, but +we did not notice it until next day, when led to the spot by a +grown-up.) + +The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge +that goes over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily +proceeded in the direction of the screams, and, guided by the +sound, threaded our way into the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever +fertile in melancholy ideas, said he wondered whether Mrs Pettigrew +was being robbed, or only murdered. + +In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was +neither. Mrs Pettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a +broom, occupied the foreground. In the distance the maid was +shrieking in a hoarse and monotonous way, and trying to shut +herself up inside a clothes-horse on which washing was being aired. + +On the dresser--which he had ascended by a chair--was Billy, the +acrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. He had found out his +Andes for himself, and even as we gazed he turned and tossed his +head in a way that showed us some mysterious purpose was hidden +beneath his calm exterior. The next moment he put his off-horn +neatly behind the end plate of the next to the bottom row, and ran +it along against the wall. The plates fell crashing on to the soup +tureen and vegetable dishes which adorned the lower range of the +Andes. + +Mrs Pettigrew's screams were almost drowned in the discarding crash +and crackle of the falling avalanche of crockery. + +Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved +the most dauntless coolness. + +Disregarding the mop which Mrs Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat +in a timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his +trusty followers, 'Stand by to catch him!' + +But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry +out his long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught +the goat's legs and tripped it up. The goat fell against another +row of plates, righted itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the +soup tureen and the sauce-boats, and then fell again, this time +towards Dicky. The two fell heavily on the ground together. The +trusty followers had been so struck by the daring of Dicky and his +lion-hearted brother, that they had not stood by to catch anything. + +The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had a sprained thumb and a lump on +his head like a black marble door-knob. He had to go to bed. + +I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs Pettigrew said. +Also Albert's uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her +screams. Few words escaped our lips. There are times when it is +not wise to argue; however, little what has occurred is really our +fault. + +When they had said what they deemed enough and we were let go, we +all went out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she +vainly strove to render firm-- + +'Let's give up the circus. Let's put the toys back in the +boxes--no, I don't mean that--the creatures in their places--and +drop the whole thing. I want to go and read to Dicky.' + +Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to +be beaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and +we went out to collect the performing troop and sort it out into +its proper places. + +Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether +Mrs Pettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not, we had left +both gates open again. The old horse--I mean the trained elephant +from Venezuela--was there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten +and tied up after the first act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, +as it says in the programme. The two white pigs were there, but +the donkey was gone. We heard his hoofs down the road, growing +fainter and fainter, in the direction of the 'Rose and Crown'. And +just round the gatepost we saw a flash of red and white and blue +and black that told us, with dumb signification, that the pig was +off in exactly the opposite direction. Why couldn't they have gone +the same way? But no, one was a pig and the other was a donkey, as +Denny said afterwards. + +Daisy and H. O. started after the donkey; the rest of us, with one +accord, pursued the pig--I don't know why. It trotted quietly down +the road; it looked very black against the white road, and the ends +on the top, where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it +trotted. At first we thought it would be easy to catch up to it. +This was an error. + +When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and +looked round at us, and nodded. (I daresay you won't swallow this, +but you may safely. It's as true as true, and so's all that about +the goat. I give you my sacred word of honour.) I tell you the pig +nodded as much as to say-- + +'Oh, yes. You think you will, but you won't!' and then as soon as +we moved again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o'er miles +and miles of strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. +When we met people, which wasn't often, we called out to them to +help us, but they only waved their arms and roared with laughter. +One chap on a bicycle almost tumbled off his machine, and then he +got off it and propped it against a gate and sat down in the hedge +to laugh properly. You remember Alice was still dressed up as the +gay equestrienne in the dressing-table pink and white, with rosy +garlands, now very droopy, and she had no stockings on, only white +sand-shoes, because she thought they would be easier than boots for +balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backed act. + +Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. +It is really IMPOSSIBLE to run speedfully in another man's pyjamas, +so Oswald had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockers +belonging to his Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck, +to carry them easily. He was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as +Alice suggested, because he did not know the roads, and for aught +he recked they might have been infested with footpads. If it had +been his own pyjamas it would have been different. (I'm going to +ask for pyjamas next winter, they are so useful in many ways.) + +Noel was a highwayman in brown-paper gaiters and bath towels and a +cocked hat of newspaper. I don't know how he kept it on. And the +pig was encircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the +same, I think if I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter +distress about a pig I should have tried to lend a helping hand and +not sat roaring in the hedge, no matter how the travellers and the +pig might have been dressed. + +It was hotter than anyone would believe who has never had occasion +to hunt the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got +out of Oswald's hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet +with what the village blacksmith's was wet with, and not his fair +brow alone. It ran down his face and washed the red off in +streaks, and when he rubbed his eyes he only made it worse. Alice +had to run holding the equestrienne skirts on with both hands, and +I think the brown-paper boots bothered Noel from the first. Dora +had her skirt over her arm and carried the topper in her hand. It +was no use to tell ourselves it was a wild boar hunt--we were long +past that. + +At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted +man. I think, perhaps, he had a pig of his own--or, perhaps, +children. Honour to his name! + +He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pig +right-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up +the drive. We followed. What else were we to do, I should like to +know? + +The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to +the right and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn. + +'Now, all together!' cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to +give the word of command. 'Surround him!--cut off his retreat!' + +We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house. + +'Now we've got him!' cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got on to +a bed of yellow pansies close against the red house wall. + +All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank +from meeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig +pass him, and the next moment, with a squeak that said 'There now!' +as plain as words, the pig bolted into a French window. The +pursuers halted not. This was no time for trivial ceremony. In +another moment the pig was a captive. Alice and Oswald had their +arms round him under the ruins of a table that had had teacups on +it, and around the hunters and their prey stood the startled +members of a parish society for making clothes for the poor +heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. They +were reading a missionary report or something when we ran our +quarry to earth under their table. Even as he crossed the +threshold I heard something about 'black brothers being already +white to the harvest'. All the ladies had been sewing flannel +things for the poor blacks while the curate read aloud to them. +You think they screamed when they saw the Pig and Us? You are +right. + +On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved +badly. Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig's doing, and +asked pardon quite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and +Alice said how sorry we were but really it was NOT our fault this +time. The curate looked a bit nasty, but the presence of ladies +made him keep his hot blood to himself. + +When we had explained, we said, 'Might we go?' The curate said, +'The sooner the better.' But the Lady of the House asked for our +names and addresses, and said she should write to our Father. (She +did, and we heard of it too.) They did not do anything to us, as +Oswald at one time believed to be the curate's idea. They let us +go. + +And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig +by. + +'In case it should come back into your nice room,' Alice said. +'And that would be such a pity, wouldn't it?' + +A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as +soon as the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came +away. The scene in the drawing-room had not been long. The pig +went slowly, + +'Like the meandering brook,' + +Denny said. just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened, and +the little girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake. + +'Here,' she said. 'You must be hungry if you've come all that way. + +I think they might have given you some tea after all the trouble +you've had.' We took the cake with correct thanks. + +'I wish I could play at circuses,' she said. 'Tell me about it.' + +We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said +perhaps it was better to hear about than do, especially the goat's +part and Dicky's. + +'But I do wish auntie had given you tea,' she said. + +We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to +make allowances for grown-up people. When we parted she said she +would never forget us, and Oswald gave her his pocket button-hook +and corkscrew combined for a keepsake. + +Dicky's act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only +thing out of that day that was put in the Golden Deed book, and he +put that in himself while we were hunting the pig. + +Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to +write our own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us +all away; and you must pity the dull, and not blame them. + +I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how +the donkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). +Nor will I tell you a word of all that was said and done to the +intrepid hunters of the Black and Learned. I have told you all the +interesting part. Seek not to know the rest. It is better buried +in obliquity. + + +CHAPTER 7 +BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS + (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE) + +You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how +people who live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in +town because the country is so dull. I do not agree with this at +all. In London, or at any rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless +you make it happen; or if it happens it doesn't happen to you, and +you don't know the people it does happen to. But in the country +the most interesting events occur quite freely, and they seem to +happen to you as much as to anyone else. Very often quite without +your doing anything to help. + +The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country +are much jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing +things with animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or +bakering or oil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of +course, a plumber's and gasfitter's, and he is the same in town or +country--most interesting and like an engineer. + +I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off once +at our old house in Lewisham, when my father's business was feeling +so poorly. He was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky over +two yards and a quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that +only wanted a washer, and a whole handful of screws to do what we +liked with. We screwed the back door up with the screws, I +remember, one night when Eliza was out without leave. There was an +awful row. We did not mean to get her into trouble. We only +thought it would be amusing for her to find the door screwed up +when she came down to take in the milk in the morning. But I must +not say any more about the Lewisham house. It is only the +pleasures of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, or any +sort of exploring. + +I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very +good, and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald's destiny +looks at present as if it might be different. + +We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the +North Pole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and +doing dull and praiseable things, like sewing, and helping with the +cooking, and taking invalid delicacies to the poor and indignant, +Daisy and Dora were wholly out of it both times, though Dora's foot +was now quite well enough to have gone to the North Pole or the +Equator either. They said they did not mind the first time, +because they like to keep themselves clean; it is another of their +queer ways. And they said they had had a better time than us. (It +was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hot cakes for +tea.) The second time they said they were lucky not to have been in +it. And perhaps they were right. But let me to my narrating. I +hope you will like it. I am going to try to write it a different +way, like the books they give you for a prize at a girls' school--I +mean a 'young ladies' school', of course--not a high school. High +schools are not nearly so silly as some other kinds. Here goes: + +'"Ah, me!" sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing her +elegant hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fair +tresses, "how sad it is--is it not?--to see able-bodied youths and +young ladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and +luxury." + +'The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, +at the group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaous +beech tree and ate black currants. + +'"Dear brothers and sisters," the blushing girl went on, "could we +not, even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted +lives of ours, and seek some occupation at once improving and +agreeable?" + +'"I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister," replied the +cleverest of her brothers, on whose brow--' + + +It's no use. I can't write like these books. I wonder how the +books' authors can keep it up. + +What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in +the orchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said-- + +'I say, look here, let's do something. It's simply silly to waste +a day like this. It's just on eleven. Come on!' + +And Oswald said, 'Where to?' + +This was the beginning of it. + +The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of +them is a sort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that +flows at the other side of the orchard. + +It was this stream that Alice meant when she said-- + +'Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?' + +Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real live +Egyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it +lurked undisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to +say so. It is a great thing to know when not to say things. + +'Why not have it an Arctic expedition?' said Dicky; 'then we could +take an ice-axe, and live on blubber and things. Besides, it +sounds cooler.' + +'Vote! vote!' cried Oswald. So we did. +Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Denny voted for the river of the ibis and +the crocodile. Dicky, H. O., and the other girls for the region of +perennial winter and rich blubber. + +So Alice said, 'We can decide as we go. Let's start anyway.' + +The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted +to take something different, and nobody thought the other people's +things would be the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with +grown-up expeditions. So then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest +emergency that ever emerged yet, said-- + +'Let's each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the +shed in the corner of the stableyard where we got the door for the +raft. Then the captain can decide who's to take what.' + +This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit +out an expedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not +whether your exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or +merely to the world of icebergs and the Polar bear. + +Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and +a mackintosh. + +H. O. brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a +pair of old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in +case the expedition turned out icy. + +Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, +and had also obtained--I know not by what means--a jar of pickled +onions. + +Denny had a walking-stick--we can't break him of walking with it--a +book to read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a +butterfly net and a box with a cork in it, a tennis ball, if we +happened to want to play rounders in the pauses of exploring, two +towels and an umbrella in the event of camping or if the river got +big enough to bathe in or to be fallen into. + +Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of +scissors and needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. + +And she had thoughtfully brought the tablecloth off the small table +in the dining-room, so that we could make all the things up into +one bundle and take it in turns to carry it. + +Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the +others neglected this. + +All the stores for the expedition were put down on the tablecloth +and the corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald's +muscley arms could raise from the ground, so we decided not to take +it, but only the best-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw +loft, for there are many ups and downs in life, and grub is grub at +any time, and so are stores of all kinds. The pickled onions we +had to leave, but not for ever. + +Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other's +necks as usual, like a picture on a grocer's almanac, and said they +weren't coming. + +It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were +differences of opinion among the explorers about what eatables we +ought to have taken, and H. O. had lost one of his garters and +wouldn't let Alice tie it up with her handkerchief, which the +gentle sister was quite willing to do. So it was a rather gloomy +expedition that set off that bright sunny day to seek the source of +the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare (or the frozen +plains Mr Nansen wrote that big book about). + +But the balmy calm of peaceful Nature soon made the others less +cross--Oswald had not been cross exactly but only disinclined to do +anything the others wanted--and by the time we had followed the +stream a little way, and had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or +two at him, harmony was restored. We did not hit the rat. + +You will understand that we were not the sort of people to have +lived so long near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed it +was the same stream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we +had the circus. And of course we had often paddled in it--in the +shallower parts. But now our hearts were set on exploring. At +least they ought to have been, but when we got to the place where +the stream goes under a wooden sheep-bridge, Dicky cried, 'A camp! +a camp!' and we were all glad to sit down at once. Not at all like +real explorers, who know no rest, day or night, till they have got +there (whether it's the North Pole, or the central point of the +part marked 'Desert of Sahara' on old-fashioned maps). + +The food supplies obtained by various members were good and plenty +of it. Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon +cheese-cakes, raisins, and cold apple dumplings. It was all very +decent, but Oswald could not help feeling that the source of the +Nile (or North Pole) was a long way off, and perhaps nothing much +when you got there. + +So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking +into the bank when the things to eat were all gone-- + +'I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls +out of clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book +called Foul Play, and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or +something, at the same time.' + +He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do +putty when you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that +had hung over the explorers became expelled, and we all got under +the shadow of the bridge and messed about with clay. + +'It will be jolly!' Alice said, 'and we can give the huge platters +to poor cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. +That would really be a very golden deed.' + +It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make +huge platters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any +size, unless you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up +the edges they crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had +all got our shoes and stockings off. It is impossible to go on +being cross when your feet are in cold water; and there is +something in the smooth messiness of clay, and not minding how +dirty you get, that would soothe the savagest breast that ever +beat. + +After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and +tried little things. We made some platters--they were like +flower-pot saucers; and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists +and getting Noel to slab the clay on outside. Then they smoothed +the thing inside and out with wet fingers, and it was a bowl--at +least they said it was. When we'd made a lot of things we set them +in the sun to dry, and then it seemed a pity not to do the thing +thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and when it had burnt down we +put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among the little red +sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuel over +the top. It was a fine fire. + +Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to +come back next day and get our pots. + +As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said-- + +'The bonfire's going pretty strong.' + +We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against the +evening sky. And we had left it,a smouldering flat heap. + +'The clay must have caught alight,' H. O. said. 'Perhaps it's the +kind that burns. I know I've heard of fireclay. And there's +another sort you can eat.' + +'Oh, shut up!' Dicky said with anxious scorn. + +With one accord we turned back. We all felt THE feeling--the one +that means something fatal being up and it being your fault. + +'Perhaps, Alice said, 'a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress was +passing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in +agony enveloped in flames.' + +We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, +but we hoped Alice was mistaken. + +But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we +saw it was as bad nearly as Alice's wild dream. For the wooden +fence leading up to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning +like billy oh. + +Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to +himself, 'This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be +bold!' + +And he was. + +Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw +hats full of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would +never put the bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know +exactly the sort of wigging you get for an accident like this. + +So he said, 'Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and +chuck them along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl's +clothes'll catch as sure as fate.' + +Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would +not let him and H. O. wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced +warily to the end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over +the end bit, like a linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering +invalid who has got bronchitis. The burning wood hissed and +smouldered, and Oswald fell back, almost choked with the smoke. +But at once he caught up the other wet jacket and put it on another +place, and of course it did the trick as he had known it would do. +But it was a long job, and the smoke in his eyes made the young +hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turn as they had +bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; the devouring +element was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire with clay +to keep it from getting into mischief again, and then Alice said-- + +'Now we must go and tell.' + +'Of course,' Oswald said shortly. He had meant to tell all the +time. + +So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went +at once, because if you have any news like that to tell it only +makes it worse if you wait about. When we had told him he said-- + +'You little ---.' I shall not say what he said besides that, +because I am sure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when +he went to church, if not before. + +We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying +how sorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but +only said he daresayed, just like a woman does. Then he went to +look at his bridge, and we went in to our tea. The jackets were +never quite the same again. + +Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the daresaying +of a farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. +Albert's uncle was away so we got no double slating; and next day +we started again to discover the source of the river of cataracts +(or the region of mountain-like icebergs). + +We set out, heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora +had made themselves, and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real +explorers most likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter +to carry than stone bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, +which would come cheaper; and you could make the girls carry it on +their back, like in pictures of the daughters of regiments. + +We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thought +of the fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer +and leave the bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, +determined to reach our destination, Tropic or Polar, that day. + +Denny and H. O. wanted to stop and try to make a fashionable +watering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like a +small-sized sea, but Noel said, 'No.' We did not like +fashionableness. + +'YOU ought to, at any rate,' Denny said. 'A Mr Collins wrote an +Ode to the Fashions, and he was a great poet.' + +'The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan,' Noel said, 'but +I'm not bound to like HIM.' I think it was smart of Noel. + +'People aren't obliged to like everything they write about even, +let alone read,' Alice said. 