The Return Visit
"IT'S too bad, she won't come!"
Freda stood at the nursery window with Daffy. Their noses were flattened against the panes, and they were gazing disconsolately down the beech avenue.
It was raining fast, softly, persistently, and it did not mean to stop, even though Dreamikins had been asked to tea, and it was now four o'clock. Tea was laid on the round table in the nursery. Freda and Daffy had inspected it very critically when Nurse was out of the room washing Bertie's face and hands and putting him into a clean holland suit in honour of the occasion.
There was a big currant cake in the centre of the table, some strawberry jam, and a large plate of cut bread-and-butter.
"I should like one of Mum's teas," said Daffy, with a sigh, "with sangwiches, and hot tea-cakes, and sugar-iced cakes, and chocolates. I would like Dreamikins to think we had very nice teas."
"And tea in the garden is so much nicer than in a room," sighed Freda.
"But she wouldn't have tea in the garden to-day," said Daffy.
Then they went to the window to watch for her coming. It was Nurse who told them she was sure she would not come, and now they had begun to believe it.
Bertie came up to them, and stretched up on tiptoes to see too.
"There's a b'llella!" he suddenly announced.
And, sure enough, his quick eyes had discovered the big umbrella first. It was waving about rather uncertainly, and two tiny legs and feet were underneath it.
"She's coming, Nurse! And all by herself Dreamikins is allowed to come out to tea alone."
They rushed out of the room and down the stairs to meet her. They found her in the front hail, and Purling, the old butler, was taking her wet umbrella from her.
"She's come in at the front door!" said Daffy, in awed tones.
Dreamikins looked up at them with her radiant smile.
"Did you come all by yourself?" asked Freda.
Dreamikins opened her lips quickly, then shut them tight, and waited quite a moment before she spoke.
"I was just going to say 'Yes,'" she said. "I wanted to say it, but Cherubine pinched me, so I knew I mustn't. Annette brought me to the gate and then I got her to leave me."
"Where did Cherubine pinch you?" asked Daffy curiously.
"Oh, just inside my heart," Dreamikins answered airily. "She gets in there and does what she likes."
Then she kissed her friends rather solemnly, and followed them upstairs to the nursery without saying another word.
Nurse welcomed her quite kindly. Dreamikins in a clean white frock, and her best manners, brought a smile to Nurse's lips.
Bertie hastened up to shake hands. He was very excited over this new visitor, and was ready to be friends with her at once.
Very soon they were sitting round the tea-table. Shyness had suddenly descended upon Freda and Daffy. It was Dreamikins who did most of the talking—Dreamikins and Nurse.
"I think," Dreamikins said, looking at Nurse with one of her sweetest smiles, "that I shall call you H.D. Do you mind if I do?"
"Why H.D.?" demanded Nurse.
"It means something to me," Dreamikins replied. "I always like calling people by letters. I call Mummie D.Q. Not when she scolds me, though—never then!"
She shook her curls with vigour as she spoke. Then she condescended to explain.
"D.Q. means Darling Queen," she said.
Freda and Daffy began to guess under their breath what H.D. meant, but Dreamikins would not tell them. She went on calmly:
"You see, I can't call you Nurse, because you aren't my nurse. I gave up nurses when I was quite little; they changed so often, and Mummie and me got quite tarred of them."
"I hope you weren't a very troublesome little girl," said Nurse sternly. "Children who have no nursery are always spoilt and unruly. I am sorry for their mothers, but all the best families keep their children in the nursery till they go to school."
"Did you have a nurse?" asked Dreamikins.
But Nurse changed the conversation.
When tea was over, Jane cleared away the tea, and Nurse and she left the nursery for a short time. Then the children's tongues ran fast.
"Show me your house; it's such a big one. Let us play hide-and-seek in the passages."
"Nurse won't let us. We can never do anything nice. What is H.D.?"
"Haughty Dragon," said Dreamikins, laughing gaily. "Fibo and I always call people H.D.'s who look like your nurse does. Oh, we must play hide-and-seek. I'll go and ask her."
Away darted Dreamikins, peeping into every room and dancing up and down the passages as if it were all a game. She found Nurse, and actually coaxed the permission she wanted out of her.
"It's a wet afternoon, and if you promise not to spoil or disarrange anything, you can do it," said Nurse.
Then followed a lovely hour. Freda and Daffy and even Bertie were as excited and happy as their little guest. At last the time came when Dreamikins could not be found. Every corner and cupboard in the few rooms in which they were allowed to hide were ransacked. The passages with their queer corners were searched again and again, and the children came to Nurse in the nursery with troubled faces.
"We're quite tired out," said Freda gloomily, "and we think she's climbed up one of the chimneys and got on to the roof."
Nurse bestirred herself.
"She's a mischievous child, I fear. There's such daring in her eye; but it won't do for her to come to harm here."
So Nurse went from room to room, and then at the end of one of the passages thought of a little door which led into the cistern-room. There were steps up inside, and on these steps was a white hair ribbon.
Nurse got agitated, and called aloud, and a weak little voice answered her:
"I'm nearly drownded, but Cherubine is keeping me up."
Sure enough, in the big cistern, drenched to the skin, Dreamikins was clinging with her hands to the top; her feet were on a tiny ledge that mercifully was inside, or the big cistern would indeed have drowned her. She had clambered in, taken off her shoes and stockings, and imagined that the water was not very deep.
"I was so hot, I wanted to paddle. I thought it was a little pond, and then I splashed down ever so far, but I got up again and held on tight and screamed, and I've screamed away all my voice, but Cherubine helped me."
She was certainly exhausted with her wetting and with fright. Nurse got her out with a stern set face, and carried her off to the night-nursery, where she changed all her clothes, gave her a hot drink, and then took her back to her little friends.
"Now, none of you are to leave this room," she said. "It's a mercy we haven't had a death in this house, and it isn't this child's fault that we haven't!"
Dreamikins sat still for five minutes whilst she explained to the others how she had come to be found in such a situation.
"I thought I was going to be drownded, and I asked God to send me a better angel, for Cherubine was too small to help me. But she just managed it, till the H.D. came. And now what shall we play at?"
They settled down to a game of marbles on the nursery floor. But very soon they tired of their game and began to talk again.
"Why do you live in such a big empty house?" questioned Dreamikins.
"Because Dad and Mums are in London," said Freda, "and there's nobody to fill their part of the house."
"I could get some people to fill it," said Dreamikins thoughtfully.
"What kind?" asked Daffy. "We shouldn't take anybody into our house, you know."
"It doesn't really belong to us at all," said Freda hastily. "Bertie will have it one day, and turn us out."
