The little girls sat in a circle upon the grass round Fibo's chair, then Dreamikins insisted upon having Grinder and Drab.
"It'll do them good to hear you, Fibo dear, and after we've all listened hard, you must give us one choc each for good behaviour. Cherubine is going to listen too. I know she'll say 'I told you so!' when she hears you."
"Now then, here we go. First of all, I must remind you that those words were addressed to grown-up people, not to children. If you look in your Bibles, our Lord was speaking to His disciples."
"Oh, Fibo dear," said Dreamikins reproachfully, "can't children be disciples?"
"Yes, they can, but they are not able to do everything that grown-up people do. And this taking in of strangers is not for them, because they don't own a house or a bedroom; nor is food even, if taken from the kitchen, theirs to give, as B.B. and E.E. know."
"But," said Freda eagerly, "we did think the house and bedroom belonged to Bertie; Nurse said it did, and we got him to give it to us, only Mums says it belongs to her."
"Yes; you see, you made a mistake; that's where you showed you were not quite wise enough to manage such a big undertaking. The fact is, though none of you like to hear it, you mustn't act on your own. Ask advice of older people."
"I always ask Cherubine," said Dreamikins, smiling.
"Yes, but you would do better to ask me," said Fibo.
Dreamikins put her head on one side, then she held up one small finger. "Hush, Fibo, Cherubine is speaking."
Fibo was quiet at once, but he looked straight at his small niece with rather grave eyes, and she gave a little wriggle.
"Oh well, Fibo, she says she'll tell me to ask you sometimes, and you know I did ask you about the room, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did, but it was just a chance you didn't bring along a thief into the house. You wouldn't have known the difference. Now I'll tell you a beautiful way you can carry out our Lord's wishes. What is it He wants you to do?"
"To give drink to the thirsty and feed the hungry," said Daffy.
"To take strangers in and visit the sick," said Freda.
"And give clothes to the naked and visit in prison," said Dreamikins.
"Very well. Now I know several good people who take ragged children in; they feed and clothe them and give them houseroom, and nurse them when they're sick, but they can't do this without money. Now, if you have a collecting box, and put some of your loose pennies in, I will send up the box to them when full, and then you will be feeding these children, and clothing them, and taking them in as strangers with your money."
"Oh, but that would be so dull, Fibo dear," said Dreamikins.
The children's dismayed faces made Fibo laugh.
"And that wouldn't do it all; it wouldn't be visiting in prison," said Freda.
"Well, I know people who visit in prison, and that can't be done without money; you could have a box for that. You see, if you really feel you can't wait till you're grown-up to do these things, you can get some people to do it for you; that's what I mean."
"It isn't a bit the same," said Dreamikins. "And lots of children don't grow up; you know they don't; and then we shall be goats."
Fibo looked at his niece with a funny little smile, then he said suddenly:
"Perhaps you could do one or two of the things now, without waiting till you turn into wiseheads."
"Oh, do tell us," cried Freda and Daffy together.
"I think you could go and visit somebody sick. Mrs. Daw was telling me to-day of a dear old body who is in bed with very bad rheumatism. She used to be our laundress. She lives quite alone, and would be cheered up if you went to see her."
Dreamikins clapped her hands; but Freda and Daffy looked unhappy.
"Nurse wouldn't let us. She never will let us do a single nice thing."
"Oh, we'll manage Nurse. I'll tackle her."
"Will you really?"
Hope sprang up in their hearts.
"And what else?" they asked.
"I'm only a clumsy man, but I believe you can all use the needle. If we could have a little sewing party one day in the week, you could make clothes for some poor little kids who have none to wear, and I would see that they got them all right. But we should have to get Annette to cut the clothes out, and show you how to do them. I'm no good at that sort of thing."
"We don't like sewing," said Dreamikins, looking at her little friends; and Freda and Daffy both agreed with her.
"Of course, if you only want to do what you like—" began Fibo.
"We'll do it, Fibo dear, only you must tell us some most erciting stories all the time we work, and we must have an extry good tea after, to make up."
"I don't know that you need rewarding for doing good," said Fibo quietly.
"No, that we'll get inside heaven," said Dreamikins thoughtfully. "Perhaps we might try those two things."
"Yes," said Freda decidedly; "if Nurse lets Daffy and me do it, we will."
"And we can ask Mums," suggested Daffy.
