"THE UNITED KINGDOM"
"AND is he coming to-day? Really to-day? And will he be about as old as we are? How scrumptious!"
"His name is Puggy; and Blanche, mother's maid, says he's a terror!"
Christina's eyes were round as she gave Dawn this information.
"How jolly! Has he been sent away from school? Why is he coming before the holidays?"
"His school has got scarlet fever. He is just as old as you Dawn, but mother says he's quite different to you."
"Should think so!" said Dawn in tones of scorn. "There's no one like me in the world, dad says so!"
"I wonder," said Christina meditatively, "if there's a little girl just like me anywhere."
"Dad says God never makes a duplicate anywhere; isn't that a lovely long word, and I learnt another yesterday. It was volatile: it means me, but it isn't very nice. Dad called me a volatile elf, so I pelted him with chestnut skins in the garden till he told me what it meant. Why is he called Puggy? It sounds like a pug-dog."
"I asked father, and he laughed. 'It suits him because he's pugnacious,' he said."
"That's another breather! What does it mean?"
Christina shook her head.
"I keep thinking of Blanche's words, 'a terror.' I expect he'll be a terror to me."
"Now," said Dawn, shaking his fist in her face, "you think of your motto, and don't you dare to talk of any one being a terror to you. And if he is, you bring him along to me, and I'll fight him!"
"Oh," said Christina, "you never would! That would be awful! I always thought it so wicked to fight, but mother does, so I suppose it's what she calls 'sport'!"
"Your mother fight?"
Dawn looked very puzzled. He was in the garden with Christina, and tired with running about, they were now taking a rest on the top of a low wall in the kitchen garden.
"Yes," said Christina with a grave nod; "mother and a lot of ladies all fought each other with sticks in a field at the bottom of the lawn over there. They were fighting for a ball, and they all tried to hit each other. I ran away, because I couldn't bear to look at them."
"Oh, you goose! That was a game of hockey. They weren't hitting each other, only the ball. You really ought to learn some games, Tina; you don't know anything at all!"
"It frightened me," pursued Christina. "I've never seen ladies play at games like that!"
"You wait till this boy comes, then we'll do an awful lot of things; oh, I wish I could stay to see him! Do you think I could run off to the station and see him arrive? What train does he come by?"
"Mother is going to meet him herself; she said she would. I think it's at four o'clock."
"I'll be there then," said Dawn, "and I think I'll leave you now. Good-bye."
He was away like the wind, and Christina, feeling it very dull to be in the garden alone, went indoors. She was full of curiosity over the new arrival, but as usual her fears were uppermost.
"There are so many happenings!" she told herself gravely. "I never shall get to like them. And a strange boy is worse than a strange nurse, or a strange father and mother!"
She was sitting at her nursery tea when Puggy made his appearance. Her stepmother led him forward:
"This is my baby brother, Tina. He does not look a baby, does he? You must be very good friends. He will help you to eat up that plate of bread and butter very quickly. Now, Puggy, be on your best behaviour remember; and when you are in the nursery, do what Nurse tells you."
Puggy was a short, sturdy boy, only half a head taller than Christina herself. His hair was closely cropped, and it was of a reddish tinge. Blue eyes, a very round mouth and snub nose and freckled face, these belonged to Puggy, and his name seemed to suit him.
He sat down to the table in utter silence. Christina looked across the table at him very fearfully. Mrs. Maclahan had left the room, and Nurse began to pour out a cup of very weak tea.
The children's eyes met, then Puggy winked his eye knowingly at Christina. The colour flow into her cheeks, what was she to do? She could not wink back, and she was too shy to speak.
Nurse broke the silence.
"What is your name, my dear?"
"Puggy."
"You were not christened Puggy."
"Wasn't I? I don't remember being at my christening. I s'pose I was there."
Then his round lips widened into a smile.
"My proper name is John Durward, but you are to call me Master Puggy always."
Nurse looked at him sternly, but said nothing; then Puggy addressed Christina:
"You'll have to call me Uncle Puggy."
Christina's eyes became round with wonder. This astonishing statement made her forget her shyness.
"I didn't know little boys could be uncles."
"Oh, can't they! And their nieces have to do what they tell them, always!"
"But you're not a proper uncle. You didn't belong to me when—when I was born."
Puggy looked taken aback. He appealed to Nurse.
"Isn't a fellow uncle to his sister's child?"
Nurse smiled.
"You are no relation to Miss Tina, leastways only a step-uncle."
"Well, that's good enough."
He nodded across at Christina triumphantly.
There was not much more talk between them till after tea, and then somehow or other Christina's shyness melted away, and she found herself talking to Puggy as she talked to Dawn. She told him all about her little playfellow; she showed him her toys and games; and he in his turn waxed confidential.
"I'd like to know that fellow. I believe I saw him at the station; there was a boy with a mop of hair who stared at me as if I were a gorilla. I'll teach him manners when I see him! Look here, just come over the house with me. I want to know my way about."
"But," said Christina feebly, "I don't know my way properly. All the rooms have been locked up till father came home."
"Come on, and let's find them out now. We must do something. It's too slow in this old nursery!"
Christina looked round to ask permission of Nurse, but she had disappeared. So feeling as if she were going into a strange country, she followed the enterprising Puggy out on the landing, and they commenced their investigations. The corridors were long, and some rooms were still locked up, but they peeped into a good many, and at last found themselves before an old arched door at the very end of the upper corridor. One of the under housemaids appeared from the back stairs, and looked quite astonished when she saw the children. Christina spoke to her.
"We want to go through this door Ann, may we?"
"Oh, lawks, Miss Tina! That's up to the turret room that has a ghost. I never goes by that door after dark if I can help it!"
Christina's cheeks blanched, she shrank back. Puggy danced up and down with delight.
"Hurrah for the ghost! Come on, we'll rout him out, and the door isn't locked!"
"Don't you go up those steps, there's a good child, Miss Tina."
Puggy had swung the door open, and a winding stone staircase disclosed itself to them.
"I'm sure we'd better not go," said Christina, looking at the dusky steps with horror.
