'Looking, I sawWhere sorrow, like a shadow grim, did riseBetwixt me and the sun.'
'Looking, I sawWhere sorrow, like a shadow grim, did riseBetwixt me and the sun.'
'Looking, I sawWhere sorrow, like a shadow grim, did riseBetwixt me and the sun.'
Autumnhad come, mellow and gorgeous. The trees were turning to russet and amber and gold, and the swallows had long since flown away. The plums hung ripe and yellow upon the kitchen garden wall, and the apples were piled in rosy heaps in the orchard, ready for the cider-making.
The hop-gathering was over, and the hoppers—a motley crew—had returned to the slums of Stafford and Birmingham, the men not sorry to cease hard work, but the poor, draggled women and the little children with a wistful good-bye to the green fields, and all, I think, with a half sigh of regret for the Rector, who had toiled unceasingly among them during their brief stay, hoping, if by ever so little, to raise the hopeless lives and the sodden minds to a knowledge of higher things.
A band of gipsies was the next event. They arrived late one evening, nobody knew from where, and encamped on a patch of ground by the roadside, not very far from the Abbey (much too near, Father said, for the safety of his hen-roosts), coming like a tribe ofwandering Israelites, with most of their worldly possessions on their backs. They were real gipsies, too, not the fair-haired hybrid pretenders who go about in neat caravans with muslin curtains to the windows, and wicker baskets slung on the top, but a dark-eyed, Spanish-looking crew, who put up a tent with a pole and a ragged blanket, and stewed their supper in a black caldron hung from three sticks set in the ground.
The children came across them suddenly, just as the sun was setting, and the picturesque scene stirred Peggy's sense of romance—perhaps also her budding artistic taste—to the core. The whole family was gathered together on the grass round the wood fire, the smoke of which rose up faintly blue against the russet of the beech-woods behind—handsome, fierce-eyed men, lying slouching idly on the ground smoking short black pipes; slatternly women with gay handkerchiefs tied round their black hair, bustling about with something savoury inside tin cans; ragged brown-skinned little children, gnawing at bones with savage haste; while a few disreputable dogs waited eagerly for the scraps that were thrown to them from time to time. A small cart, laden with brooms and coarse crockery, was tilted up by the hedge, while a couple of worn-out old donkeys, with clogs tied to their legs, cropped the grass close by, with dejection in their drooping ears.
'I'm sure they're talking Romany,' said Peggy, squeezing Bobby's arm hard in her excitement, and drawing him behind a bush, so as to watch the scene unobserved. 'What a queer life! Just think of getting up every morning, and not knowing where you were going to be by night, and sleeping under that dirty tent! I wonder what they have in thatcaldron? It smells nice, at any rate, though rather too oniony.'
'Pheasants, I should think, and rabbits that they have poached,' whispered Bobby. 'The keepers will have a lively time to-night. I wonder where they prigged the onions.'
Low as the children had spoken, the sharp ears of the gipsies had heard them, and a withered, witch-like old crone came hurrying up from the group near the fire, with an eager glitter in her eye.
'Tell your fortune, my little master? Tell your fortune, my pretty young lady? Cross the poor gipsy's hand with a silver sixpence, that the planets may work.'
'We haven't any money,' said Peggy hurriedly, a little scared when it came to meeting the tribe at such close quarters.
'Ah, but no doubt the little lady's father is at home at the big house yonder, and she can get a silver piece from him, and come back to the poor old gipsy.'
'He's gone to Warford this evening,' began innocent Bobby. 'There isn't anybody at home at all.'
But the more wary Peggy, seeing the folly of such revelations, gave him a nudge, and the emphatic hint: 'Shut up!'
'The pretty thing at the young lady's neck would do as well,' continued the woman in a wheedling voice, eyeing Peggy's brooch, 'or the little gentleman's silver chain. Oh, I won't keep them, missy; only hold them in my hand for a minute to influence the stars! You trust the poor gipsy, and she'll tell you what the future has in store for you.'
But Peggy and Bobby were not sosimpleas to be taken in by such palpable guile, and they walked on, with the old crone following persistently in their wake,at first clamouring for some trifle and then hurling curses at their heads. As she passed the encampment she said something in Romany, and one of the men sprang to his feet with a shrill whistle. The terrified children took to their heels, and I don't really know what might have happened, only fortunately the familiar figure of old Barlow, the village cobbler, appeared stumping down the road in the distance. He was not generally a very attractive person, being snuffy in appearance and crusty in temper, but to-night no fairy prince could have been more appreciated, and they flew to him, each seizing one of his horny hands with an enthusiasm which much surprised him. They were ever afterwards fully persuaded that but for his timely arrival they would have been robbed and murdered, and their bodies hidden away from their sorrowing relatives, like Eugene Aram's victim, or the little princes in the Tower, and they felt quite an affection for Barlow in consequence, so much so that Bobby determined to wear out his boots as fast as possible, that he might put some business in the old man's way.
Though Mr. Vaughan did not take quite such a serious view of the episode, he thought the gipsies were certainly undesirable additions to the countryside, and sent a hint to the local police, with the result that, when Peggy and Bobby screwed up their courage, and dared each other to go and have another peep at the encampment, they found the tent struck and the wanderers flown, with nothing to mark their passing visit but a few dirty pieces of paper and the ashes of the wood fire, though loud complaints from neighbouring farmers as to missing ducks and geese, and traces of snares found by the keepers in the preserves, showed that they had not gone away empty-handed.
The gipsies were soon forgotten in the excitement of cider-making, for the ripe piles of apples had been gathered into the big barn, and the children liked to watch the great press as its stone roller slowly crushed the fruit into pulp, and let the juice escape into the trough below. It always seemed a pity, Peggy thought, to make the nice apples into such horrid stuff as cider, and she was glad David stored so many away in the loft for winter use, and in the meantime she and Bobby consumed such quantities that Father declared they would both be breaking out into leaves and blossom in the springtime.
The blackberries were ripe, too, and there were many expeditions in search of them, mostly in their own fields, for the hedgerows abounded in the purple fruit, and Lilian's housekeeping soul was at present bent on jams and cordials.