Bertie stared with his round eyes at his sister.
"I won't turn you out," he said. "I couldn't. You're so strong."
Dreamikins' eyes were gazing away into space. She said slowly:
"Fibo and I read a very interessing story in the Bible last night when I went to bed. It was about the good people who are turned into sheep, and the wicked who turn into goats. Goats don't live in heaven—only sheep. And if you want to be a proper sheep you have to do some differcult things. They're differcult for children; grown-up people could do them easily, but I've been thinking we really ought to begin some of them in case we die quickly. I shouldn't like to find myself a goat all of a sudden."
Freda and Daffy were not so fond of Bible stories as Dreamikins seemed to be. They looked bored, and Dreamikins was quick to notice it.
"Now, you just listen to me," she said, with upraised finger, "and I'll tell you what we've got to do. We've got to do six things, and if we do them to the proper people, Jesus will count it that we've done it to Him. Fibo explained it beautifully; he always does. We must give meat to somebody who's hungry, and drink to somebody who's thirsty, and take into our houses a stranger. That's what made me begin to think of it. Fancy how many strangers you could take in this big house! And we must visit somebody who's sick, and somebody who's in prison, and we must give a poor, naked, ragged beggar some clothes."
"We couldn't do it possibly," said Freda emphatically.
But Daffy's eyes began to shine.
"Oh yes, we could; it would be beautiful!" she said.
Dreamikins put her arms round her and hugged her.
"You and me will begin it, and then Freda will, too," she said. "We must. Cherubine will help. She thinks we ought to."
The little heads got close together. Nurse was sewing by the window, so they talked in whispers.
And then, all too soon, Jane appeared, saying that "Miss Broughton's maid" had arrived to take her home.
Dreamikins was very reluctant to go, but Nurse produced her clothes all beautifully dried, and Annette came upstairs to wait upon her.
"Ah, Miss Emmeline, you be always in trouble. What a peety!" exclaimed Annette, when she was told of Dreamikins' escapade.
Dreamikins smiled up at her.
"I 'sure you it's no trouble to me, none at all!" she said, with the greatest composure.
She hugged Freda and Daffy warmly, kissed Bertie, shook hands very politely with Nurse, and trotted off. They watched from the window her little figure tripping down the drive. Annette was holding a big umbrella over her.
"I'm not at all sure whether she's a fit playmate for you," said Nurse, with a shake of her head. "If she leads you into worse mischief than the two of you are generally up to, the house won't hold you all!"
Freda and Daffy said nothing, but presently they began to discuss Dreamikins together.
"She seems so ridicklously good," said Freda; "I never heard anybody speak about God as she does. Of course, Cherubine is a make up, but she believes it, and now she makes out we must do all this or we shan't please God. I never think about pleasing God at all. Nurse would say we never could. He's so awfully holy and far away."
"Yes; she's good," said Daffy slowly, "but she isn't proper and stupid like some good children are. And I think there'll be a lot of fun about being these Bible sheep. She gets a lot of fun out of being good."
"Yes; but she doesn't do it because of that. She really loves Jesus Christ—she told me so. I almost wish I did, but I don't."
Daffy made no answer. She thought a great deal more than Freda did, and some of her thoughts were serious.
"We'll try and take a stranger in as soon as ever we can," said Daffy. "It will be most exciting! We'll smuggle him in by one of the windows downstairs, or else Nurse will make a row."
"It might be a 'her,'" said Freda; "we don't know who it will be yet."
"It must be somebody who wants a night's lodging—some poor beggar. We see some going along the roads when we are out."
"I wonder if Dreamikins will find somebody before we do. She has no horrid nurse keeping her from doing things she wants."
"A H.D.," said Daffy, with twinkling eyes. "We'll call her H.D. to ourselves, Freda; she'll never know."
They began to wonder when they would see Dreamikins again. Their days seemed dull without her, but Nurse determined that they should not meet too often. She was distrustful of Dreamikins; there was something in her joyous face and free easy manner that touched on insubordination. And then something happened that put Dreamikins out of her head. A letter came one morning from Mrs. Harrington, and it brought sad news. The children's father had been killed by a Turkish shell in Mesopotamia.
When Nurse broke the news to the children, her voice shook. Freda and Daffy would not believe it.
"Dad killed, Nurse! Oh, he can't be! It's a mistake. He can't possibly be dead!"
"What does Mums say?"
"She's coming down this week. Dear heart alive! What shall we all do? The master—so young and hearty—but there, this War be takin' all the best! He had no need to volunteer as he did!"
Freda and Daffy crept into a corner of their nursery and cried a little. Nurse was crying easily and almost happily; tears hurt and choked Freda. She was horribly ashamed of them, and struggled to overcome them. Daffy felt she ought to cry harder than she did. She loved her father, but could not yet take in what his loss would mean. They had never seen very much of him; he had always been so busy, but sometimes he would take them to the Zoo or to Madame Tussaud's or to the Pantomime, and then the hours were golden.
"Shall we go on living here?" she asked Freda. "Perhaps Mums will take us back to London."
"Oh, I hope not. Oh, Daffy, do you remember what Nurse said? It has come to pass, and we never thought it would."
"About this being Bertie's house if Dad died? Yes, I remember."
Daffy spoke soberly, but Freda's eagerness carried her on.
"Of course if it's Bertie's house now he can give us leave to do anything we like, and it will be quite easy to put strangers up for the night. Nurse could say nothing at all, nothing. We'll ask Bertie now."
Bertie was pulled into the corner which Freda and Daffy always retired to when they had important business on hand. It was the corner which was farthest from Nurse's chair, and from her quick ears, which often heard more than they were meant to do.
"Bertie, this is your house now. You'll give us leave to have one of the bedrooms to do what we like with, won't you?"
Bertie stared at his sister with round eyes.
"Is it mine own house? Why is it?" he asked.
"Because dear Dad is dead, and he has left it to you."
"But I don't want Dad to be deaded. It makes Nurse cry."
"It makes me cry too," said Freda, gulping down a lump in her throat; "but God has done it, so there's nothing to say. And this is very important. It has to do with God. He wishes us to do it, and we want a bedroom, Daffy and me."
"What must I do?" asked Bertie meekly.
"Make him write it on paper," said Daffy, "like one of our story-books. Don't you remember a man left a little girl—Helen her name was—all his money and a big house, and he wrote it on a bit of paper?"
"I'll write it," said Freda quickly. "We'll do it at once, in case we might be stopped."
So a piece of paper was found, and a black stump of pencil, and Freda wrote in her best round copy-book writing:
"I give to Freda and Daffy one of my bedrooms in this house for somebody that God wants to stay here."