"Who's the ghost?" demanded Puggy valiantly.
"I dunno. It's just some one that walks about the room there and makes a noise. Mr. Tipton has heard it often. He sleeps in the room there, close to the staircase."
"Let us wait till to-morrow," suggested Christina.
But Puggy was bent on going up the steps that moment, and would have dragged his shrinking little companion after him if a call from Mrs. Maclahan had not stopped him.
Christina hailed the appearance of her stepmother with relief and delight.
"Why, what on earth are you doing here?" she asked, as she came up to them.
Puggy explained, and his sister laughed merrily.
"A ghost! What nonsense! And Tina believes it from the look in her eyes! Come down to the library both of you. We're having tea there, and your father wants to see you, Tina. We'll ask him about the ghost. To-morrow you can explore the house as much as you like."
So down to the library they went, and the blazing fire and the cosy tea that Mr. and Mrs. Maclahan were enjoying did much to drive away Christina's fresh fears.
"No," said Mr. Maclahan, taking hold of his small daughter and perching her on his knee; "we have no ghosts in this house I am glad to say. I used to have the turret room at the top of those stairs as my den as a boy, and if you think well, Ena dear, we will turn it over to these children now."
"I think it would be a capital idea. I fancy Puggy is too much like me to care to be long in that ill-ventilated nursery."
Christina did not know whether to be glad or sorry that she was to be introduced to the unknown room; but Puggy was enthusiastic. He turned to her father with a comic look of perplexity on his face.
"Please what am I to call you? Herbert, like Ena does?"
"No," his sister said sharply. "If we give you an inch you'll take an ell. You have no respect for anybody!"
Puggy smiled radiantly.
"It isn't my fault!" he said. "You made him my brother, I didn't; and Tina ought to call me uncle! May I call him the 'Squire' like the porters did at the station?"
"Yes," said his sister; "and mind you're a good boy, and don't lead Tina into scrapes."
"You won't be such a reader now you have some one to play with," said Mr. Maclahan, addressing his little daughter.
Christina looked round the room thoughtfully. "I like books best," she said, "and Dawn will play with Puggy."
"No," said her stepmother quickly. "Games are better than books for you, Tina, and I shall see that you have them. But Dawn can come over here every day if he chooses. I like that boy!"
The very next morning being bright and sunny, Christina was turned out into the garden to play with Puggy, and they had not been out a quarter of an hour before Dawn made his appearance. He came with bulging pockets, and produced for Puggy's edification first a white mouse, then a mechanical motor-car, and then a bag of nuts.
"I know all about you," he said, shaking back his curls. "Tina has told me, and I've come to look round with you. Do you like mice? This one is a darling! When he isn't in my pocket, I carry him on my head inside my cap. Dad brought me such a jolly motor-car. You can light it with real oil and it goes like the wind. Like to see it? Here are some nuts for you, Tina."
They were good friends at once, and so full of fun and spirits that Christina's laugh rang out again and again, yet before very long, the first sign of dissent between them arose.
"Tina, go into the house and fetch me my knife. I left it on the nursery table."
It was Puggy who spoke, and his tone was peremptory. He added, as Christina obediently walked away: "That's the good of girls to fetch and carry. They're good for nothing else."
He wanted to impress Dawn with his manliness, but Dawn knew better. He flushed up at once.
"Dad says only cannibals and savages make girls work for them, gentlemen never do; at least Englishmen don't!"
"You don't call yourself an Englishman, do you? I heard my sister say this morning that your father was a poor Irish artist. You're a Paddy, that's what you are!"
"A Paddy can be a gentleman!" retorted Dawn, springing up from the ground where he had been playing with Nibble his mouse, and pocketing the little creature in furious haste.
Puggy laughed scornfully.
"Paddies are always beggars. They live with pigs and chickens in bog cabins. I know all about them. We have two Paddies at my school. One tells lies, and the other never washes!"
"And what are you? A brag and a bully!"
Dawn's cheeks were scarlet, his eyes flashing fire. Puggy made a dash at him, and the next moment both boys were fighting. Jackets were tossed aside, sleeves tucked up, and if Puggy hit away with dogged persistence, Dawn perplexed him by his many sided onslaughts: dancing here and there, he was never in the same place for a second, and they were in the very thick of it when poor little Christina came back from her errand.
She was aghast at the sight. Both boys were bleeding, but neither gave way. After one despairing cry, she fled into the house, and burst in upon her father and stepmother, who were in the library.
"They're killing each other! Stop them! Oh, do come quick!"
Mrs. Maclahan laughed at the horror in her tones.
"Fighting, I suppose," she said. "I knew Puggy would be at it. Leave them alone, Tina. It's only the first go off! They'll be the better friends after it."
"But!" gasped Christina. "They're hurting each other! It's so wicked to fight, oh, do stop them!"
Her father rose and looked at his wife humorously.
"My dear, Christina has not your constitution, and I'm not fond of fights. Puggy must learn to control himself. Come along, Tina. Where are these young combatants?"
Christina led him into the garden breathlessly.
"Dawn has never fought any one before, I'm sure he hasn't, and oh! They're hurting each other so!"
When they arrived on the scene, the boys were rolling over on the ground; Dawn was undermost, but if his body was getting the worst of it, his spirit was unbroken; and when Mr. Maclahan's stern voice broke in upon them, and they both rose to their feet, he exclaimed, "We'll have another round!"
"That you won't! Puggy, is this the way you treat your visitor? Shake hands and be friends, and remember that I never allow fights in my house or grounds."
Neither of the boys was unwilling to make peace; but Christina stood beside them sobbing bitterly.
"Oh," she cried, "you're both so hurt! How could you hurt each other so!"
"Pooh!" said Puggy, marching off to the house with a black eye, a bleeding nose and bruised knuckles. "What sillies girls are to make such a fuss!"
Dawn looked up at Mr. Maclahan with his irrepressible twinkle. His face was damaged too, and a bump on his forehead stood out as big as a pigeon's egg.
"I've been fighting for my country," he said, "and for a girl. Dad will not scold me!"