One Saturday afternoon Peggy had had a long scramble through copse and bracken, over fences and along stubble fields, and had filled her big basket almost full, somewhat to the detriment of her costume and fingers, and she was now working her way home along the edge of the pasture, picking as she went. She had climbed up the bank to reach a particularly luscious looking cluster from the long, trailing brambles overhead, when voices below attracted her attention, and, peeping through the hedge, she saw two horsemen riding slowly along in the bridle-path beneath. The first was a lean, spare man, with gray side-whiskers and a slight stoop, whose rather sporting attire accorded ill with his sharp, keen face; while the second, the one on the better horse, was stout and ruddy of countenance, a man who looked as though he would be more at home in a bar-parlour than in a drawing-room, and who held himself with a complacent air, as one who issatisfied both with the world in general and himself in particular.
'That is the house,' said the first, reining in his horse just below where Peggy was standing, and pointing with his riding-whip at the Abbey. 'It's a fine old property, and has grand capabilities about it, too.'
'H'm, it would want a good deal of repairing,' remarked the other, tugging at his sandy moustache. 'I should pull down that tower and the older part, and throw out a billiard-room and a conservatory. I suppose the stables would all want rebuilding, and no doubt that wood could be cleared, and turned into pleasure-grounds. It would cost a sight of cash to do it all shipshape—not that that's much odds to me if a thing takes my fancy. This grass-land would be grand for a racer or two; I've my eye on the Melton sweepstakes yet. When did you say it falls due?'
'Next July,' returned the thin man, lowering his voice. 'Of course, they will try every end up to meet it, but unless they can raise it privately, which doesn't seem likely, there isn't a soul who would lend more than two-thirds of the amount on the security, so the thing is as good as done.'
Eavesdropping was certainly not one of Peggy's besetting sins, but she could not help overhearing all that was said, and as the pair rode on down the path towards the gate, she picked up her basket and walked in the same direction on her own side of the hedge, so as to get a good look at them if possible. At the gate they paused, for it was shut, and he of the gray whiskers, after fumbling at the latch with his whip, was evidently preparing with much reluctance to dismount, when, spying Peggy, he called to her, and asked her to open it.
Peggy felt half inclined to refuse, and turn away, for she did not like his tone, but her kindly country instinct prevailed, and she swung it open wide. He rode through without even a 'Thank you!' but his companion fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and, scarcely stopping to look at her, flung her a penny as he passed. All the proud Vaughan blood rushed into Peggy's face. In a fury of wrath she seized the offending coin and flung it after its donor, but, like many of our keenest shafts, it fell harmless, for she missed her aim, and the horsemen rode on, sublimely unconscious of the storm they had left behind them.
'That they should dare!' said Peggy hotly to herself, flushing all over with indignation. 'I suppose they took me for a village child. I'm afraid I do look rather untidy with blackberrying, but all the same they might have seen the difference. I wish I had never gone near the gate, and let them open it for themselves. David,' she said to the old man, who was coming across the field with a sack of potatoes, 'who are those people riding along the pasture? I can't call them gentlemen.'
'Who be they two, Miss Peggy?' said David, laboriously putting down the sack and shading his eyes with his hand. 'Wheer did you say they be?'
'In the pasture. Oh, look quick, or they'll be gone!' cried Peggy, impatient at his slow ways.
'Oh, I know they! Yes, I do for sure. I see'd 'em round t'other side o' the field five minutes agone. The thin un in front be Mester Reade, the lawyer fra' Warford, and a tight-fisted rascal he be, too, from all they say. It's Heaven help them as Lawyer Reade gets his teeth into! And the big, stout man be Mester Norton, the distiller, him as has those works t'other side o' Warford, and runs half the drink-shops in thetown, to say naught o' the country publics he owns, too. The teetotalers calls him "Old Blazes," partly to favour his red face and partly 'at he keeps the whisky traffic going so briskly. He's worth a power o' money, he be, but it all comes out o' poor folks' pockets, what ought to be put to a better use.'
So that was the father of Phyllis and Marjorie Norton, that vulgar man with the loud voice and the coarse red face, and those pretty frocks and handsome carriages were all paid for out of the ruin of poor people's homes; for the lower parts of Warford had a bad character, and the clergy waged ceaseless war against the terrible curse of drink.
'What are they doing in our fields?' inquired Peggy, suddenly recalling the conversation she had inadvertently overheard, the remembrance of which had been lost in the heat of her wrath.
'Why, there be a right-o'-way across the pasture, and through the hazel-wood, though it's not a many as ever uses it. Wheer they could be a'-goin' to passes me, for it don't lead to nowheer, except on to the high-road agin, and it's not in sense that they should ride out o' their way, just to come round by the Abbey.'
Peggy thought privately that must have been exactly their reason, but she said nothing to David on the subject, reserving further inquiries for Lilian, to whom she ran home to give a full description of her encounter.
'Whatever could he mean, Lilian? He talked almost as if the Abbey were his, and said he should pull down the tower, and do ever so many other things. Do you think he can be mad?'
To her surprise, Lilian took the matter only too seriously.
'Oh, Peggy dear!' she said, putting down the pileof stockings she was darning, 'I don't know whether I ought to tell you or not, but you seem so much older now than you used, and I think I can trust you not to talk about it to anybody. Poor Father is most dreadfully worried just at present, for, you see, this Mr. Norton has a mortgage on the estate.'
'What's that?' inquired Peggy.
'I'm afraid I can't explain business things very clearly, but a lot of money was lent on the understanding that if it was not paid back, the Abbey should go instead of it.'
'Did Father have the money?'
'Oh no. I believe our great-grandfather had some, and then grandfather and Uncle Charlie, who died, had the rest. It has been going on for years and years, and Father has kept trying to pay it off, but he never could manage it. Of course, it was not Mr. Norton who lent it at first, but through this Mr. Reade, the lawyer, he has what is called "bought up the mortgages," and now he claims all the money back, and I'm afraid, from what you heard to-day, he will take the Abbey if he does not get it.'
Peggy was aghast. That it was possible for the Vaughans and the Abbey to be ever dissevered had never before entered into her calculations, and the prospect was so terrible that she thrust it from her with scorn.
'It can't be!' she cried. 'They couldn't turn us out of the Abbey, when we've always lived here! Father will get the money somehow! Perhaps Mr. Neville or the Rector would lend it to him.'
Lilian shook her head sadly.