And then they told Bertie he must sign his name. He had great trouble in doing this, but they stood over him till it was done, and then Freda folded up the paper and put it into a small box of hers which locked.
"Now," she said to Bertie, "this paper is a secret, and you mustn't tell Nurse."
"I haven't been a naughty boy?" questioned poor Bertie, who always connected secrecy with misdoings.
"You've been a 'markably good boy," said Freda approvingly; and Bertie ran back to his brick-building with great content. "Now we'll have to get the room ready," said Freda triumphantly, "and then we'll find the stranger."
"But we mustn't do anything just now," said Daffy, who generally checked Freda's rapid plans. "It won't be proper. Look at Nurse. She's still crying! And we're forgetting to cry ourselves."
So they sat quietly in their corner, and began to talk about their father, and then they felt more and more miserable, and more tears fell. When Jane came in they felt pleased to hear her say to Nurse:
"The poor children! How they feel it! 'Twill be comfort for us to have the Mistress down. 'Tis a terrible blow, sure enough!"
Feeding the Hungry
MRS. HARRINGTON did not come down to her children for some days. When she arrived she was in deep black, and she brought the family lawyer with her. She did not see much of her children, but then she never had. She cried a little over them the first evening of her arrival, then she began to discuss their clothes with Nurse.
"I will have no black frocks. Keep them in their holland and white ones, and give them black sashes and ribbons, and put a black ribbon round their hats. That is all that is necessary."
"As long as we are in the country, I suppose, ma'am," said Nurse, with rather a shocked face.
"I am not going to have you back in town for some time. I am going to let our town house, but I will talk to you about this later on."
Nurse looked rather dismayed, but she said nothing.
This was all that the children heard. They were pleased at the idea of staying on in the country, and now that Nurse was more occupied with their mother, and less in the nursery, they enjoyed greater liberty. Jane was very good-natured, and was not particular about their behaviour. When she went out walking with them they could do pretty well as they liked. One afternoon they met Dreamikins with her maid. She welcomed them with rapture.
"I've been longing to see you. Cherubine and me feel quite dull. Fibo told me your daddy was dead. Are you very sad?"
"Of course we are," said Daffy. "We've cried gallons, and all the house is miserable, and everybody wears black dresses but us; it's a shame!"
"Do you like black frocks? Why?"
"Because they don't show the dirt," said Freda promptly. "We hoped Mums would give us some, but she won't."
"I s'pose you've been too miserable to think of being sheep."
"No-o," said Freda slowly; "we've laid plans for the stranger's bedroom, but it isn't ready yet."
"Mine is," said Dreamikins, with pride. "I maded the bed myself. I asked Fibo if I might get a bedroom ready for a visitor, and he said 'Yes.' Fibo nearly always says 'Yes,' he is such an A.M."
"What's that?"
"Angel Man. I always call him that when he is special kind. I've come out this morning to hunt about for a stranger, but I can't find one; not even a little one. Everybody we've met lives about here."
"We might do some of the other things first," said Daffy thoughtfully.
"But the stranger is the most exciting," said Freda. "I'm longing to meet him."
And then as they were walking along the lane talking eagerly somebody came towards them. It was a man, and he was in dusty clothes, and he limped. He carried an old sack across his shoulder, and one of his boots was tied round his foot with a handkerchief.
In a moment the three little girls darted towards him.
Dreamikins reached him first.
"Would you like to sleep at our house to-night?" she asked him breathlessly.
"No, at ours," shouted Freda and Daffy together.
He looked at them surlily.
"Garn with yer games!" he said; and he pushed past them, but Dreamikins laid her soft little hand on his arm.
"You must listen—we'll make you. It isn't a game; it's real sober truth. If you don't want us to take you in, p'raps you're hungry, or thirsty. Are you?"
Then the old tramp stopped.
"Yes," he said, "I be fair longin' for a drink. Have ye a copper, little leddies?"
But Dreamikins shook her head. "We must give it to you ourselves, and I reached you first, so I'll do it."
Freda and Daffy looked rebellious. But Dreamikins turned upon them with her sweetest smile.
"You won't mind, will you? I'll just go and get him a glass of milk. I'll take him to our house and give it to him. You see, my house is nearer than yours."
Before Freda and Daffy could offer any objections she had turned the corner of the lane with the tramp.
Annette, who had been talking to Jane, now hurried up.
"Ah, Miss Emmeline!" she exclaimed. "Where is it now that cheeld has gone? Away with a beggar? What a life I lead!"
She ran after her little charge, and Freda and Daffy were following, when Jane stopped them, and insisted upon going another way.
"'Tisn't time to be turning back to the village yet. Come, Miss Freda, we're going to the wood where the nuts are. You let them go and fight their own battles. We'll go on where we meant to go."
Jane gained her point after some disputing; but Daffy whispered:
"We'll go and see Dreamikins this afternoon when we're playing in the garden, and we'll go through the little door."
image003
FREDA AND DAFFY POUNCED UPON HIM IMMEDIATELY
"I mean to be first next time," said Freda. "Dreamikins will take every one away from us if we don't take care."
For the first time they felt rather angry with their little friend; but they were very curious to know whether she had given the strange man a drink or not.
"The thing for us to do is to be ready for everything out of doors," said Freda, with decision. "We must have food and drink in our pockets, and give them to the very first beggar we see."
"I wish it wasn't beggars we have to look for; they're so dirty and rude," said Daffy discontentedly.
But on their way home fortune seemed to favour them. They came across a little boy with a white face and ragged coat sitting in the hedge. His feet were bare, and he was clutching a bundle which rested on his knees. Freda and Daffy pounced upon him immediately.
"Are you thirsty?"
"Hungry, are you?"
"Sick?"
"Do you want a nice bed to-night to go to sleep on?"
The boy looked at them with rather frightened eyes, and didn't speak.
"Who are you, and where do you live?" asked Freda, trying to speak more quietly. "You must be quick and answer, because Jane will be interfering, so make haste."
The boy jerked his thumb back over his shoulder.
"My feyther be on his rounds. He've gone over to them there 'ouses to mend their pots and pans."
"Is he a tinker?"
The boy nodded.
"And are you very poor? Wouldn't you like us to give you something to eat and drink?"
Another nod, but the boy's face brightened, and he looked up at them expectantly.
Alas, Jane came up.
"Now, Miss Freda, Nurse don't allow you to speak to tramps, I know."
"He isn't a tramp," said Freda indignantly; "his father is a tinker. We have a picture in our book 'Tim the Tinker.' They're kind of gipsies, and he's a very nice little boy."