Later on, when the boys had washed and anointed their wounds, Mrs. Maclahan came out to talk to them. She turned to her husband when he joined them, saying laughingly:
"Do you know this small trio represent the United Kingdom? Your small daughter is Scotch by birth, and may I say by her stern morality? Dawn is a veritable Paddy, and my pugnacious brother a thorough little John Bull. I hope they will do each other good."
From that day Mrs. Maclahan always alluded to the children as the "United Kingdom." They liked the idea and never lost sight of it in their games. After that first fight, Dawn and Puggy were the best of friends; Christina followed them everywhere, and though she admired Puggy's pluck and determination and his perseverance in carrying through anything he attempted, however hard it proved to be, her heart remained faithful to her sunny-tempered, easy-going boy friend, Dawn.
Puggy was soon introduced to Miss Bertha.
At first he was inclined to be indifferent to her.
"Old ladies are such fidgets!" he said.
But Dawn and Christina attacked him with such violence for saying a slighting word of their best friend that he collapsed, and after one visit to the tiny house and a tea such as all boys love, he confided to them that Miss Bertha was a "proper brick," and her house was "ripping."
"And how are things going, Childie," Miss Bertha asked Christina, just before she left her.
"Oh, I like Puggy," the little girl responded brightly. "I'm never dull now, we do such a lot of things; but Nurse is soon going away, that's the most dreadful thing!"
Miss Bertha smiled.
"Your 'dreadful things' are not so dreadful when they come. Can't you trust God about that?"
Christina looked wistful.
"I am trying not to be afraid. I keep saying my text over and over, and it does help me."
"Of course it does. I think you ought to be a very happy little girl."
And Christina went home thinking that she was.
TWO HIGHWAYMEN
IT was a wet afternoon. Dawn arrived in the nursery at three o'clock, and shook the rain off his curls and overcoat like a Newfoundland dog.
"I told dad I was coming along to cheer you two up. I thought it would be a good day for hide and seek indoors."
"No," said Puggy promptly, "we're going up to the turret room. It has been cleaned out for us, and we're going to take any furniture up that we like."
Dawn cut a caper.
"I'll help you to pick and choose," he said. "Shall we have any pictures from this room?"
"Ah," said Christina, hurriedly going to her toy cupboard and producing a brown paper parcel. "You'll never guess what this is! Father gave it to me this morning. He had it framed for me, and it's our motto, and I'm going to hang it up on our wall up there. It means the same as that!"
She pointed to her piece of paper still pinned to the nursery wall with the words "Fear dwells not here!"
Dawn looked at it attentively.
"Well," he said, thumping his chest vigorously. "I can say 'Fear dwells not here!' but you can't, Tina. You're such a one for being frightened!"
"No," said Christina humbly, "I shall always be frightened inside me, I'm afraid, but I'm trying not to be frightened outside and I'm getting better."
"Come on and don't gas so!" exclaimed Puggy.
And all three children made their way to the turret door.
The stone stairs were steep and wound round and round. Dawn, who was ahead of the other two, suddenly sat down and had an inspiration.
"Listen!" he said. "This is just like the steps the pilgrims go up on their knees for their sins. Wasn't it Martin Luther who was crawling up one day when he was trying to be good? Some chap like that, I know, Aunt Rachael read to me about him. Let's try it. We're half-way up now, but it doesn't matter, we'll do the rest of the steps on our knees, it's so good to do penance sometimes!"
"But won't it be difficult?" asked Christina doubtfully.
"It'll be as easy as pat," said Puggy, "see me do it!"
But he found it more awkward than he thought. In a few minutes Dawn gave up trying it.
"It's too slow!" he said. "Besides I haven't been wicked enough to-day to do penance! It's splendid for you, Tina. You ought to do penance whenever you feel in a funk, you'd soon cure yourself."
"I'm not going to give up once I'm started," said Puggy, puffing and panting as he struggled on. "You never do anything unless it's easy, Dawn!"
Christina struggled on also, until she looked down at her knees.
"I believe a hole is coming in my stocking," she asserted.
"It hurts me dreadfully. I wish I had on knickerbockers like you. I shall give up!"
Puggy was the only one, who finished his self-appointed task.
"There!" he said. "I'm jolly glad that's done. And I shan't try it again. Now for our den!"
It was a dear little room with windows all round it. There was a cupboard, chair and table: on the wall hung a rusty sword.
Puggy took it down and brandished it in the air. "This will keep off robbers and spies, Tina! We'll cut their heads off directly they appear."
"You must have a password," suggested Dawn; "or one dark night you might out off a friend's head by mistake."
"We'll have 'Come if you dare.' We'll always keep the door locked, and only us three will know what it is, so no one else will ever be let in."
"Supposing if Nurse were to come up," suggested Christina.
"She would be a spy, so we should cut her head off."
"No, but really I mean."
"Well, we shouldn't unlock to her!"
"And father and mother!"
"Oh, they wouldn't come. We should have to be true to our rights. We couldn't let them in. Don't you go supposing things, that's so like a girl!"
Christina subsided. She went and stood at the window.
"I can see Dawn's house," she remarked; "and such a long way! It looks so small. Come and look."
"Why!" said Dawn. "You'll be able to signal to me. We'll have three flags like the railway men have. If you hang out a red flag, it'll mean stop away. You must never put that out unless you're both out for the day and then I shan't come over. The green flag you must hang out when you're up here by yourself, Puggy, and the white when Tina is, and when you're both here you must hang out the two flags!"
"And if we want you in a great hurry?" asked Christina.
"We'll have a fourth flag," asserted Puggy; "it must be blue, and it will mean a call to arms. You'll have to make the flags, Tina, and they must be ready to-morrow."
"But where shall I get the stuff? I shall ask Nurse to help me. Oh, I think I shall like this game very much!"
The little girl's eyes shone with excitement.
"And now let us light the fire," suggested Dawn.
"What lovely things we can cook! Toffee and toast and roasted chestnuts. We'll give parties sometimes, and dad and Miss Bertha shall come!"
It was the beginning of a delightful time to Christina. Never in all her life had she had such freedom.