'They haven't got it to lend; they are neither of them really well off, you know, and it is such a large sum. But I keep hoping all the time that we mayfind some way out of the trouble. I don't know whether to tell Father or not what you heard to-day. I'm afraid it will only worry him.'
'I think perhaps he ought to know,' said Peggy briefly, as she turned and went out to hide a suspicious choking sensation in her throat. Then, going into the ruins, she climbed up on to the old wall, from which the best view of the house and its surroundings could be obtained, and gazed with new eyes at the panorama of her home; and as her glance travelled slowly from orchard to stackyard, from meadow to garden, back to the ivy-clad tower and the red gabled roof, 'I think,' she said slowly, 'that if we had to leave the Abbey, it would break my heart!'
'God wants the boys—the merry boys,The noisy boys, the funny boys,The jolly boys, with all their joys—God wants the boys.'
'God wants the boys—the merry boys,The noisy boys, the funny boys,The jolly boys, with all their joys—God wants the boys.'
'God wants the boys—the merry boys,The noisy boys, the funny boys,The jolly boys, with all their joys—God wants the boys.'
Youmust not suppose that all this time Peggy's acquaintance with Archie Forster had been allowed to languish. That young gentleman had introduced himself to the rest of the family, and had made himself very much at home indeed at the Abbey. He kindly gave Father the benefit of his experience of farming in Colorado (greatly to the latter's edification); he amused Lilian with his funny stories, and was a source of open-mouthed wonder to Nancy, who thought his achievements only second to a conjurer she had once seen at Gorswen fair. Bobby naturally regarded him with an admiration which bordered on worship, and trotted about at his heels like an affectionate poodle, while Peggy found herself living from Saturday to Saturday to continue the delightful series of projects which her enterprising friend lost no time in starting, and wondering sometimes how they had managed to exist before they knew him.
By good rights Master Archie ought to have been away at school, but a too active brain in a fast-growingbody had brought about such a delicacy that the doctor forbade any severer study than a few hours' daily reading with the curate, and recommended as much fresh air and exercise as possible. Miss Forster was not sorry to find so plausible an excuse for keeping her pet nephew at the Willows, and the young man himself had no objections, being fuller than ever of ingenious schemes, only he had transferred the seat of his operations to the Abbey, as offering a wider scope in the way of material, and having the further advantage of a number of appreciative assistants. The only person who was not won over by Archie's friendly ways and frank American manners was Joe, who gloomily prophesied broken necks and kindred evils as the result of the children's association with 'the young master from furrin parts'; but I fear there was a good deal of jealousy in this, for poor Joe had been a hero to the children in his modest way, and it was hard to find himself suddenly supplanted in their affections, especially by a rival with whom it was quite impossible to compete.
Incited by an account of the tree-dwellings in one of Miss Forster's books of travel, Archie determined to emulate them, and construct such an elevated establishment for themselves. The trees in his aunt's garden were mostly ornamental shrubs, many of them clipped into quaint shapes, and could not be thought of for the purpose, but a tall elm growing on the borders of the Abbey stackyard seemed designed by Nature for his requirements. He was a neat workman, and all his contrivances were perfectly steady and durable, for, as he said:
'When you're out West, you have to be your own chore-boy. Dad put an axe into my hand, and taught me to chop kindling before I was out of petticoats,and when we went up the Rockies shooting grizzlies we built log-cabins, and I can tell you there was no carpenter to fetch there nearer than a hundred miles, so I guess I ought to know how to handle a saw and fix up a bit of lumber.'
He first set to work to make a spiral staircase up the tree, which wound round and round the trunk like the little turret stairs in the tower. Every step was carefully nailed on and properly supported, and the erection grew daily until he had reached four large boughs which branched out twenty feet above the level of the ground. Here he arranged a kind of platform, fixing pieces of wood across in the fashion of a raft, and making a firm railing all round the edge. In the midst of this platform a small hut gradually grew up, the walls of stout hazel-stakes wattled across with branches and willow-withs, while the roof was neatly thatched with reeds. The whole erection was so steady and well made that, though Father, as chief inspector, stamped vigorously about, he could not make it shake, and was able to pass it as perfectly safe, and give his congratulations to the young architect, while even Joe grudgingly admitted that 'Master Forster hadn't made half a bad job of it neither.'
If grown-up people found it satisfactory, you can imagine the delight of the children at this wonderful bird's-nest. Their first thought each day on coming home from school was to rush off to see how 'Sky Cottage,' as they had christened it, had progressed in their absence, and their grief was loud if anything hindered Archie from the prosecution of his labours on Saturdays, while they quite envied Lilian being able to run out any time she liked and take a peep at the operations.
"HE FIRST SET TO WORK TO MAKE A SPIRAL STAIRCASE UP THE TREE."
Naturally Sky Cottage, like Rome, was not built in a day, and though Archie worked at it pretty constantly, it was November before the roof was on and he considered the building complete. The question of decorations was much discussed, for while Father suggested hanging the walls with sacking, and Lilian voted for garlanding them with wild flowers, both ideas were rejected, the one as too prosaic and the other as not sufficiently durable, and it was not until Peggy conceived the brilliant thought of lining their dwelling with moss that a satisfactory solution was arrived at.
So off went the little party to the woods, with a couple of sacks and a coil of rope, to tear up the vivid green sheets which covered the rocks like carpets of velvet.
'All the thickest and best is on the other side of the stream, beyond where we had our picnic in the summer,' said Peggy, leading the way with the proud air of a pioneer. 'If only we can manage to cross, for the water is rather full to-day,' she added, with a lively remembrance of her former dipping.
They found an unexpected help, however, for a recent storm had blown down a large oak, which now stretched itself very conveniently over the stream like a bridge, and by the aid of its branches it was quite easy to hop across and climb up the bank at the other side. The woods were thick here and damp, and the moss was of such superior quality that it fully justified the extra labour involved in fetching it. They pulled it up in pieces a yard or more square, and crammed it into the sacks, tying the mouths with rope, so as to be able to drag them along, for the moss was full of moisture, and the bags were dreadfully heavy. They were rather at a loss how to convey their spoils over the bridge. Bobby suggested floating them down thestream, but, as Lilian pointed out, they would promptly sink to the bottom; so in the end Archie hoisted a sack upon his back, and, with Lilian to steady it behind, managed to stagger across in safety, coming back for the other when the first had been successfully landed.