Then they all brightened up, and Fibo said he wouldn't talk any more, not till next time; and then the little girls had a romp in the garden together till tea came, and they enjoyed themselves as they always did, and Freda and Daffy went home comforted.
"I always like," said Freda, "to feel there's something in front of us; and now there is."
A Day of Naughtiness
IT was only a few days after this that Freda and Daffy were playing in the garden, when Dreamikins suddenly appeared before them. She had no hat on; her curls were flying in the wind, her cheeks were hot, and her blue eyes dancing with mischief and excitement. Generally she was a dainty little person, and certainly kept her frocks much cleaner than Freda or Daffy. But now her white frock was splashed and stained with mud, and her white socks were torn and dirty.
"What's the matter?" asked Daffy.
Dreamikins danced up and down before them.
"I'm tarred out with Cherubine. I slapped her and sent her back to heaven. I'm tarred of being good, and I'm having a real wicked day. I felt tied up too tight, and now I'm stretching myself, or I really think I shall burst!"
Freda's eyes gleamed.
"Do tell us what you've been doing."
Dreamikins proceeded to give an account of her day in rapid breathless tones.
"It was because I woked too early, and I couldn't stay still in bed, and Cherubine said I oughted to, and all of a sudden I felt I'd had enough of her, and I tolded her so; and of course she didn't like it, and I said she was no fun no longer, I was tarred of her; and then she wouldn't go, so I slapped her, and of course that sent her flying away like lightning!"
"But how could you slap her?" questioned Daffy.
"Why, of course, I slapped on my chest just where she snuggles down next my heart."
Then Dreamikins paused in her dancing, and her eyes grew big.
"It's a awfully wicked thing to slap a angel!"
"I should think it was," said Freda. "I don't believe you did it. Go on; what did you do next?"
"I runned downstairs, and out into the garden in my nightie. I turned on all the water-taps everywhere and let them run, and then I kicked off my shoes and paddled where there was pools. Then Carrie came out of doors and tried to catch me, and I threwed stones at her, but she didn't care; and then she catched me, and I kicked her, and she didn't care; and then he carried me upstairs, and Annette was there to scold me!"
"What else?"
"Oh, I just went on and on. I threwed the soap out of the window, and lots of things besides, and when I was dressed I went downstairs and shut Drab into the larder, and mixed up some jam and butter together when Mrs. Daw wasn't looking. And when I'd finished breakfus, I just ran all over the house, and did all the mischief I ever could. I untidied all the tidy places, and I emptied all the boxes and drawers out on the floors, and I upset the ink. And then Fibo sent from his room for me, and I wouldn't go, and then I crawled through the door into your park, and I've been climbing trees, and catching tadpoles in the ditches, and I chased the sheeps, and then I comed off here. And now, what shall we do? Something really wicked it must be. I'm never going to be good again!"
"Then you'll never go to see that old sick woman," said Daffy.
"No, never, never!"
Dreamikins shook her curls defiantly.
"I'm so joyful not to have Cherubine. She got so tarsome, and I feel quite light and empty without her. Have you got any chickens? I opened our gate and let them run all over the flowers before I came away. Let's go and do something!"
Freda and Daffy looked at each other. They hardly knew this Dreamikins. She seemed to have turned into a little imp.
"You forget we have Nurse," said Freda soberly.
"Let's put out our tongues at her," suggested Dreamikins.
But neither Freda nor Daffy would allow this, nor would they agree to go to the poultry yard and work havoc there. Then Dreamikins seized hold of Bertie, who was playing on the lawn by himself.
"I know what we'll do," she said; "we'll make Bertie into a Red Indian. Have you any paints?"
"Yes," said Freda delightedly, "in our paint-boxes. I'll go and get some."
Off she ran to the house; then Daffy and Dreamikins took Bertie off to a secluded corner of the flower-garden where there was an empty shed used by the gardener for his tools and flowerpots. Unfortunately, upon a shelf Dreamikins found some green paint. She seized upon it.
"Oh, we'll make him a green Indian. Let's undress him."
But Freda, coming back, wouldn't allow this.
"You can take off his jacket and knicks, but he would take cold if he hadn't something on."