'Look at "Ruin seize thee, ruthless +king!" and all the pieces of poetry about war, and tyrants, and +slaughtered saints--and the one you made yourself about the black +beetle, Noel.' + +By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay +was past; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a +field and a half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. +The stream was broad and shallow at this part, and you could see +the stones and gravel at the bottom, and millions of baby fishes, +and a sort of skating-spiders walking about on the top of the +water. Denny said the water must be ice for them to be able to +walk on it, and this showed we were getting near the North Pole. +But Oswald had seen a kingfisher by the wood, and he said it was an +ibis, so this was even. + +When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear he said, 'Let's +be beavers and make a dam.' And everybody was so hot they agreed +joyously, and soon our clothes were tucked up as far as they could +go and our legs looked green through the water, though they were +pink out of it. + +Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about +beavers take care to let you know. + +Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on +the way to the Polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, +and Dicky owned it was warm for Polar regions. He had brought the +ice-axe (it is called the wood chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever +ready and able to command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the +bank while we heaped stones across the stream. It was clayey here, +or of course dam making would have been vain, even for the +best-trained beaver. + +When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against +them--nearly across the stream, leaving about two feet for the +water to go through--then more stones, and then lumps of clay +stamped down as hard as we could. The industrious beavers spent +hours over it, with only one easy to eat cake in. And at last the +dam rose to the level of the bank. Then the beavers collected a +great heap of clay, and four of them lifted it and dumped it down +in the opening where the water was running. It did splash a +little, but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind a bit +of a wetting, as Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more +clay the work was completed. We must have used tons of clay; there +was quite a big long hole in the bank above the dam where we had +taken it out. + +When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot +he had to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs. + +I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went +through fields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got +steeper and higher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their +mysterious branches, and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale +who go out to seek their fortunes. + +And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way +for; the stream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, +and however much you stood in the water and stuck your head down +between your knees you could not see any light at the other end. + +The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers. + +Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said-- + +'Alice, you've got a candle. Let's explore.' This gallant +proposal met but a cold response. The others said they didn't care +much about it, and what about tea? + +I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind +their teas is simply beastly. + +Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, +not at all like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on-- + +'All right. I'M going. If you funk it you'd better cut along home +and ask your nurses to put you to bed.' So then, of course, they +agreed to go. Oswald went first with the candle. It was not +comfortable; the architect of that dark subterranean passage had +not imagined anyone would ever be brave enough to lead a band of +beavers into its inky recesses, or he would have built it high +enough to stand upright in. As it was, we were bent almost at a +right angle, and this is very awkward if for long. + +But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to the +groans of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about their +backs. + +It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not +sorry to say, 'I see daylight.' The followers cheered as well as +they could as they splashed after him. The floor was stone as well +as the roof, so it was easy to walk on. I think the followers +would have turned back if it had been sharp stones or gravel. + +And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger +and larger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself +blinking in the full sun, and the candle he carried looked simply +silly. He emerged, and the others too, and they stretched their +backs and the word 'krikey' fell from more than one lip. It had +indeed been a cramping adventure. Bushes grew close to the mouth +of the tunnel, so we could not see much landscape, and when we had +stretched our backs we went on upstream and nobody said they'd had +jolly well enough of it, though in more than one young heart this +was thought. + +It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how +cold it was underground. The stream was getting smaller and +smaller. + +Dicky said, 'This can't be the way. I expect there was a turning +to the North Pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was +cold enough there.' + +But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, and +Oswald said-- + +'Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest +profusion. Such blossoms as these never opened in a frigid +what's-its-name.' + +It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy +place like I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and +it was simply crammed with queer plants, and flowers we never saw +before or since. And the stream was quite thin. It was torridly +hot, and softish to walk on. There were rushes and reeds and small +willows, and it was all tangled over with different sorts of +grasses--and pools here and there. We saw no wild beasts, but +there were more different kinds of wild flies and beetles than you +could believe anybody could bear, and dragon-flies and gnats. The +girls picked a lot of flowers. I know the names of some of them, +but I will not tell you them because this is not meant to be +instructing. So I will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, +loose-strife, lady's bed-straw and willow herb--both the larger and +the lesser. + +Everyone now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than in +natural fields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and +play at savages, instead of keeping respectable in your boots. + +But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly. + +It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home +the same way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the +distance and said-- + +'There must be a road there, let's make for it,' which was quite a +simple and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any +credit for it. So we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the +brambles, and the water squelched in our boots, and Alice's blue +muslin frock was torn all over in those crisscross tears which are +considered so hard to darn. + +We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, +so we knew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and +hotter and hotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our +brows and rolled down our noses and off our chins. And the flies +buzzed, and the gnats stung, and Oswald bravely sought to keep up +Dicky's courage, when he tripped on a snag and came down on a +bramble bush, by saying-- + +'You see it IS the source of the Nile we've discovered. What price +North Poles now?' + +Alice said, 'Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it HAD +been the Pole, anyway.' + +Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what +is his own idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties +besides just leading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of +the expedition, whether Polar or Equatorish. + +So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the +tottering Denny a hand over the rough places. Denny's feet hurt +him, because when he was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of +his pocket, and boots without stockings are not a bed of +luxuriousness. And he is often unlucky with his feet. + +Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said-- + +'Let's paddle.' + +Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the +boy, and generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting +late and the others were ahead, so he said-- + +'Oh, rot! come on.' + +Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they +are hot enough, and if their feet are hurting them. +'I don't care, I shall!' he said. + +Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He +just said-- + +'Well don't be all day about it,' for he is a kind-hearted boy and +can make allowances. +So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool. 'Oh, it's +ripping!' he said. 'You ought to come in.' + +'It looks beastly muddy,' said his tolerating leader. + +'It is a bit,' Denny said, 'but the mud's just as cool as the +water, and so soft, it squeezes between your toes quite different +to boots.' + +And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in. + +But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may +have been because both his bootlaces were in hard knots. + +Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, +or whatever it was. + +Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing +about, and getting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you +would have thought his was a most envious and happy state. But +alas! the brightest cloud had a waterproof lining. He was just +saying-- + +'You are a silly, Oswald. You'd much better--' when he gave a +blood-piercing scream, and began to kick about. + +'What's up?' cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the +way Denny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in +this quiet and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the +shark bit Dora. + +'I don't know, it's biting me. Oh, it's biting me all over my +legs! Oh, what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!' +remarked Denny, among his screams, and he splashed towards the +bank. Oswald went into the water and caught hold of him and helped +him out. It is true that Oswald had his boots on, but I trust he +would not have funked the unknown terrors of the deep, even without +his boots, I am almost sure he would not have. + +When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror +and amaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black, +slug-looking things. Denny turned green in the face--and even +Oswald felt a bit queer, for he knew in a moment what the black +dreadfulnesses were. He had read about them in a book called +Magnet Stories, where there was a girl called Theodosia, and she +could play brilliant trebles on the piano in duets, but the other +girl knew all about leeches which is much more useful and golden +deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but they wouldn't, +and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered from the +Magnet Stories how to make the leeches begin biting--the girl did +it with cream--but he could not remember how to stop them, and they +had not wanted any showing how to begin. + +'Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, +oh!' Denny observed, and Oswald said-- + +'Be a man! Buck up! If you won't let me take them off you'll just +have to walk home in them.' + +At this thought the unfortunate youth's tears fell fast. But +Oswald gave him an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he +consented to buck up, and the two struggled on towards the others, +who were coming back, attracted by Denny's yells. He did not stop +howling for a moment, except to breathe. No one ought to blame him +till they have had eleven leeches on their right leg and six on +their left, making seventeen in all, as Dicky said, at once. + +It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on the +road--where the telegraph wires were--was interested by his howls, +and came across the marsh to us as hard as he could. When he saw +Denny's legs he said-- + +'Blest if I didn't think so,' and he picked Denny up and carried +him under one arm, where Denny went on saying 'Oh!' and 'It does +hurt' as hard as ever. + +Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom of +youth, and a farm-labourer by trade, in corduroys, carried the +wretched sufferer to the cottage where he lived with his aged +mother; and then Oswald found that what he had forgotten about the +leeches was SALT. The young man in the bloom of youth's mother put +salt on the leeches, and they squirmed off, and fell with +sickening, slug-like flops on the brick floor. + +Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc., carried Denny +home on his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he +looked like 'wounded warriors returning'. + +It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way +the young explorers had come. + +He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness +are their own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns +Albert's uncle gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not +sure Alice ought to have put him in the Golden Deed book which was +supposed to be reserved for Us. + +Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile +(or North Pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the +gentlest reader may be. + +The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the +sofa, and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white +currants, which we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when +Mrs Pettigrew, the housekeeper, put her head in at the door and +said-- + +'Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir?' to Albert's +uncle. And her voice was the kind that makes you look at each +other when the grown-up has gone out, and you are silent, with your +bread-and-butter halfway to the next bite, or your teacup in mid +flight to your lips. + +It was as we suppose. Albert's uncle did not come back for a long +while. We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that +time, of course, and we thought we might as well finish the +raspberries and white currants. We kept some for Albert's uncle, +of course, and they were the best ones too but when he came back he +did not notice our thoughtful unselfishness. + +He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very +likely no supper. + +He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is +something like the calmness of despair. He said-- + +'You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a +dam?' + +'We were being beavers,' said H. O., in proud tones. He did not +see as we did where Albert's uncle's tone pointed to. + +'No doubt,' said Albert's uncle, rubbing his hands through his +hair. 'No doubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build +dams with your bolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you +took for it left a channel through which it has run down and ruined +about seven pounds' worth of freshly-reaped barley. Luckily the +farmer found it out in time or you might have spoiled seventy +pounds' worth. And you burned a bridge yesterday.' + +We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice +added, 'We didn't MEAN to be naughty.' + +'Of course not,' said Albert's uncle, 'you never do. Oh, yes, I'll +kiss you--but it's bed and it's two hundred lines to-morrow, and +the line is--"Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread +Dams." It will be a capital exercise in capital B's and D's.' + +We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went +to bed. + +I got jolly sick of capital B's and D's before sunset on the +morrow. That night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald +said-- + +'I say.' + +'Well,' retorted his brother. + +'There is one thing about it,' Oswald went on, 'it does show it was +a rattling good dam anyhow.' + +And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or +explorers, Polar or otherwise) fell asleep. + + + +CHAPTER 8 +THE HIGH-BORN BABE + +It really was not such a bad baby--for a baby. Its face was round +and quite clean, which babies' faces are not always, as I daresay +you know by your own youthful relatives; and Dora said its cape was +trimmed with real lace, whatever that may be--I don't see myself +how one kind of lace can be realler than another. It was in a very +swagger sort of perambulator when we saw it; and the perambulator +was standing quite by itself in the lane that leads to the mill. + +'I wonder whose baby it is,' Dora said. 'Isn't it a darling, +Alice?' + +Alice agreed to its being one, and said she thought it was most +likely the child of noble parents stolen by gipsies. + +'These two, as likely as not,' Noel said. 'Can't you see something +crime-like in the very way they're lying?' + +They were two tramps, and they were lying on the grass at the edge +of the lane on the shady side fast asleep, only a very little +further on than where the Baby was. They were very ragged, and +their snores did have a sinister sound. + +'I expect they stole the titled heir at dead of night, and they've +been travelling hot-foot ever since, so now they're sleeping the +sleep of exhaustedness,' Alice said. 'What a heart-rending scene +when the patrician mother wakes in the morning and finds the infant +aristocrat isn't in bed with his mamma.' + +The Baby was fast asleep or else the girls would have kissed it. +They are strangely fond of kissing. The author never could see +anything in it himself. + +'If the gipsies DID steal it,' Dora said 'perhaps they'd sell it to +us. I wonder what they'd take for it.' + +'What could you do with it if you'd got it?' H. O. asked. + +'Why, adopt it, of course,' Dora said. 'I've often thought I +should enjoy adopting a baby. It would be a golden deed, too. +We've hardly got any in the book yet.' + +'I should have thought there were enough of us,' Dicky said. + +'Ah, but you're none of you babies,' said Dora. + +'Unless you count H. O. as a baby: he behaves jolly like one +sometimes.' + +This was because of what had happened that morning when Dicky found +H. O. going fishing with a box of worms, and the box was the one +Dicky keeps his silver studs in, and the medal he got at school, +and what is left of his watch and chain. The box is lined with red +velvet and it was not nice afterwards. And then H. O. said Dicky +had hurt him, and he was a beastly bully, and he cried. We thought +all this had been made up, and were sorry to see it threaten to +break out again. So Oswald said-- + +'Oh, bother the Baby! Come along, do!' + +And the others came. + +We were going to the miller's with a message about some flour that +hadn't come, and about a sack of sharps for the pigs. + +After you go down the lane you come to a clover-field, and then a +cornfield, and then another lane, and then it is the mill. It is +a jolly fine mill: in fact it is two--water and wind ones--one of +each kind--with a house and farm buildings as well. I never saw a +mill like it, and I don't believe you have either. + +If we had been in a story-book the miller's wife would have taken +us into the neat sanded kitchen where the old oak settle was black +with time and rubbing, and dusted chairs for us--old brown Windsor +chairs--and given us each a glass of sweet- scented cowslip wine +and a thick slice of rich home-made cake. And there would have +been fresh roses in an old china bowl on the table. As it was, she +asked us all into the parlour and gave us Eiffel Tower lemonade and +Marie biscuits. The chairs in her parlour were 'bent wood', and no +flowers, except some wax ones under a glass shade, but she was very +kind, and we were very much obliged to her. We got out to the +miller, though, as soon as we could; only Dora and Daisy stayed +with her, and she talked to them about her lodgers and about her +relations in London. + +The miller is a MAN. He showed us all over the mills--both +kinds--and let us go right up into the very top of the wind-mill, +and showed us how the top moved round so that the sails could catch +the wind, and the great heaps of corn, some red and some yellow +(the red is English wheat), and the heaps slice down a little bit +at a time into a square hole and go down to the mill-stones. The +corn makes a rustling soft noise that is very jolly--something like +the noise of the sea--and you can hear it through all the other +mill noises. + +Then the miller let us go all over the water-mill. It is fairy +palaces inside a mill. Everything is powdered over white, like +sugar on pancakes when you are allowed to help yourself. And he +opened a door and showed us the great water-wheel working on slow +and sure, like some great, round, dripping giant, Noel said, and +then he asked us if we fished. + +'Yes,' was our immediate reply. + +'Then why not try the mill-pool?' he said, and we replied politely; +and when he was gone to tell his man something we owned to each +other that he was a trump. + +He did the thing thoroughly. He took us out and cut us ash +saplings for rods; he found us in lines and hooks, and several +different sorts of bait, including a handsome handful of +meal-worms, which Oswald put loose in his pocket. + +When it came to bait, Alice said she was going home with Dora and +Daisy. Girls are strange, mysterious, silly things. Alice always +enjoys a rat hunt until the rat is caught, but she hates fishing +from beginning to end. We boys have got to like it. We don't feel +now as we did when we turned off the water and stopped the +competition of the competing anglers. We had a grand day's fishing +that day. I can't think what made the miller so kind to us. +Perhaps he felt a thrill of fellow-feeling in his manly breast for +his fellow-sportsmen, for he was a noble fisherman himself. + +We had glorious sport--eight roach, six dace, three eels, seven +perch, and a young pike, but he was so very young the miller asked +us to put him back, and of course we did. 'He'll live to bite +another day,' said the miller. + +The miller's wife gave us bread and cheese and more Eiffel Tower +lemonade, and we went home at last, a little damp, but full of +successful ambition, with our fish on a string. + +It had been a strikingly good time--one of those times that happen +in the country quite by themselves. Country people are much more +friendly than town people. I suppose they don't have to spread +their friendly feelings out over so many persons, so it's thicker, +like a pound of butter on one loaf is thicker than on a dozen. +Friendliness in the country is not scrape, like it is in London. +Even Dicky and H. O. forgot the affair of honour that had taken +place in the morning. H. O. changed rods with Dicky because H. +O.'s was the best rod, and Dicky baited H. O.'s hook for him, just +like loving, unselfish brothers in Sunday School magazines. + +We were talking fishlikely as we went along down the lane and +through the cornfield and the cloverfield, and then we came to the +other lane where we had seen the Baby. The tramps were gone, and +the perambulator was gone, and, of course, the Baby was gone too. + +'I wonder if those gipsies HAD stolen the Baby?' Noel said +dreamily. He had not fished much, but he had made a piece of +poetry. It was this: + + + 'How I wish + I was a fish. + I would not look + At your hook, + But lie still and be cool + At the bottom of the pool + And when you went to look + At your cruel hook, + You would not find me there, + So there!' + + +'If they did steal the Baby,' Noel went on, 'they will be tracked +by the lordly perambulator. You can disguise a baby in rags and +walnut juice, but there isn't any disguise dark enough to conceal +a perambulator's person.' + +'You might disguise it as a wheel-barrow,' said Dicky. + +'Or cover it with leaves,' said H. O., 'like the robins.' + +We told him to shut up and not gibber, but afterwards we had to own +that even a young brother may sometimes talk sense by accident. + +For we took the short cut home from the lane--it begins with a +large gap in the hedge and the grass and weeds trodden down by the +hasty feet of persons who were late for church and in too great a +hurry to go round by the road. Our house is next to the church, as +I think I have said before, some time. + +The short cut leads to a stile at the edge of a bit of wood (the +Parson's Shave, they call it, because it belongs to him). The wood +has not been shaved for some time, and it has grown out beyond the +stile and here, among the hazels and chestnuts and young dogwood +bushes, we saw something white. We felt it was our duty to +investigate, even if the white was only the under side of the tail +of a dead rabbit caught in a trap. + +It was not--it was part of the perambulator. I forget whether I +said that the perambulator was enamelled white--not the kind of +enamelling you do at home with Aspinall's and the hairs of the +brush come out and it is gritty-looking, but smooth, like the +handles of ladies very best lace parasols. And whoever had +abandoned the helpless perambulator in that lonely spot had done +exactly as H. O. said, and covered it with leaves, only they were +green and some of them had dropped off. + +The others were wild with excitement. Now or never, they thought, +was a chance to be real detectives. Oswald alone retained a calm +exterior. It was he who would not go straight to the police +station. + +He said: 'Let's try and ferret out something for ourselves before +we tell the police. They always have a clue directly they hear +about the finding of the body. And besides, we might as well let +Alice be in anything there is going. And besides, we haven't had +our dinners yet.' + +This argument of Oswald's was so strong and powerful--his arguments +are often that, as I daresay you have noticed--that the others +agreed. It was Oswald, too, who showed his artless brothers why +they had much better not take the deserted perambulator home with +them. + +'The dead body, or whatever the clue is, is always left exactly as +it is found,' he said, 'till the police have seen it, and the +coroner, and the inquest, and the doctor, and the sorrowing +relations. Besides, suppose someone saw us with the beastly thing, +and thought we had stolen it; then they would say, "What have you +done with the Baby?" and then where should we be?' Oswald's +brothers could not answer this question, but once more Oswald's +native eloquence and far-seeing discerningness conquered. + +'Anyway,' Dicky said, 'let's shove the derelict a little further +under cover.' + +So we did. + +Then we went on home. Dinner was ready and so were Alice and +Daisy, but Dora was not there. + +'She's got a-- well, she's not coming to dinner anyway,' Alice said +when we asked. 'She can tell you herself afterwards what it is +she's got.' + +Oswald thought it was headache, or pain in the temper, or in the +pinafore, so he said no more, but as soon as Mrs Pettigrew had +helped us and left the room he began the thrilling tale of the +forsaken perambulator. He told it with the greatest thrillingness +anyone could have, but Daisy and Alice seemed almost unmoved. +Alice said-- + +'Yes, very strange,' and things like that, but both the girls +seemed to be thinking of something else. They kept looking at each +other and trying not to laugh, so Oswald saw they had got some +silly secret and he said-- + +'Oh, all right! I don't care about telling you. I only thought +you'd like to be in it. It's going to be a really big thing, with +policemen in it, and perhaps a judge.' + +'In what?' H. O. said; 'the perambulator?' + +Daisy choked and then tried to drink, and spluttered and got +purple, and had to be thumped on the back. But Oswald was not +appeased. When Alice said, 'Do go on, Oswald. I'm sure we all +like it very much,' he said-- + +'Oh, no, thank you,' very politely. 'As it happens,' he went on, +'I'd just as soon go through with this thing without having any +girls in it.' + +'In the perambulator?' said H. O. again. + +'It's a man's job,' Oswald went on, without taking any notice of H. +O. + +'Do you really think so,' said Alice, 'when there's a baby in it?' + +'But there isn't,' said H. O., 'if you mean in the perambulator.' + +'Blow you and your perambulator,' said Oswald, with gloomy +forbearance. + +Alice kicked Oswald under the table and said-- + +'Don't be waxy, Oswald. Really and truly Daisy and I HAVE got a +secret, only it's Dora's secret, and she wants to tell you herself. +If it was mine or Daisy's we'd tell you this minute, wouldn't we, +Mouse?' + +'This very second,' said the White Mouse. + +And Oswald consented to take their apologies. + +Then the pudding came in, and no more was said except asking for +things to be passed--sugar and water, and bread and things. + +Then when the pudding was all gone, Alice said-- + +'Come on.' + +And we came on. We did not want to be disagreeable, though really +we were keen on being detectives and sifting that perambulator to +the very dregs. But boys have to try to take an interest in their +sisters' secrets, however silly. This is part of being a good +brother. + +Alice led us across the field where the sheep once fell into the +brook, and across the brook by the plank. At the other end of the +next field there was a sort of wooden house on wheels, that the +shepherd sleeps in at the time of year when lambs are being born, +so that he can see that they are not stolen by gipsies before the +owners have counted them. + +To this hut Alice now led her kind brothers and Daisy's kind +brother. +'Dora is inside,' she said, 'with the Secret. We were afraid to +have it in the house in case it made a noise.' + +The next moment the Secret was a secret no longer, for we all +beheld Dora, sitting on a sack on the floor of the hut, with the +Secret in her lap. + +It was the High-born Babe! + +Oswald was so overcome that he sat down suddenly, just like Betsy +Trotwood did in David Copperfield, which just shows what a true +author Dickens is. + +'You've done it this time,' he said. 'I suppose you know you're a +baby-stealer?' + +'I'm not,' Dora said. 'I've adopted him.' + +'Then it was you,' Dicky said, 'who scuttled the perambulator in +the wood?' + +'Yes,' Alice said; 'we couldn't get it over the stile unless Dora +put down the Baby, and we were afraid of the nettles for his legs. +His name is to be Lord Edward.' + +'But, Dora--really, don't you think--' + +'If you'd been there you'd have done the same,' said Dora firmly. +'The gipsies had gone. Of course something had frightened them and +they fled from justice. And the little darling was awake and held +out his arms to me. No, he hasn't cried a bit, and I know all +about babies; I've often nursed Mrs Simpkins's daughter's baby when +she brings it up on Sundays. They have bread and milk to eat. You +take him, Alice, and I'll go and get some bread and milk for him.' + +Alice took the noble brat. It was horribly lively, and squirmed +about in her arms, and wanted to crawl on the floor. She could +only keep it quiet by saying things to it a boy would be ashamed +even to think of saying, such as 'Goo goo', and 'Did ums was', and +'Ickle ducksums, then'. + +When Alice used these expressions the Baby laughed and chuckled and +replied-- + +'Daddadda', 'Bababa', or 'Glueglue'. + +But if Alice stopped her remarks for an instant the thing screwed +its face up as if it was going to cry, but she never gave it time +to begin. + +It was a rummy little animal. + +Then Dora came back with the bread and milk, and they fed the noble +infant. It was greedy and slobbery, but all three girls seemed +unable to keep their eyes and hands off it. They looked at it +exactly as if it was pretty. + +We boys stayed watching them. There was no amusement left for us +now, for Oswald saw that Dora's Secret knocked the bottom out of +the perambulator. + +When the infant aristocrat had eaten a hearty meal it sat on +Alice's lap and played with the amber heart she wears that Albert's +uncle brought her from Hastings after the business of the bad +sixpence and the nobleness of Oswald. + +'Now,' said Dora, 'this is a council, so I want to be +business-like. The Duckums Darling has been stolen away; its +wicked stealers have deserted the Precious. We've got it. Perhaps +its ancestral halls are miles and miles away. I vote we keep the +little Lovey Duck till it's advertised for.' + +'If Albert's uncle lets you,' said Dicky darkly. + +'Oh, don't say "you" like that,' Dora said; 'I want it to be all of +our baby. It will have five fathers and three mothers, and a +grandfather and a great Albert's uncle, and a great grand-uncle. +I'm sure Albert's uncle will let us keep it--at any rate till it's +advertised for.' + +'And suppose it never is,' Noel said. + +'Then so much the better,' said Dora, 'the little Duckyux.' + +She began kissing the baby again. Oswald, ever thoughtful, said-- +'Well, what about your dinner?' + +'Bother dinner!' Dora said--so like a girl. 'Will you all agree to +be his fathers and mothers?' + +'Anything for a quiet life,' said Dicky, and Oswald said-- + +'Oh, yes, if you like. But you'll see we shan't be allowed to keep +it.' + +'You talk as if he was rabbits or white rats,' said Dora, 'and he's +not--he's a little man, he is.' + +'All right, he's no rabbit, but a man. Come on and get some grub, +Dora,' rejoined the kind-hearted Oswald, and Dora did, with Oswald +and the other boys. Only Noel stayed with Alice. He really seemed +to like the baby. When I looked back he was standing on his head +to amuse it, but the baby did not seem to like him any better +whichever end of him was up. + +Dora went back to the shepherd's house on wheels directly she had +had her dinner. Mrs Pettigrew was very cross about her not being +in to it, but she had kept her some mutton hot all the same. She +is a decent sort. And there were stewed prunes. We had some to +keep Dora company. Then we boys went fishing again in the moat, +but we caught nothing. + +Just before tea-time we all went back to the hut, and before we got +half across the last field we could hear the howling of the Secret. + +'Poor little beggar,' said Oswald, with manly tenderness. 'They +must be sticking pins in it.' + +We found the girls and Noel looking quite pale and breathless. +Daisy was walking up and down with the Secret in her arms. It +looked like Alice in Wonderland nursing the baby that turned into +a pig. Oswald said so, and added that its screams were like it +too. + +'What on earth is the matter with it?' he said. + +'_I_ don't know,' said Alice. 