It was hard work bumping the sacks over the rough, uneven ground, but they got them home at last, safely conveyed to Sky Cottage, and emptied out on to the platform. They were all busily engaged within the hut, nailing sheets of moss over the wattled walls, when a curious squeaking noise began to attract Peggy's attention.
'What's that?' she inquired, pausing with the hammer suspended in her hand.
'A bird, most likely,' replied Lilian, with her mouth full of nails.
'No, it isn't,' said Peggy, going out to investigate. 'It seems to come from the moss at my feet. Archie, do come and look! Whatever can it be?'
The noise grew louder and louder, so that it resembled the squealing of a kitten, and all four began to turn over the moss with eager fingers, till, with a cry, Archie drew out a small round ball of dried grass, about the size of Bobby's fist, from which issued such crescendo squeaks that there could be no mistake as to the locality of the sound. The little ball was so beautifully made and so neatly rounded that there was not the slightest aperture to be seen, and Archie turned it over and over in his hand in some perplexity.
'What can it be?' cried Peggy.
'Do open it!' piped Bobby.
'Oh,dobe careful! Suppose it's a viper!' shrieked Lilian.
'You goose! Vipers don't squeal, at any rate,' saidArchie, whose friendship had reached a degree of intimacy that was distinctly brotherly; and gingerly pulling asunder the neatly-woven grass, he disclosed to view a plump yellow dormouse, whom they had evidently disturbed in his winter quarters.
The little fellow lay flat on his back in the midst of his snug little nest. He had not taken the trouble to open his eyes, but his paws were crossed, and his pink mouth was open, giving vent to loud disapproval of the bumpings to which he had been rudely subjected unawares.
'My! ain't he cunning?' said Archie, stroking the soft fur with his finger, while the others crowded round to look. 'And so clean, too; he looks as if you had just loaned him new from a store, and he's as fat as butter. He's been feeding up for this, I reckon. What shall I do with him?'
'Oh! can't we keep him for a pet?' implored Peggy, with an eye on the ever-increasing menagerie. 'We could get nuts and acorns and things for him, and I've no doubt he would eat corn, too.'
'I guess he'll want to sleep now right away till spring, like our grizzlies do in the fall.'
'Let's wrap him up again,' said Lilian. 'I'm sure he'll catch cold, poor dear! and we'll put him in a snug corner of the orchard, where we can look at him now and then, and in the spring perhaps he'll wake up.'
As this seemed the most humane suggestion, Master Dormouse was tucked up in bed once more, and, still protesting, was carried to a sunny bank under an apple-tree, and stowed away under a protecting clump of leaves, where his plaintive voice gradually subsided, and he settled down for five months of oblivion, to ignore the winter frosts and storms until the April sunshine should tempt him out of his lair.
The moss lining to Sky Cottage was a great success, Archie arranged willow withs in a neat pattern over it, to keep it from falling down, and everyone agreed that it looked charming. Furnishing was the next consideration, and the attics and lumber-room at the Abbey were ransacked for any treasures they might afford. A few broken chairs, and a rickety gate-legged table were soon mended by Archie's clever fingers. Lilian hunted out an old piece of carpet and a tablecloth, and the place looked so comfortable that the children, fired by Archie's accounts of the log-cabins in the Rocky Mountains, longed to put in a cooking-stove and emigrate there altogether. They decided to have quite a garden on the platform next spring, and to grow seeds in pots, and persuade nasturtiums and canary-creepers to climb up the walls, and they made a beginning by hauling up a box of soil, and planting some ivy, which they hoped in time would cover the whole roof.
Peggy and Bobby would have been quite content to go on adding a nail here or a shelf there, and further making improvements, but Archie, now that the chief work was over, found his interest cooling, and having got hold of a book on 'Balloons and Air-Ships,' proposed no less daring a scheme than that he should construct a flying machine, and start it from the platform. Father, however, getting to hear of the project, forbade it so emphatically that the disgusted aeronaut was obliged to give way, and consoled himself by constructing a fire-balloon out of gay strips of pink and green tissue-paper, which, ignited by methylated spirits, was to be set off with great effect on Peggy's birthday.
As some slight amends for his disappointment, Lilian proposed that they should have a grand housewarming at Sky Cottage on Saturday afternoon, and invite Father to tea in the sanctum. The rest giving a hearty and vigorous approval, she set to work to bake cakes in honour of the occasion, preserving such a halo of mystery round her cookery that the others were consumed with curiosity, and felt ready for any surprises.
There were a great many preparations to be made when the eventful afternoon arrived. The hut had to be swept and dusted, late flowers to be gleaned from the garden to decorate the tea-table, cups and saucers packed up and conveyed in baskets, together with the little tin kettle and the methylated spirit lamp, as they could scarcely light a fire on the platform like they did for picnic teas in the woods. Archie hung up a Japanese lantern in the doorway, and fixed a Union-Jack on one side, and the star-spangled banner of the United States on the other, and Peggy found enough Michaelmas daisies and white asters to put a wreath all round the railing of the veranda, which rather suggested harvest decorations, but looked very festive all the same.
They had brought a clean tablecloth from the kitchen drawer, and set the table quite artistically, with a jam-pot full of flowers in the centre, and little plates full of cakes grouped round it. Lilian put out a very tempting looking selection of rock-buns and ginger-nuts, and Archie produced a tin of real Scotch shortbread and some macaroons, a contribution from his aunt; so with bread-and-butter, and a pot of the newly-made blackberry jam, there was quite a noble display. But Lilian had kept her surprise in the background, and it was only when all was ready that she opened a basket, and proudly drew out her masterpiece, a substantial-looking cake, with a cut-paper frill,and white icing on the top, on which in pink sugary letters were inscribed the words: 'Success to Sky Cottage!' Certainly some of the capitals were a little staggery, and the 'y' had strayed into the pink border round the edge, but it was felt to be a triumph of culinary art all the same, and gave quite a grace to the table.
At the last minute Father had been obliged to send his regrets and apologies, for the veterinary surgeon had arrived to doctor a sick horse, and he could not possibly leave the stables, so the tea-party must perforce begin without him, for the days were growing short now, and there was no time to spare.