Daffy bent her head near the stranger child.
"Come up to the Hall this afternoon at three o'clock, and wait behind the big tree in front of the house," she whispered.
Freda heard the whisper and approved. Very often whilst she hotly disputed with Nurse, Daffy quietly went and did the thing they wanted to do.
Jane found no difficulty in getting them to come home. Freda and Daffy walked on sedately in front of her. They talked eagerly in low tones, and made plans for the good of the small wayfarer.
They were turned out in the garden as usual, after their nursery dinner. Both Freda and Daffy had managed to secrete some meat, and Freda had added a piece of currant pudding, which she put in her pocket. Daffy had got a medicine bottle filled with clean water. They made their way to the grand old cedar in the centre of the lawn, and there sat down to wait for their visitor. Bertie was trundling his wheelbarrow along the gravel path. He was filling it with small stones as he went.
"We shall do better than Dreamikins," said Daffy. "And the Bible says a cup of cold water, not milk, is the thing to be given. I remember Nurse reading it to us long ago, so I've got a cup in my pocket too."
"But we haven't got his bed ready," said Freda disconsolately. "It seems so difficult; p'raps he won't want it. We'll ask him."
The time seemed long as they sat there and waited.
At last they thought they saw something moving in the shrubbery at the bottom of the lawn; and then a little figure came out of it, and crept up to them very shyly. He was barefooted no longer. He had washed his face and hands and looked quite tidy and respectable.
Freda looked a little disappointed.
"Are you really hungry and thirsty?" she asked sternly. "Speak the truth, for this isn't a game, it's a—a religious thing!"
"And," said Daffy, looking at him with dancing eyes, "if it's done properly it will turn us into sheep."
Well might the small boy stare at the children in dazed wonder.
"There be six of us," he said, "and times be bad, and feyther he won't go for a soldier, and mother she lams it into him he oughter."
"Of course he ought," said Freda; "our father went out to fight in Egypt somewhere, and he's been killed."
The small boy did not seem impressed, but he told them he was "fair famished."
"Now sit down, and we'll give you something to eat and drink. You first, Daffy."
So Daffy with great pride pulled out of her pocket a small china cup and her medicine bottle of water.
She filled the cup solemnly and presented it to him.
He looked at it, took a gulp, then pitched the cup on the grass, and Freda declared afterwards that he used a "wicked swear" word.
"I didn't come up 'ere in the bloomin' heat to be fooled," he said.
Freda and Daffy looked quite frightened.
Freda hastily produced some slices of cold roast mutton in a paper parcel.
"We're not fooling you; we're giving you what the Bible tells us to give you—meat and water. And I've a piece of pudding besides. Here it is!"
He almost snatched the meat from her, and ate it wolfishly in his fingers.
"Hain't you got no more?" he asked.
"Here's the pudding," said Freda.
She and Daffy watched him with disgusted faces. Then Daffy said very gently:
"I don't think you know how very differcult it's been to get you anything at all. We had to get Nurse out of the room, and coax Jane, and then she would hardly let us take any."
The pudding quickly disappeared, and then the boy's bright impudent eyes looked up.
"Mother thought as 'ow you might give me something for the little 'uns. Feyther—he drinks more'n he earns."
"We've nothing more to-day," said Freda hastily; "except p'raps we could get a bedroom for you. Would you like to sleep with us one night?"
He grinned, but shook his head.
"Where do you sleep?" asked Daffy.
"We lives in Northcott; we was only comin' roun' the village 'ere, feyther and me. Mother 'll be on the look-out for me now; 'er did hope for a napple puddin' or such-like."
Even Freda and Daffy received that suggestion suspiciously. Apple puddings, of course, would be a boy's taste, but a mother with a starving family might prefer something more nourishing. Then from under his jacket he produced a dirty white calico bag.
"Mother giv' me this to bring back full," he said.
Freda and Daffy gasped as they saw the size of it.
They consulted together in low tones.
"You see, we shall be feeding a lot of hungry children all at once," said Freda. "I'm sure it would be a good thing to do. Let's take the bag, Daffy, and go round to the yard by the back-kitchen door. The kitchen-maid might give us some scraps."
"Yes; we'll tell him to wait here."
No sooner said than done. The boy threw himself down on the grass under the tree, and the little girls ran off with his bag.
They were fortunate in meeting Nellie, the kitchen-maid. She was filling a can from a tap in the yard. They hastily explained to her what they wanted.
"A dear little hungry boy, and he will be glad of any scraps."
"Dear Nellie, do give us some, but don't tell Nurse."
She laughed.
"Eh, but you'll be gettin' me into a scrape sure enough if Cook catches me."
But she took the bag, and in about five minutes' time came back with it nearly full.
"'Twill only be thrown to the fowls and dogs," she said. "There, get on, or else we'll all be getting into trouble."
Away marched the little girls with their burden, but, alas! as they turned round the corner of the house they saw a big motor at the hall door.
Their mother was saying good-bye to some friends, and, to add to their dismay, Nurse was crossing the lawn with Bertie.
Mrs. Harrington caught sight of her little girls, and called to them.
"Come and speak to your godmother, Freda; and Daffy too. Come along!"
Daffy ran forward, but, on the impulse of the moment, Freda dropped her bag and sat upon it. It was the only way she could hide it.
Daffy stopped when she saw her sister was not following her.
"Go on, Daffy; I can't get up," said Freda desperately.
"What is Freda doing?" asked Mrs. Harrington, as she introduced her little girl to a pleasant-looking motherly woman—a Lady Aline Cotteswode—and her son, an invalided soldier from the War.
"She can't get up," said Daffy nervously.
"Has she hurt herself? Oh, I must see my goddaughter!"
In another moment, to Freda's horror, her mother and her visitors left the motor and came along the terrace to where she sat.
Now Freda felt she was in a desperate plight. In another moment the bag would be exposed, and she would be handed to Nurse in deep disgrace.
"I must tell a lie, I must, I must," she said frantically to herself.
"Get up at once, Freda. What are you doing?" said Mrs. Harrington sharply.
Freda looked up with agonised eyes.
"I can't, Mums."
"Where are you hurt?"
Then the young soldier laughed out.
"She's sitting on eggs. We mustn't disturb her."
It was only too plain that she was sitting upon something, and her mother caught hold of her and lifted her up. Then Freda stood with scarlet cheeks and downcast eyes, and the bag itself was lifted up by her vexed mother.
"My little girls are always hatching mischief, not eggs," she said, with a forced laugh. "What in the world does this bag of food mean, Freda, and why should you try to hide it?"