'Daisy's tired, and Dora and I are +quite worn out. He's been crying for hours and hours. YOU take +him a bit.' + +'Not me,' replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the +Secret. + +Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the +hut. + +'I think he's cold,' she said. 'I thought I'd take off my +flannelette petticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard +knot. Here, Oswald, let's have your knife.' + +With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald's jacket pocket, and +next moment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and +screaming almost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and +to cry at the same time. This is called hysterics. + +Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that +his pocket was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly +given him. And, anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always +carries his knife in his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one. + +Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the +pile of sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams +for a moment to listen to Dora's, but almost at once it went on +again. + +'Oh, get some water!' said Alice. 'Daisy, run!' + +The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into the +arms of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have +fallen a wreck to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He +tried to pass it on to the others, but they wouldn't. Noel would +have, but he was busy kissing Dora and begging her not to. +So our hero, for such I may perhaps term him, found himself the +degraded nursemaid of a small but furious kid. + +He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beat +its brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, however +innocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he +walked earnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on +the back, while the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased +to yell. + +Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to +yell. He looked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings +of his faithful eyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the +sheep-house. + +The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms +and Dora, but he answered without anger. + +'Shut up,' he said in a whisper of imperial command. 'Can't you +see it's GONE TO SLEEP?' + +As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a +very long Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends +dragged their weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was +compelled to go on holding the titled infant, for fear it should +wake up if it changed hands, and begin to yell again. Dora's +flannelette petticoat had been got off somehow--how I do not seek +to inquire--and the Secret was covered with it. The others +surrounded Oswald as much as possible, with a view to concealment +if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear. Oswald took the +Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn't come there much, +it's too many stairs. + +With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It +sighed, but did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it +and see that it did not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, +in one of its furious fits, it would just as soon have done as not. + +We expected Albert's uncle every minute. + +At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out +and saw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a +piebald horse--one of the miller's horses. + +A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not remember +having done anything wrong at the miller's. But you never know. +And it seemed strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But +when we had looked a bit longer our fears went down and our +curiosity got up. For we saw that the distracted one was a +gentleman. + +Presently he rode off, and Albert's uncle came in. A deputation +met him at the door--all the boys and Dora, because the baby was +her idea. + +'We've found something,' Dora said, 'and we want to know whether we +may keep it.' + +The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to +keep it after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. +Even Noel had said he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora +said it only cried because it was sleepy, but we reflected that it +would certainly be sleepy once a day, if not oftener. + +'What is it?' said Albert's uncle. 'Let's see this treasure-trove. +Is it a wild beast?' + +'Come and see,' said Dora, and we led him to our room. + +Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, +and showed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping. + +'A baby!' said Albert's uncle. 'THE Baby! Oh, my cat's alive!' + +That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed with +anger. + +'Where did you?-- but that doesn't matter. We'll talk of this +later.' + +He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount +his bicycle and ride off. + +Quite shortly he returned with the distracted horse- man. + +It was HIS baby, and not titled at all. The horseman and his wife +were the lodgers at the mill. The nursemaid was a girl from the +village. + +She SAID she only left the Baby five minutes while she went to +speak to her sweetheart who was gardener at the Red House. But we +knew she left it over an hour, and nearly two. + +I never saw anyone so pleased as the distracted horseman. + +When we were asked we explained about having thought the Baby was +the prey of gipsies, and the distracted horseman stood hugging the +Baby, and actually thanked us. + +But when he had gone we had a brief lecture on minding our own +business. But Dora still thinks she was right. As for Oswald and +most of the others, they agreed that they would rather mind their +own business all their lives than mind a baby for a single hour. + +If you have never had to do with a baby in the frenzied throes of +sleepiness you can have no idea what its screams are like. + +If you have been through such a scene you will understand how we +managed to bear up under having no baby to adopt. +Oswald insisted on having the whole thing written in the Golden +Deed book. Of course his share could not be put in without telling +about Dora's generous adopting of the forlorn infant outcast, and +Oswald could not and cannot forget that he was the one who did get +that baby to sleep. + +What a time Mr and Mrs Distracted Horseman must have of it, +though--especially now they've sacked the nursemaid. + +If Oswald is ever married--I suppose he must be some day--he will +have ten nurses to each baby. Eight is not enough. We know that +because we tried, and the whole eight of us were not enough for the +needs of that deserted infant who was not so extra high-born after +all. + + + +CHAPTER 9 +HUNTING THE FOX + +It is idle to expect everyone to know everything in the world +without being told. If we had been brought up in the country we +should have known that it is not done--to hunt the fox in August. +But in the Lewisham Road the most observing boy does not notice the +dates when it is proper to hunt foxes. + +And there are some things you cannot bear to think that anybody +would think you would do; that is why I wish to say plainly at the +very beginning that none of us would have shot a fox on purpose +even to save our skins. Of course, if a man were at bay in a cave, +and had to defend girls from the simultaneous attack of a herd of +savage foxes it would be different. A man is bound to protect +girls and take care of them--they can jolly well take care of +themselves really it seems to me--still, this is what Albert's +uncle calls one of the 'rules of the game', so we are bound to +defend them and fight for them to the death, if needful. Denny +knows a quotation which says-- + + 'What dire offence from harmless causes springs, + What mighty contests rise from trefoil things.' + +He says this means that all great events come from three +things--threefold, like the clover or trefoil, and the causes are +always harmless. Trefoil is short for threefold. + +There were certainly three things that led up to the adventure +which is now going to be told you. The first was our Indian uncle +coming down to the country to see us. The second was Denny's +tooth. The third was only our wanting to go hunting; but if you +count it in it makes the thing about the trefoil come right. And +all these causes were harmless. + +It is a flattering thing to say, and it was not Oswald who said it, +but Dora. She said she was certain our uncle missed us, and that +he felt he could no longer live without seeing his dear ones (that +was us). + +Anyway, he came down, without warning, which is one of the few bad +habits that excellent Indian man has, and this habit has ended in +unpleasantness more than once, as when we played jungles. + +However, this time it was all right. He came on rather a dull kind +of day, when no one had thought of anything particularly amusing to +do. So that, as it happened to be dinner-time and we had just +washed our hands and faces, we were all spotlessly clean (com- +pared with what we are sometimes, I mean, of course). + +We were just sitting down to dinner, and Albert's uncle was just +plunging the knife into the hot heart of the steak pudding, when +there was the rumble of wheels, and the station fly stopped at the +garden gate. And in the fly, sitting very upright, with his hands +on his knees, was our Indian relative so much beloved. He looked +very smart, with a rose in his buttonhole. How different from what +he looked in other days when he helped us to pretend that our +currant pudding was a wild boar we were killing with our forks. +Yet, though tidier, his heart still beat kind and true. You should +not judge people harshly because their clothes are tidy. He had +dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, and told +him everything we thought he would like to hear, and about the +Tower of Mystery, and he said-- + +'It makes my blood boil to think of it.' + +Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told +it to had owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood. + +'Ah,' said the Uncle, 'but in India we learn how to freeze our +blood and boil it at the same time.' + +In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always near +boiling-point, which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for +the curry and pepper they eat. But I must not wander; there is no +curry at all in this story. About temper I will not say. + +Then Uncle let us all go with him to the station when the fly came +back for him; and when we said good-bye he tipped us all half a +quid, without any insidious distinctions about age or considering +whether you were a boy or a girl. Our Indian uncle is a true-born +Briton, with no nonsense about him. + +We cheered him like one man as the train went off, and then we +offered the fly-driver a shilling to take us back to the four +cross-roads, and the grateful creature did it for nothing because, +he said, the gent had tipped him something like. How scarce is +true gratitude! So we cheered the driver too for this rare virtue, +and then went home to talk about what we should do with our money. +I cannot tell you all that we did with it, because money melts away +'like snow-wreaths in thaw-jean', as Denny says, and somehow the +more you have the more quickly it melts. We all went into +Maidstone, and came back with the most beautiful lot of brown- +paper parcels, with things inside that supplied long-felt wants. +But none of them belongs to this narration, except what Oswald and +Denny clubbed to buy. + +This was a pistol, and it took all the money they both had, but +when Oswald felt the uncomfortable inside sensation that reminds +you who it is and his money that are soon parted he said to +himself-- + +'I don't care. We ought to have a pistol in the house, and one +that will go off, too--not those rotten flintlocks. Suppose there +should be burglars and us totally unarmed?' + +We took it in turns to have the pistol, and we decided always to +practise with it far from the house, so as not to frighten the +grown-ups, who are always much nervouser about firearms than we +are. + +It was Denny's idea getting it; and Oswald owns it surprised him, +but the boy was much changed in his character. We got it while the +others were grubbing at the pastry-cook's in the High Street, and +we said nothing till after tea, though it was hard not to fire at +the birds on the telegraph wires as we came home in the train. + +After tea we called a council in the straw-loft, and Oswald said-- + +'Denny and I have got a secret.' + +'I know what it is,' Dicky said contemptibly. 'You've found out +that shop in Maidstone where peppermint rock is four ounces a +penny. H. O. and I found it out before you did.' + +Oswald said, 'You shut-up. If you don't want to hear the secret +you'd better bunk. I'm going to administer the secret oath.' + +This is a very solemn oath, and only used about real things, and +never for pretending ones, so Dicky said-- + +'Oh, all right; go ahead! I thought you were only rotting.' + +So they all took the secret oath. Noel made it up long before, +when he had found the first thrush's nest we ever saw in the +Blackheath garden: + + + 'I will not tell, I will not reveal, + I will not touch, or try to steal; + And may I be called a beastly sneak, + If this great secret I ever repeat.' + +It is a little wrong about the poetry, but it is a very binding +promise. They all repeated it, down to H. O. + +'Now then,' Dicky said, 'what's up?' + +Oswald, in proud silence, drew the pistol from his breast and held +it out, and there was a murmur of awful amazement and respect from +every one of the council. The pistol was not loaded, so we let +even the girls have it to look at. And then Dicky said, 'Let's go +hunting.' + +And we decided that we would. H. O. wanted to go down to the +village and get penny horns at the shop for the huntsmen to wind, +like in the song, but we thought it would be more modest not to +wind horns or anything noisy, at any rate not until we had run down +our prey. But his talking of the song made us decide that it was +the fox we wanted to hunt. We had not been particular which animal +we hunted before that. + +Oswald let Denny have first go with the pistol, and when we went to +bed he slept with it under his pillow, but not loaded, for fear he +should have a nightmare and draw his fell weapon before he was +properly awake. + +Oswald let Denny have it, because Denny had toothache, and a pistol +is consoling though it does not actually stop the pain of the +tooth. The toothache got worse, and Albert's uncle looked at it, +and said it was very loose, and Denny owned he had tried to crack +a peach-stone with it. Which accounts. He had creosote and +camphor, and went to bed early, with his tooth tied up in red +flannel. + +Oswald knows it is right to be very kind when people are ill, and +he forbore to wake the sufferer next morning by buzzing a pillow at +him, as he generally does. He got up and went over to shake the +invalid, but the bird had flown and the nest was cold. The pistol +was not in the nest either, but Oswald found it afterwards under +the looking-glass on the dressing-table. He had just awakened the +others (with a hair- brush because they had not got anything the +matter with their teeth), when he heard wheels, and, looking out, +beheld Denny and Albert's uncle being driven from the door in the +farmer's high cart with the red wheels. + +We dressed extra quick, so as to get downstairs to the bottom of +the mystery. And we found a note from Albert's uncle. It was +addressed to Dora, and said-- + +'Denny's toothache got him up in the small hours. He's off to the +dentist to have it out with him, man to man. Home to dinner.' + +Dora said, 'Denny's gone to the dentist.' + +'I expect it's a relation,' H. O. said. 'Denny must be short for +Dentist.' + +I suppose he was trying to be funny--he really does try very hard. +He wants to be a clown when he grows up. The others laughed. + +'I wonder,' said Dicky, 'whether he'll get a shilling or +half-a-crown for it.' + +Oswald had been meditating in gloomy silence, now he cheered up and +said-- + +'Of course! I'd forgotten that. He'll get his tooth money, and +the drive too. So it's quite fair for us to have the fox-hunt +while he's gone. I was thinking we should have to put it off.' + +The others agreed that it would not be unfair. + +'We can have another one another time if he wants to,' Oswald said. + +We know foxes are hunted in red coats and on horseback--but we +could not do this--but H. O. had the old red football jersey that +was Albert's uncle's when he was at Loretto. He was pleased. + +'But I do wish we'd had horns,' he said grievingly. 'I should have +liked to wind the horn.' + +'We can pretend horns,' Dora said; but he answered, 'I didn't want +to pretend. I wanted to wind something.' + +'Wind your watch,' Dicky said. And that was unkind, because we all +know H. O.'s watch is broken, and when you wind it, it only rattles +inside without going in the least. + +We did not bother to dress up much for the hunting expedition--just +cocked hats and lath swords; and we tied a card on to H. O.'s chest +with 'Moat House Fox-Hunters' on it; and we tied red flannel round +all the dogs' necks to show they were fox-hounds. Yet it did not +seem to show it plainly; somehow it made them look as if they were +not fox-hounds, but their own natural breeds--only with sore +throats. + +Oswald slipped the pistol and a few cartridges into his pocket. He +knew, of course, that foxes are not shot; but as he said-- + +'Who knows whether we may not meet a bear or a crocodile.' + +We set off gaily. Across the orchard and through two cornfields, +and along the hedge of another field, and so we got into the wood, +through a gap we had happened to make a day or two before, playing +'follow my leader'. + +The wood was very quiet and green; the dogs were happy and most +busy. Once Pincher started a rabbit. We said, 'View Halloo!' and +immediately started in pursuit; but the rabbit went and hid, so +that even Pincher could not find him, and we went on. But we saw +no foxes. +So at last we made Dicky be a fox, and chased him down the green +rides. A wide walk in a wood is called a ride, even if people +never do anything but walk in it. + +We had only three hounds--Lady, Pincher and Martha--so we joined +the glad throng and were being hounds as hard as we could, when we +suddenly came barking round a corner in full chase and stopped +short, for we saw that our fox had stayed his hasty flight. The +fox was stooping over something reddish that lay beside the path, +and he cried-- + +'I say, look here!' in tones that thrilled us throughout. + +Our fox--whom we must now call Dicky, so as not to muddle the +narration--pointed to the reddy thing that the dogs were sniffing +at. + +'It's a real live fox,' he said. And so it was. At least it was +real--only it was quite dead--and when Oswald lifted it up its head +was bleeding. It had evidently been shot through the brain and +expired instantly. Oswald explained this to the girls when they +began to cry at the sight of the poor beast; I do not say he did +not feel a bit sorry himself. + +The fox was cold, but its fur was so pretty, and its tail and its +little feet. Dicky strung the dogs on the leash; they were so much +interested we thought it was better. + +'It does seem horrid to think it'll never see again out of its poor +little eyes,' Dora said, blowing her nose. + +'And never run about through the wood again, lend me your hanky, +Dora' said Alice. + +'And never be hunted or get into a hen-roost or a trap or anything +exciting, poor little thing,' said Dicky. + +The girls began to pick green chestnut leaves to cover up the poor +fox's fatal wound, and Noel began to walk up and down making faces, +the way he always does when he's making poetry. He cannot make one +without the other. It works both ways, which is a comfort. + +'What are we going to do now?' H. O. said; 'the huntsman ought to +cut off its tail, I'm quite certain. Only, I've broken the big +blade of my knife, and the other never was any good.' + +The girls gave H. O. a shove, and even Oswald said, 'Shut up', for +somehow we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more +that day. When his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked +dead at all. + +'Oh, I wish it wasn't true!' Alice said. + +Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, 'I should +like to pray God to make it not true.' + +But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good --only she might +pray God to take care of the fox's poor little babies, if it had +had any, which I believe she has done ever since. + +'If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream,' Alice +said. + +It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really +set out to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox's feet +looked so helpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I +know would not have been there if it had been alive and able to +wash itself. + +Noel now said, 'This is the piece of poetry': + + + 'Here lies poor Reynard who is slain, + He will not come to life again. + I never will the huntsman's horn + Wind since the day that I was born + Until the day I die-- + For I don't like hunting, and this is why.' + + +'Let's have a funeral,' said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we +got Dora to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we +could carry it to our garden and bury it without bloodying our +jackets. Girls' clothes are silly in one way, but I think they are +useful too. A boy cannot take off more than his jacket and +waistcoat in any emergency, or he is at once entirely undressed. +But I have known Dora take off two petticoats for useful purposes +and look just the same outside afterwards. + +We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. +When we got near the edge of the wood Noel said-- + +'It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk +funeral songs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come +and cry if they want to.' He dumped the fox down on the moss under +a young oak tree as he spoke. + +'If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and +then he could tie up the dogs at the same time.' + +'You're sick of carrying it,' Dicky remarked, 'that's what it is.' +But he went on condition the rest of us boys went too. + +While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the +wood; it was a different edge to the one we went in by--close to a +lane--and while they waited for the digging or fatigue party to +come back, they collected a lot of moss and green things to make +the fox's long home soft for it to lie in. There are no flowers in +the woods in August, which is a pity. + +When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the +fox in. We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too +interested in the funeral to behave with real, respectable +calmness. + +The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped +away the broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild +honeysuckle; Oswald used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel +made faces and poetry--he was struck so that morning--and the girls +sat stroking the clean parts of the fox's fur till the grave was +deep enough. At last it was; then Daisy threw in the leaves and +grass, and Alice and Dora took the poor dead fox by his two ends +and we helped to put him in the grave. We could not lower him +slowly--he was dropped in, really. Then we covered the furry body +with leaves, and Noel said the Burial Ode he had made up. He says +this was it, but it sounds better now than it did then, so I think +he must have done something to it since: + + + THE FOX'S BURIAL ODE + + +'Dear Fox, sleep here, and do not wake, +We picked these leaves for your sake +You must not try to rise or move, +We give you this with our love. +Close by the wood where once you grew +Your mourning friends have buried you. +If you had lived you'd not have been +(Been proper friends with us, I mean), +But now you're laid upon the shelf, +Poor fox, you cannot help yourself, +So, as I say, we are your loving friends-- +And here your Burial Ode, dear Foxy, ends. +P. S.--When in the moonlight bright +The foxes wander of a night, +They'll pass your grave and fondly think of you, +Exactly like we mean to always do. +So now, dear fox, adieu! +Your friends are few +But true +To you. +Adieu!' + + +When this had been said we filled in the grave and covered the top +of it with dry leaves and sticks to make it look like the rest of +the wood. People might think it was a treasure, and dig it up, if +they thought there was anything buried there, and we wished the +poor fox to sleep sound and not to be disturbed. + +The interring was over. We folded up Dora's bloodstained pink +cotton petticoat, and turned to leave the sad spot. + +We had not gone a dozen yards down the lane when we heard footsteps +and a whistle behind us, and a scrabbling and whining, and a +gentleman with two fox-terriers had called a halt just by the place +where we had laid low the 'little red rover'. + +The gentleman stood in the lane, but the dogs were digging--we +could see their tails wagging and see the dust fly. And we SAW +WHERE. We ran back. + +'Oh, please, do stop your dogs digging there!' Alice said. + +The gentleman said 'Why?' + +'Because we've just had a funeral, and that's the grave.' + +The gentleman whistled, but the fox-terriers were not trained like +Pincher, who was brought up by Oswald. The gentleman took a stride +through the hedge gap. + +'What have you been burying--pet dicky bird, eh?' said the +gentleman, kindly. He had riding breeches and white whiskers. + +We did not answer, because now, for the first time, it came over +all of us, in a rush of blushes and uncomfortableness, that burying +a fox is a suspicious act. I don't know why we felt this, but we +did. + +Noel said dreamily-- + +'We found his murdered body in the wood, +And dug a grave by which the mourners stood.' + +But no one heard him except Oswald, because Alice and Dora and +Daisy were all jumping about with the jumps of unrestrained +anguish, and saying, 'Oh, call them off! Do! do!--oh, don't, +don't! Don't let them dig.' + +Alas! Oswald was, as usual, right. The ground of the grave had not +been trampled down hard enough, and he had said so plainly at the +time, but his prudent counsels had been overruled. Now these +busy-bodying, meddling, mischief-making fox-terriers (how different +from Pincher, who minds his own business unless told otherwise) had +scratched away the earth and laid bare the reddish tip of the poor +corpse's tail. + +We all turned to go without a word, it seemed to be no use staying +any longer. + +But in a moment the gentleman with the whiskers had got Noel and +Dicky each by an ear--they were nearest him. H. O. hid in the +hedge. Oswald, to whose noble breast sneakishness is, I am +thankful to say, a stranger, would have scorned to escape, but he +ordered his sisters to bunk in a tone of command which made refusal +impossible. + +'And bunk sharp, too' he added sternly. 'Cut along home.' + +So they cut. The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his +angry fox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue +their vile and degrading occupation; holding on all the time to the +ears of Dicky and Noel, who scorned to ask for mercy. Dicky got +purple and Noel got white. It was Oswald who said-- + +'Don't hang on to them, sir. We won't cut. I give you my word of +honour.' + +'YOUR word of honour,' said the gentleman, in tones for which, in +happier days, when people drew their bright blades and fought +duels, I would have had his heart's dearest blood. But now Oswald +remained calm and polite as ever. + +'Yes, on my honour,' he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears of +Oswald's brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones. He +dropped the ears and pulled out the body of the fox and held it up. + +The dogs jumped up and yelled. + +'Now,' he said, 'you talk very big about words of honour. Can you +speak the truth?' + +Dickie said, 'If you think we shot it, you're wrong. We know +better than that.' + +The white-whiskered one turned suddenly to H. O. and pulled him out +of the hedge. + +'And what does that mean?' he said, and he was pink with fury to +the ends of his large ears, as he pointed to the card on H. O.'s +breast, which said, 'Moat House Fox-Hunters'. + +Then Oswald said, 'We WERE playing at fox-hunting, but we couldn't +find anything but a rabbit that hid, so my brother was being the +fox; and then we found the fox shot dead, and I don't know who did +it; and we were sorry for it and we buried it--and that's all.' + +'Not quite,' said the riding-breeches gentleman, with what I think +you call a bitter smile, 'not quite. This is my land and I'll have +you up for trespass and damage. Come along now, no nonsense! I'm +a magistrate and I'm Master of the Hounds. A vixen, too! What did +you shoot her with? You're too young to have a gun. Sneaked your +Father's revolver, I suppose?' + +Oswald thought it was better to be goldenly silent. But it was +vain. The Master of the Hounds made him empty his pockets, and +there was the pistol and the cartridges. + +The magistrate laughed a harsh laugh of successful +disagreeableness. + +'All right,' said he, 'where's your licence? You come with me. A +week or two in prison.' + +I don't believe now he could have done it, but we all thought then +he could and would, what's more. + +So H. O. began to cry, but Noel spoke up. His teeth were +chattering yet he spoke up like a man. + +He said, 'You don't know us. You've no right not to believe us +till you've found us out in a lie. We don't tell lies. You ask +Albert's uncle if we do.' + +'Hold your tongue,' said the White-Whiskered. But Noel's blood was +up. + +'If you do put us in prison without being sure,' he said, trembling +more and more, 'you are a horrible tyrant like Caligula, and Herod, +or Nero, and the Spanish Inquisition, and I will write a poem about +it in prison, and people will curse you for ever.' + +'Upon my word,' said White Whiskers. 