It was a merry, not to say boisterous, party, for Archie was in one of his funniest moods, and told 'tall' Yankee stories till the children nearly rolled off their seats with laughter, and Lilian went on pouring into her overflowing cup till the tray was swimming with tea. The cake looked such a work of art that, as Mrs. Squeers remarked of her Yorkshire pie, it seemed 'quite a pity to cut into it'; but, seizing the knife, Peggy boldly severed the 's' and the 'u,' and with Aunt Helen's wedding festivities fresh in their memories, the company drank the health of Sky Cottage in tea, clinking their cups together over the table in imitation of old Squire Henley.
They were in the very midst of one of Archie's most comical adventures, when a shout was heard underneath the tree, and going out on to the veranda, they beheld Nancy struggling timorously up the staircase, her evident anxiety to make some communication overcoming her natural abhorrence of such an airy structure.
'Oh, Miss Lilian,' she panted, 'if there isn't Mrs. Davenport just arrived in her pony-shay, and she'sput it up in the yard, and says she's sure you'll give her a cup of tea! So I left her sittin' in the drawing-room lookin' at the photo-albums, and rushed off to tell you she's here!'
'Whata nuisance!' groaned Lilian, who was not generally inhospitably disposed. 'Run back, Nancy, quick, and be getting some tea ready, and I'll follow you! I must bring these cakes; they're the only ones we have!'
She bundled the remains of the feast into her basket, and had just descended the stairs, escorted by the sympathizing Peggy and Bobby, when round the corner of the large haystack suddenly loomed the tall figure and black alpaca skirts of Mrs. Davenport, who, finding herself left longer in the drawing-room than she appreciated, had sallied forth in search of her hostess. She stopped short now, quite thunderstruck at the vision before her.
'What do I see?' she exclaimed. 'What mad folly is this? Really, Lilian, I am astonished that you countenance such wild proceedings! Peggy I knew was a sad tomboy, but I thought you, at least, were the sensible member of the family, and would try to train the younger ones into more civilized habits. I had heard from Miss Forster that that very indulged and unmanageable nephew of hers had been making some sort of place in a tree at the Abbey, but I never imagined so much as this. Sheer waste of good time, I call it; and a boy who can expend so much energy as to raise such a construction must be only shamming ill-health, and would be far better packed off to school. I shall tell his aunt so the next time I see her, and I don't care who hears me!' she added, catching sight of a grinning face on the veranda, for Archie had stolen out to see the fun, and overflowed in such gurgles ofdelight at this sally that Lilian trembled for the result.
'You had better come down, Archibald,' said Mrs. Davenport in her most majestic voice. But Master Archie evidently thought discretion the better part of valour, for he dived through the doorway like a rabbit into a burrow, his overwrought feelings so far overcoming him that he exploded into a tremendous cock-crow as he sought the friendly shelter of Sky Cottage.
An embarrassing silence followed, broken at last by Lilian, who asked Mrs. Davenport if she would not like to return to the house. Peggy and Bobby tried, as Archie expressed it, to 'do a slope,' but in vain, for, saying she had not seen them for a long time, and should like to talk to them, their unwelcome visitor took the dismayed pair into custody like a female policeman, and whirled them sternly along before her.
It really was too bad that Mrs. Davenport, instead of coming upon a Wednesday or Thursday, when all would have been neatness and order, and Nancy in her best black dress and muslin apron, should have chosen this particular Saturday afternoon, when there was no fire in the drawing-room, a pile of mending on the dining-room table, and all the family in somewhat dishevelled array.
'But she always does manage to catch us, somehow,' lamented Lilian afterwards. 'She calls it "taking us just as we are," but then wearen'tgenerally in a muddle like this, so it doesn't seem quite fair. She ought to come sometimes when we are tidy, to see both sides.'
Once established in an armchair by the dining-room fire, Mrs. Davenport took off her gloves, untied her veil, and enjoyed herself thoroughly. She catechizedLilian freely about her housekeeping arrangements, hoped Nancy did her duty, and did not neglect to sweep out corners, told Bobby that his irrepressible curls looked girlish, and his hair ought to be cropped close every week, plied Peggy with embarrassing questions on the subject of fine needlework and stocking-darning, and drank four cups of tea in the meantime, with the air of one conferring a favour thereby.
'I hear you see a good deal of Miss Forster's nephew,' she remarked, her eye wandering round the room, and taking in the pile of untidy music scattered about on the window-seat and Father's dirty shooting-boots under the sofa.
'I suppose we do,' said Lilian meekly, wondering privately where Archie was, and if he would go home without saying good-bye.
'Not a very suitable companion for any of you, I consider. Young people in America are brought up to have far too good an opinion of themselves, and this lad is no exception. I was not at all pleased with his manner when I met him at the Willows,' frowning slightly at the remembrance; for Archie's cool and elaborately courteous treatment of her criticisms on that occasion had completely baffled her.
But luckily the growing dusk reminded Mrs. Davenport that country lanes were unpleasant to drive along in the dark, so drawing on her gloves she routed her groom, a small, depressed-looking boy, out of the harness-room, where he was retailing his grievances to the awe-stricken Joe, and tucked her black skirts safely into her pony-carriage, assuring the children that it should not be long before she looked them up again, as she had promised their aunt to keep an eye on them after they were left alone. Half-way down the drive she met Mr. Vaughan, and stopped to givehim some good advice as to the general upbringing of his family, even suggesting that Peggy—for a yearly consideration—should be transplanted to Pendlefield Rectory, to share the studies and maternal care of the five little Davenports, a proposal which he declined with a haste that was perhaps more emphatic than polite.
With a sigh of relief Lilian had adjourned with Peggy to the kitchen to help Nancy to wash up, when the back-door was softly pushed ajar.
'Is she gone?' said a cautious voice, and a fluffy red head appeared in the opening, only followed by the rest of Archie's body on the full assurance of the entire retreat of the enemy. 'I thought I should have died with laughing,' announced that youth, sitting down easily among the crockery on the table. 'My stars! Isn't she a terror? I shall have to keep clear of the Willows every afternoon next week, for I know she'll make a point of calling and telling poor Aunt Mary her candid opinion of me. What a mercy we live at Gorswen instead of Pendlefield! Think of exchanging the Rector forherand little crushed Mr. Davenport! If she came to live any nearer than four miles away, I declare I would pack my boxes and beg to be sent off to school!'