"Never mind," said Lady Aline cheerfully, kissing the hot soft little cheeks, and becoming conscious that Freda's blue eyes were filling with tears. "You were in the middle of a lovely game when we disturbed you. I want you to come over and spend a day with me soon. I am having little Emmeline Broughton over. She is a close neighbour of yours. Do you know her?"
"Dreamikins?" asked Freda, forgetting her trouble at once. "Oh yes, we love her, and we love her uncle too."
"Ah!" said young Captain Cotteswode. "There you show your good taste! He's a great friend of mine, and that little elf of a niece leads him a nice dance sometimes."
Lady Aline laughed, and turned to Mrs. Harrington.
"Keep your chicks away from her, Helen, if you value your peace of mind! She took a drunken tramp to the village inn this morning and gave him two glasses of beer. He began to get quarrelsome, and then the Rector passed by, heard the row, and rescued the young lady. He could not convince her she had done wrong, for she said the man had told her he was thirsty, and the Bible told her to give him drink."
Daffy and Freda exchanged glances.
After a little more talk, Lady Aline and her son went back to their motor, and drove away. Then Mrs. Harrington turned to her little daughters.
"Now, what is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, Mums, there was a poor little hungry boy, and we were taking some scraps to him. Please let us do it. He is waiting down near that tree."
"But you mustn't encourage beggars, children. Does Nurse know about it? And why did you behave like that, Freda? I was ashamed of you. Don't you know you should never hide up anything? Doesn't Nurse teach you to be truthful and frank? I must speak to her about it."
"Oh, please, Mums, forgive me," said Freda humbly. "Don't tell Nurse, she scolds and scolds and scolds, and makes us out the wickedest children in the world, when we are really trying to be good."
"And, darling Mums, may we just give the bag to this poor boy? For it belongs to him, and we promised him," said Daffy coaxingly.
"Where is he?"
Freda pointed to the tree on the lawn.
Mrs. Harrington went towards it, the children following her. She spoke rather sharply when she saw the boy.
"Look here, you must go away at once. I will let my little daughters give you what they promised you, but I have told them it must never occur again, and this is the last time you come near the Hall. Do you quite understand?"
The boy took the bag held out to him by Freda, then he touched his cap to Mrs. Harrington, and darted down the drive.
"Now then, children, run away to Nurse, and don't act so foolishly again."
Mrs. Harrington went back to the house. Freda and Daffy drew long breaths of relief.
"Mums won't tell Nurse. She always forgets to. I'm so glad the boy has got it. What an awful thing for Dreamikins to do! She said she was going to give him milk."
"I expect he told her he would rather have beer," said Daffy; "and we were going to see her, Freda, and we haven't gone."
"It's too late now. We'll go to-morrow. We've done more than she has, anyway."
"But he didn't like my water," said Daffy sorrowfully.
The Strangers Arrive
THE little girls did not meet for several days. The weather was bad again, and kept them confined to the house. Dreamikins missed Freda and Daffy as much as they missed her. She had been very quiet and contrite after her visit to the public-house. When Fibo asked her how she came to think of such a thing, she looked at him sweetly and gravely.
"It was Cherubine who ercited me to do it. And you read it to me yourself, Fibo. I can say the verse: 'I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink.' He told me he was thirsty, and he said beer was the only thing that did him good. He doesn't like milk or water. So I gave him drink; and when he wanted another glass, I paid for it; and I had no more money, and when he wanted more he got into a bad temper because he couldn't have it. Mr. Temple seemed to think me wicked. I'm not, am I? God understands quite well, and if Cherubine told me to do it, it must be good."
"I'm beginning to be doubtful about Cherubine," said Fibo, looking at his small niece with perplexity in his eyes. "I think you had better consult me first, next time she tells you to do risky things."
"Oh, but she wouldn't like that at all, at all," said Dreamikins hastily. "She would think it very rude of me, if I told you things she tells me; and you mustn't forget where she comes from, Fibo dear."
Fibo took this rebuke in silence, and Dreamikins moved about with great dignity for the next half-hour. Then she forgot all about it, and chased Grinders round and round the lawn till they were both exhausted.
Two days afterwards she was allowed to go to the post office by herself and post a letter for her uncle. On the way back she saw a young man leaning against his bicycle, talking to the landlord of the "Blue Boar." And as she was passing him, she heard him say:
"I'm sorry you can't put me up. I'm a stranger in these parts, and I wanted to stay the night here."
A stranger! Dreamikins' heart beat fast. She stood still in the road considering; but she never considered very long. The delightful possibility before her drove everything else out of her head. She watched the young man get upon his bicycle with rather a weary air, and then, as he rode towards her, she stepped into the middle of the road and held up her small hand authoritatively.
The young man swerved, jumped off his cycle, and said rather sharply:
"Do you want to be run over, little girl? What are you doing?"
"I'm stopping you. The policemen do it like that at Brighton."
"But what are you stopping me for?"
Dreamikins came very close to him, and laid hold of his coat sleeve.
"I've got a bed ready for you," she said, in an eager whisper, "and I've sticked pins in the cushion, and Fibo let me do it, and Cherubine and me will be very happy if you comes to-night, and please come along now."
The young man looked quite bewildered.
Did this child belong to some people who let lodgings? he wondered. If so, he was in luck's way. He recklessly determined to follow her.
"I want to sleep here to-night," he said. "I've done nearly forty miles to-day, and am dead beat."
"And you're a stranger," said Dreamikins softly. Then she tucked her hand into his.
"I've been expecking and expecking till I'm worn out."
"Did you expect me?"
"Well, no, not exackly. You're rather dusty, but you're not in rags. It doesn't say what the stranger is to be like, but I'm sure you'll do."
When she came to her uncle's house the young man hesitated, and felt uncomfortable. But she led him into the garden in joyful triumph, and took him straight up to her uncle's invalid chair.
"Fibo dear, he's comed! The stranger has comed! And his room is quite, quite ready. And I've bringed him to you, so that it may be all right."
Fibo turned. The young man bowed.
"I'm a parson on a holiday," he said, "and the inn was full, and they couldn't put me up, and this little girl assured me I should get a bed here. She wouldn't take a No from me, so I came along. My name is George Ferrers. I'm a curate in Birmingham."
Fibo held out his hand.
"I believe you've done right to come," he said, "and I don't wonder my pixie led you here. Her soul is in the adventure."
"What does it mean?" asked George Ferrers.
He looked at Dreamikins as he spoke, and she danced up and down in ecstasy, her face radiant with smiles.
"Explain it, Dreamikins," said her uncle.
Then Dreamikins stood still, and the sweet reverent look came into her face.