'We'll see about that,' and +he turned up the lane with the fox hanging from one hand and Noel's +ear once more reposing in the other. + +I thought Noel would cry or faint. But he bore up nobly--exactly +like an early Christian martyr. + +The rest of us came along too. I carried the spade and Dicky had +the fork. H. O. had the card, and Noel had the magistrate. At the +end of the lane there was Alice. She had bunked home, obeying the +orders of her thoughtful brother, but she had bottled back again +like a shot, so as not to be out of the scrape. She is almost +worthy to be a boy for some things. + +She spoke to Mr Magistrate and said-- + +'Where are you taking him?' + +The outraged majesty of the magistrate said, 'To prison, you +naughty little girl.' + +Alice said, 'Noel will faint. Somebody once tried to take him to +prison before--about a dog. Do please come to our house and see +our uncle--at least he's not--but it's the same thing. We didn't +kill the fox, if that's what you think--indeed we didn't. Oh, +dear, I do wish you'd think of your own little boys and girls if +you've got any, or else about when you were little. You wouldn't +be so horrid if you did.' + +I don't know which, if either, of these objects the fox-hound +master thought of, but he said-- + +'Well, lead on,' and he let go Noel's ear and Alice snuggled up to +Noel and put her arm round him. + +It was a frightened procession, whose cheeks were pale with +alarm--except those between white whiskers, and they were red--that +wound in at our gate and into the hall among the old oak furniture, +and black and white marble floor and things. + +Dora and Daisy were at the door. The pink petticoat lay on the +table, all stained with the gore of the departed. Dora looked at +us all, and she saw that it was serious. She pulled out the big +oak chair and said, 'Won't you sit down?' very kindly to the white- +whiskered magistrate. + +He grunted, but did as she said. + +Then he looked about him in a silence that was not comforting, and +so did we. At last he said-- + +'Come, you didn't try to bolt. Speak the truth, and I'll say no +more.' + +We said we had. + +Then he laid the fox on the table, spreading out the petticoat +under it, and he took out a knife and the girls hid their faces. +Even Oswald did not care to look. Wounds in battle are all very +well, but it's different to see a dead fox cut into with a knife. + +Next moment the magistrate wiped something on his handkerchief and +then laid it on the table, and put one of my cartridges beside it. +It was the bullet that had killed the fox. + +'Look here!' he said. And it was too true. The bullets were the +same. + +A thrill of despair ran through Oswald. He knows now how a hero +feels when he is innocently accused of a crime and the judge is +putting on the black cap, and the evidence is convulsive and all +human aid is despaired of. + +'I can't help it,' he said, 'we didn't kill it, and that's all +there is to it.' + +The white-whiskered magistrate may have been master of the +fox-hounds, but he was not master of his temper, which is more +important, I should think, than a lot of beastly dogs. + +He said several words which Oswald would never repeat, much less in +his own conversing, and besides that he called us 'obstinate little +beggars'. + +Then suddenly Albert's uncle entered in the midst of a silence +freighted with despairing reflections. The M.F.H. got up and told +his tale: it was mainly lies, or, to be more polite, it was hardly +any of it true, though I supposed he believed it. + +'I am very sorry, sir' said Albert's uncle, looking at the bullets. + +'You'll excuse my asking for the children's version?' + +'Oh, certainly, sir, certainly,' fuming, the fox-hound magistrate +replied. + +Then Albert's uncle said, 'Now Oswald, I know I can trust you to +speak the exact truth.' + +So Oswald did. + +Then the white-whiskered fox-master laid the bullets before +Albert's uncle, and I felt this would be a trial to his faith far +worse than the rack or the thumb-screw in the days of the Armada. + +And then Denny came in. He looked at the fox on the table. + +'You found it, then?' he said. + +The M.F.H. would have spoken but Albert's uncle said, 'One moment, +Denny; you've seen this fox before?' + +'Rather,' said Denny; 'I--' + +But Albert's uncle said, 'Take time. Think before you speak and +say the exact truth. No, don't whisper to Oswald. This boy,' he +said to the injured fox-master, 'has been with me since seven this +morning. His tale, whatever it is, will be independent evidence.' + +But Denny would not speak, though again and again Albert's uncle +told him to. + +'I can't till I've asked Oswald something,' he said at last. White +Whiskers said, 'That looks bad--eh?' + +But Oswald said, 'Don't whisper, old chap. Ask me whatever you +like, but speak up.' + +So Denny said, 'I can't without breaking the secret oath.' + +So then Oswald began to see, and he said, 'Break away for all +you're worth, it's all right.' + +And Denny said, drawing relief's deepest breath, 'Well then, Oswald +and I have got a pistol--shares--and I had it last night. And when +I couldn't sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and +went out early this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded +it just for fun. And down in the wood I heard a whining like a +dog, and I went, and there was the poor fox caught in an iron trap +with teeth. And I went to let it out and it bit me--look, here's +the place--and the pistol went off and the fox died, and I am so +sorry.' + +'But why didn't you tell the others?' + +'They weren't awake when I went to the dentist's.' + +'But why didn't you tell your uncle if you've been with him all the +morning?' + +'It was the oath,' H. O. said-- + + 'May I be called a beastly sneak + If this great secret I ever repeat.' + +White Whiskers actually grinned. + +'Well,' he said, 'I see it was an accident, my boy.' Then he +turned to us and said-- + +'I owe you an apology for doubting your word--all of you. I hope +it's accepted.' + +We said it was all right and he was to never mind. + +But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for his +unbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert's uncle to shoot +rabbits; but we did not really forgive him till the day when he +sent the fox's brush to Alice, mounted in silver with a note about +her plucky conduct in standing by her brothers. + + +We got a lecture about not playing with firearms, but no +punishment, because our conduct had not been exactly sinful, +Albert's uncle said, but merely silly. + +The pistol and the cartridges were confiscated. + +I hope the house will never be attacked by burglars. When it is, +Albert's uncle will only have himself to thank if we are rapidly +overpowered, because it will be his fault that we shall have to +meet them totally unarmed, and be their almost unresisting prey. + + + +CHAPTER 10 +THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES + +It began one morning at breakfast. It was the fifteenth of +August--the birthday of Napoleon the Great, Oswald Bastable, and +another very nice writer. Oswald was to keep his birthday on the +Saturday, so that his Father could be there. A birthday when there +are only many happy returns is a little like Sunday or Christmas +Eve. Oswald had a birthday-card or two--that was all; but he did +not repine, because he knew they always make it up to you for +putting off keeping your birthday, and he looked forward to +Saturday. + +Albert's uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently +he tossed one over to Dora, and said, 'What do you say, little +lady? Shall we let them come?' + +But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and +Noel both had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place +where the bacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake +of bacon fat was slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the +marmalade, and then H. O. got it, and Dora said-- + +'I don't want the nasty thing now--all grease and stickiness.' So +H. O. read it aloud-- + + +MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES AND + FIELD CLUB + Aug. 14, 1900 + +'DEAR SIR,--At a meeting of the--' + + +H. O. stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like a +spider that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the +paper without stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So +Oswald took the letter. He is above minding a little marmalade or +bacon. He began to read. It ran thus: + +'It's not Antiquities, you little silly,' he said; 'it's +Antiquaries.' + +'The other's a very good word,' said Albert's uncle, 'and I never +call names at breakfast myself--it upsets the digestion, my +egregious Oswald.' + +'That's a name though,' said Alice, 'and you got it out of +"Stalky", too. Go on, Oswald.' + +So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted: + +'MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF "ANTIQUARIES" + AND FIELD CLUB + Aug. 14,1900. + +'DEAR SIR,--At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was +agreed that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the +Society proposes to visit the interesting church of Ivybridge and +also the Roman remains in the vicinity. Our president, Mr +Longchamps, F.R.S., has obtained permission to open a barrow in the +Three Trees pasture. We venture to ask whether you would allow the +members of the Society to walk through your grounds and to +inspect--from without, of course--your beautiful house, which is, +as you are doubtless aware, of great historic interest, having been +for some years the residence of the celebrated Sir Thomas Wyatt.--I +am, dear Sir, yours faithfully, + EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec.).' + + +'Just so,' said Albert's uncle; 'well, shall we permit the eye of +the Maidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and +the foot of the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?' + +'Our gravel is all grass,' H. O. said. + +And the girls said, 'Oh, do let them come!' It was Alice who said-- + +'Why not ask them to tea? They'll be very tired coming all the way +from Maidstone.' + +'Would you really like it?' Albert's uncle asked. 'I'm afraid +they'll be but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen +with amphorae in their buttonholes instead of orchids, and +pedigrees poking out of all their pockets.' + +We laughed--because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don't you +might look it up in the dicker. It's not a flower, though it +sounds like one out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear +of anyone growing. + +Dora said she thought it would be splendid. + +'And we could have out the best china,' she said, 'and decorate the +table with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We've never +had a party since we've been here.' + +'I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your +own way,' Albert's uncle said; and he went off to write the +invitation to tea to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the +wrong word but somehow we all used it whenever we spoke of them, +which was often. + +In a day or two Albert's uncle came in to tea with a +lightly-clouded brow. + +'You've let me in for a nice thing,' he said. 'I asked the +Antiquities to tea, and I asked casually how many we might expect. +I thought we might need at least the full dozen of the best +teacups. Now the secretary writes accepting my kind invitation--' + +'Oh, good!' we cried. 'And how many are coming?' +'Oh, only about sixty,' was the groaning rejoinder. 'Perhaps more, +should the weather be exceptionally favourable.' + +Though stunned at first, we presently decided that we were pleased. + +We had never, never given such a big party. + +The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew +made cakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys +be there, though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a +cake before it is baked, and then licking your finger, if you are +careful to put a different finger in the cake next time. Cake +before it is baked is delicious--like a sort of cream. + +Albert's uncle said he was the prey of despair. He drove in to +Maidstone one day. When we asked him where he was going, he said-- + +'To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly +tear it out by double handfuls in the extremity of my anguish every +time I think of those innumerable Antiquities.' + +But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china and +things to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have +his hair cut too, because he is the soul of truth and honour. + +Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as +well as other presents. I think these were meant to make up for +the pistol that was taken away after the adventure of the +fox-hunting. These gave us boys something to do between the +birthday-keeping, which was on the Saturday, and the Wednesday when +the Antiquities were to come. + +We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, +because they had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was +little or no unpleasantness over this. + +On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where the +Antiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate +nuts. And as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field +two labourers with picks and shovels, and a very young man with +thin legs and a bicycle. It turned out afterwards to be a +free-wheel, the first we had ever seen. + +They stopped at a mound inside the Roman wall, and the men took +their coats off and spat on their hands. + +We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist +explained his machine to us very fully and carefully when we asked +him, and then we saw the men were cutting turfs and turning them +over and rolling them up and putting them in a heap. So we asked +the gentleman with the thin legs what they were doing. He said-- + +'They are beginning the preliminary excavation in readiness for +to-morrow.' + +'What's up to-morrow?' H. O. asked. + +'To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it.' + +'Then YOU'RE the Antiquities?' said H. O. + +'I'm the secretary,' said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly. + +'Oh, you're all coming to tea with us,' Dora said, and added +anxiously, 'how many of you do you think there'll be?' + +'Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think,' replied the +gentleman. + +This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, +who notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light and +careless, saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, 'What's up?' + +'I've got an idea,' the Dentist said. 'Let's call a council.' The +Dentist had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him +Dentist ever since the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he +had been used to calling such things all his life, and having them +come, too; whereas we all know that his former existing was that of +a white mouse in a trap, with that cat of a Murdstone aunt watching +him through the bars. + +(That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert's uncle told +me.) + +Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, +and the straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky +said-- + +'I hope it's nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?' + +'No,' said Denny in a hurry: 'quite the opposite.' + +'I hope it's nothing wrong,' said Dora and Daisy together. + +'It's--it's "Hail to thee, blithe spirit--bird thou never wert",' +said Denny. 'I mean, I think it's what is called a lark.' + +'You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist,' said Dicky. + +'Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?' + +We didn't. + +'It's by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge,' Daisy interrupted, 'and it's +about a family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be +good, and they were confirmed, and had a bazaar, and went to church +at the Minster, and one of them got married and wore black watered +silk and silver ornaments. So her baby died, and then she was +sorry she had not been a good mother to it. And--' +Here Dicky got up and said he'd got some snares to attend to, and +he'd receive a report of the Council after it was over. But he +only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, the fleet of +foot, closed with him, and they rolled together on the floor, while +all the others called out 'Come back! Come back!' like guinea-hens +on a fence. + +Through the rustle and bustle and hustle of the struggle with +Dicky, Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his +everlasting quotations-- + +'"Come back, come back!" he cried in Greek, +"Across the stormy water, +And I'll forgive your Highland cheek, +My daughter, O my daughter!"' + +When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with the +Council, Denny said-- + +'The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It's a ripping +book. One of the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, +and another tries to hit his little sister with a hoe. It's jolly +fine, I tell you.' + +Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He +would never have learnt such words as 'ripping' and 'jolly fine' +while under the auntal tyranny. + +Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book +for girls and little boys. + +But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so +Oswald said-- + +'But what's your lark?'Denny got pale pink and said-- + +'Don't hurry me. I'll tell you directly. Let me think a minute.' + +Then he shut his pale pink eyelids a moment in thought, and then +opened them and stood up on the straw and said very fast-- + +'Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, +pots. You know Albert's uncle said they were going to open the +barrow, to look for Roman remains to-morrow. Don't you think it +seems a pity they shouldn't find any?' + +'Perhaps they will,' Dora said. + +But Oswald saw, and he said 'Primus! Go ahead, old man.' + +The Dentist went ahead. + +'In The Daisy Chain,' he said, 'they dug in a Roman encampment and +the children went first and put some pottery there they'd made +themselves, and Harry's old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The +doctor helped them to some stuff to partly efface the inscription, +and all the grown-ups were sold. I thought we might-- + + 'You may break, you may shatter + The vase if you will; + But the scent of the Romans + Will cling round it still.' + +Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least +for HIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the +Maidstone Antiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly would be +indeed splendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that +we had not got an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we +hadn't any doctor who would 'help us to stuff to efface', and +etcetera; but we sternly bade her stow it. We weren't going to do +EXACTLY like those Daisy Chain kids. + +The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream--which +was the Nile when we discovered its source--and dried it in the +sun, and then baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul Play. And +most of the things were such queer shapes that they should have +done for almost anything--Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or +antediluvian, or household milk-jugs of the cavemen, Albert's uncle +said. The pots were, fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because +we had already buried them in mixed sand and river mud to improve +the colour, and not remembered to wash it off. + +So the Council at once collected it all--and some rusty hinges and +some brass buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl +Councillors carried it all concealed in their pinafores, while the +men members carried digging tools. H. O. and Daisy were sent on +ahead as scouts to see if the coast was clear. We have learned the +true usefulness of scouts from reading about the Transvaal War. +But all was still in the hush of evening sunset on the Roman ruin. + +We posted sentries, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls +and give a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached. + +Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when +we happened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it +be said that a Bastable grudged time or trouble when a lark was at +stake. We put the things in as naturally as we could, and shoved +the dirt back, till everything looked just as before. Then we went +home, late for tea. But it was in a good cause; and there was no +hot toast, only bread-and-butter, which does not get cold with +waiting. + +That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up +to bed-- + +'Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not +a word.' + +Oswald said, 'No kid?' And she replied in the affirmation. + +So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair--for he +shrinks from no pain if it is needful and right. + +And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got +up and went out, and there was Alice dressed. + +She said, 'I've found some broken things that look ever so much +more Roman--they were on top of the cupboard in the library. If +you'll come with me, we'll bury them just to see how surprised the +others will be.' + +It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind. + +He said-- + +'Wait half a shake.' And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, +and slipped a few peppermints into his pocket in case of catching +cold. It is these thoughtful expedients which mark the born +explorer and adventurer. + +It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, +and we decided we'd do some other daring moonlight act some other +day. We got out of the front door, which is never locked till +Albert's uncle goes to bed at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and +silently across the bridge and through the fields to the Roman +ruin. + +Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had been +dark. But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your +dreams. + +Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper. + +We did not take all the pots Alice had found--but just the two that +weren't broken--two crooked jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots +are made of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the +turf up and scratched the earth under, and took it out very +carefully in handfuls on to the newspaper, till the hole was +deepish. Then we put in the jugs, and filled it up with earth and +flattened the turf over. Turf stretches like elastic. This we did +a couple of yards from the place where the mound was dug into by +the men, and we had been so careful with the newspaper that there +was no loose earth about. + +Then we went home in the wet moonlight--at least the grass was very +wet--chuckling through the peppermint, and got up to bed without +anyone knowing a single thing about it. + + +The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and the +tables were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and +very grand Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different +kinds of cake, and bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and +gooseberries and plums and jam sandwiches. And the girls decorated +the tables with flowers--blue larkspur and white Canterbury bells. +And at about three there was a noise of people walking in the road, +and presently the Antiquities began to come in at the front gate, +and stood about on the lawn by twos and threes and sixes and +sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, exactly like a Sunday-school +treat. Presently some gentlemen came, who looked like the +teachers; they were not shy, and they came right up to the door. +So Albert's uncle, who had not been too proud to be up in our room +with us watching the people on the lawn through the netting of our +short blinds, said-- + +'I suppose that's the Committee. Come on!' + +So we all went down--we were in our Sunday things--and Albert's +uncle received the Committee like a feudal system baron, and we +were his retainers. + +He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, and +foundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and +Julius Caesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and +dog's-tooth moulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose +that Albert's uncle remarked that all our mouths were open, which +is a sign of reels in the brain, for he whispered-- + +'Go hence, and mingle unsuspected with the crowd!' + +So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and +women and one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to +talk to her, though we did not like her. (She was covered in red +velvet like an arm-chair.) But she wouldn't. We thought at first +she was from a deaf-and-dumb asylum, where her kind teachers had +only managed to teach the afflicted to say 'Yes' and 'No'. But +afterwards we knew better, for Noel heard her say to her mother, 'I +wish you hadn't brought me, mamma. I didn't have a pretty teacup, +and I haven't enjoyed my tea one bit.' And she had had five pieces +of cake, besides little cakes and nearly a whole plate of plums, +and there were only twelve pretty teacups altogether. + +Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and then +the President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn't +understand, and other people made speeches we couldn't understand +either, except the part about kind hospitality, which made us not +know where to look. + +Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, +and we handed cups and plates. + +Albert's uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was left +of his hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-three +Antiquities present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary +that 'tea always fetched them'. + +Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we +took our hats--it was exactly like Sunday--and joined the crowded +procession of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and +overcoats, though the weather was fiery and without a cloud. That +is the sort of people they were. The ladies all wore stiff +bonnets, and no one took their gloves off, though, of course, it +was quite in the country, and it is not wrong to take your gloves +off there. + +We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but +Albert's uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart. + +Then he said: 'The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The +hosts and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly +informed, an excellent view may be obtained.' + +So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of +the lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we +saw that things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, +and passed round for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they +must be our Roman remains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care +for them much, though we heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at +last Alice and I exchanged meaning glances when the spot was +reached where we had put in the extras. Then the crowd closed up +thick, and we heard excited talk and we knew we really HAD sold the +Antiquities this time. + +Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle +towards the house and we were aware that all would soon be over. +So we cut home the back way, just in time to hear the President +saying to Albert's uncle-- + +'A genuine find--most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have +ONE. Well, if you insist--' + +And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of +Antiquities melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the +dirty teacups and plates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures +of memory were left. + +We had a very beautiful supper--out of doors, too-- with jam +sandwiches and cakes and things that were over; and as we watched +the setting monarch of the skies--I mean the sun--Alice said-- + +'Let's tell.' + +We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, +but we helped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, +because he has yet to learn how to tell a story straight from the +beginning. + +When he had done, and we had done, Albert's uncle said, 'Well, it +amused you; and you'll be glad to learn that it amused your friends +the Antiquities.' + +'Didn't they think they were Roman?' Daisy said; 'they did in The +Daisy Chain.' + +'Not in the least,' said Albert's uncle; 'but the Treasurer and +Secretary were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their +reception.' + +'We didn't want them to be disappointed,' said Dora. + +'They weren't,' said Albert's uncle. 'Steady on with those plums, +H.O. A little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them +they found two specimens of REAL Roman pottery which sent every +man-jack of them home thanking his stars he had been born a happy +little Antiquary child.' + +'Those were our jugs,' said Alice, 'and we really HAVE sold the +Antiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and +burying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others +listened with deeply respectful interest. 'We really have done it +this time, haven't we?' she added in tones of well-deserved +triumph. + +But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert's uncle from +almost the beginning of Alice's recital; and he now had the +sensation of something being up, which has on other occasions +frozen his noble blood. The silence of Albert's uncle now froze it +yet more Arcticly. + +'Haven't we?' repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive +brother's delicate feelings had already got hold of. 'We have done +it this time, haven't we?' + +'Since you ask me thus pointedly,' answered Albert's uncle at last, +'I cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those +pots on the top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The +amphorae which you hid in the mound are probably--I can't say for +certain, mind--priceless. They are the property of the owner of +this house. You have taken them out and buried them. The +President of the Maidstone Antiquarian Society has taken them away +in his bag. Now what are you going to do?' + +Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others +added to our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs about our +not being so jolly clever as we thought ourselves. + +There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. +He said-- + +'Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you.' + +As Albert's uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained to ask +him for any. + +Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat +down on the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never +tried to have a private lark of their very own with the Antiquities +--'A Private Sale', Albert's uncle called it afterwards. But +regrets, as nearly always happens, were vain. Something had to be +done. + +But what? + +Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of the +gay and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, +heartless in their youngness, they were playing tag. I don't know +how they could. Oswald would not like to play tag when his brother +and sister were in a hole, but Oswald is an exception to some boys. + +But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of +Albert's uncle's. + +The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from +the leaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted with hard +thinking, but they could not think of anything. And it grew so +dark that the moonlight began to show. + +Then Alice jumped up--just as Oswald was opening his mouth to say +the same thing--and said, 'Of course--how silly! I know. Come on +in, Oswald.' And they went on in. + +Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just +asked carelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next +day to buy some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after +one or two things. + +Albert's uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the +bailiff from the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and +too buy pigs. At any other time Oswald would not have been able to +bear to leave the bailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now +it was different. For he and Alice had the weight on their bosoms +of being thieves without having meant it--and nothing, not even +pigs, had power to charm the young but honourable Oswald till that +stain had been wiped away. + +So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities' +house, and Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly told us +where the President lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the +unfortunate brother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of +Camperdown Villa. + +When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. +Then they waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large +room with books and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking +odds and ends in them. Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means +he stuck to anything, no matter how ugly and silly, if only it was +old. + +He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very +well, he said, and asked what he could do for us. + +Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to own +himself the ass he had been. But Alice was less delicately +moulded. She said-- + +'Oh, if you please, we are most awfully sorry, and we hope you'll +forgive us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all +the other poor dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find +nothing Roman--so we put some pots and things in the barrow for +you to find.' + +'So I perceived,' said the President, stroking his white beard and +smiling most agreeably at us; 'a harmless joke, my dear! Youth's +the season for jesting. There's no harm done--pray think no more +about it. It's very honourable of you to come and apologize, I'm +sure.' + +His brow began to wear the furrowed, anxious look of one who would +fain be rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before +they interrupted him. + +Alice said, 'We didn't come for that. It's MUCH worse. Those were +two REAL true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they +aren't ours. We didn't know they were real Roman. We wanted to +sell the Antiquities--I mean Antiquaries--and we were sold +ourselves.' + +'This is serious,' said the gentleman. 'I suppose you'd know +the--the "jugs" if you saw them again?' + +'Anywhere,' said Oswald, with the confidential rashness of one who +does not know what he is talking about. + +Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the +one we were in, and beckoned us to follow. We found ourselves amid +shelves and shelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves +--small ones--were filled with the sort of jug we wanted. + +'Well,' said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, +like a wicked cardinal, 'which is it?' + +Oswald said, 'I don't know.' + +Alice said, 'I should know if I had it in my hand.' + +The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and +Alice tried to look inside them. And one after another she shook +her head and gave them back. At last she said, 'You didn't WASH +them?' + +Mr Longchamps shuddered and said 'No'. + +'Then,' said Alice, 'there is something written with lead-pencil +inside both the jugs. I wish I hadn't. I would rather you didn't +read it. I didn't know it would be a nice old gentleman like you +would find it. I thought it would be the younger gentleman with +the thin legs and the narrow smile.' + +'Mr Turnbull.' The President seemed to recognize the description +unerringly. 'Well, well--boys will be boys--girls, I mean. I +won't be angry. Look at all the "jugs" and see if you can find +yours.' + +Alice did--and the next one she looked at she said, 'This is +one'--and two jugs further on she said, 'This is the other.' + +'Well,' the President said, 'these are certainly the specimens +which I obtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will +return them to him. But it's a disappointment. Yes, I think you +must let me look inside.' + +He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he +laughed. + +'Well, well,' he said, 'we can't expect old heads on young +shoulders. You're not the first who went forth to shear and +returned shorn. Nor, it appears, am I. Next time you have a Sale +of Antiquities, take care that you yourself are not "sold". +Good-day to you, my dear. Don't let the incident prey on your +mind,' he said to Alice. 'Bless your heart, I was a boy once +myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye.' + +We were in time to see the pigs bought after all. + +I asked Alice what on earth it was she'd scribbled inside the +beastly jugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she +had written 'Sucks' in one of the jugs, and 'Sold again, silly', in +the other. + +But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we +have any Antiquities to tea again, they shan't find so much as a +Greek waistcoat button if we can help it. + +Unless it's the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For +a man of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can +picture a very different scene having been enacted over those +rotten pots if the President had been an otherwise sort of man. + +But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress you +by drawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for +yourself. + + + +CHAPTER 11 +THE BENEVOLENT BAR + +The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes +were very ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, +and he touched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a +little as though he would rather not. + +We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three +Tree pasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and +arrows--the ones that were given us to make up for the pistol that +was confiscated after the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot +a fox. + +To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, +in his thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire +masks. + +Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the +Moat House once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and +thousands at each other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or +Battaglia di Confetti (that's real Italian). And he wanted to get +up that sort of thing among the village people--but they were too +beastly slack, so he chucked it. + +And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from +Rome, which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in +their mouths and eyes. + +So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but in +attacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in your +equipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and +Denny defended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that +was how Dicky and Oswald picked up. + +The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow +hit Dicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit only +through the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and +while the defending party weren't looking he sneaked up the wall at +the back and shoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the +fort, now that it had lost its gallant young leader, the life and +soul of the besieged party, was of course soon overpowered, and had +to surrender. + +Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert's uncle +brought us a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the +Roman pottery we tried to sell the Antiquities with. + +The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun +on the big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in +the heat. + +We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty +blot on the fair scene. + +When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as +I have said, and remarked-- + +'Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, +but if you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way +to the nearest pub. It's a dry day and no error.' + +'The "Rose and Crown" is the best pub,' said Dicky, 'and the +landlady is a friend of ours. It's about a mile if you go by the +field path.' + +'Lor' love a duck!' said the tramp, 'a mile's a long way, and +walking's a dry job this 'ere weather.' We said we agreed with +him. + +'Upon my sacred,' said the tramp, 'if there was a pump handy I +believe I'd take a turn at it--I would indeed, so help me if I +wouldn't! Though water always upsets me and makes my 'and shaky.' + +We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the +villainous sailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs +on the wall with us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on +account of her long deer-hound legs), and the position was a strong +one, and easy to defend. Besides the tramp did not look like that +bad sailor, nor talk like it. And we considerably outnumbered the +tramp, anyway. + +Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and +the tramp's need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to +go to the hole in the top of the wall where we store provisions +during sieges and get out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had +gone without when the others had theirs so as to drink it when he +got really thirsty. Meanwhile Alice said-- + +'We've got some ginger-beer; my brother's getting it. I hope you +won't mind drinking out of our glass. We can't wash it, you +know--unless we rinse it out with a little ginger-beer.' + +'Don't ye do it, miss,' he said eagerly; 'never waste good liquor +on washing.' + +The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with +ginger-beer and handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He +had to lie on his young stomach to do this. + +The tramp was really quite polite--one of Nature's gentlemen, and +a man as well, we found out afterwards. He said-- + +'Here's to you!' before he drank. Then he drained the glass till +the rim rested on his nose. + +'Swelp me, but I WAS dry,' he said. 'Don't seem to matter much +what it is, this weather, do it?--so long as it's suthink wet. +Well, here's thanking you.' + +'You're very welcome,' said Dora; 'I'm glad you liked it.' + +'Like it?'--said he. 'I don't suppose you know what it's like to +have a thirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and +free baths and wash-houses and such! Why don't someone start free +DRINKS? He'd be a ero, he would. I'd vote for him any day of the +week and one over. Ef yer don't objec I'll set down a bit and put +on a pipe.' + +He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him +questions about himself, and he told us many of his secret +sorrows--especially about there being no work nowadays for an +honest man. At last he dropped asleep in the middle of a story +about a vestry he worked for that hadn't acted fair and square by +him like he had by them, or it (I don't know if vestry is singular +or plural), and we went home. But before we went we held a hurried +council and collected what money we could from the little we had +with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an old +envelope Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowing +middle of the poor tramp's sleeping waistcoat, so that he would +find it when he woke. None of the dogs said a single syllable +while we were doing this, so we knew they believed him to be poor +but honest, and we always find it safe to take their word for +things like that. + +As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out +afterwards that those words of the poor tramp's about free drinks +had sunk deep in all our hearts, and rankled there. + +After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. +People tell you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this +just after meals, but it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow +across the stream that just seats the eight of us, only the ones at +the end can't get their feet into the water properly because of the +bushes, so we keep changing places. We had got some liquorice root +to chew. This helps thought. Dora broke a peaceful silence with +this speech-- + +'Free drinks.' + +The words awoke a response in every breast. + +'I wonder someone doesn't,' H. O. said, leaning back till he nearly +toppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own +deadly peril. + +'Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O.,' observed Alice. 'It would +be a glorious act! I wish WE could.' + +'What, sit still?' asked H. O. + +'No, my child,' replied Oswald, 'most of us can do that when we +try. Your angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for +the poor and thirsty.' + +'Not for all of them,' Alice said, 'just a few. Change places now, +Dicky. My feet aren't properly wet at all.' + +It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The +changers have to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest +sit tight and hold on for all they're worth. But the hard task was +accomplished and then Alice went on-- + +'And we couldn't do it for always, only a day or two--just while +our money held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade's the best, and you get +a jolly lot of it for your money too. There must be a great many +sincerely thirsty persons go along the Dover Road every day.' + +'It wouldn't be bad. We've got a little chink between us,' said +Oswald. + +'And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and +tell us about their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully +interesting. We could write all their agonied life histories down +afterwards like All the Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do +let's!' + +Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to +make her calm. + +'We might do it, just for one day,' Oswald said, 'but it wouldn't +be much--only a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous +dryness of all the people in the whole world. Still, every little +helps, as the mermaid said when she cried into the sea.' + +'I know a piece of poetry about that,' Denny said. + + + 'Small things are best. + Care and unrest + To wealth and rank are given, + But little things + On little wings-- + +do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as +Oswald was saying about the mermaid.' + +'What are you going to call it?' asked Noel, coming out of a dream. + +'Call what?' + +'The Free Drinks game.' + + 'It's a horrid shame + If the Free Drinks game + Doesn't have a name. + You would be to blame + If anyone came + And--' + +'Oh, shut up!' remarked Dicky. 'You've been making that rot up all +the time we've been talking instead of listening properly.' Dicky +hates poetry. I don't mind it so very much myself, especially +Macaulay's and Kipling's and Noel's. + +'There was a lot more--"lame" and "dame" and name" and "game" and +things--and now I've forgotten it,' Noel said in gloom. + +'Never mind,' Alice answered, 'it'll come back to you in the silent +watches of the night; you see if it doesn't. But really, Noel's +right, it OUGHT to have a name.' + +'Free Drinks Company.' 'Thirsty Travellers' Rest.' 'The +Travellers' joy.' + +These names were suggested, but not cared for extra. + +Then someone said--I think it was Oswald-- 'Why not "The House +Beautiful"?' + +'It can't be a house, it must be in the road. It'll only be a +stall.' + +'The "Stall Beautiful" is simply silly,' Oswald said. + +'The "Bar Beautiful" then,' said Dicky, who knows what the 'Rose +and Crown' bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from +girls. + +'Oh, wait a minute,' cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers like +he always does when he is trying to remember things. 'I thought of +something, only Daisy tickled me and it's gone--I know--let's call +it the Benevolent Bar!' + +It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. +'Benevolent' showed it was free and 'Bar' showed what was free; +e.g. things to drink. The 'Benevolent Bar' it was. + +We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we +meant to do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know +what--and delays are dangerous. If we had waited long we might +have happened to spend our money on something else. + +The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hates +tramps. Most people do who keep fowls. Albert's uncle was in +London till the next evening, so we could not consult him, but we +know he is always chock full of intelligent sympathy with the poor +and needy. + +Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover the +Benevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of +the skies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and +the girls sewed them together. They were not very big when they +were done, so we added the girls' striped petticoats. I am sorry +their petticoats turn up so constantly in my narrative, but they +really are very useful, especially when the band is cut off. The +girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew's sewing-machine; they could not ask +her leave without explanations, which we did not wish to give just +then, and she had lent it to them before. They took it into the +cellar to work it, so that she should not hear the noise and ask +bothering questions. + +They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not +easy. While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got +willow poles and chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we +could to put up the awning. + +When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the +village for Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence +worth; then we made a great label to say what the bar was for. +Then there was nothing else to do except to make rosettes out of a +blue sash of Daisy's to show we belonged to the Benevolent Bar. + +The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocent +slumbers, and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked +down the day before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to +give drinks to as many people as possible. + +We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to +brekker. + +After break we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and +after filling it with clean water we just had to empty it again +because it was too heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the +trysting-spot and left H. O. and Noel to guard it while we went and +fetched separate pails of water; very heavy work, and no one who +wasn't really benevolent would have bothered about it for an +instant. Oswald alone carried three pails. So did Dicky and the +Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrels and stood up three +of them by the roadside, and put planks on them. This made a very +first-class table, and we covered it with the best tablecloth we +could find in the linen cupboard. We brought out several glasses +and some teacups--not the best ones, Oswald was firm about +that--and the kettle and spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, in case any +weary tramp-woman fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. +O. and Noel had to go down to the shop for tea; they need not have +grumbled; they had not carried any of the water. And their having +to go the second time was only because we forgot to tell them to +get some real lemons to put on the bar to show what the drink would +be like when you got it. The man at the shop kindly gave us tick +for the lemons, and we cashed up out of our next week's +pocket-money. + +Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, but +no one said anything except the man who said, 'Bloomin' +Sunday-school treat', and as it was too early in the day for anyone +to be thirsty we did not stop the wayfarers to tell them their +thirst could be slaked without cost at our Benevolent Bar. + +But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened +on our breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great +placard we had made with 'Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary +Travellers', in white wadding on red calico, like Christmas +decorations in church. We had meant to fasten this to the edge of +the awning, but we had to pin it to the front of the tablecloth, +because I am sorry to say the awning went wrong from the first. We +could not drive the willow poles into the road; it was much too +hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besides being no use. So +we had just to cover our benevolent heads with our hats, and take +it in turns to go into the shadow of the tree on the other side of +the road. For we had pitched our table on the sunny side of the +way, of course, relying on our broken-reed-like awning, and wishing +to give it a fair chance. + +Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody really +miserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress. + +A man and woman were the first: they stopped and stared, but when +Alice said, 'Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren't you thirsty?' they +said, 'No thank you,' and went on. Then came a person from the +village--he didn't even say 'Thank you' when we asked him, and +Oswald began to fear it might be like the awful time when we +wandered about on Christmas Day trying to find poor persons and +persuade them to eat our Conscience pudding. + +But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald's fears by +being willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, 'Thank +you, I'm sure' quite nicely. + +After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty of +thirsty people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from the +cross-road. + +We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the +dregs ere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea. + +More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn't have +it because they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for +his own liquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn't over +and above, at present; and others asked if we hadn't any beer, and +when we said 'No', they said it showed what sort we were--as if the +sort was not a good one, which it is. + +And another man said, 'Slops again! You never get nothing for +nothing, not this side of heaven you don't. Look at the bloomin' +blue ribbon on 'em! Oh, Lor'!' and went on quite sadly without +having a drink. + +Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and +we hailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, +and asked him to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said +we were a real good sort. How different from the man who wanted +the beer. Then he went on. + +One thing I didn't like, and that was the way boys began to gather. +Of course we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who +was old enough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three +glasses of lemonade and asked for another, Oswald said-- + +'I think you've had jolly well enough. You can't be really thirsty +after all that lot.' + +The boy said, 'Oh, can't I? You'll just see if I can't,' and went +away. Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than +Oswald; and they all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the +four new ones, but he was determined in his behaviour to the other +one, and wouldn't give him a drop. Then the five of them went and +sat on a gate a little way off and kept laughing in a nasty way, +and whenever a boy went by they called out-- + +'I say, 'ere's a go,' and as often as not the new boy would hang +about with them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly +all had lemonade we could see it had not made them friendly. + +A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together +and are called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp +coming down the road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at +the boys or the beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the +dogs with us, but of course we had, because we had promised never +to go out without them.) Oswald said, 'Hullo,' and the tramp said, +'Hullo.' Then Alice said, 'You see we've taken your advice; we're +giving free drinks. Doesn't it all look nice?' + +'It does that,' said the tramp. 'I don't mind if I do.' + +So we gave him two glasses of lemonade succeedingly, and thanked +him for giving us the idea. He said we were very welcome, and if +we'd no objection he'd sit down a bit and put on a pipe. He did, +and after talking a little more he fell asleep. Drinking anything +seemed to end in sleep with him. I always thought it was only beer +and things made people sleepy, but he was not so. When he was +asleep he rolled into the ditch, but it did not wake him up. + +The boys were getting very noisy, and they began to shout things, +and to make silly noises with their mouths, and when Oswald and +Dicky went over to them and told them to just chuck it, they were +worse than ever. I think perhaps Oswald and Dicky might have +fought and settled them--though there were eleven, yet back to back +you can always do it against overwhelming numbers in a book--only +Alice called out-- + +'Oswald, here's some more, come back!' + +We went. Three big men were coming down the road, very red and +hot, and not amiable-looking. They stopped in front of the +Benevolent Bar and slowly read the wadding and red-stuff label. + +Then one of them said he was blessed, or something like that, and +another said he was too. The third one said, 'Blessed or not, a +drink's a drink. Blue ribbon, though, by ---' (a word you ought +not to say, though it is in the Bible and the catechism as well). +'Let's have a liquor, little missy.' + +The dogs were growling, but Oswald thought it best not to take any +notice of what the dogs said, but to give these men each a drink. +So he did. They drank, but not as if they cared about it very +much, and then they set their glasses down on the table, a liberty +no one else had entered into, and began to try and chaff Oswald. +Oswald said in an undervoice to H. O.-- + +'Just take charge. I want to speak to the girls a sec. Call if +you want anything.' And then he drew the others away, to say he +thought there'd been enough of it, and considering the boys and new +three men, perhaps we'd better chuck it and go home. We'd been +benevolent nearly four hours anyway. + +While this conversation and the objections of the others were going +on, H. O. perpetuated an act which nearly wrecked the Benevolent +Bar. + +Of course Oswald was not an eye or ear witness of what happened, +but from what H. O. said in the calmer moments of later life, I +think this was about what happened. One of the big disagreeable +men said to H. O.-- + +'Ain't got such a thing as a drop o' spirit, 'ave yer?' + +H. O. said no, we hadn't, only lemonade and tea. + +'Lemonade and tea! blank' (bad word I told you about) 'and blazes,' +replied the bad character, for such he afterwards proved to be. +'What's THAT then?' + +He pointed to a bottle labelled Dewar's whisky, which stood on the +table near the spirit-kettle. + +'Oh, is THAT what you want?' said H. O. kindly. + +The man is understood to have said he should bloomin' well think +so, but H. O. is not sure about the 'bloomin'. + +He held out his glass with about half the lemonade in it, and H. O. +generously filled up the tumbler out of the bottle, labelled +Dewar's whisky. The man took a great drink, and then suddenly he +spat out what happened to be left in his mouth just then, and began +to swear. It was then that Oswald and Dicky rushed upon the scene. + +The man was shaking his fist in H. O.'s face, and H. O. was still +holding on to the bottle we had brought out the methylated spirit +in for the lamp, in case of anyone wanting tea, which they hadn't. +'If I was Jim,' said the second ruffian, for such indeed they were, +when he had snatched the bottle from H. O. and smelt it, 'I'd chuck +the whole show over the hedge, so I would, and you young gutter- +snipes after it, so I wouldn't.' + +Oswald saw in a moment that in point of strength, if not numbers, +he and his party were out-matched, and the unfriendly boys were +drawing gladly near. It is no shame to signal for help when in +distress--the best ships do it every day. Oswald shouted 'Help, +help!' Before the words were out of his brave yet trembling lips +our own tramp leapt like an antelope from the ditch and said-- + +'Now then, what's up?' + +The biggest of the three men immediately knocked him down. He lay +still. + +The biggest then said, 'Come on--any more of you? Come on!' + +Oswald was so enraged at this cowardly attack that he actually hit +out at the big man--and he really got one in just above the belt. +Then he shut his eyes, because he felt that now all was indeed up. +There was a shout and a scuffle, and Oswald opened his eyes in +astonishment at finding himself still whole and unimpaired. Our +own tramp had artfully simulated insensibleness, to get the men off +their guard, and then had suddenly got his arms round a leg each of +two of the men, and pulled them to the ground, helped by Dicky, who +saw his game and rushed in at the same time, exactly like Oswald +would have done if he had not had his eyes shut ready to meet his +doom. + +The unpleasant boys shouted, and the third man tried to help his +unrespectable friends, now on their backs involved in a desperate +struggle with our own tramp, who was on top of them, accompanied by +Dicky. It all happened in a minute, and it was all mixed up. The +dogs were growling and barking--Martha had one of the men by the +trouser leg and Pincher had another; the girls were screaming like +mad and the strange boys shouted and laughed (little beasts!), and +then suddenly our Pig-man came round the corner, and two friends of +his with him. He had gone and fetched them to take care of us if +anything unpleasant occurred. It was a very thoughtful, and just +like him. + +'Fetch the police!' cried the Pig-man in noble tones, and H. O. +started running to do it. But the scoundrels struggled from under +Dicky and our tramp, shook off the dogs and some bits of trouser, +and fled heavily down the road. + +Our Pig-man said, 'Get along home!' to the disagreeable boys, and +'Shoo'd' them as if they were hens, and they went. H. O. ran back +when they began to go up the road, and there we were, all standing +breathless in tears on the scene of the late desperate engagement. +Oswald gives you his word of honour that his and Dicky's tears were +tears of pure rage. There are such things as tears of pure rage. +Anyone who knows will tell you so. + +We picked up our own tramp and bathed the lump on his forehead with +lemonade. The water in the zinc bath had been upset in the +struggle. Then he and the Pig-man and his kind friends helped us +carry our things home. + +The Pig-man advised us on the way not to try these sort of kind +actions without getting a grown-up to help us. We've been advised +this before, but now I really think we shall never try to be +benevolent to the poor and needy again. At any rate not unless we +know them very well first. + +We have seen our own tramp often since. The Pig-man gave him a +job. He has got work to do at last. The Pig-man says he is not +such a very bad chap, only he will fall asleep after the least drop +of drink. We know that is his failing. We saw it at once. But it +was lucky for us he fell asleep that day near our benevolent bar. + +I will not go into what my father said about it all. There was a +good deal in it about minding your own business--there generally is +in most of the talkings-to we get. But he gave our tramp a +sovereign, and the Pig-man says he went to sleep on it for a solid +week. + + + +CHAPTER 12 +THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS + +The author of these few lines really does hope to goodness that no +one will be such an owl as to think from the number of things we +did when we were in the country, that we were wretched, neglected +little children, whose grown-up relations sparkled in the bright +haunts of pleasure, and whirled in the giddy what's-its-name of +fashion, while we were left to weep forsaken at home. It was +nothing of the kind, and I wish you to know that my father was with +us a good deal--and Albert's uncle (who is really no uncle of ours, +but only of Albert next door when we lived in Lewisham) gave up a +good many of his valuable hours to us. And the father of Denny and +Daisy came now and then, and other people, quite as many as we +wished to see. And we had some very decent times with