From being confined to the four walls of her nursery, she now had the run of the whole house and grounds. Nurse rarely saw her except at meal times and for occasional walks. Puggy was considered quite old enough to take her off with him anywhere.
"I want her to be more independent," said her stepmother.
And Christina began to feel that her stepmother's reign was on the whole a pleasant one.
But upon the day of her nurse's departure, all her old doubts and fears came bank.
Connie was promoted to be her maid, and on the following day, her governess was to arrive. Poor little Christina clung to her nurse as if she could never let her go.
"What shall I do when you're gone!" she cried again and again, and Nurse did not reassure her, for she felt aggrieved by her dismissal.
Puggy came into the nursery and found Christina sitting on the floor in floods of tears.
"I didn't know you were a cry-baby!" he remarked scornfully.
Christina looked up, the picture of woe.
"Nurse has gone, and I can't bear to be without her."
"A good riddance. She wouldn't let me bring my football in here. Now I shall do it. I say, dry up, Tina, and I tell you what we'll do, we'll dress up in sheets and go up to our den, and come down and pop out upon the maids like ghosts. They'll be awfully frightened."
"No," said Christina, drying her eyes. "I couldn't pretend to be a ghost. I'm too frightened of them. And I wouldn't like to frighten other people."
"Well, we'll have a game of cricket in the passage. Come on! And when your governess comes to-morrow, let me see her first. I'll tell her what sort we mean her to be."
"What sort?" asked Christina, cheering up. She had unbounded faith in Puggy's talent for managing. "What ought a governess to be like, Puggy?"
"Very short and quick at lessons, and then take herself off for the rest of the day and leave us alone. I'll tell her! What time is she coming to-morrow? I think I'll meet her at the station. I'll take Dawn with me. You keep quiet. I'll tell her she's not to bully you."
And accordingly the next day, having discovered that the brougham was going to the station at four o'clock, Puggy and Dawn laid their plans.
Miss Loder arrived punctually. She was quite young, and was looking forward to her stay at Bracken Towers. She had come from London, and though it was winter time, she rejoiced in every bit of the country through which she passed. As she settled herself back in the comfortable carriage and noted the mossy banked lanes and the wooded hills stretching up and down on either side she drew a long breath of relief.
"No more smuts and fog, but sweet, pure country air. Oh, I am glad I came."
The carriage rolled on rapidly. Suddenly the coachman pulled up. There was evidently a gate to be opened or some impediment in the way. Miss Loder heard some altercation going on.
"Now, Master John, who gave you the key? Unlock the gate!"
"Is she inside? You're held up by highwaymen! We're loaded. You daren't touch us!"
The next moment a boy stood on either side of the carriage, and black paper masks were over their faces.
Miss Loder looked as if she enjoyed the situation.
"Is it a question of 'money or your life'?" she asked quietly, as each boy held a toy pistol through the carriage window.
"We don't want your money," said one of them sternly, "but your word, and it must be your word of honour!"
"No," said the other boy excitedly, "you forget! It's her signature, we've put it down in writing. You have the paper."
"We want both!" said the first speaker. He produced a paper.
Miss Loder took it out of his hand and read the following in round schoolboy's writing:
"I, the governess of Christina Douglas, do promise on my solemn word of honour that I shall not interfere with her in playtime. I promise to leave John Durward and Avril O'Flagherty entirely alone as they are not my pupils, but boys of spirit who will not be ruled by a woman. I promise to get the lessons over quickly and disappear directly they are done. I promise never to keep Christina indoors when lessons are over unless she wants to stay. And I sign myself here, and put my hand and seal to it."
She looked up after she had read it.
"It's rather clever," she remarked, smiling; "but I'm afraid it's not legal."
"You've got to sign it, or you'll stay here all night!"
The coachman began to get impatient.
"Master John, unlock this gate at once. It's a good five mile round. I'll report you to the Squire."
Miss Loder opened her travelling-bag and took out a sheet of paper.
"I'll sign what I think will meet the case, and submit it for your approval," she said quietly.
The boys looked across at each other and waited. Then when the paper was handed to Puggy, he read it aloud.
"I promise to be a friend as well as a governess to Christina Maclahan and help her to enjoy her playtime, not hinder it. As Avril O'Flagherty and John Durward are not my pupils, I shall have nothing to say to them, unless they interfere with my pupil or with me. And hereto I set my hand."KATE LODER."
"Hum!" remarked Puggy, looking at her suspiciously. "This sounds well, but I don't think it is enough."
"Show it to me!" demanded Dawn.
The paper was handed across to him, and the old coachman at the same time sent his whip round Puggy's legs. The boys saw their game was up. They retreated with dignity.
"We shall keep this paper and hold you to it."
Then the gate was unlocked, and with a loud war-whoop they scampered off, and left Miss Loder to continue her drive in peace.
Christina meanwhile was awaiting her governess' arrival in fear and trembling.
She sat in the nursery in her little rocking-chair by the fire, conjuring up visions of stern, spectacled, grey-haired women. She longed to fly to some one for comfort, but she felt that her stepmother would laugh at her, and was not sure about her father. She looked up at her paper on the wall:
"Fear dwells not here."
Then she said over her text.
And then she began wondering where the boys were, and whether they had really gone to the station to meet her governess.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not hear the door open until her stepmother's brisk voice made her start from her chair in trembling confusion.
"Here is your pupil, Miss Loder. She looks scared to death at the sight of us! Her nurse has ruined her by coddling. I want her turned into a healthy little romp, do you think you can do it?"
"I can try."
Miss Loder came forward and took Christina's small, cold hands in hers.
"You mustn't be frightened of me, dear. Why, I never expected to see such a tiny fragile mite. I daresay you have been picturing what I should be; shall I tell you what I thought you would be like?"
Mrs. Maclahan had wisely disappeared.
Miss Loder sat down by the fire, and took Christina on her lap.
"I have had an adventure," she continued, trying to put the child at ease, for she was literally shaking from head to foot. "And after it was over, I said to myself, 'I know what Christina will be like! She is Scotch, so she will have red hair flying over her shoulders in wildest confusion; she will be a large fat girl, with long legs and short frocks: a perfect tomboy!' Wasn't that a funny picture I drew of you?"