She and Daffy eagerly watched Dreamikins as she dabbed Bertie with spots of green paint all over his body. He was quite willing to be painted. His hair, his cheeks, his fat chubby arms and legs, were liberally sprinkled with the paint. His little vest was striped with it. The children shrieked with laughter when they saw how funny he looked. And then Bertie grew excited, and danced up and down, and in the middle of it Nurse swept down upon them. She had heard their laughter and screams, and Freda and Daffy shrank into a corner of the shed, thoroughly ashamed of themselves. Not so Dreamikins. She waved her paint brush in front of Nurse, and besprinkled her white cotton dress with paint.
"He's a green Indian, and I'll make you one too," she cried, and then, as Nurse furiously laid hands upon her, Dreamikins fled out of her reach, and raced across the lawn, singing as she went:
"There was a Haughty Dragon,Her name was Mrs. Nurse!She was a horrid woman,She couldn't well be worse."
By this time Dreamikins was feeling rather tired, so she crept into her uncle's garden again by the little door, and half an hour after, Annette found her fast asleep in a wheelbarrow which had some freshly mown grass in it.
Annette carried her up to bed and let her sleep there till two o'clock, when she woke her up and gave her some dinner.
Dreamikins ate her dinner silently. Her cheeks were flushed with sleep, and Annette sat by the window sewing, and wisely said nothing to her.
After she had finished her meal, she washed and dressed her in a fresh white frock.
"Now we'll go out for a walk," said Annette..
"Oh no, we won't," said Dreamikins. "I'm not going to do anything good to-day. I'm being wicked."
Annette looked helplessly at her charge.
"Your good uncle be very grieved, and he have a bad head to-day, and he lying down now. Will you go for to wake him and give him more pain?"
"I aren't going near Fibo, not yet I aren't. I'll take a walk by myself, Annette, and if you follow me I'll throw stones at you."
Dreamikins put on her hat, but would not look at her gloves; she threw those into a basin of water, and laughed at Annette's shocked face when she did so.
Then she sallied forth; but Annette secretly followed her. She said to Mrs. Daw as she was leaving the house:
"Miss Emmeline have not been like this for long long time. It is sad how evil she can behave, but her good uncle be the one to cure her, only she will not go to him."
Dreamikins marched on without looking behind her, till she came to the village. Then she turned her head, and saw Annette in the distance. She dashed round the corner of the street, and, seeing a cart and horse standing outside a house, in an instant sprang up into it, and hid herself under the seat, pulling an old rug entirely over her. No one saw her do it, and presently the carter came out and drove off. Annette was wildly hunting about for her little charge, and, after a fruitless search, went home, hoping that she would have arrived there before her.
Dreamikins lay still for a long time.
"I'm going a journey," she asserted to herself, "and I'll get away from everybody; and a good thing too!"
But she soon began to fidget, and at last, in sheer mischief, she put out her hand and sharply pinched the carter in the leg. He did not feel it at first; then he put down his great hand and came in contact with hers. In another minute he had dragged away the rug, and was staring at his passenger with astonished eyes.
"Well, I'm blest!" was all he could say.
And Dreamikins crept out, and laughed and clapped her hands.
"You didn't know I was there, did you, now? I'm having a nice drive."
"But where do 'ee come from, little Missy?"
The good man had pulled up his horse, and was staring at her in a puzzled fashion; but Dreamikins seized hold of his whip and whipped the horse so smartly that he trotted on.
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"YOU DIDN'T KNOW I WAS THERE; DID YOU?"
"Let me have the reins," she said; "now, do let me. I want to drive hunderds of miles away, and lose myself the other side of the world."
"What be your name, and where do you come from?" asked the carter.
"I've runned away, and I shan't tell you nothing about me."
He rubbed his head, looked back along the road, which seemed empty for a long way behind them, then seized his reins, which were already in Dreamikins' hands, and drove rapidly on.
"I'd best take her to the Missus. Her 'll know what to do with her."
Then Dreamikins began to chatter in her gay, inconsequent fashion, and the man listened to her in great bewilderment, and was very relieved when at last they arrived at a big farmhouse. He drove into the yard, and in a moment or two there was quite a little crowd round them—his wife, two farm-hands, the farmer and his wife, and two maid-servants. Dreamikins was taken possession of by Mrs. Dufty, the farmer's wife.
"Come along, my pretty! Wherever did you come from? Hid in the cart, did you? Oh, fie! And what will your daddy and mummy say?"
"They don't know nothing about me," said Dreamikins. "I'm just having a holiday to-day, with nobody to say 'No' to me."