them; and +enjoyed ourselves very much indeed, thank you. In some ways the +good times you have with grown-ups are better than the ones you +have by yourselves. At any rate they are safer. It is almost +impossible, then, to do anything fatal without being pulled up +short by a grown-up ere yet the deed is done. And, if you are +careful, anything that goes wrong can be looked on as the +grown-up's fault. But these secure pleasures are not so +interesting to tell about as the things you do when there is no one +to stop you on the edge of the rash act. + +It is curious, too, that many of our most interesting games +happened when grown-ups were far away. For instance when we were +pilgrims. + +It was just after the business of the Benevolent Bar, and it was a +wet day. It is not easy to amuse yourself indoors on a wet day as +older people seem to think, especially when you are far removed +from your own home, and haven't got all your own books and things. +The girls were playing Halma--which is a beastly game--Noel was +writing poetry, H. O. was singing 'I don't know what to do' to the +tune of 'Canaan's happy shore'. It goes like this, and is very +tiresome to listen to-- + + 'I don't know what to do--oo--oo--oo! + I don't know what to do--oo--oo! + It IS a beastly rainy day + And I don't know what to do.' + +The rest of us were trying to make him shut up. We put a carpet +bag over his head, but he went on inside it; and then we sat on +him, but he sang under us; we held him upside down and made him +crawl head first under the sofa, but when, even there, he kept it +up, we saw that nothing short of violence would induce him to +silence, so we let him go. And then he said we had hurt him, and +we said we were only in fun, and he said if we were he wasn't, and +ill feeling might have grown up even out of a playful brotherly act +like ours had been, only Alice chucked the Halma and said-- + +'Let dogs delight. Come on--let's play something.' + +Then Dora said, 'Yes, but look here. Now we're together I do want +to say something. What about the Wouldbegoods Society?' + +Many of us groaned, and one said, 'Hear! hear!' I will not say +which one, but it was not Oswald. + +'No, but really,' Dora said, 'I don't want to be preachy--but you +know we DID say we'd try to be good. And it says in a book I was +reading only yesterday that NOT being naughty is not enough. You +must BE good. And we've hardly done anything. The Golden Deed +book's almost empty.' + +'Couldn't we have a book of leaden deeds?' said Noel, coming out of +his poetry, 'then there'd be plenty for Alice to write about if she +wants to, or brass or zinc or aluminium deeds? We shan't ever fill +the book with golden ones.' + +H. O. had rolled himself in the red tablecloth and said Noel was +only advising us to be naughty, and again peace waved in the +balance. But Alice said, 'Oh, H. O., DON'T--he didn't mean that; +but really and truly, I wish wrong things weren't so interesting. +You begin to do a noble act, and then it gets so exciting, and +before you know where you are you are doing something wrong as hard +as you can lick.' + +'And enjoying it too' Dick said. + +'It's very curious,' Denny said, 'but you don't seem to be able to +be certain inside yourself whether what you're doing is right if +you happen to like doing it, but if you don't like doing it you +know quite well. I only thought of that just now. I wish Noel +would make a poem about it.' + +'I am,' Noel said; 'it began about a crocodile but it +is finishing itself up quite different from what I meant it to at +first. just wait a minute.' + + +He wrote very hard while his kind brothers and sisters and his +little friends waited the minute he had said, and then he read: + +'The crocodile is very wise, +He lives in the Nile with little eyes, +He eats the hippopotamus too, +And if he could he would eat up you. + +'The lovely woods and starry skies +He looks upon with glad surprise! +He sees the riches of the east, +And the tiger and lion, kings of beast. + +'So let all be good and beware +Of saying shan't and won't and don't care; +For doing wrong is easier far +Than any of the right things I know about are. + +And I couldn't make it king of beasts because of it not rhyming +with east, so I put the s off beasts on to king. It comes even in +the end.' + +We all said it was a very nice piece of poetry. Noel gets really +ill if you don't like what he writes, and then he said, 'If it's +trying that's wanted, I don't care how hard we TRY to be good, but +we may as well do it some nice way. Let's be Pilgrim's Progress, +like I wanted to at first.' + +And we were all beginning to say we didn't want to, when suddenly +Dora said, 'Oh, look here! I know. We'll be the Canterbury +Pilgrims. People used to go pilgrimages to make themselves good.' + +'With peas in their shoes,' the Dentist said. 'It's in a piece of +poetry--only the man boiled his peas--which is quite unfair.' + +'Oh, yes,' said H. O., 'and cocked hats.' + +'Not cocked--cockled'--it was Alice who said this. 'And they had +staffs and scrips, and they told each other tales. We might as +well.' + +Oswald and Dora had been reading about the Canterbury Pilgrims in +a book called A Short History of the English People. It is not at +all short really--three fat volumes--but it has jolly good +pictures. It was written by a gentleman named Green. So Oswald +said-- + +'All right. I'll be the Knight.' + +'I'll be the wife of Bath,' Dora said. 'What will you be, Dicky?' + +'Oh, I don't care, I'll be Mr Bath if you like.' + +'We don't know much about the people,' Alice said. 'How many were +there?' + +'Thirty,' Oswald replied, 'but we needn't be all of them. There's +a Nun-Priest.' + +'Is that a man or a woman?' + +Oswald said he could not be sure by the picture, but Alice and Noel +could be it between them. So that was settled. Then we got the +book and looked at the dresses to see if we could make up dresses +for the parts. At first we thought we would, because it would be +something to do, and it was a very wet day; but they looked +difficult, especially the Miller's. Denny wanted to be the Miller, +but in the end he was the Doctor, because it was next door to +Dentist, which is what we call him for short. Daisy was to be the +Prioress--because she is good, and has 'a soft little red mouth', +and H. O. WOULD be the Manciple (I don't know what that is), +because the picture of him is bigger than most of the others, and +he said Manciple was a nice portmanteau word--half mandarin and +half disciple. + +'Let's get the easiest parts of the dresses ready first.' Alice +said--'the pilgrims' staffs and hats and the cockles.' + +So Oswald and Dicky braved the fury of the elements and went into +the wood beyond the orchard to cut ash-sticks. We got eight jolly +good long ones. Then we took them home, and the girls bothered +till we changed our clothes, which were indeed sopping with the +elements we had faced. + +Then we peeled the sticks. They were nice and white at first, but +they soon got dirty when we carried them. It is a curious thing: +however often you wash your hands they always seem to come off on +anything white. And we nailed paper rosettes to the tops of them. +That was the nearest we could get to cockle-shells. + +'And we may as well have them there as on our hats,' Alice said. +'And let's call each other by our right names to-day, just to get +into it. Don't you think so, Knight?' + +'Yea, Nun-Priest,' Oswald was replying, but Noel said she was only +half the Nun-Priest, and again a threat of unpleasantness darkened +the air. But Alice said-- + +'Don't be a piggy-wiggy, Noel, dear; you can have it all, I don't +want it. I'll just be a plain pilgrim, or Henry who killed +Becket.' + +So she was called the Plain Pilgrim, and she did not mind. + +We thought of cocked hats, but they are warm to wear, and the big +garden hats that make you look like pictures on the covers of +plantation songs did beautifully. We put cockle-shells on them. +Sandals we did try, with pieces of oil-cloth cut the shape of soles +and fastened with tape, but the dust gets into your toes so, and we +decided boots were better for such a long walk. Some of the +pilgrims who were very earnest decided to tie their boots with +white tape crossed outside to pretend sandals. Denny was one of +these earnest palmers. As for dresses, there was no time to make +them properly, and at first we thought of nightgowns; but we +decided not to, in case people in Canterbury were not used to that +sort of pilgrim nowadays. We made up our minds to go as we +were--or as we might happen to be next day. + +You will be ready to believe we hoped next day would be fine. It +was. + +Fair was the morn when the pilgrims arose and went down to +breakfast. Albert's uncle had had brekker early and was hard at +work in his study. We heard his quill pen squeaking when we +listened at the door. It is not wrong to listen at doors when +there is only one person inside, because nobody would tell itself +secrets aloud when it was alone. + +We got lunch from the housekeeper, Mrs Pettigrew. She seems almost +to LIKE us all to go out and take our lunch with us. Though I +should think it must be very dull for her all alone. I remember, +though, that Eliza, our late general at Lewisham, was just the +same. We took the dear dogs of course. Since the Tower of Mystery +happened we are not allowed to go anywhere without the escort of +these faithful friends of man. We did not take Martha, because +bull-dogs do not like walks. Remember this if you ever have one of +those valuable animals. + +When we were all ready, with our big hats and cockle-shells, and +our staves and our tape sandals, the pilgrims looked very nice. + +'Only we haven't any scrips,' Dora said. 'What is a scrip?' + +'I think it's something to read. A roll of parchment or +something.' + +So we had old newspapers rolled up, and carried them in our hands. +We took the Globe and the Westminster Gazette because they are pink +and green. The Dentist wore his white sandshoes, sandalled with +black tape, and bare legs. They really looked almost as good as +bare feet. + +'We OUGHT to have peas in our shoes,' he said. But we did not +think so. We knew what a very little stone in your boot will do, +let alone peas. + +Of course we knew the way to go to Canterbury, because the old +Pilgrims' Road runs just above our house. It is a very pretty +road, narrow, and often shady. It is nice for walking, but carts +do not like it because it is rough and rutty; so there is grass +growing in patches on it. + +I have said that it was a fine day, which means that it was not +raining, but the sun did not shine all the time. + +''Tis well, O Knight,' said Alice, 'that the orb of day shines not +in undi--what's-its-name?--splendour.' + +'Thou sayest sooth, Plain Pilgrim,' replied Oswald. ''Tis jolly +warm even as it is.' + +'I wish I wasn't two people,' Noel said, 'it seems to make me +hotter. I think I'll be a Reeve or something.' + + +But we would not let him, and we explained that if he hadn't been +so beastly particular Alice would have been half of him, and he had +only himself to thank if being all of a Nun-Priest made him hot. + +But it WAS warm certainly, and it was some time since we'd gone so +far in boots. Yet when H. O. complained we did our duty as +pilgrims and made him shut up. He did as soon as Alice said that +about whining and grizzling being below the dignity of a Manciple. + +It was so warm that the Prioress and the wife of Bath gave up +walking with their arms round each other in their usual silly way +(Albert's uncle calls it Laura Matildaing), and the Doctor and Mr +Bath had to take their jackets off and carry them. + +I am sure if an artist or a photographer, or any person who liked +pilgrims, had seen us he would have been very pleased. The paper +cockle-shells were first-rate, but it was awkward having them on +the top of the staffs, because they got in your way when you wanted +the staff to use as a walking-stick. + +We stepped out like a man all of us, and kept it up as well as we +could in book-talk, and at first all was merry as a dinner-bell; +but presently Oswald, who was the 'very perfect gentle knight', +could not help noticing that one of us was growing very silent and +rather pale, like people are when they have eaten something that +disagrees with them before they are quite sure of the fell truth. + +So he said, 'What's up, Dentist, old man?' quite kindly and like a +perfect knight, though, of course, he was annoyed with Denny. It +is sickening when people turn pale in the middle of a game and +everything is spoiled, and you have to go home, and tell the +spoiler how sorry you are that he is knocked up, and pretend not to +mind about the game being spoiled. + +Denny said, 'Nothing', but Oswald knew better. + +Then Alice said, 'Let's rest a bit, Oswald, it IS hot.' + +'Sir Oswald, if you please, Plain Pilgrim,' returned her brother +dignifiedly. 'Remember I'm a knight.' + +So then we sat down and had lunch, and Denny looked better. We +played adverbs, and twenty questions, and apprenticing your son, +for a bit in the shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail +if we meant to make the port of Canterbury that night. Of course, +pilgrims reck not of ports, but Dicky never does play the game +thoughtfully. + +We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right +and quite early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently +Oswald saw, beyond any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame. + +'Shoes hurt you, Dentist?' he said, still with kind striving +cheerfulness. + +'Not much--it's all right,' returned the other. + +So on we went--but we were all a bit tired now--and the sun was +hotter and hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to +sing to keep up our spirits. We sang 'The British Grenadiers' and +'John Brown's Body', which is grand to march to, and a lot of +others. We were just starting on 'Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys +are marching', when Denny stopped short. He stood first on one +foot and then on the other, and suddenly screwed up his face and +put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down on a heap of stones by +the roadside. When we pulled his hands down he was actually +crying. The author does not wish to say it is babyish to cry. + +'Whatever is up?' we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to +get him to say, but he only went on howling, and said it was +nothing, only would we go on and leave him, and call for him as we +came back. + +Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the +stomach-ache, and he did not like to say so before all of us, so he +sent the others away and told them to walk on a bit. + +Then he said, 'Now, Denny, don't be a young ass. What is it? Is +it stomach-ache?' + +And Denny stopped crying to say 'No!' as loud as he could. + +'Well, then,' Oswald said, 'look here, you're spoiling the whole +thing. Don't be a jackape, Denny. What is it?' + +'You won't tell the others if I tell you?' + +'Not if you say not,' Oswald answered in kindly tones. + +'Well, it's my shoes.' + +'Take them off, man.' + +'You won't laugh?' + +'NO!' cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to +see why he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble +gentleness began to undo the black-tape sandals. + +Denny let him, crying hard all the time. + +When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain +to him. + +'Well! Of all the--' he said in proper indignation. + +Denny quailed--though he said he did not--but then he doesn't know +what quailing is, and if Denny did not quail then Oswald does not +know what quailing is either. + +For when Oswald took the shoe off he naturally chucked it down and +gave it a kick, and a lot of little pinky yellow things rolled out. +And Oswald look closer at the interesting sight. And the little +things were SPLIT peas. + +'Perhaps you'll tell me,' said the gentle knight, with the +politeness of despair, 'why on earth you've played the goat like +this?' + +'Oh, don't be angry,' Denny said; and now his shoes were off, he +curled and uncurled his toes and stopped crying. 'I KNEW pilgrims +put peas in their shoes--and--oh, I wish you wouldn't laugh!' + +'I'm not,' said Oswald, still with bitter politeness. + +'I didn't want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be +better than all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to +you'd want to too, and you wouldn't when I said it first. So I +just put some peas in my pocket and dropped one or two at a time +into my shoes when you weren't looking.' + +In his secret heart Oswald said, 'Greedy young ass.' For it IS +greedy to want to have more of anything than other people, even +goodness. + +Outwardly Oswald said nothing. + +'You see'--Denny went on--'I do want to be good. And if pilgriming +is to do you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn't mind +being hurt in my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. +And besides, I wanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say +I don't.' + +The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words. + +'I think you're quite good enough,' he said. 'I'll fetch back the +others--no, they won't laugh.' + +And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. +But Oswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old +enough to see that being good was all very well, but after all you +had to get the boy home somehow. + +When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said-- + +'It's all right--someone will give me a lift.' + +'You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift,' +Dicky said, and he did not speak lovingly. + +'So it can,' said Denny, 'when it's your feet. I shall easily get +a lift home.' + +'Not here you won't,' said Alice. 'No one goes down this road; but +the high road's just round the corner, where you see the telegraph +wires.' + +Dickie and Oswald made a sedan chair and carried Denny to the high +road, and we sat down in a ditch to wait. For a long time nothing +went by but a brewer's dray. We hailed it, of course, but the man +was so sound asleep that our hails were vain, and none of us +thought soon enough about springing like a flash to the horses' +heads, though we all thought of it directly the dray was out of +sight. + +So we had to keep on sitting there by the dusty road, and more than +one pilgrim was heard to say it wished we had never come. Oswald +was not one of those who uttered this useless wish. + +At last, just when despair was beginning to eat into the vital +parts of even Oswald, there was a quick tap-tapping of horses' feet +on the road, and a dogcart came in sight with a lady in it all +alone. + +We hailed her like the desperate shipwrecked mariners in the +long-boat hail the passing sail. + +She pulled up. She was not a very old lady--twenty-five we found +out afterwards her age was--and she looked jolly. + +'Well,' she said, 'what's the matter?' + +'It's this poor little boy,' Dora said, pointing to the Dentist, +who had gone to sleep in the dry ditch, with his mouth open as +usual. 'His feet hurt him so, and will you give him a lift?' + +'But why are you all rigged out like this?' asked the lady, looking +at our cockle-shells and sandals and things. We told her. + +'And how has he hurt his feet?' she asked. And we told her that. + +She looked very kind. 'Poor little chap,' she said. 'Where do you +want to go?' + +We told her that too. We had no concealments from this lady. + +'Well,' she said, 'I have to go on to--what is its name?' + +'Canterbury,' said H. O. + +'Well, yes, Canterbury,' she said; 'it's only about half a mile. +I'll take the poor little pilgrim--and, yes, the three girls. You +boys must walk. Then we'll have tea and see the sights, and I'll +drive you home--at least some of you. How will that do?' + +We thanked her very much indeed, and said it would do very nicely. + +Then we helped Denny into the cart, and the girls got up, and the +red wheels of the cart spun away through the dust. + +'I wish it had been an omnibus the lady was driving,' said H. O., +'then we could all have had a ride.' + +'Don't you be so discontented,' Dicky said. And Noel said-- + +'You ought to be jolly thankful you haven't got to carry Denny all +the way home on your back. You'd have had to if you'd been out +alone with him.' + +When we got to Canterbury it was much smaller than we expected, and +the cathedral not much bigger than the Church that is next to the +Moat House. There seemed to be only one big street, but we +supposed the rest of the city was hidden away somewhere. +There was a large inn, with a green before it, and the red-wheeled +dogcart was standing in the stableyard and the lady, with Denny and +the others, sitting on the benches in the porch, looking out for +us. The inn was called the 'George and Dragon', and it made me +think of the days when there were coaches and highwaymen and +foot-pads and jolly landlords, and adventures at country inns, like +you read about. + +'We've ordered tea,' said the lady. 'Would you like to wash your +hands?' + +We saw that she wished us to, so we said yes, we would. The girls +and Denny were already much cleaner than when we parted from them. + +There was a courtyard to the inn and a wooden staircase outside the +house. We were taken up this, and washed our hands in a big room +with a fourpost wooden bed and dark red hangings--just the sort of +hangings that would not show the stains of gore in the dear old +adventurous times. + +Then we had tea in a great big room with wooden chairs and tables, +very polished and old. + +It was a very nice tea, with lettuces, and cold meat, and three +kinds of jam, as well as cake, and new bread, which we are not +allowed at home. + +While tea was being had, the lady talked to us. She was very kind. + +There are two sorts of people in the world, besides others; one +sort understand what you're driving at, and the other don't. This +lady was the one sort. + +After everyone had had as much to eat as they could possibly want, +the lady said, 'What was it you particularly wanted to see at +Canterbury?' + +'The cathedral,' Alice said, 'and the place where Thomas A Becket +was murdered.' + +'And the Danejohn,' said Dicky. + +Oswald wanted to see the walls, because he likes the Story of St +Alphege and the Danes. + +'Well, well,' said the lady, and she put on her hat; it was a +really sensible one--not a blob of fluffy stuff and feathers put on +sideways and stuck on with long pins, and no shade to your face, +but almost as big as ours, with a big brim and red flowers, and +black strings to tie under your chin to keep it from blowing off. + +Then we went out all together to see Canterbury. Dicky and Oswald +took it in turns to carry Denny on their backs. The lady called +him 'The Wounded Comrade'. + +We went first to the church. Oswald, whose quick brain was easily +aroused to suspicions, was afraid the lady might begin talking in +the church, but she did not. The church door was open. I remember +mother telling us once it was right and good for churches to be +left open all day, so that tired people could go in and be quiet, +and say their prayers, if they wanted to. But it does not seem +respectful to talk out loud in church. (See Note A.) + +When we got outside the lady said, 'You can imagine how on the +chancel steps began the mad struggle in which Becket, after hurling +one of his assailants, armour and all, to the ground--' + +'It would have been much cleverer,' H. O. interrupted, 'to hurl him +without his armour, and leave that standing up.' + +'Go on,' said Alice and Oswald, when they had given H. O. a +withering glance. And the lady did go on. She told us all about +Becket, and then about St Alphege, who had bones thrown at him till +he died, because he wouldn't tax his poor people to please the +beastly rotten Danes. + +And Denny recited a piece of poetry he knows called 'The Ballad of +Canterbury'. + +It begins about Danish warships snake-shaped, and ends about doing +as you'd be done by. It is long, but it has all the beef-bones in +it, and all about St Alphege. + +Then the lady showed us the Danejohn, and it was like an +oast-house. And Canterbury walls that Alphege defied the Danes +from looked down on a quite common farmyard. The hospital was like +a barn, and other things were like other things, but we went all +about and enjoyed it very much. The lady was quite amusing, +besides sometimes talking like a real cathedral guide I met +afterwards. (See Note B.) When at last we said we thought +Canterbury was very small considering, the lady said-- + +'Well, it seemed a pity to come so far and not at least hear +something about Canterbury.' + +And then at once we knew the worst, and Alice said-- + +'What a horrid sell!' But Oswald, with immediate courteousness, +said-- + +'I don't care. You did it awfully well.' And he did not say, +though he owns he thought of it-- + +'I knew it all the time,' though it was a great temptation. +Because really it was more than half true. He had felt from the +first that this was too small for Canterbury. (See Note C.) + +The real name of the place was Hazelbridge, and not Canterbury at +all. We went to Canterbury another time. (See Note D.) +We were not angry with the lady for selling us about it being +Canterbury, because she had really kept it up first-rate. And she +asked us if we minded, very handsomely, and we said we liked it. +But now we did not care how soon we got home. The lady saw this, +and said-- + +'Come, our chariots are ready, and our horses caparisoned.' + +That is a first-rate word out of a book. It cheered Oswald up, and +he liked her for using it, though he wondered why she said +chariots. When we got back to the inn I saw her dogcart was there, +and a grocer's cart too, with B. Munn, grocer, Hazelbridge, on it. +She took the girls in her cart, and the boys went with the grocer. +His horse was a very good one to go, only you had to hit it with +the wrong end of the whip. But the cart was very bumpety. + +The evening dews were falling--at least, I suppose so, but you do +not feel dew in a grocer's cart--when we reached home. We all +thanked the lady very much, and said we hoped we should see her +again some day. She said she hoped so. + +The grocer drove off, and when we had all shaken hands with the +lady and kissed her, according as we were boys or girls, or little +boys, she touched up her horse and drove away. + +She turned at the corner to wave to us, and just as we had done +waving, and were turning into the house, Albert's uncle came into +our midst like a whirling wind. He was in flannels, and his shirt +had no stud in at the neck, and his hair was all rumpled up and his +hands were inky, and we knew he had left off in the middle of a +chapter by the wildness of his eye. + +'Who was that lady?' he said. 'Where did you meet her?' + +Mindful, as ever, of what he was told, Oswald began to tell the +story from the beginning. + +'The other day, protector of the poor,' he began; 'Dora and I were +reading about the Canterbury pilgrims ...' + +Oswald thought Albert's uncle would be pleased to find his +instructions about beginning at the beginning had borne fruit, but +instead he interrupted. + +'Stow it, you young duffer! Where did you meet her?' + +Oswald answered briefly, in wounded accents, 'Hazelbridge.' + +Then Albert's uncle rushed upstairs three at a time, and as he went +he called out to Oswald-- + +'Get out my bike, old man, and blow up the back tyre.' + +I am sure Oswald was as quick as anyone could have been, but long +ere the tyre was thoroughly blowed Albert's uncle appeared, with a +collar-stud and tie and blazer, and his hair tidy, and wrenching +the unoffending machine from Oswald's surprised fingers. + +Albert's uncle finished pumping up the tyre, and then flinging +himself into the saddle he set off, scorching down the road at a +pace not surpassed by any highwayman, however black and +high-mettled his steed. We were left looking at each other. +'He must have recognized her,' Dicky said. + +'Perhaps,' Noel said, 'she is the old nurse who alone knows the +dark secret of his highborn birth.' + +'Not old enough, by chalks,' Oswald said. + +'I shouldn't wonder,' said Alice, 'if she holds the secret of the +will that will make him rolling in long-lost wealth.' + +'I wonder if he'll catch her,' Noel said. 'I'm quite certain all +his future depends on it. Perhaps she's his long-lost sister, and +the estate was left to them equally, only she couldn't be found, so +it couldn't be shared up.' + +'Perhaps he's only in love with her,' Dora said, 'parted by cruel +Fate at an early age, he has ranged the wide world ever since +trying to find her.' + +'I hope to goodness he hasn't--anyway, he's not ranged since we +knew him--never further than Hastings,' Oswald said. 'We don't +want any of that rot.' + +'What rot?' Daisy asked. And Oswald said-- + +'Getting married, and all that sort of rubbish.' + +And Daisy and Dora were the only ones that didn't agree with him. +Even Alice owned that being bridesmaids must be fairly good fun. +It's no good. You may treat girls as well as you like, and give +them every comfort and luxury, and play fair just as if they were +boys, but there is something unmanly about the best of girls. They +go silly, like milk goes sour, without any warning. + +When Albert's uncle returned he was very hot, with a beaded brow, +but pale as the Dentist when the peas were at their worst. + +'Did you catch her?' H. O. asked. + +Albert's uncle's brow looked black as the cloud that thunder will +presently break from. 'No,'he said. + +'Is she your long-lost nurse?' H. O. went on, before we could stop +him. + +'Long-lost grandmother! I knew the lady long ago in India,' said +Albert's uncle, as he left the room, slamming the door in a way we +should be forbidden to. + +And that was the end of the Canterbury Pilgrimage. + +As for the lady, we did not then know whether she was his long-lost +grandmother that he had known in India or not, though we thought +she seemed youngish for the part. We found out afterwards whether +she was or not, but that comes in another part. His manner was not +the one that makes you go on asking questions. The Canterbury +Pilgriming did not exactly make us good, but then, as Dora said, we +had not done anything wrong that day. So we were twenty-four hours +to the good. + + + Note A.