Christina began to smile.
Miss Loder continued:
"I don't wonder at my adventure now. Fancy! Two highwaymen with black masks and pistols stopped the carriage, and wouldn't let me come on until I had promised to be kind to you!"
"Oh!" gasped Christina. "Who were they? Weren't you dreadfully frightened?"
"I tried not to be. I was just hoping that my small pupil would be kind to me, so it was funny, wasn't it?"
"Were they big men?"
"Rather little men. One had curls."
Christina's face was a study. Terror, amazement and interest were followed by a dawning smile of comprehension.
"Do you think," she said, almost in a whisper, "that they were boys?"
Miss Loder whispered back:
"I think they were."
And then she and her small pupil laughed merrily, until Christina remembered to be shocked.
"How could they dare to do it?" she exclaimed.
"Well," said Miss Loder; "now I have seen you, I understand. You are so little to be bullied. Shall we be good friends, Christina? Will you give me a kiss, dear, and believe that I mean to be kind to you?"
Christina responded very quickly. She put her arms round Miss Loder's neck.
"I love you," she said, and her late fears fled away, never to return.
When tea was on the table half an hour later, Puggy marched in very independently.
"Good evening!" he said, as if he had never seen Miss Loder before. "I have tea with Christina, because I don't care for drawing-room tea. The bread and butter is too thin, and there's not enough jam, and grown-up people are so stupid!"
"Good evening," said Miss Loder politely. "I have been telling Christina of an adventure I had on the way here this afternoon. I am afraid you have some bad characters about."
Puggy sat down, and looked at her suspiciously.
"Have we?" he said, trying to speak unconcernedly, but getting rather red in the face.
"These were two little ragamuffins with blacked faces who pretended to be highwaymen. I'm afraid they got a whipping, but I couldn't help liking them, for they were evidently very fond of Christina. I suppose she has a great many friends? I eased their minds by promising to be good to her, but I am wondering who they were. Do you know?"
Puggy stared at her in silence.
"If I did, I wouldn't tell you," he remarked at length.
Miss Loder did not say any more. She chatted to Christina about all kinds of things, and Puggy ate his tea in silence. This new governess puzzled him greatly, he was almost—just a tiny bit—afraid of her.
"DEFYING THE HUNT"
IN a few days Christina was the greatest of friends with her young governess.
Puggy held aloof at first, not quite sure if he liked her. She had such a fund of games and good stories at her disposal that it seemed a pity to be out of it. Yet she never asked him to join, and seemed to ignore him. Dawn, a little ashamed of the part he had played, kept away; Christina was the one who profited most by Miss Loder's bright energy.
She enjoyed her lessons every morning. She had only an hour in the afternoon, and the rest of the time was spent in walks and play.
Puggy shut himself up in the turret room and waved the green flag, for Christina never seemed to want to play with him now. She was quite happy with Miss Loder. When Dawn came over they took counsel together, and finally they both marched to Christina's nursery, or schoolroom as it was now called.
Dawn was spokesman, and he addressed Miss Loder, who was sitting by the window with her needlework. Christina was on a stool at her feet, listening with rapt attention to a fairy tale; for lessons were over, and it was too wet for a walk.
"How do you do, Miss Loder? I'm Dawn." A queer little bow accompanied this introduction.
"Puggy and I have come to say we'd like to be friends."
Miss Loder looked up with a twinkle in her eyes.
"I am sorry, but I gave my word of honour that I would have nothing to say to either John Durward or Avril O'Flagherty. I never break a promise."
"But it's all rot!" burst out Puggy. "That was only a kind of game, and we didn't know you were a good sort."
"Yes, we're sorry we held you up; and if you like, we'll tear up the paper you signed."
"That seems a pity," said Miss Loder slowly; "because really Tina and I are very happy together. I don't know that we want to have much to do with boys."
"But I'm an awfully nice boy," said Dawn enthusiastically; "dad says so, and Puggy is ripping! I'm sure you'd like to know us, and we'd have such fun. We've come over to invite you and Tina up to our den. We've just cooked some toffee."
Miss Loder capitulated slowly.
"If you were to bring that paper here and burn it, I might forget my promise," she said.
Puggy produced it promptly from his pocket and threw it into the fire.
Then Miss Loder rose from her chair.
"Come along, Tina, we'll go and have some of this delicious toffee."
Christina was delighted, and from that time the boys and Miss Loder were thorough good friends. She tried to teach her small pupil to play at hockey with them; but Christina never enjoyed a rough game. She was in terror the whole time. She fought hard with her many fears, and took to following Dawn's suggestion about climbing up the turret stairs on her knees as a kind of penance when she had been unnecessarily timid. She did not tell any one of this except Miss Bertha, and she confided it to her when she went in to take her some flowers one day.
"You see," she explained, "I do so want to be a proper Maclahan. I never shall, I'm afraid. But yesterday afternoon we went across a field, and a cow came after us. I—I screamed and ran behind Miss Loder, and Puggy laughed and called me a little coward. So in the afternoon when I had finished my lessons, I went up the turret stairs on my knees to punish myself. It hurts, you know; and as I went up I said your text over and over and over. I hope I shan't be frightened when I see a cow next time; do you think I shall? And you won't tell any one, will you? It's all my own secret."
"I should say it was bad for your stockings," said Miss Bertha with a kind smile; "but I love to hear of your fighting your fears, Childie, and I shan't say a word against it!"
"Do you think the day will ever come when I can point to my heart like Puggy and Dawn do and say, 'Fear dwells not here?'"
For answer Miss Bertha put her arms round her, and held her close.
"I believe one day you will astonish us all," she said cheerfully, but she turned aside her head that Christina could not see the quick tears that had started to her eyes.
And a few days afterwards Christina did astonish every one very much.
