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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. 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