'What see you thereThat hath so cowarded and chased your bloodOut of appearance?'
'What see you thereThat hath so cowarded and chased your bloodOut of appearance?'
'What see you thereThat hath so cowarded and chased your bloodOut of appearance?'
Theweather, which had been beautifully fine and mild for the time of year during October and the first half of November, kept up for Peggy's birthday on the twenty-first. By good luck that important occasion fell on a Saturday, so there was no tiresome school to interfere with the festivities. As the Vaughan family was more rich in goodwill than in coin of the realm, the presents were mostly of a kind which I am afraid either Maud Middleton or Phyllis and Marjorie Norton would have scorned, but to Peggy they gave the utmost satisfaction. There was the much-longed-for guinea-pig from Father, which had been smuggled up in a hamper, and kept with elaborate care in a remote portion of the barn (a secret which Bobby found the utmost difficulty in preserving); a nightdress case worked by Lilian's neat fingers; a cork frame from Bobby, made under Archie's supervision; a round pink-and-white wool mat, which Nancy had crocheted at odd times during the evenings; and a little mug from Joe, with a Welshwoman in a tall hat on one side, and 'A present from Llandrindod' on theother, bought on a visit to the famous wells which he had paid in company with the church choir. Archie came up during the morning bearing a pretty writing-case, an offering from himself and Miss Forster, while a parcel had arrived from India, containing the loveliest carved sandal-wood box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, to show that Aunt Helen had not forgotten her little niece.
As the birthday was not so very long after the fifth of November, they had decided to keep any Guy Fawkes celebrations until then, and had been busy for some days collecting sticks for a bonfire. The party consisted solely of themselves and Archie, for Father's suggestion of the five Miss Davenports was received with howls of indignation; and Lilian and Nancy's combined efforts had produced a cake with twelve tiny coloured wax candles stuck into icing-sugar on the top, one for every year of Peggy's life, and which had to be blown out in turns by the assembled company for good luck.
The bonfire was held in the stubble field beyond the stackyard, and roared up like a fiery furnace, making quite a red glow in the sky, while its red ashes roasted potatoes and chestnuts to a turn. Archie had even contrived to manufacture a few fireworks, having shut himself up in a room over the stables at the Willows, a combination of peculiar odours and a singed eyebrow alone testifying to his occupation. To be sure, the catherine-wheel stuck, and utterly refused to turn, in spite of all pokings and proddings, and the rockets only fizzled off near the ground, instead of shooting up as they ought to have done; but the squibs and crackers were quite effective, and a train of gunpowder, laid down to represent a fiery serpent, blazed away in fine style. The fire-balloon,however, was the success of the evening, for it shot straight up, and floated across the sky like a beautiful meteor, its pink and green sides giving a charming effect, till at length it dwindled away and became a mere speck in the distance, leaving the children more full of admiration than ever for Archie's talents.
After the birthday the weather broke and a foretaste of winter arrived, with cold winds and gray, murky skies and occasional falls of snow. Archie caught a severe chill hunting for microscopical specimens in the pond, and was in bed for some weeks, nursed by his doting aunt, consoling himself for his enforced idleness by planning such improvements at both the Willows and the Abbey as were calculated to make their owners' hair stand on end.
As the long evenings closed in, Joe, ever timorous with regard to the supernatural, became the prey of superstitious fears. He saw shrouds in the candle and corpse-lights in the churchyard. Rollo's howling filled him with forebodings, and a screech-owl flying over the orchard sent him into a panic. He heard ghostly footfalls among the ruins and mysterious taps on the stable-window when he was suppering the horses, which, in spite of Lilian's reassurances, he persisted in regarding as a warning, though for which of his numerous relatives it was intended kept him in a state of perpetual doubt and uneasiness. The worst of it was that he infected Nancy with his alarms to such an extent that she could scarcely be persuaded to put her nose out at the back-door after dusk (except on her evening out, when her sweetheart came to fetch her), which was distinctly inconvenient if a pail of water were wanted during the evening, or she happened to have left the coal-box standing in the yard. The Abbey boasted the reputation of maintaining whatPeggy called 'a real, live, genuine ghost,' though none of the family had ever caught a glimpse of it, it seeming to prefer to manifest itself to Joe and to chance visitors from the village who came up to the house on dark evenings. The washerwoman's little girl had heard footsteps behind her on the drive and a distinct clanking as of chains, while old Betty Carson swore on her Bible oath that she had seen something white moving about among the ruins, which groaned as in the expression of the keenest mental anguish; and when Mr. Vaughan suggested it might prove nothing worse than a young bullock with indigestion, she had dismissed the idea as almost profane.
Beyond the fact that a lady in white was supposed to haunt both the ruins and the oak-wood, weeping and wringing her hands in orthodox ghostly fashion, the children had not been able to learn much of the story, for there were so many and divergent accounts of it, all told with uncertainty as to names and dates, and in that very oracular—not to say muddled—style sometimes indulged in by rustic historians. But one wet afternoon, finding David alone in the harness-room, where the old man had lighted a fire to make some wonderful decoction of foxgloves wherewith to doctor a cow with a strained leg, they seated themselves on a sack of potatoes in front of the cheerful blaze, and with the aid of a little judicious flattery and coaxing managed to cajole him into a true and circumstantial account of the family ghost.
Although he was somewhat crusty to begin with, old David, like all who have the gift of narrative, enjoyed telling a story, and he soon warmed to his work.
'It were my father as told me,' he began, 'and he had it from his father, and his'n afore him, for it be apowerful long time ago, it be. Ay, time do pass by quick, for sure!'
'When did it happen?' asked Peggy, hastily, hoping to nip in the bud one of the oldfellow'srambling divergences from the point.
'In the reign of King Henry the Sixth, so they say. Ay, it were Henry, for it were the same name, I mind me, as the old Squire.'
'Reigned 1422 to 1461, married Margaret of Anjou,' put in Bobby, who liked to air his knowledge.
'I don't know who he married; it weren't nothing to do with marryin'. It were fightin' first in those days, though I suppose they married, too, like other folk, when they found time.'
'Who were fighting?' inquired Bobby.