It was a bright sunny afternoon. Puggy had gone out hunting with his sister. Mr. Maclahan was away from home. Miss Loder was busy writing letters in the schoolroom, and Christina was amusing herself in the garden. She had been up to the turret room and waved the flag for Dawn to come over and see her, but he had not appeared. He had borrowed a rough pony from a farmer, and had ridden off to the meet, with the firm intention of proving to Puggy that he was as good a horseman as himself.
So Christina, feeling rather lonely, betook herself to a small plot of ground that was considered her own. It was a bit of field fenced in round an old summer house, and in the summer house, the boys and she kept their garden games. She was tidying it up, an undertaking that she loved, when she heard the baying of hounds and the shouts of the hunt. They were coming right across the paddock in front of her. She came outside the summer house, and there, toiling along, hardly able to drag one foot before the other, covered with mud and slime, was the fox.
He was worn out, and, ignoring Christina, made straight for the summer house.
In an instant the little girl's tender heart was throbbing with sympathy for him, and as the whole pack of hounds came up in full cry, she shut the door upon the fox, and stood outside it in a fever of excited protest.
"You shan't have him!" she cried with scarlet cheeks and flashing eyes. "You shan't have him! I won't have him killed!"
The hounds were upon her. She did not seem to hear or see them, and the huntsman, without a word, seized hold of her and lifted her up on his saddle. It was all the work of a moment: the hounds were through the open window, and poor Reynard met his fate, but Christina was struggling passionately in the huntsman's arms.
She did not heed the crowd of people round her. The fate of the poor fox was more to her than anything else.
"I hate you all!" she exclaimed when she was put down on the ground. "You are murderers!"
And then she fled into the house, still sobbing as if her heart would break.
Miss Loder could not understand what had happened. It was a long time before the excited child could be soothed.
"Oh," she cried, "why does God let people be so cruel? Why can't they be punished? The poor tired little fox! Oh, Miss Loder, how could they let him be killed by those cruel dogs! I tried to save him, and I couldn't! They snatched me away!"
Half an hour later Puggy came in with a grin upon his face.
"You're a nice one!" he said to the tearful Christina. "The cheek of you, trying to spoil our sport! How dared you do it! You pretend you're so frightened of everything. Why, those hounds might have torn you in pieces, they were so wild to get past you!"
"I don't care!" sobbed Christina. "It was wicked to kill the fox!"
"Yes, Miss Loder, she stood up and stayed the whole hunt; she told them she hated them, and that they were murderers! She did make a silly of herself, I can tell you! My sister was awfully astonished. I expect you're in for a scolding, Tina!"
Christina was past minding moldings, but she did not get any; her stepmother never alluded to the incident. It was her father who called her to him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well, my little lassie, you are a staunch champion for the oppressed, I find. You have begun early. It is a pity you have not the corresponding power necessary, but a great many champions wish for that!"
"Don't talk nonsense," said his wife; "the child won't understand you. When she gets older she will think differently."
Mr. Maclahan said no more, but Christina was not to hear the last of it.
Two days afterwards Dawn came across to invite Christina and Puggy to tea.
"It's dad's invitation, not mine, and it's a very special one, and Aunt Rachael has made a big cake and some little ones."
Miss Loder gave her consent. Dawn came to escort them there, and on the way he informed them that the tea was in Christina's honour.
"Dad's awfully pleased with Tina taking the fox's part the other day. I told him all about it. He's begun a fresh picture, and he's going to put her into it; at least, it's either her or me, I'm not sure which: but I've been standing like Christina did, and dad is painting me, and I have to wear a girl's frock. Just fancy! But you see dad is an artist, and the son of an artist has to do everything; it's like my wearing curls, it has to be, because we care more about pictures than what people say!"
"I think it's all rot!" said Puggy. "No man would do what Christina did!"
Christina was by this time rather ashamed of her daring. Puggy was most emphatic in his condemnation of it, and yet as she assured Miss Loder:
"I feel I couldn't help trying to save the poor fox! If I saw him again, I'd do it again, I know I would!"
Dawn's father welcomed the children heartily, but he laid his hand on Christina's shoulder, and looked down upon her with a pleased look in his eyes.
"I wish I'd been there!" he said. "I have to thank you for an inspiration, Christina. I was wanting a subject badly, and you have given it to me. Do you know what my picture is going to be called? 'Defying the Hunt!'" He laughed as he spoke, then showed Christina a large canvas on which were the bare outlines of a few horses, a pack of hounds, and a very small child in the midst of the pack beating them back with her tiny hands, whilst her back was firmly set against an old wooden door.
"I want you to come and sit for me, will you? Dawn is such a flibberty-jibbet that I can't keep him still. And so you gave them a piece of your mind, did you? I'm not a sportsman, and I'm not sure that I'm not on your side."
"Oh, you couldn't be on Tina's side!" exclaimed Puggy. "I think she was an awful silly!"
"That's John Bull's opinion, but it isn't mine."
Mr. O'Flagherty delighted in Mrs. Maclahan's fancy about the children. He always called them the "United Kingdom," and Puggy was never anything but "John Bull" with him.
Puggy looked slightly abashed. He had a great admiration for Dawn's father, and did not like his disapproval in any shape or form.
"Well, you can't say hunting is wrong!" he said.
Mr. O'Flagherty laughed.
"We won't have any arguments to-day. We're going to enjoy ourselves, and Scotland is top and foremost. She shall have the seat of honour!"
He led them gaily into the dining-room, where Miss O'Flagherty was already making the tea. She was a tall, silent woman with a sweet smile, and Christina held up her face to be kissed with the assurance of being welcome.
"You are going to pour out tea for us all," she said to the little girl.
"But I would rather not," said Christina, "it won't be a treat if I do, for I shall be afraid of doing it wrong!"
"You are never going to be afraid of anything or anybody any more!" said Mr. O'Flagherty.
And then Christina without a word sat down behind the big teapot, and, aided by Aunt Rachael, poured out the tea quite successfully.
It was a merry meal. Mr. O'Flagherty was like a boy himself; he told funny stories and asked riddles and cracked jokes, and Dawn was bubbling over with mirth and high spirits.