--Afterwards we went and saw real Canterbury. It is +very large. A disagreeable man showed us round the cathedral, and +jawed all the time quite loud as if it wasn't a church. I remember +one thing he said. It was this: + +'This is the Dean's Chapel; it was the Lady Chapel in the wicked +days when people used to worship the Virgin Mary.' + +And H. O. said, 'I suppose they worship the Dean now?' + +Some strange people who were there laughed out loud. I think this +is worse in church than not taking your cap off when you come in, +as H. O. forgot to do, because the cathedral was so big he didn't +think it was a church. + + + Note B. (See Note C.) + + + Note C. (See Note D.) + + + Note D. (See Note E.) + + + Note E. (See Note A.) + +This ends the Canterbury Pilgrims. + + + +CHAPTER 13 +THE DRAGON'S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED + +Albert's uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when +we became Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart +with red wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost +grandmother he had known years ago in India, he spent not nearly so +much of his time in writing, and he used to shave every morning +instead of only when requisite, as in earlier days. And he was +always going out on his bicycle in his new Norfolk suit. We are +not so unobserving as grown-up people make out. We knew well +enough he was looking for the long-lost. And we jolly well wished +he might find her. Oswald, always full of sympathy with +misfortune, however undeserved, had himself tried several times to +find the lady. So had the others. But all this is what they call +a digression; it has nothing to do with the dragon's teeth I am now +narrating. + +It began with the pig dying--it was the one we had for the circus, +but it having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its +illness and death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and +perhaps if we hadn't made it run so that day it might have been +spared to us. But Oswald cannot pretend that people were right +just because they happen to be dead, and as long as that pig was +alive we all knew well enough that it was it that made us run--and +not us it. + +The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made the +tombstone for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner +we took a turn at digging, because we like to be useful, and +besides, when you dig you never know what you may turn up. I knew +a man once that found a gold ring on the point of his fork when he +was digging potatoes, and you know how we found two half-crowns +ourselves once when we were digging for treasure. + +Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were +sitting on the gravel and telling him how to do it. + +'Work with a will,' Dicky said, yawning. + +Alice said, 'I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig +without finding something. I think I'd rather it was a secret +passage than anything.' + +Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying. + +'A secret's nothing when you've found it out. Look at the secret +staircase. It's no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of +its squeaking. I'd rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for +when we were little.' It was really only last year, but you seem +to grow old very quickly after you have once passed the prime of +your youth, which is at ten, I believe. + +'How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist +soldiers foully done to death by nasty Ironsides?'Noel asked, with +his mouth full of plum. + +'If they were really dead it wouldn't matter,' Dora said. 'What +I'm afraid of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your +legs when you're going upstairs to bed.' +'Skeletons can't walk,' Alice said in a hurry; 'you know they +can't, Dora.' + +And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what +she had. The things you are frightened of, or even those you would +rather not meet in the dark, should never be mentioned before the +little ones, or else they cry when it comes to bed-time, and say it +was because of what you said. + +'We shan't find anything. No jolly fear,' said Dicky. + +And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, +and it felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that +we had found that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, +seemed to be longish; longer, that is, than a pot of gold would +naturally be. And as I uncovered it I saw that it was not at all +pot-of-gold-colour, but like a bone Pincher has buried. So Oswald +said-- + +'It IS the skeleton.' + +The girls all drew back, and Alice said, 'Oswald, I wish you +wouldn't.' + +A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it +up, with both hands. + +'It's a dragon's head,' Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. + +It was long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth +sticking in the jaw. + +Bill came back just then and said it was a horse's head, but H. O. +and Noel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has +ever seen had a head at all that shape. + +But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who +showed me how to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him +about ferrets, so he went off and Dicky and Denny and Alice with +him. Also Daisy and Dora went off to finish reading Ministering +Children. So H. O. and Noel were left with the bony head. They +took it away. + +The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But +just before breakfast Noel and H. O. came in, looking hot and +anxious. They had got up early and had not washed at all--not even +their hands and faces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the +others saw it, and with proper delicate feeling pretended not to +have. + +When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O. in obedience to the +secret signal, Noel said-- + +'You know that dragon's head yesterday?' + +'Well?' Oswald said quickly, but not crossly--the two things are +quite different. + +'Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap sowed +dragon's teeth?' + +'They came up armed men,' said H. O., but Noel sternly bade him +shut up, and Oswald said 'Well,' again. If he spoke impatiently it +was because he smelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast. + +'Well,' Noel went on, 'what do you suppose would have come up if +we'd sowed those dragon's teeth we found yesterday?' + +'Why, nothing, you young duffer,' said Oswald, who could now smell +the coffee. 'All that isn't History it's Humbug. Come on in to +brekker.' + +'It's NOT humbug,' H. O. cried, 'it is history. We DID sow--' + +'Shut up,' said Noel again. 'Look here, Oswald. We did sow those +dragon's teeth in Randall's ten-acre meadow, and what do you think +has come up?' + +'Toadstools I should think,' was Oswald's contemptible rejoinder. + +'They have come up a camp of soldiers,' said Noel--ARMED MEN. So +you see it WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, +and it has come up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that +helped it along.' + +Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve--his brother or his +ears. So, disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led +the way to the bacon and the banqueting hall. + +He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. +O. But after the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good +elder brother said-- + +'Why don't you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?' + +So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions of +doubt. It was Dicky who observed-- + +'Let's go and have a squint at Randall's ten-acre, anyhow. I saw +a hare there the other day.' + +We went. It is some little way, and as we went, disbelief reigned +superb in every breast except Noel's and H. O.'s, so you will see +that even the ready pen of the present author cannot be expected to +describe to you his variable sensations when he got to the top of +the hill and suddenly saw that his little brothers had spoken the +truth. I do not mean that they generally tell lies, but people +make mistakes sometimes, and the effect is the same as lies if you +believe them. + +There WAS a camp there with real tents and soldiers in grey and red +tunics. I daresay the girls would have said coats. We stood in +ambush, too astonished even to think of lying in it, though of +course we know that this is customary. The ambush was the wood on +top of the little hill, between Randall's ten-acre meadow and +Sugden's Waste Wake pasture. + +'There would be cover here for a couple of regiments,' whispered +Oswald, who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of +a born general. + +Alice merely said 'Hist', and we went down to mingle with the +troops as though by accident, and seek for information. + +The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a +sort of cauldron thing like witches brew bats in. + +We went up to him and said, 'Who are you? Are you English, or are +you the enemy?' + +'We're the enemy,' he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being +what he was. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a +foreigner. + +'The enemy!' Oswald echoed in shocked tones. It is a terrible +thing to a loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy cleaning a pot +in an English field, with English sand, and looking as much at home +as if he was in his foreign fastnesses. + +The enemy seemed to read Oswald's thoughts with deadly +unerringness. He said-- + +'The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. +They are trying to keep us out of Maidstone.' + +After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth +going on with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in +reading Oswald's innermost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other +things, or he would never have given away his secret plans like +this, for he must have known from our accents that we were Britons +to the backbone. Or perhaps (Oswald thought this, and it made his +blood at once boil and freeze, which our uncle had told us was +possible, but only in India), perhaps he thought that Maidstone was +already as good as taken and it didn't matter what he said. While +Oswald was debating within his intellect what to say next, and how +to say it so as to discover as many as possible of the enemy's dark +secrets, Noel said-- + +'How did you get here? You weren't here yesterday at tea-time.' + +The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said-- + +'I daresay it does seem quick work--the camp seems as if it had +sprung up in the night, doesn't it?--like a mushroom.' + +Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. +The words 'sprung up in the night' seemed to touch a string in +every heart. + +'You see,' whispered Noel, 'he won't tell us how he came here. +NOW, is it humbug or history?' + +Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up +and not bother, remarked, 'Then you're an invading army?' + +'Well,' said the soldier, 'we're a skeleton battalion, as a matter +of fact, but we're invading all right enough.' + +And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as the +quick-witted Oswald's had done earlier in the interview. Even H. +O. opened his mouth and went the colour of mottled soap; he is so +fat that this is the nearest he can go to turning pale. Denny +said, 'But you don't look like skeletons.' + +The soldier stared, then he laughed and said, 'Ah, that's the +padding in our tunics. You should see us in the grey dawn taking +our morning bath in a bucket.' It was a dreadful picture for the +imagination. A skeleton, with its bones all loose most likely, +bathing anyhow in a pail. There was a silence while we thought it +over. + +Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about +taking Maidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald's jacket +behind, and he had kept on not taking any notice. But now he could +not stand it any longer, so he said-- + +'Well, what is it?' + +Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that +he nearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, 'Come along, +don't stay parlaying with the foe. He's only talking to you to +gain time.' + +'What for?' said Oswald. + +'Why, so that we shouldn't warn the other army, you silly,' Alice +said, and Oswald was so upset by what she said, that he forgot to +be properly angry with her for the wrong word she used. + +'But we ought to warn them at home,' she said--' suppose the Moat +House was burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the +foe?' + +Alice turned boldly to the soldier. 'DO you burn down farms?' she +asked. + +'Well, not as a rule,' he said, and he had the cheek to wink at +Oswald, but Oswald would not look at him. 'We've not burned a farm +since--oh, not for years.' + +'A farm in Greek history it was, I expect,' Denny murmured. +'Civilized warriors do not burn farms nowadays,' Alice said +sternly, 'whatever they did in Greek times. You ought to know +that.' + +The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. + +So we said good morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to be +polite even to your enemy, except just at the moments when it has +really come to rifles and bayonets or other weapons. + +The soldier said 'So long!' in quite a modern voice, and we +retraced our footsteps in silence to the ambush--I mean the wood. +Oswald did think of lying in the ambush then, but it was rather +wet, because of the rain the night before, that H. O. said had +brought the army-seed up. And Alice walked very fast, saying +nothing but 'Hurry up, can't you!' and dragging H. O. by one hand +and Noel by the other. So we got into the road. + +Then Alice faced round and said, 'This is all our fault. If we +hadn't sowed those dragon's teeth there wouldn't have been any +invading army.' + +I am sorry to say Daisy said, 'Never mind, Alice, dear. WE didn't +sow the nasty things, did we, Dora?' + +But Denny told her it was just the same. It was WE had done it, so +long as it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into +trouble. Oswald was very pleased to see that the Dentist was +beginning to understand the meaning of true manliness, and about +the honour of the house of Bastable, though of course he is only a +Foulkes. Yet it is something to know he does his best to learn. + +If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I daresay you will now +have thought of a great many things. If you have you need not say +anything, especially if you're reading this aloud to anybody. It's +no good putting in what you think in this part, because none of us +thought anything of the kind at the time. + +We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, +filled with shame and distress to think of what might happen owing +to the dragon's teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to +sow seed without being quite sure what sort it is. This is +particularly true of the penny packets, which sometimes do not come +up at all, quite unlike dragon's teeth. + +Of course H. O. and Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. +This was only fair. + +'How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?' Dickie +said. 'Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from +the bodies of dead English soldiers, I shouldn't wonder.' + +'If they're the old Greek kind of dragon's-teeth soldiers, they +ought to fight each other to death,' Noel said; 'at least, if we +had a helmet to throw among them.' + +But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be of no use +for H. O. to go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he +wanted to. Denny said suddenly-- + +'Couldn't we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn't know the +way to Maidstone?' + +Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. + +He said-- + +'Fetch all the tools out of your chest--Dicky go too, there's a +good chap, and don't let him cut his legs with the saw.' He did +once, tumbling over it. 'Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, +where we had the Benevolent Bar. Courage and dispatch, and look +sharp about it.' + +When they had gone we hastened to the crossroads, and there a great +idea occurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably +that in a very short time the board in the field which says 'No +thoroughfare. Trespassers will be prosecuted' was set up in the +middle of the road to Maidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the +road, behind it to make it stand up. + +Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post +and sawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it +said 'To Maidstone' on the Dover Road, and 'To Dover' on the road +to Maidstone. We decided to leave the Trespassers board on the +real Maidstone road, as an extra guard. + +Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone. + +Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been +unkind to say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt +a pang of joy when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather +stay where they were and tell anybody who came by which was the +real road. + +'Because it would be so dreadful if someone was going to buy pigs +or fetch a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had +got to Dover instead of where they wanted to go to,' Dora said. +But when it came to dinner-time they went home, so that they were +entirely out of it. This often happens to them by some strange +fatalism. + +We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher +went with us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to +remember no one said anything about their dinners, whatever they +may have thought. We cannot always help our thoughts. We happened +to know it was roast rabbits and currant jelly that day. + +We walked two and two, and sang the 'British Grenadiers' and +'Soldiers of the queen' so as to be as much part of the British +Army as possible. The Cauldron-Man had said the English were the +other side of the hill. But we could not see any scarlet anywhere, +though we looked for it as carefully as if we had been fierce +bulls. + +But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into +a lot of soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were +dressed in grey and silver. And it was a sort of furzy-common +place, and three roads branching out. The men were lying about, +with some of their belts undone, smoking pipes and cigarettes. + +'It's not British soldiers,' Alice said. 'Oh dear, oh dear, I'm +afraid it's more enemy. You didn't sow the army-seed anywhere +else, did you, H. O. dear?' + +H. O. was positive he hadn't. 'But perhaps lots more came up where +we did sow them,' he said; 'they're all over England by now very +likely. _I_ don't know how many men can grow out of one dragon's +tooth.' + +Then Noel said, 'It was my doing anyhow, and I'm not afraid,' and +he walked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his +pipe with a piece of grass, and said-- + +'Please, are you the enemy?' The man said-- + +'No, young Commander-in-Chief, we're the English.' + +Then Oswald took command. 'Where is the General?' he said. + +'We're out of generals just now, Field-Marshal,' the man said, and +his voice was a gentleman's voice. 'Not a single one in stock. We +might suit you in majors now --and captains are quite cheap. +Competent corporals going for a song. And we have a very nice +colonel, too quiet to ride or drive.' + +Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one. + +'You seem to be taking it very easy,' he said with disdainful +expression. + +'This IS an easy,' said the grey soldier, sucking at his pipe to +see if it would draw. + +'I suppose YOU don't care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!' +exclaimed Oswald bitterly. 'If I were a soldier I'd rather die +than be beaten.' + +The soldier saluted. 'Good old patriotic sentiment' he said, +smiling at the heart-felt boy. + +But Oswald could bear no more. 'Which is the Colonel?' he asked. + +'Over there--near the grey horse.' + +'The one lighting a cigarette?' H. O. asked. + +'Yes--but I say, kiddie, he won't stand any jaw. There's not an +ounce of vice about him, but he's peppery. He might kick out. +You'd better bunk.' + +'Better what?' asked H. O. + +'Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit,' said the soldier. + +'That's what you'd do when the fighting begins,' said H. O. He is +often rude like that--but it was what we all thought, all the same. + +The soldier only laughed. + +A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended +in our allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the Colonel. It +was she who wanted to. 'However peppery he is he won't kick a +girl,' she said, and perhaps this was true. + +But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to +stand in front of the Colonel. And as we went along we agreed that +we would salute him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick +said, 'One, two, three', and we all saluted very well--except H. +O., who chose that minute to trip over a rifle a soldier had left +lying about, and was only saved from falling by a man in a cocked +hat who caught him deftly by the back of his jacket and stood him +on his legs. + +'Let go, can't you,' said H. O. 'Are you the General?' + +Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to the +Colonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as +we threaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really +said was-- + +'Oh, how CAN you!' + +'How can I WHAT?' said the Colonel, rather crossly. + +'Why, SMOKE?' said Alice. + +'My good children, if you're an infant Band of Hope, let me +recommend you to play in some other backyard,' said the Cock-Hatted +Man. + +H. O. said, 'Band of Hope yourself'--but no one noticed it. + +'We're NOT a Band of Hope,' said Noel. 'We're British, and the man +over there told us you are. And Maidstone's in danger, and the +enemy not a mile off, and you stand SMOKING.' Noel was standing +crying, himself, or something very like it. + +'It's quite true,' Alice said. + +The Colonel said, 'Fiddle-de-dee.' + +But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, 'What was the enemy like?' +We told him exactly. And even the Colonel then owned there might +be something in it. + +'Can you show me the place where they are on the map?' he asked. + +'Not on the map, we can't,' said Dicky--'at least, I don't think +so, but on the ground we could. We could take you there in a +quarter of an hour.' + +The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the Colonel, who returned his +scrutiny, then he shrugged his shoulders. + +'Well, we've got to do something,' he said, as if to himself. +'Lead on, Macduff.' + +The Colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words +of command which the present author is sorry he can't remember. + +Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, +marching at the head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the +Cocked-Hatted One's horse. It was a red-roan steed of might, +exactly as if it had been in a ballad. They call a grey-roan a +'blue' in South Africa, the Cocked-Hatted One said. + +We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the +gate of Sugden's Waste Wake pasture. Then the Colonel called a +whispered halt, and choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless +and discerning commander went on, on foot, with an orderly. He +chose Dicky and Oswald as guides. So we led him to the ambush, and +we went through it as quietly as we could. But twigs do crackle +and snap so when you are reconnoitring, or anxious to escape +detection for whatever reason. + +Our Colonel's orderly crackled most. If you're not near enough to +tell a colonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you +can tell him by the orderly behind him, like 'follow my leader'. + +'Look out!' said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, 'the +camp's down in that field. You can see if you take a squint +through this gap.' + +The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, +baffled beyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with +his baffledness the British Colonel had his squint. He also drew +back, and said a word that he must have known was not right--at +least when he was a boy. + +'I don't care,' said Oswald, 'they were there this morning. White +tents like mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a cauldron.' + +'With sand,' said Dicky. + +'That's most convincing,' said the Colonel, and I did not like the +way he said it. + +'I say,' Oswald said, 'let's get to the top corner of the +ambush--the wood, I mean. You can see the crossroads from there.' + +We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer +dismayed our almost despairing spirits. + +We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald's patriotic heart +really did give a jump, and he cried, 'There they are, on the Dover +Road.' + +Our miscellaneous signboard had done its work. + +'By Jove, young un, you're right! And in quarter column, too! +We've got em on toast--on toast--egad!' I never heard anyone not in +a book say 'egad' before, so I saw something really out of the way +was indeed up. + +The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the +orderly to tell the Major to advance two companies on the left +flank and take cover. Then we led him back through the wood the +nearest way, because he said he must rejoin the main body at once. +We found the main body very friendly with Noel and H. O. and the +others, and Alice was talking to the Cocked-Hatted One as if she +had known him all her life. + +'I think he's a general in disguise,' Noel said. 'He's been giving +us chocolate out of a pocket in his saddle.' + +Oswald thought about the roast rabbit then--and he is not ashamed +to own it--yet he did not say a word. But Alice is really not a +bad sort. She had saved two bars of chocolate for him and Dicky. +Even in war girls can sometimes be useful in their humble way. + +The Colonel fussed about and said, 'Take cover there!' and +everybody hid in the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with +Alice, retreated down the road out of sight. We were in the ditch +too. It was muddy--but nobody thought of their boots in that +perilous moment. It seemed a long time we were crouching there. +Oswald began to feel the water squelching in his boots, so we held +our breath and listened. Oswald laid his ear to the road like a +Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace, but when your +country is in danger you care but little about keeping your ears +clean. His backwoods' strategy was successful. He rose and dusted +himself and said-- +'They're coming!' + +It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be +heard quite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The +wicked enemy approached. They were marching with a careless +swaggeringness that showed how little they suspected the horrible +doom which was about to teach them England's might and supremeness. + +Just as the enemy turned the corner so that we could see them, the +Colonel shouted-- +'Right section, fire!' and there was a deafening banging. + +The enemy's officer said something, and then the enemy got confused +and tried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was +vain. There was firing now from our men, on the left as well as +the right. And then our Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy's +Colonel and demanded surrender. He told me so afterwards. His +exact words are only known to himself and the other Colonel. But +the enemy's Colonel said, 'I would rather die than surrender,' or +words to that effect. + +Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, +and even Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of +the amount of blood to be shed. What would have happened can never +now be revealed. For at this moment a man on a piebald horse came +clattering over a hedge--as carelessly as if the air was not full +of lead and steel at all. Another man rode behind him with a lance +and a red pennon on it. I think he must have been the enemy's +General coming to tell his men not to throw away their lives on a +forlorn hope, for directly he said they were captured the enemy +gave in and owned that they were. The enemy's Colonel saluted and +ordered his men to form quarter column again. I should have +thought he would have had about enough of that myself. + +He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter +end. He rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek +to say to our Colonel-- + +'By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to +have marked us down uncommonly neatly.' + +It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand on +Oswald's shoulder and said-- + +'This is my chief scout' which were high words, but not undeserved, +and Oswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard +them. + +'So you are the traitor, young man,' said the wicked Colonel, going +on with his cheek. + +Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous +to a fallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you +haven't. + +He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might +have done, but he said-- + +'We aren't traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a +Foulkes. We only mingled unsuspected with the enemy's soldiery and +learned the secrets of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell +always does when the natives rebel in South Africa; and Denis +Foulkes thought of altering the sign-posts to lead the foe astray. +And if we did cause all this fighting, and get Maidstone threatened +with capture and all that, it was only because we didn't believe +Greek things could happen in Great Britain and Ireland, even if you +sow dragon's teeth, and besides, some of us were not as e a out +sowing them.' + +Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and +made us tell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked +Colonel listened too, which was only another proof of his cheek. + +And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some +people think he has, and gave the others all the credit they +deserved. His narration was interrupted no less than four times by +shouts of 'Bravo!' in which the enemy's Colonel once more showed +his cheek by joining. By the time the story was told we were in +sight of another camp. It was the British one this time. The +Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, and it only shows the +magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field of battle that he +asked the enemy's Colonel too. With his usual cheek he accepted. +We were jolly hungry. + +When everyone had had as much tea as they possibly could, the +Colonel shook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said-- + +'Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in my +dispatches to the War Office.' + +H. O. interrupted him to say, 'His name's Oswald Cecil Bastable, +and mine is Horace Octavius.' I wish H. O. would learn to hold his +tongue. No one ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if +he can possibly help it. YOU didn't know it till now. + +'Mr Oswald Bastable,' the Colonel went on--he had the decency not +to take any notice of the 'Cecil' -'you would be a credit to any +regiment. No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for +what you have done for your country. But meantime, perhaps, you'll +accept five shillings from a grateful comrade-in-arms.' Oswald +felt heart-felt sorry to wound the good Colonel's feelings, but he +had to remark that he had only done his duty, and he was sure no +British scout would take five bob for doing that. 'And besides,' +he said, with that feeling of justice which is part of his young +character, 'it was the others just as much as me.' + +'Your sentiments, Sir,' said the Colonel who was one of the +politest and most discerning colonels I ever saw, 'your sentiments +do you honour. But, Bastables all, and--and non-Bastables' (he +couldn't remember Foulkes; it's not such an interesting name as +Bastable, of course) -'at least you'll accept a soldier's pay?' + +'Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!' Alice and Denny said +together. And the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing +your own mind and knowing your own Kipling. + +'A soldier,' said the Colonel, 'would certainly be lucky to touch +it. You see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is +exactly right, deducting twopence each for six teas.' + +This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and +all the strawberry jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well +as what the others ate, and Lady's and Pincher's teas, but I +suppose soldiers get things cheaper than civilians, which is only +right. + +Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any +scruples why he should not. + +Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw a +bicycle coming. It was Albert's uncle. He got off and said-- + +'What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with those +volunteers?' + +We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and +then he said he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked. + +But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was +now almost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without +a moment's pause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He +said nothing at the time, but after supper he had it out with +Albert's uncle about the word which had been withdrawn. + +Albert's uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the +dragon's teeth hadn't come up in the good old-fashioned way, but +that, on the other hand, it was barely possible that both the +British and the enemy were only volunteers having a field-day or +sham fight, and he rather thought the Cocked-Hatted Man was not a +general, but a doctor. And the man with a red pennon carried +behind him MIGHT have been the umpire. + +Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts +were all panting with joy because they had saved their country; and +it would have been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly +they had been. Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have +been so taken in--if he HAD been. Besides, Albert's uncle did say +that no one could be sure about the dragon's teeth. + +The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole +thing was a beastly sell, was that we didn't see any wounded. But +he tries not to think of this. And if he goes into the army when +he grows up, he will not go quite green. He has had experience of +the arts of war and the tented field. And a real colonel has +called him 'Comrade-in-Arms', which is exactly what Lord Roberts +called his own soldiers when he wrote home about them. + + + +CHAPTER 14 +ALBERT'S UNCLE's GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE + LONG-LOST + + +The shadw of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds +upon our devoted nobs. As Albert's uncle said, 'School now gaped +for its prey'. In a very short space of time we should be wending +our way back to Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness +of the country would soon be only preserved in memory's faded +flowers. (I don't care for that way of writing very much. It +would be an awful swot to keep it up--looking out the words and all +that.) + +To speak in the language of everyday life, our holiday was jolly +nearly up. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We +really did feel sorry-- though, of course, it was rather decent to +think of getting back to Father and being able to tell the other +chaps about our raft, and the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and +things like that. + +When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by +chance in an apple-tree. (That sounds like 'consequences', but it +is mere truthfulness.) Dicky said-- + +'Only four more days.' + +Oswald said, 'Yes.' + +'There's one thing,' Dickie said, 'that beastly society. We don't +want that swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought +to dissolve it before we leave here.' + +The following dialogue now took place: + +Oswald--'Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot.' + +Dicky--'So did I.' + +Oswald--'Let's call a council. But don't forget we've jolly well +got to put our foot down.' + +Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples. + +The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made +Oswald's and Dicky's task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy +despair about one thing, they will agree to almost anything about +something else. (Remarks like this are called philosophic +generalizations, Albert's uncle says.) Oswald began by saying-- + +'We've tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it's done +us good. But now the time has come for each of us to be good or +bad on his own, without hanging on to the others.' + +'The race is run by one and one, +But never by two and two,' + +the Dentist said. + +The others said nothing. + +Oswald went on: 'I move that we chuck--I mean dissolve-- the +Wouldbegoods Society; its appointed task is done. If it's not well +done, that's ITS fault and not ours.' + +Dicky said, 'Hear! hear! I second this prop.' + +The unexpected Dentist said, 'I third it. At first I thought it +would help, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be +naughty, just because you were a Wouldbegood.' + +Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as +not to let Denny cool. H. O. and Noel and Alice voted with us, so +Daisy and Dora were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried +to cheer their hopelessness by letting them read the things out of +the Golden Deed book aloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that +we should not see the faces he made while he made poetry instead of +listening, and when the Wouldbegoods was by vote dissolved for ever +he sat up, straws in his hair, and said-- + + + THE EPITAPH + + 'The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone + But not the golden deeds they have done + These will remain upon Glory's page + To be an example to every age, + And by this we have got to know + How to be good upon our ow--N. + + +N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O, +W, N, own; do you see?' + +We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And the +council broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from +his expanding chest, and it is curious that he never felt so +inclined to be good and a model youth as he did then. As he went +down the ladder out of the loft he said-- + +'There's one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We +ought to find Albert's uncle's long- lost grandmother for him.' + +Alice's heart beat true and steadfast. She said, 'That's just +exactly what Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, +Oswald, you wretch, you're kicking chaff into my eyes.' She was +going down the ladder just under me. + +Oswald's younger sister's thoughtful remark ended in another +council. But not in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite +new place, and disregarded H. O.'s idea of the dairy and Noel's of +the cellars. We had the new council on the secret staircase, and +there we settled exactly what we ought to do. This is the same +thing, if you really wish to be good, as what you are going to do. +It was a very interesting council, and when it was over Oswald was +so pleased to think that the Wouldbegoods was unrecoverishly dead +that he gave Denny and Noel, who were sitting on the step below +him, a good-humoured, playful, gentle, loving, brotherly shove, and +said, 'Get along down, it's tea-time!' + +No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, +and who is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been +Oswald's fault that the two other boys got along down by rolling +over and over each other, and bursting the door at the bottom of +the stairs open by their revolving bodies. And I should like to +know whose fault it was that Mrs Pettigrew was just on the other +side of that door at that very minute? The door burst open, and +the Impetuous bodies of Noel and Denny rolled out of it into Mrs +Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray. Both revolving boys +were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one or two cups and +things smashed. Mrs Pettigrew was knocked over, but none of her +bones were broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed, +but Oswald said it was all his fault. He really did this to give +the others a chance of doing a refined golden deed by speaking the +truth and saying it was not his fault. But you cannot really count +on anyone. They did not say anything, but only rubbed the lumps on +their late-revolving heads. So it was bed for Oswald, and he felt +the injustice hard. + +But he sat up in bed and read The Last of the Mohicans, and then he +began to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks +of something. He thought of something now, and it was miles better +than the idea we had decided on in the secret staircase, of +advertising in the Kentish Mercury and saying if Albert's uncle's +long-lost grandmother would call at the Moat House she might hear +of something much to her advantage. + +What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and asked +Mr B. Munn, Grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse +that liked the wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the +lady was in the red hat and red wheels that paid him to drive us +home that Canterbury night. He must have been paid, of course, for +even grocers are not generous enough to drive perfect strangers, +and five of them too, about the country for nothing. +Thus we may learn that even unjustness and sending the wrong people +to bed may bear useful fruit, which ought to be a great comfort to +everyone when they are unfairly treated. Only it most likely won't +be. For if Oswald's brothers and sisters had nobly stood by him as +he expected, he would not have had the solitary reflections that +led to the great scheme for finding the grandmother. + +Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and +squatted on Oswald's bed and said how sorry they were. He waived +their apologies with noble dignity, because there wasn't much time, +and said he had an idea that would knock the council's plan into a +cocked hat. But he would not tell them what it was. He made them +wait till next morning. This was not sulks, but kind feeling. He +wanted them to have something else to think of besides the way they +hadn't stood by him in the bursting of the secret staircase door +and the tea-tray and the milk. + +Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer +for a forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the +young Oswald a pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can +bear pangs with any man living. 'And mind,' he added, hiding the +pang under a general-like severeness, 'I won't have anyone in the +expedition who has anything in his shoes except his feet.' + +This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But +Oswald is often misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to +throw the peas up at Denny. When this little unpleasantness had +passed away (it took some time because Daisy cried, and Dora said, +'There now, Oswald!') there were seven volunteers, which, with +Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed, all of us. There were no +cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, or scrips, or anything +romantic and pious about the eight persons who set out for +Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good and +deedful--at least Oswald, I know, was--than ever they had been in +the days of the beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. +Either it was fine nearly all last summer, which is how Oswald +remembers it, or else nearly all the interesting things we did came +on fine days. + +With hearts light and gay, and no peas in anyone's shoes, the walk +to Hazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with +us, and the dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had +left one of them at home. But they did so want to come, all of +them, and Hazelbridge is not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, +so even Martha was allowed to put on her things--I mean her +collar--and come with us. She walks slowly, but we had the day +before us so there was no extra hurry. + +At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn's grocer's shop and asked for +ginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised +at us wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm--it had +just been washed. We only did it, really, so as to get into +conversation with B. Munn, grocer, and extract information without +rousing suspicion. You cannot be too careful. +However, when we had said it was first-class ginger- beer, and paid +for it, we found it not so easy to extract anything more from B. +Munn, grocer; and there was an anxious silence while he fiddled +about behind the counter among the tinned meats and sauce bottles, +with a fringe of hobnailed boots hanging over his head. + +H. O. spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in +where angels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person +that is). He said-- + +'I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the +cart?' + +Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that +word, it means so many people I know) as to say right off. He +said-- + +'I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don't you terrify +yourself.' + +People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry. So Dora shoved in +a gentle oar. She said-- + +'We want to know the kind lady's name and address, so that we can +write and thank her for being so jolly that day.' + +B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady's address being +goods he was often asked for. Alice said, 'But do tell us. We +forgot to ask her. She's a relation of a second-hand uncle of +ours, and I do so want to thank her properly. And if you've got +any extra-strong peppermints at a penny an ounce, we should like a +quarter of a pound.' + +This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the +peppermints his heart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the +corner of the paper bag, Dora said, 'What lovely fat peppermints! +Do tell us.' + +And B. Munn's heart was now quite melted, he said-- + +'It's Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars--about a mile down +the Maidstone Road.' + +We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a +little anxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had +got the money all right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge +Green (a good deal of it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at +each other. Then Dora said-- + +'Let's go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it.' + +Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it's +such a beastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards. + +The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divined +hers--he is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald's--and the two +said together-- + +'Why not go and see her?' + +'She did say she would like to see us again some day,' Dora +replied. So after we had argued a little about it we went. + +And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha +began to make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. +She began to limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when +he had the split peas in his silly palmering shoes. + +So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quite +swollen and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter +with their feet, and it always comes on when least required. They +are not the right breed for emergencies. + +There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. She +is very stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A +half-hearted unadventurous person name no names, but Oswald, Alice, +Noel, H. O., Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why +not go straight home and come another day without Martha? But the +rest agreed with Oswald when he said it was only a mile, and +perhaps we might get a lift home with the poor invalid. Martha was +very grateful to us for our kindness. She put her fat white arms +round the person's neck who happened to be carrying her. She is +very affectionate, but by holding her very close to you you can +keep her from kissing your face all the time. As Alice said, +'Bulldogs do give you such large, wet, pink kisses.' + +A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying +Martha. + +At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chains +swinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the +ditch, and a gate with 'The Cedars' on it in gold letters. All +very neat and tidy, and showing plainly that more than one gardener +was kept. There we stopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with +exhaustedness, and said-- + +'Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don't believe a bit that it's his +grandmother. I'm sure Dora was right, and it's only his horrid +sweetheart. I feel it in my bones. Now, don't you really think +we'd better chuck it; we're sure to catch it for interfering. We +always do.' + +'The cross of true love never did come smooth,' said the Dentist. +'We ought to help him to bear his cross.' + +'But if we find her for him, and she's not his grandmother, he'll +MARRY her,' Dicky said in tones of gloominess and despair. + +Oswald felt the same, but he said, 'Never mind. We should all hate +it, but perhaps Albert's uncle MIGHT like it. You can never tell. +If you want to do a really unselfish action and no kid, now's your +time, my late Wouldbegoods.' + +No one had the face to say right out that they didn't want to be +unselfish. + +But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the +long gate and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons +and other shrubberies towards the house. + +I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of +anybody is called the representative of the family if his father +isn't there. This was why Oswald now took the lead. When we got +to the last turn of the drive it was settled that the others were +to noiselessly ambush in the rhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on +alone and ask at the house for the grandmother from India--I mean +Miss Ashleigh. + +So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how +neat the flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all +bright and speckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green +parrot in a cage in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying +clean and untrodden in the sunshine, he stood still and thought of +his boots and how dusty the roads were, and wished he had not gone +into the farmyard after eggs before starting that morning. As he +stood there in anxious uncertainness he heard a low voice among the +bushes. It said, 'Hist! Oswald here!' and it was the voice of +Alice. + +So he went back to the others among the shrubs and they all crowded +round their leader full of importable news. + +'She's not in the house; she's HERE,' Alice said in a low whisper +that seemed nearly all S's. 'Close by--she went by just this +minute with a gentleman.' + +'And they're sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and +she's got her head on his shoulder, and he's holding her hand. I +never saw anyone look so silly in all my born,' Dicky said. + +'It's sickening,' Denny said, trying to look very manly with his +legs wide apart. + +'I don't know,' Oswald whispered. 'I suppose it wasn't Albert's +uncle?' + +'Not much,' Dicky briefly replied. + +'Then don't you see it's all right. If she's going on like that +with this fellow she'll want to marry him, and Albert's uncle is +safe. And we've really done an unselfish action without having to +suffer for it afterwards.' + +With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as he spoke in +real joyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed. +But we had reckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping +to look about her a bit in the shrubbery. 'Where's Martha?' Dora +suddenly said. + +'She went that way,' pointingly remarked H. O. + +'Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go +for?' Oswald said. 'And look sharp. Don't make a row.' + +He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha--the +one she always gives when suddenly collared from behind--and a +little squeal in a lady-like voice, and a man say 'Hallo!' and then +we knew that H. O. had once more rushed in where angels might have +thought twice about it. We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was +too late. We were just in time to hear H. O. say-- + +'I'm sorry if she frightened you. But we've been looking for you. +Are you Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmother?' + +'NO,' said our lady unhesitatingly. + +It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now +going on. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a +clergyman, and I found out afterwards he was the nicest we ever +knew except our own Mr Briston at Lewisham, who is now a canon or +a dean, or something grand that no one ever sees. At present I did +not like him. He said, 'No, this lady is nobody's grandmother. +May I ask in return how long it is since you escaped from the +lunatic asylum, my poor child, and whence your keeper is?' + +H. O. took no notice of this at all, except to say, 'I think you +are very rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are.' + +The lady said, 'My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all +the others, and are you pilgrims again to-day?' + +H. O. does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and +said-- + +'Are you going to marry the lady?' + +'Margaret,' said the clergyman, 'I never thought it would come to +this: he asks me my intentions.' + +'If you ARE,' said H. O., 'it's all right, because if you do +Albert's uncle can't--at least, not till you're dead. And we don't +want him to.' + +'Flattering, upon my word,' said the clergyman, putting on a deep +frown. 'Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of +you, or shall I send for the police?' + +Alice now saw that H. O., though firm, was getting muddled and +rather scared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the +scene. + +'Don't let him rag H. O. any more,' she said, 'it's all our faults. +You see, Albert's uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought +perhaps you were his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who +alone knew the secret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, +and he said you were his long-lost grandmother he had known in +India. And we thought that must be a mistake and that really you +were his long-lost sweetheart. And we tried to do a really +unselfish act and find you for him. Because we don't want him to +be married at all.' + +'It isn't because we don't like YOU,' Oswald cut in, now emerging +from the bushes, 'and if he must marry, we'd sooner it was you than +anyone. Really we would.' + +'A generous concession, Margaret,' the strange clergyman uttered, +'most generous, but the plot thickens. It's almost pea-soup-like +now. One or two points clamour for explanation. Who are these +visitors of yours? Why this Red Indian method of paying morning +calls? Why the lurking attitude of the rest of the tribe which I +now discern among the undergrowth? Won't you ask the rest of the +tribe to come out and join the glad throng?' + +Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same +songs we do, and books and tunes and things. + +The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as +if she was going to cry. But she couldn't help laughing too, as +more and more of us came out. + +'And who,' the clergyman went on, 'who in fortune's name is Albert? +And who is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this +galere--I mean garden?' + +We all felt rather silly, and I don't think I ever felt more than +then what an awful lot there were of us. + +'Three years' absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my +ignorance of these details, but still--' + +'I think we'd better go,' said Dora. 'I'm sorry if we've done +anything rude or wrong. We didn't mean to. Good-bye. I hope +you'll be happy with the gentleman, I'm sure.' + +'I HOPE so too,' said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much +nicer Albert's uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very +silent compared with what she was when she pretended to show us +Canterbury. But now she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, +and caught hold of Dora by the shoulder. + +'No, dear, no,' she said, 'it's all right, and you must have some +tea--we'll have it on the lawn. John, don't tease them any more. +Albert's uncle is the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear +children, this is my brother that I haven't seen for three years.' + +'Then he's a long-lost too,' said H. O. + +The lady said 'Not now' and smiled at him. + +And the rest of us were dumb with confounding emotions. Oswald was +particularly dumb. He might have known it was her brother, because +in rotten grown-up books if a girl kisses a man in a shrubbery that +is not the man you think she's in love with; it always turns out to +be a brother, though generally the disgrace of the family and not +a respectable chaplain from Calcutta. + +The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and +said, 'John, go and tell them we'll have tea on the lawn.' + +When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said, +'I'm going to tell you something, but I want to put you on your +honour not to talk about it to other people. You see it isn't +everyone I would tell about it. He, Albert's uncle, I mean, has +told me a lot about you, and I know I can trust you.' + +We said 'Yes', Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too +well what was coming next. + +The lady then said, 'Though I am not Albert's uncle's grandmother +I did know him in India once, and we were going to be married, but +we had a--a--misunderstanding.' + +'Quarrel?' Row?' said Noel and H. O. at once. + +'Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. +And then ... well, we were both sorry, but well, anyway, when his +ship came back we'd gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he +couldn't find us. And he says he's been looking for me ever +since.' + +'Not you for him?' said Noel. + +'Well, perhaps,' said the lady. + +And the girls said 'Ah!' with deep interest. The lady went on more +quickly, 'And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I +must break it to you. Try to bear up.' + +She stopped. The branches cracked, and Albert's uncle was in our +midst. He took off his hat. 'Excuse my tearing my hair,' he said +to the lady, 'but has the pack really hunted you down?' + +'It's all right,' she said, and when she looked at him she got +miles prettier quite suddenly. 'I was just breaking to them ...' + +'Don't take that proud privilege from me,' he said. 'Kiddies, +allow me to present you to the future Mrs Albert's uncle, or shall +we say Albert's new aunt?' + + * * * +There was a good deal of explaining done before tea--about how we +got there, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of +disappointment we felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. +For Albert's uncle's lady was very jolly to us, and her brother was +awfully decent, and showed us a lot of first-class native +curiosities and things, unpacking them on purpose; skins of beasts, +and beads, and brass things, and shells from different savage lands +besides India. And the lady told the girls that she hoped they +would like her as much as she liked them, and if they wanted a new +aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction in the new +situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging to +Daisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert's uncle +had married HER. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we +might think ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse. + +Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot +which he had explored thoroughly before, and told him she was not +like some people in books. When she was married she would never +try to separate her husband from his bachelor friends, she only +wanted them to be her friends as well. + +Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the +reverend and friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha +we shouldn't have had tea, or explanations, or lift or anything. +So we honoured her, and did not mind her being so heavy and walking +up and down constantly on our laps as we drove home. + + +And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert's +uncle. I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important +(to him), so I felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers +and getting married are generally slow. I like a love-story where +the hero parts with the girl at the garden-gate in the gloaming and +goes off and has adventures, and you don't see her any more till he +comes home to marry her at the end of the book. And I suppose +people have to marry. Albert's uncle is awfully old--more than +thirty, and the lady is advanced in years--twenty-six next +Christmas. They are to be married then. The girls are to be +bridesmaids in white frocks with fur. This quite consoles them. +If Oswald repines sometimes, he hides it. What's the use? We all +have to meet our fell destiny, and Albert's uncle is not extirpated +from this awful law. + +Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for +the sake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the +Wouldbegoods, and there are no more chapters after this. But +Oswald hates books that finish up without telling you the things +you might want to know about the people in the book. So here goes. + +We went home to the beautiful Blackheath house. It seemed very +stately and mansion-like after the Moat House, and everyone was +most frightfully pleased to see us. + +Mrs Pettigrew CRIED when we went away. I never was so astonished +in my life. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like +a heart, and each of us boys had a knife bought out of the +housekeeping (I mean housekeeper's own) money. + +Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert's uncle's +lady's mother. They do keep three gardeners--I knew they did. And +our tramp still earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old +Pig-man. + +Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewell +sympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. We +promised to come and see them next year. I hope we shall. + +Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. +I don't think they'll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone +aunt--who is really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the +autumn of her days as our new Albert's-uncle aunt. I think they +plucked up spirit enough to tell their father they didn't like +her--which they'd never thought of doing before. Our own robber +says their holidays in the country did them both a great deal of +good. And he says us Bastables have certainly taught Daisy and +Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. I believe +they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirely on +their own--and done them too--since they came back from the Moat +House. + +I wish you didn't grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long +he will be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he +feels grown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of +this. + +And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles +of the Wouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the +author will be very glad, of course. But take my advice and don't +make a society for trying in. It is much easier without. + +And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. +The one beginning with C., I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed +what it was. If so, don't look back for it. It is a name no manly +boy would like to be called by--if he spoke the truth. Oswald is +said to be a very manly boy, and he despises that name, and will +never give it to his own son when he has one. Not if a rich +relative offered to leave him an immense fortune if he did. Oswald +would still be firm. He would, on the honour of the House of +Bastable. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Wouldbegoods, by E.Nesbit + diff --git a/old/twbgd10.zip b/old/twbgd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..37055cb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/twbgd10.zip |