'Why, it was the Wars of the Roses, of course,' answered Peggy crushingly.
'Nay, it weren't no wars of roses, I can tell you. It was real bloody battles they fought then, with swords and pikes and spears and the like; for there was two Kings, both with a notion of reignin', and when Kings falls out, it's their subjects has to do the fightin' for them, I takes it.'
'Henry VI. and Edward IV.,' put in Peggy. 'Please go on, David.'
'There was Vaughans at the Abbey then, just as there is Vaughans at the Abbey now,' continued the old man, staring meditatively into his foxglove brew, as though he could see a mental picture in the pot. 'And him as had it then was Sir Richard Vaughan, the one as lies under the cracked old monument in the corner at church.'
'With the dragon and the crooked arrows on it,' nodded the children.
'Well, this Sir Richard Vaughan, he favoured KingHenry of Lancaster, and went out to fight for him with forty gentlemen and yeomen at his back, to say naught of lesser folk. They met Duke Edward of York, him as afterwards became King, at Mortimer's Cross, which ain't so far from here, neither, for I went once myself when I were a lad with my aunt's cousin, who drove a good horse and gig. Let me see: how many years will it be agone?'
'Oh, David, never mind!Dogo on with the story! What happened at the battle?'
'He were killed, for sure, were Sir Richard, and his head took by they Yorkists, and kicked about like a football afore they nailed it up over Hereford gate. You'd ne'er find his skull if you looked inside the old monument—naught but the rest of his bones.'
'How awful! Then is ithisghost?'
'Oh no, Bobby! It is the WhiteLady, you know!'
David took advantage of these interruptions to lift his pot from the fire and examine its contents, but finding them not yet to his liking, put it on again, and continued:
'It weren't enough for they Yorkists to get Sir Richard's head; they wanted his lands along of it, and they marched across country (a set of blood-thirsty ruffians they was) and laid siege to the Abbey. Dame Eleanor, a widow new-made, as you might say, couldn't hold it above two days, for the pick of the men had all gone with her husband, and the best part oftheylay stretched out stiff at Mortimer's Cross. So she lets them in at last, sore agin her will, and gives up the keys to Lord Grey of Wigmore. You'd a' thought that would a' satisfied them, but they wanted more.'
'What did they want?' said Peggy, for David seemed disposed to rest from his labours and attend to his cookery.
'Sir Richard had left a son behind him, a young lad of nine or ten or thereabouts, and he were the heir. It were him as Lord Grey wanted—told a fine tale as how he'd take him up to London, and get him put as page to the great Earl of Warwick, which were as good as makin' his fortune.'
'Did he go?'
'Nay, his mother were no fool, neither, and she knowed full well she'd ne'er see him again, no more than you'd see a duck if you gave it in charge of the fox. She'd sent him away safe out of the Abbey by that passage to the cave, most like, where you very near lost your lives last summer, and she weren't going to let on where he were, not to no one.'
'Did she tell? Did he get off safe? What happened?'
'Let me tell my tale in my own way,' said David testily. 'They was brutes in those days, and had no respect for God or man, let alone woman. So they clapped a thumbscrew on Dame Eleanor, to sharpen her wits.'
'Oh, poor thing! She didn't tell, did she?' cried the children, who could not forbear comments.
'Tell! Not she, though her thumb was crushed to a jelly. And when they see'd it weren't no manner of use, they let her go. But that Lord Grey of Wigmore was a disciple of Old Nick himself, and what does he do but catch hold of Dame Eleanor's daughter, which weren't more' an a little maid like Miss Peggy there, and put the screw on her thumb, thinkin' it would loosen her mother's tongue to hear her shriek. There's things that women can bear up to a certain pass, but touch their young uns, and they'll let you know. At the first cry as was raised by that child Dame Eleanor went clean off her head, and, breakin' away from themas held her, she seized up a dagger and stabbed herself through the breast, with a awful shout of laughter, shuttin' her lips for ever from them as would wrest the secret from her.'
'And what became of the poor little boy and girl?'
'Lord Grey felt a bit 'shamed, like, when he see'd what were done, and he sent the girl home to his wife, who brought her up kind. And the boy had been took away by that time to them as was his friends. He grew up to manhood and learned to fight, like everyone else in they times, and then King Henry came to his own again, and he got back the Abbey.'
'But King Henry didn't stay long on the throne, did he? I thought the history-book said that "King Edward landed at Ravenspur and fought the Battle of Barnet." We learnt it in our dates last Monday.'
'I know naught of books. It's what my father told me, and his father afore him. There have been a many Kings since then, I reckon, but the Vaughans have held the Abbey in spite of 'em.'
'But, David, you haven't told us about the ghost yet, and that's the most important part of all.'
'The ghost! Oh, that be Dame Eleanor, for sure. They say she walks round the ruins of the Abbey and across to the oak-wood. Whiles she goes away, and no one sees her for long enough, and whiles she comes back; and they do say,' said David, lowering his voice, 'that if there's a death in the family, or any evil hangin' over the Vaughans, that she be there shriekin' and wringin' her hands to give warnin' of what be to come.'
The children were beginning to feel quite delightfully creepy, and would have liked a further continuation of the spirit portion of the story; but David's decoction being now ready, his thoughts were with hisinvalid in the cow-house, and nothing could bring them back to Dame Eleanor's wraith. So, in spite of all entreaties for more, he departed, bearing his steaming can with him, and declaring that one good cow was worth all the ghosts and ghostesses in the kingdom, 'for you might do some good toshe, but as tothey, they was naught but hearsay, after all.'
After this, Peggy and Bobby were determined to try and obtain a sight of their ancestress, and with much screwing up of their courage stole out one evening, and crept fearfully round the ruins, clutching each other's hands very tightly, and jumping at every sound. There was a fitful moon, and it was just light enough to see the outlines of the old walls and the pieces of broken stair and column, with very dark places between, where the shadows fell. It was an ideal spot for a ghost. It really seemed as if these old relics of bygone daysmustbe haunted, so strong were the cords which bound them to the past. A cloud had come over the moon, and as they groped their way round the corner of what had been the refectory, Peggy caught Bobby's arm.
'Listen!' she said in a thrilling whisper.