When tea was over, they had a game of hide and seek indoors. Mr. O'Flagherty hid in the kitchen copper, Dawn put himself inside a bolster case upon his aunt's bed, and Puggy nearly drowned himself in the cistern. When they were all tired out they came into Mr. O'Flagherty's studio; the boys lay down before the big wood fire, and Christina sat on the artist's knees. Then they began to talk about fear and what it was and who had it, and into the middle of their talk came Miss Bertha, who had been asked to tea, but had not been able to leave some visitor who had arrived.
She sat down by the fire too.
"Englishmen are never afraid!" asserted Puggy.
"They say they are not," said Mr. O'Flagherty, "and they're a pretty plucky race as a rule, but they're too cock sure of themselves!"
"Isn't it good to be sure?"
"Not sure of ourselves," said Miss Bertha softly, "but sure of Some One better than ourselves."
"We're all afraid of something," said Mr. O'Flagherty. "Now we'll make our confessions. I'm afraid of fine ladies with a 'taste for art'!"
"I'm afraid of schoolmasters," admitted Dawn. "I don't like my master in London. He can't take a joke!"
"I'm afraid of an easy life," said Miss Bertha; "it spoils one so!"
Puggy knitted his brows hard in his endeavour to be strictly true. "I think I'm afraid of being laughed at," he confessed.
Mr. O'Flagherty nodded approvingly at him.
"Now let Scotland speak."
Christina looked up with great earnest eyes.
"I believe the thing I'm really afraid of most is being a coward. I'm always just going to be one, and I know I am one already, but I'm so frightened in case I shall really be an awful one, one day!"
"Ah!" said Mr. O'Flagherty, taking out his pipe after asking Miss Bertha's permission to smoke. "We're a bad lot with our fears. Now we'll make a bonfire of them. Write them on slips of paper, and we'll throw them on the fire."
This was done. Mr. O'Flagherty threw his upon the red coals with a tragic air.
"Now," he said, "shut your eyes, and I'll tell you what I see. There they go! Tall ladies, short ladies, spectacled ladies, young ladies, severe ladies in all their finery, and with all their art jargon on their lips. They make a glorious blaze. May they never come back to frighten and annoy me. Now, Miss Bertha, away with your fear!"
Miss Bertha laughed and threw her slip of paper into the fire.
"Ah!" said Mr. O'Flagherty. "There he goes, the spirit of luxury and indulgence! He's nearly asleep, his fat cheeks tell of his good living; but he looks so jolly and good-tempered, that I'm quite sorry for him. Still, he must not be allowed back to frighten our self-denying little lady. Now, John Bull, into the fire with yours!"
Puggy obeyed instantly.
"What do you see?"
"I see hundreds of merry little fellows flying up the chimney, and yet some of them have rather evil faces. I think you're well rid of them, Johnnie. Now, Will-o'-the-wisp, in with your schoolmasters! What a royal blaze they make with their lesson books and canes and long words of wisdom! We are having a grand clearance. Where is yours, lassie?"
Christina's face was very solemn as she threw her slip of paper into the fire.
"The fear of being afraid," said Mr. O'Flagherty thoughtfully; "that's a wonderful little spirit. You can't get hold of him properly, but he ought to be burnt, and he must be. There he goes! May he never come back to trouble you, for he is a perfect fraud, he's a shadow wrapped in a big black cloak, there's nothing in him!"
Silence fell upon the little group.
"True courage," said Miss Bertha quietly, "is losing sight of self in an emergency."
"And yet," said Mr. O'Flagherty, "I admire the man who is really full of fear, acting as if he had none."
"Yes," the little old lady said with a quick, bright nod at Christina. "It doesn't matter about feelings. Life is doing, not feeling."
Christina looked up. She was the only one of the three children that caught the idea, and the dawning intelligence in her eyes amused the artist. He pointed his finger at his small son.
"That bit of quicksilver will be ruled by his feelings all his life, I fear. That tough young Briton—yes, I'm speaking of you, John Bull—will be ruled by his head, not his heart."
"And me?" asked Christina breathlessly.
"Neither your head nor your heart, but your conscience will be your master," Mr. O'Flagherty said, laughing.
"No," said Miss Bertha very gently and softly; "my prayer for Tina is, 'The love of Christ constraineth us.' He is a better guide than conscience."
"The talk is getting very difficult and dull," sighed Dawn.
The little party broke up then, but as Christina walked home between Puggy and the maid who had come to fetch them, she murmured to herself:
"So it doesn't matter if I feel a coward as long as I don't do like a coward. Oh, I hope I shall remember in time!"
A WINTER PICNIC
PUGGY was summoned back to school before the Christmas holidays, and Christina missed him more than she had thought possible. Dawn and his father were soon going back to London, and one Saturday morning Dawn appeared in Christina's schoolroom before she had finished her breakfast.
"Good-morning, Miss Loder. Please—we know it's a holiday, and may we borrow Tina for the day? It's going to be fine and dad is going to paint out of doors, and we're going to camp out and boil our kettle, and drive in a trap, and there's just room for Tina between dad's knees!"
Christina clapped her hands with delight. Miss Loder considered.
"How late will you be out?"
"We'll be back before dark."
"I expect Mrs. Maclahan will not object. I must ask her first."
She left the room. Christina began to ask eager questions.
"Are you going into a wood? Is your Aunt Rachael going? What have you got for dinner?"
And when her governess came back with the required permission, Christina dashed off to get into her hat and cloak with a radiant face.
"I will be good," she assured Miss Loder. "I do love going with Dawn and his father. They're so funny, and they're so happy."
She tore down the avenue breathlessly with Dawn, and came to his house as Mr. O'Flagherty was harnessing an old grey mare to a very shabby-looking trap, a loan from some neighbouring farmer.
"Ah!" he said, looking up. "It's a pity John Bull isn't here, the United Kingdom isn't complete without him, but we mean to enjoy ourselves."
"A winter picnic is much better fun than a summer one!" said Dawn. "Have you got the rabbit pie, dad? We're going to boil some eggs, Tina, and eat them scalding hot, and we'll roast some potatoes in the ashes. I'm going to look for a hedgehog and roast him, like the gipsies do. When he's cooked, his prickles come off, and he's like a little chicken!"