"It's just instead of having Jesus Christ to sleep with us," she said. "We can't have Him. I should burst with joy if I could; but He told us if we got any stranger instead of Him, it would do, and so you've come."
Then George Ferrers' eyes shone with a glad light. He understood.
"I am not worthy," he said.
There was silence for a moment. Then Fibo said heartily:
"You'll be doing us a kindness if you stay. I can't get about, and my visitors are few and far between. Dreamikins shall take you to our spare room; and make yourself at home! I dine at eight."
"I'm ever so grateful," George Ferrers answered, and then Dreamikins led him away.
She was very excited, made Clara bring some hot water, and showed him the soap she had put in the soap-dish, the pins in the pincushion, the bunch of flowers in the vase on the dressing-table. She even turned back the sheet and blankets of the bed to show him his pillows.
"I maded the bed with Clara, and she laughed all the time; and I dust the room every day with my own duster, so I know it's ready. Do you like it? Do you think it's nice?"
"I think it's just perfect," said the young man enthusiastically, and when Dreamikins at last left him, she went back to her uncle with a shining face.
"I haven't made a mistake this time, have I, Fibo? Cherubine told God how dreadfully mis'able I was over the beer that man drinked; and so God planned it all out for me to-day. Wasn't it good and sweet of Him!"
What could Fibo say? He looked very grave.
"You did quite right in bringing him straight to me, Dreamikins. You won't make mistakes if you always do that."
Whilst Dreamikins was entertaining her guest, Freda and Daffy were busy preparing for theirs. They had chosen a bedroom leading out upon a balcony in a disused wing of the house, and they had stolen into this room at different times, bringing treasures of all sorts—soap, bits of candles, towels from other rooms—and now their great difficulty was sheets and pillow-cases.
"It isn't fair," grumbled Freda; "Dreamikins has only to say, and she gets at once. Everybody is against us in this house. Even Jane won't give us matches. And he must have matches."
"I'll get some matches from Nellie," said Daffy, "and we'll wait till the stranger is really coming, and then we will give him our sheets and pillow-cases and go without ourselves. That will be very good of us, I'm sure, because I hate blankets, they tickle so!"
Every day they looked out for strangers, but none seemed to come their way. When the weather grew fine again, they thought out a plan, and that was to go down to the park wall which bordered the road. There was a part of it lower than the rest, and a tree grew close to it. Freda and Daffy were able to climb this tree and then step on to the wall. They sat here patiently, watching everybody who went along the road. Once or twice tired-looking men with knapsacks on their shoulders had passed them, but they had not the courage to speak to them or stop them. At last, one afternoon when they were sitting there an old man came along, and sat down to rest in the hedge on the opposite side of the road.
"He's a tramp and a stranger," said Freda breathlessly; "just the one!"
"Yes," assented Daffy; "we must make haste and ask him."
So Freda called out in her high clear voice:
"Good afternoon, old man; we're very glad to see you. Would you like to sleep at our house this evening? You look very tired."
The tramp looked across at them in surprise. He was not a nice-looking man. He had a thin grey beard and little cunning eyes. His hat had once been a soft black felt, now it was battered and green. He wore a dark green handkerchief round his throat. His coat was out-at-elbows, his trousers were patched at the knees, and frayed out and ragged at the hems.
"Afternoon, Missy!" he said, and his voice was the only pleasant part about him. It was cheery and brisk.
"I'm for having a nap where I am," he said.
"But where are you going to sleep to-night?" asked Daffy.
"I reckon at Doulton Union if I can walk it; but I've blistered me heel and have to go slow. And I've a thirst which rages. Mow I wonder if you've a copper to spare a tired thirsty old man?"
"We haven't any money," said Freda, in a crestfallen voice, "but we've a beautiful bedroom ready for you, and towels, and soap, and candles, and matches, and the bed will be ready for you if you say you'll come. Daffy and me are looking out for a stranger. It's in the Bible that we're to do it, and so we've got it ready."
"I'll tell you how to find the room," said Daffy, bending over from her perch in rather a dangerous fashion. "You come in at the park gates, and go round by the shrubbery to the part of the house that is shut up. The blinds are all down, and there's a balcony outside one window and steps up to it. We'll leave the window unlocked, and you can creep in when dark. Will you come?"
"Do come!" pleaded Freda. "If we can, we'll put some food inside, because you'll be wanting some supper."
"Well," said the old man slowly, "it wants turnin' over in my mind, so it do! I may step up to-night and I mayn't!"
"Oh, do promise us you will! It's no good getting your bed ready if you don't."
"Who be livin' at your house? Is the master at home?"
"Dad used to be the master, but he is dead, and Nurse says Bertie is the master now, and he's written a paper to say we can do it. Mums and Nurse and us and all the servants live there."
There was silence, then the old man looked up at them, and his small eyes twinkled.
"You go 'long with you, and put some drink as well as mate in that there bedroom, and old John Cubbs will thank 'ee kindly."
"Then you'll be there to-night?" asked Freda breathlessly.
"Ay, I reckon I may."
The children got back to the tree and climbed down.
"It seems too good to be true," said Daffy breathlessly. "Now what must we do, Freda?"
"We can't take our sheets till after we're in bed to-night; Jane would miss them; but we can get some food for him. Nellie is our only hope."
So they made their way to the back door and lay in wait for Nellie. They dared not go in. The old cook would have no children in her kitchen at any time.
When Nellie came out and heard their request, she shook her head.
"Now who's it for this time? You mustn't bring beggars about the place."
"But he's in the road now," said Freda. "Do, Nellie, just this once. He's a poor old man; think if he was your grandfather!"
Nellie tossed her head.
"My grandfeyther is a respectable man. He wouldn't be beggin' from children like you."
"Oh, he didn't beg, at least not before we spoke to him. Just a nice plate of scraps, Nellie; the best that you can spare."
Nellie went indoors. She came out again very soon with a basin in her hand.
"There, take it. The basin is cracked, so it won't be missed; but this is the very last time, Miss Freda."
The children hurried away with their basin. They smuggled it into the house, and softly crept along the passages till they came to their empty room. Once inside, they breathed more freely.
"I feel as if we're being rather sly," said Freda, "but it's Nurse who makes us so. If we hadn't a nurse we wouldn't be sly."
"But do you think Mums would like it?" questioned Daffy.
"I think if she had time to sit still till we explained she would understand. Jesus Christ wouldn't have told people they ought to do it if it wasn't right. He says distinctly: 'I was a stranger, and ye took Me in.' This old man is a stranger and we're going to take him in."
"Yes," said Daffy; "it must be right."