The children clung together tighter than ever and held their breath, for there certainly was the most extraordinary noise to be heard—a kind of mixture between groaning and sighing, with a rattling sound as of dragging chains. It seemed coming in their direction, too, and they shrank into a niche in the wall, with their hair almost standing on end. Something gleamed white in the faint moonlight, and a terrific sound suddenly boomed in their ears. Frightened almost out of their wits, the children shrieked and ran, but stopped before they had gone twenty yards, for the noise had developed into a verydecided 'Hee-haw!' and the moon, bursting through the clouds, revealed the long nose and twirling ears of the tinker's broken-winded old donkey, who, dragging a clog on his leg, was giving vent to his feelings in his own peculiar fashion, his master having turned him into the ruins for a stolen feed during the night, no doubt with the intention of fetching him in the morning before anyone was up and about. It was such bathos after the overwrought state of their feelings that they sat down and laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks, treasuring the joke to tell to Archie when he should be well enough to receive visitors, and holding it up as a model to relieve Nancy's fears.
But seeing how easy it was to imagine a ghost out of really every-day materials, the children plotted mischief next Saturday, and determined to give Joe a fright. About half a mile from the house lay the oak-wood, which was also the supposed scene of Dame Eleanor's walk. Through this wood ran a road, which was the shortest way to Middlehead, a little market-town in the opposite direction to Warford. Knowing that Joe had gone for a holiday, with some other lads from the village, to a fair which was being held that day at Middlehead, they decided to construct a ghost and fix it up in the wood, to alarm him and his companions as they returned. They kept their secret to themselves, and retired to the barn to fashion a figure of Dame Eleanor according to their own notions of what a phantom should be. Taking a large turnip, they scooped out the inside till there was nothing left but a hollow shell, cutting holes in it for eyes, nose, and mouth, and fixing a candle inside, so that when the light shone through it should resemble a horrible, grinning face. At dusk they stole away with the restof their materials to the oak-wood, and set to work. The spot chosen was a grassy corner, where a gate across the road formed an angle with the wall which bounded the wood upon one side. It was a specially dark and shady place, for the tall trees shut out the sky, and even in the daytime it looked gloomy and still. They first planted a stout broomstick in the ground, and fixed the turnip head firmly upon the top of it; two branches of trees tied on like cross-bars made a pair of shoulders and arms, and when covered with a sheet stolen from the linen-cupboard, it appeared as if the white figure were stretching out its imploring hands in a vain appeal for mercy. When Peggy lighted the candle inside the effect was so terrific that the conspirators felt quite eerie themselves, and with a last look to see that all was steady, and the candle not likely to fall over, they left Dame Eleanor in her corner, and fled home over the fields with a rather guilty feeling, wondering what would happen.
To do Peggy justice, I do not think she would have tried to play such a trick on poor Joe if she had imagined he were returning alone; but knowing he would have the company of several of his friends to support him, she thought he might rather enjoy the joke than otherwise.
The dusk soon fell, and Peggy sat by the fire in the Rose Parlour reading 'Ivanhoe' in much warmth and content. Lilian was playing snatches of her favourite Chopin, but somehow the music did not go well to-night, for the musician's heart was not in her fingers.
'What's the matter, Lilian?' asked Peggy, tearing herself away from Friar Tuck and the Black Knight to realize that her sister had got up for the fifth timefrom the piano to peep out through the window into the dark beyond.
'I wish Father would come home, that's all. I always feel so uneasy when he goes to Middlewood'—pacing restlessly round the room, and looking again at the clock.
'Why?'
'Because he drives home through the oak-wood, and it's really so dangerous. There's no fence on the side next to the river, and Prince is so frisky, if he were to shy there by the wall nothing could save them from going straight down the bank. I've often begged Father to have it railed in, but he only laughs at me. Why, Peggy, where are you going?'
For without a word of explanation Peggy had flung down her book and fled from the room. Hatless, and in her thin house-shoes, she rushed out of the house, and tore over the fields as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. In her plan to give Joe a fright, she had never thought of Father, who returned by the same road; and now that horrible white object was stationed just in the very danger-spot where a plunging horse might mean a matter of almost certain death, for the wall of the five-acre field abutted the road on one side, and on the other there was only a narrow patch of grass between the steep bank which shelved down sheer into the river, while the closed gate stopped any chance of a dash forward. Peggy's heart was beating like a sledge-hammer as she flew through the wood. Already she heard a distant rumbling of wheels, and putting on a last desperate spurt, she reached the gate. She could never afterwards tell exactly what happened at that moment, except that the gig-lamps flashed suddenly in her eyes, 'Whoa, my lad!' shouted Father's voice, and Prince's rearing,kicking form loomed large before her as he backed persistently towards the bank. It took Peggy just one instant to open the gate, and catching up her ghost to hurl the whole wretched thing over the wall, and in another she had seized the horse by the rein, and, soothing him with her well-known voice, dragged him forward with all the strength of her wiry little arms. She was barely in time, for already one wheel was over the edge, but, the object of his fear being removed, Prince allowed himself to be cajoled into the road again, where he stood, panting and trembling in every limb.
'Why, my little Peggy!' cried Father, leaning down to see where the lamp-light flashed on the face of his rescuer.
But the strain was too much for Peggy, and she plumped down on the dead leaves by the roadside in such a tempest of tears that Father had to climb out of the gig and pick her up to comfort her; but as he could not get a word of sense, he popped her in the vacant place by his side and drove on, while she clung to his arm, still shaking with sobs, till they reached the Abbey, where he helped her down, such a miserable little tear-stained picture of woe, gulping out the confession of her escapade, that he had not the heart to scold her, though he had a word of warning to say afterwards upon the danger of such heedless practical jokes.
Dame Eleanor's remains were fished out of the corner of the five-acre field on Monday morning by Joe himself, who kicked her turnip head as ruthlessly as the Yorkists had used her husband's at Mortimer's Cross, and brought back the broomstick to the stable and the sheet to Nancy's wash-tub. In all the valour of daylight he assured the children that 'it wouldn'thave scaredhe, not it. He'd made a many o' they turnip lanterns in his time, and knowed 'em too well to be took in so easy.'
But his faith in the genuine phantom remained unshaken all the same, and I do not think he would have ventured alone into the ruins after dark for the amount of his weekly wages, and money meant a good deal to poor hard-working Joe.