Christina shuddered.
"I wish," she said, "nobody or nothing need ever be killed. It's so dreadful to think of!"
"Then don't think of it. Come on, climb up, Tina; and dad is going to let me drive part of the way; and won't I drive at a thundering pace!"
Aunt Rachael came out with plenty of wraps, which she tucked round Christina.
"What would your old nurse say to your spending a whole day out of doors at this time of year?" she said with a smile.
Christina looked grave.
"I hope I'm not forgetting Nurse," she said. "I told her I never would, but I don't think of her quite so often as I ought!"
"Oh, you little Puritan with your 'oughts!'" said Mr. O'Flagherty. "Leave them alone to-day. We won't take one of them with us. We're going to be as free as the air, and do as we please!"
He got into the trap as he spoke, and they drove off, Christina wedged in between Dawn and his father and feeling very light-hearted.
It was a bright sunny morning, and wonderfully soft and mild for a December day.
Through the village, up and down rather muddy lanes, and at last they came upon a long stretch of pine woods by the side of a grey rushing river.
This was their goal. Mr. O'Flagherty wanted to complete a picture of his which he had painted from the interior of these woods, with just a glimpse of hills and farmsteads between the tall slender pines.
They drove through a soft track covered with brown pine needles and cones, and at last came to a small clearing, where they stopped. Mr. O'Flagherty unharnessed the mare, produced a feed for her, then promptly put up his easel and set to work.
"I shall have one clear hour before dinner," he said; "and don't you dare to disturb me. Make your fire, boil the kettle and cook the 'taties, and get some water from the river without tumbling in."
All this Dawn and Christina did. Their tongues never stopped, though they kept a considerable distance from the artist, so that they should not disturb him.
"It is so nice," said Christina, as she and Dawn having made a fire and put the kettle on began to unpack the basket and arrange the luncheon, "not to have grown-up people telling us how to do things."
"They never tell me!" said Dawn, tossing back his curls. "Dad says every young thing ought to be as free as air. He won't have our puppy chained up; he says a bottled-up boy or dog explodes and does more harm when they're big than if they'd been allowed to do mischief when they're small. Dad is first-rate to live with, I can tell you!"
Christina assented heartily.
When Dawn deluged her with water as he was filling the kettle from the river, she was thankful that no grown-up person was there to see it. Later on she knelt on a burning stick that flew out from the fire, and burnt a hole in the front of her woollen frock. It seemed delightful to her to have no one to scold her for having done it. The potatoes were burnt, the eggs smashed in their shells, and the tea that was brewed tasted smoky; but never had Christina enjoyed such a meal. Mr. O'Flagherty laughed at her shining eyes.
"Ah!" he said. "Your stepmother is a wise woman; she has altered your nursery regime to success, but you want more of this sort of thing to keep you in health! If I was to shut up my bit of quicksilver in the way that good nurse of yours did you, he'd be as flabby and useless as a limpet at the end of a week!"
They all made a hearty meal; then Mr. O'Flagherty hurried back to work, and Dawn and Christina carried down the plates and cups to the river to wash them.
"I don't like water," said Christina reflectively, as she stood on the edge of a strip of gravel and took the wet plates from Dawn and dried them with her cloth. "I think it's because I'm frightened of it. Do you remember in the Pilgrim's Progress, Dawn, where Christian has to go through the river? It makes me shiver to think of it! I should die of fright if I had to go through this river!"
Dawn leant across to her mysteriously, and his blue eyes flashed with eagerness.
"I'll tell you something. When we've done this, we won't go through the river, but we'll go over it. I've found out something! It'll be scrumptious!"
"What do you mean?"
"There's a boat tied to the bushes here. It's only a few yards away. I rowed dad across one day when he was fishing. It's always much nicer the other side of a thing! Make haste, Tina, there! That's the last plate, and we'll put them in a heap here and take them up to the trap later on. Now, you follow me, and we'll be Red Indians in a canoe, and go sailing down the river, and then land in a strange country. Come on!"
He danced off, and Christina, feeling a sinking of heart, followed him. When she saw the boat she protested:
"I'm sure we oughtn't to, Dawn; it isn't ours. Don't touch it, you'll be drowned."
Dawn laughed merrily.
"It doesn't matter whose it is, we shan't hurt it, and we'll put it back. It's kept here to use, I know it is."
He was busy untying the rope as he spoke. Christina was suddenly beset by an agony of fear.
"I'm sure it isn't right, we oughtn't to do it."
"Dad said you were to leave your oughts behind to-day, and we're to do as we like. I believe you're funking it!"
Christina's cheeks grew scarlet.
"I've never been in a boat," she confessed hurriedly; "but it isn't only that, Dawn, I feel we oughtn't to do it. Shall I go and ask your dad?"
"No, he said we weren't to come near him till he whistled for us. Don't be a coward, Tina. I shall write and tell Puggy if you are. Give me your hand, I'll help you in."
Dawn's will always had sway over Christina. She stepped into the boat without another word, and sat where she was told, with heaving breath and terror-stricken eyes.
"Oh!" she gasped as Dawn pushed off. "There's nothing but water underneath us!"
Dawn, handling his oars with some difficulty, stopped to laugh.
"There are fishes," he said. "Do play up, Tina, and don't spoil it all by staring at me so!"
Christina hastily shut her eyes. The time on the strange horse's back seemed comfortable and safe compared with this. The boat she thought was too thin, too frail to keep her from the angry water. A hole might come in it, then they would sink at once; it would most likely upset; what would it feel like to be plunged into the cold rushing water? Oh, if only what was going to happen, would happen quickly! It was the waiting for it that was so dreadful.
The little girl thought of her brave ancestors; she repeated the family motto, but it was all in vain. Then she said her text.
"'What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.'"
And then miserably she added to herself:
"But I'm sure we're being naughty, and if we are, God won't have anything to do with me."
Suddenly there was a bump, Christina gave a little scream and opened her eyes. She found that they had arrived at the opposite bank and Dawn was already on shore tugging at the rope.