They looked round the room. Everything seemed ready. Freda cautiously unlocked the big French window, which led out upon the balcony.
"Suppose he doesn't stay in his bedroom," suggested Daffy, "and comes walking over the house, and Nurse met him, or Mums did, what would they say?"
"He wouldn't be likely to walk over the house in the middle of the night. He would want to sleep. But the key is on the passage side of the door; we would lock him in."
"Yes; he could get out and in by the window. Freda, will he stay more than one night?"
"I hope not. I never thought of that. Nellie won't give us another basin of food."
"She hasn't given him anything to drink."
"He must drink water out of the water-bottle. We filled it."
"The most difficult thing is to get our sheets on his bed."
"Oh, we'll do it," said Freda airily. "We'll manage it when Nurse goes down for her supper. She always has it in the housekeeper's room."
They walked round the room. The bed was a big one; there was a chintz-covered couch at the foot of it, and a big easy-chair. A writing-table was in one corner and a bookcase in the other. The carpet was thick and soft to tread upon. Damask curtains hung over the window.
"I'm sure he'll find it very comfortable," said Daffy, smelling the soap on the washing-stand.
"I wonder if he's got a hairbrush and toothbrush and all he wants?"
"Oh yes, he had a bundle. We'll put his basin on the writing-table. It has got a mutton chop in it, and some cold potatoes, and a piece of bacon, and then there's some rice pudding, and a dry bit of cake, and a piece of jam roll. But it's all mixed up. It must taste very nasty."
Freda had been carefully examining the contents of the basin. Now she placed it on the table, and then she and Daffy slipped out of the room.
"I won't lock the door till we've got the sheets in," she said.
They spent the rest of the day in anxiously thinking about the stranger's coming. When bedtime came, Daffy was almost glad.
"It seems quite a year since we saw the stranger," she said. "I do hope he'll manage to get in all right."
The little girls slept in two beds side by side in one night-nursery, Nurse and Bertie slept in the other; and the two rooms opened into each other, and the door between them was never shut.
When they were in bed Nurse left them, and went back to the day-nursery, where she and Jane sat and worked or read. It was still daylight, though the blinds were down, and directly they were left alone Freda set to work.
"We must leave our top sheets in case anybody sees. You take off your bottom one quick, Daffy, and I'll take off mine, and we must fold them up very small, and put the pillow-cases inside. There are two pillows to be covered, so we must have both of ours."
This was done after some trouble in folding them up. Then they crept back into bed again, each hugging her sheet, and waited to hear Nurse go downstairs. The time seemed long. Would she never go?
Freda and Daffy in Trouble
DAFFY was getting sleepy. Suddenly Freda called to her in an excited whisper:
"She's gone, and Jane went first. Come on, and don't make a noise."
Softly they sped along the passage, down some stairs to another long passage, through a green baize door, past several rooms, and at last they came to the right one.
"He may be here already," said Daffy fearfully. "I'm a little afraid."
"He won't come till he wants a bed," said Freda reassuringly; "and grown-up people never go to bed till it's quite dark."
They found the room empty, but Daffy kept glancing out of the window, with her heart beating fast. It was dusk in this big room. The creepers outside the window tapped against the window-panes, as if they were hands that wanted to come in.
She and Freda were not very clever at making up a bed, and when she pulled a corner of the sheet towards her, Freda pulled it away again. It seemed as if they could not get it smooth and straight.
Then an owl hooted outside the window, and Daffy gave a little scream.
Freda was hotly indignant with her.
"You're a coward, that's what you are! And you'll make Nurse come down upon us, if you don't take care. I wish you weren't so clumsy! Do be quick! I think I hear him coming!"
That quickened Daffy. She did not want to see that dirty ugly old man coming into the dusky room. The pillows were thumped into their cases, the blankets and coverlet drawn tight over the big bed and tucked under the mattress, then Daffy slipped out of the room, thankful the task was over. Freda locked the door and took the key to bed with her; even her bold heart did not wish to have the old man prowling about over the house in the middle of the night.
They snuggled down into their beds again, rejoicing that they had not been seen by any one. Daffy dropped off to sleep quickly in spite of her rough blanket. Freda lay still with wide awake eyes. She trembled when, later on, Nurse came into the room with candle in hand. She stood over the children's beds for an instant, and Freda breathed quickly. Would she see there was no sheet?
But Nurse passed on, muttering to herself as she sometimes did, and Freda caught the words:
"Poor fatherless children, and their mother bored at having to think about them!"
Then Freda burrowed her head into her pillow, and sleep soon came to her.
The next morning was bright and sunny. But there was no sunshine in the nurseries, for Nurse had quickly discovered the absence of pillow-cases and sheets, and her wrath was great. Jane was called, and the children questioned, but Freda and Daffy maintained a stubborn silence.
Nurse took hold of Freda by the shoulders and shook her.
"Not one morsel of breakfast shall you have until you've told me what you've done with your sheet, you naughty child!"
Then Freda lost her temper. She flung the key down on the floor in front of Nurse.
"Go and find out for yourself; I shan't tell you! I hate you!"
And even mild-tempered Daffy echoed: "Yes, go and find them, Nurse. You always call us naughty before you know!"
Nurse seized the key.
"Jane, sit them on those chairs till I come back."
The little culprits were taken to the day-nursery. Jane seated Bertie at the breakfast-table, then went to fetch the porridge.
"Freda, do you think she'll find him in bed?" whispered Daffy from her high-backed chair.
"I don't care if she does," said Freda, with hot angry cheeks. "I hope he'll kick her."
Nurse was a long time coming back. They heard her hasty steps along the passage, and voices and doors opening and shutting. Then they heard their mother's voice calling to Purling, and their hearts quaked and thumped.
"They've found him asleep," said Daffy, "and now they're wondering who he is. Oh, Freda, I do wish we hadn't done it."
Shortly afterwards the door opened and Jane came in with the porridge. She looked very excited. Behind her was Nurse, and their mother, with her hair braided down her back, and clad in her blue silk dressing-gown.
"Here they are, ma'am, and it beats me how they dare to do such things! There's nothing they won't be up to, but when it comes to harbouring thieves and vagabonds, then I say nothing but a sound whipping will do them any good!"
"Freda and Daffy, get down from those chairs. Now what do you know about this? Somebody has been sleeping in one of our spare rooms; he has left this behind him, but taken away a good many things that did not belong to him. The gardener says he met an old tramp coming down from the house at six o'clock this morning, and he told him he had been sleeping at the house as a guest!"
Mrs. Harrington held out a piece of notepaper, evidently a sheet that was on the writing-table, for it bore the Harrington crest upon it, and the address, "The Hall, Douglas Cross."
In shaky writing across it, were these words:
"My thanks to the yong ladies. A very good nite."
Freda looked at Daffy, and Daffy looked at Freda.
"Speak," said their mother sharply. "What have you been doing?"
"May we tell you alone, Mums?" said Freda. "Nurse doesn't understand. We did get the bedroom ready for him, and told him how to get to it, but—"
"There, ma'am," said Nurse angrily. "Now what do you think of that? They're beyond me altogether! It's a mercy we were not all murdered in our beds!"
"You had better give them their breakfasts and send them to me. I must get to the bottom of it. Those Sheffield plate candlesticks and ivory trinket boxes are a real loss. I shall have to put it into the hands of the police."
Mrs. Harrington left the room as she spoke, and then ensued a very bad half-hour for Freda and Daffy. Nurse could scold like nobody else. They were only allowed dry bread for their breakfast, and were not allowed to speak to one another. When they were sent to their mother's room, Freda carried a little box under her arm; she was defiant, Daffy indifferent. Nurse's scoldings had always that effect on them.
"Mums won't scold like Nurse; we couldn't hear anything worse," Daffy said, as they walked along the passages to their mother's room.
Mrs. Harrington was sitting by her open window having her breakfast; she always took it in her bedroom. She never had understood her little daughters. She disliked finding fault with any one, and the loss of her husband had affected her so deeply that she felt nothing else mattered. Now she looked at them with a perplexed frown upon her face.
"Come in, and tell me quietly why you have been behaving in this extraordinary way."
Freda was only too ready to be spokeswoman.
She opened her box, and produced a slip of paper which she laid upon her mother's lap.
"You see, Mums dear, Bertie gave us the room. It belongs to him now, doesn't it? And Daffy and me are trying to be good and to do what the Bible tells us. And you know when Jesus Christ will stand at the door of heaven to let everybody in, He'll ask us if we've taken a stranger in, and given drink and food to the hungry and thirsty, and a lot of other things. If we haven't done it, we shall have to be goats, and if we have, we are sheep. And the sheep go inside heaven and the goats are shut out. And Daffy and me want to be the sheep."
Her mother looked at her gravely.
"I see. You explain very clearly. Go on!"
"Well, then, you see we had to find a stranger to take in, and an old man passed along the road, and we were sitting on the wall, and we asked him if he would like to have a bed for the night. We didn't know he was a wicked thief, and we told him how to get to the bedroom up the steps to the balcony, and Daffy and me couldn't get any sheets for him, so we took one of ours, and that's why Nurse found it out and was so angry."
Mrs. Harrington was looking at the paper upon her lap. She read it out aloud:
"I give to Freda and Daffy one of my bedrooms in this house for somebody that God wants to stay here."BERTIE HARRINGTON."
"Now who told you that this house belonged to Bertie?"
"Long ago," said Daffy softly, "Nurse told us that Bertie was much more important than us, because, if Daddy died, this house would belong to him."
"You haven't waited long to take advantage of your father's death," said Mrs. Harrington, rather bitterly.
Freda and Daffy hung their heads in shame.
"Now pay attention to me," their mother continued, in her slow quiet tones; "this house does not belong to Bertie till he is twenty-five years old. It belongs to me till then, and I forbid you to ask any one to stay in it unless you have my permission. Until you understand the Bible better, you are not to act out its precepts without asking grown-up people if it is right for you to do so. I believe there is a verse about heaping coals of fire on your enemy's head. Do you think you ought to do that?"
"I feel I would like to do it to Nurse," said Freda, with emphasis. In imagination she saw Nurse's cap and hair in flames, and considered it would serve her right.
"Exactly. You don't understand that a great deal of the Bible is figurative language."
"What is that, Mums?"
"Oh, I can't explain," said Mrs. Harrington, yawning. Then she roused herself to speak sternly. "That old tramp decamped with a good many valuable articles of ours. You put temptation in his way, and if the door had not been locked outside, he would have stolen much more. Who did that?"
"I locked the door, Mums," said Freda.
There was silence.
"Well, for children, I suppose you managed as wisely as you could. Now go back to Nurse, she will know how to punish you. And never do such a thing again. I thought I told you not to encourage beggars when I sent that boy away the other day."
"Nurse will be so fearfully angry," said Daffy.
"You deserve her to be. It was doing it secretly that must be punished. I will not have you grow up deceitful children."
"But Nurse thinks everything wicked," wailed Freda; "she wants us to have no fun at all."
"You don't want fun when your father lies dead in a foreign land," said Mrs. Harrington sharply.
Then she relented as she saw the forlorn look on the little girls' faces.
"There's right fun and wrong fun, and the Bible ought not to be turned into fun. Never. Now go back to the nursery."
Freda and Daffy crept out of their mother's room. Nurse was waiting for them, and did what she very seldom did now, she gave them each a sound whipping, and put them to bed.
And Freda and Daffy were two very unhappy little girls for all that day. They felt that from the grown-up people's eyes they had behaved badly; but they wondered if God looked down from heaven and understood better than Nurse.
"We'll ask Dreamikins about it," said Daffy; "but she never seems to get punished for anything."
"That old stranger ought to be punished, not us," said Freda. "We gave him a nice bed and food, and he stole Mum's candlesticks and other things."
"Nurse makes out the bed and the food weren't ours to give him," said Daffy. "She treats us as if we're thieves."
"Perhaps we are," said Freda thoughtfully.
Her busy brain was hard at work. She felt shaken in her self-confidence.
It was two or three days later that Fibo asked them to tea, and though Nurse was almost against their going, their mother said they might do so.
Dreamikins greeted them with her usual joyous welcome.
"Cherubine and me have been longing to see you. I've had a beautiful stranger staying in my bed, and Fibo liked him so much he stayed two days."
"Oh!" groaned Freda. "Everything is all right with you. We took in a stranger who was a thief, and Nurse hardly thinks us out of disgrace yet, though it was days and days ago!"
They began to compare their experiences, and then somehow or other they found themselves pouring it all out to Fibo, and Daffy asked him when he had heard all:
"Now do you think we were any wickeder than Dreamikins? What's the difference between us?"
"Why," said Dreamikins, "I've got an A.M. for my uncle, and you have a H.D. for your nurse. That's what makes the difference."
"Now look here," said Fibo, rousing himself, as he saw Freda's and Daffy's anxious faces. "I think I must give you all three a good talking to, because none of you are quite as wise yet as we grown-up people. Astonishing, isn't it? Now come and sit down, and we'll be thoroughly comfortable before I begin."