"But where do you live, my lovie?"
Dreamikins turned up her blue eyes to Mrs. Dufty reflectively.
"Well, I lives at Brighton, but I stays with Fibo, and I wouldn't ask where he lives if I were you, because I aren't going to tell you."
Then she added with guile:
"I do feel very thirsty; do you think you'd like to give me some milk?"
"Bless your little heart, come along in, and after you've had some tea you'll tell us pretty where you've come from!"
Dreamikins shook her curls from side to side, but followed the farmer's wife into a comfortable kitchen. She was soon sitting up at the table with them, for their tea was already waiting. And Dreamikins thoroughly enjoyed a slice of bread and cream with jam, and a cup of strong tea with three lumps of sugar in it.
"Fibo doesn't like me to drink tea," she said, with a satisfied sigh, as she emptied her first cup and asked for another; "but as I'm being wicked to-day it doesn't matter."
"Oh, fie!" said good-natured Mrs. Dufty, who had no children herself, though she loved them. "Little ladies like you aren't wicked, I'm sure."
"But I are," said Dreamikins, whose grammar got very bad when she was excited. "I've runned away, and if you'll keep me a few days I'll be very much obliged. Why—"
Here she stopped, gazed gravely at the farmer and his wife, then, planting her elbows on the table, rested her chin in her hands and smiled sweetly upon them.
"Do you know what you'll be doing if you take me and give me a bed to-night? You'll be doing what Jesus said we must do if we love Him; you'll be feeding a stranger—that's me—instead of Him, but He counts it just the same, and He'll make you into His sheep and put you on His Right Hand in heaven. So you see I'd better stop, hadn't I?"
"Well, of all the darlings, you are the prize one!" said Mrs. Dufty, beaming upon her. "And dearly should I love to keep you, but think of your people, what a state o' mind they'll be in."
Dreamikins' eyes twinkled.
"Annette will be running all over the place, and shaking her hands; she always shakes her hands when she's fussing; and Fibo—well, I won't think about him, because I'm going to go on being wicked!"
She shut her lips firmly together, and gave a nod at Mrs. Dufty. There was a little defiance in the nod. And then the door opened and the carter's wife appeared.
"Please, mum, Annie says the young lady comes from the Dower House. Captain Arnold be her uncle. Annie's home is in the village, she says."
Dreamikins jumped down from her chair and stamped her foot on the floor.
"I don't care what Annie says, I aren't going back to-day."
"The poleece will put us in prison if we keeps you," said the farmer gravely, winking at his wife as he spoke.
"That will be lovely!" said Dreamikins, clapping her hands. "Then I'll come and see you. I want to see people in prison."
"Did you ever see such sperrit, John! Bless her little heart, I'd dearly like to keep her, but you'd best get the horse and trap round and drive her back at once. It's six miles; she could never walk it."
It was no good protesting; the farmer bestirred himself, but when the trap was at the door, and he came in to carry Dreamikins out, she threw her arms round Mrs. Dufty's neck, and clung to her convulsively with a bitter cry.
"I don't want to go home. I'll be good instead of wicked if you keep me just one night. I'm sure God wants you to. He's written it in the Bible."
"Look here, lovie, you shall come another day and see us, and p'raps stay the night if your uncle will let you. You go with John like a little lady now."
It was a tearful Dreamikins that sat perched on the farmer's knee in the trap. She really dreaded seeing her uncle, for she knew how naughty she had been. When home was reached, she was lifted down at the front door; but panic seized her, and the spirit of wickedness too. It was her last effort at defiance.
"I aren't going indoors! I'll run away again!"
She pushed open the gate that led out upon the lawn behind the house. Nobody was in the garden, and she raced down the path. She heard Annette's flying feet behind her, and then she tumbled—a garden roller was on the path. She fell over, clutched the handle of it, and brought the handle down with an awful crack on her leg. She screamed in agony, and poor little Dreamikins' wicked day was over; her leg lay twisted under her; and when she was picked up and carried into the house it was found that it was broken.
A Little Invalid
THAT was a very confused and dreadful night to Dreamikins, and the next day was not much better. She was conscious of such pain as she never in her small life had experienced before. The doctor appeared almost directly, and the medicine he gave her seemed to make her so sleepy that she could hardly take in anything. When she was not asleep she was in great pain, and was not allowed to move her leg or get out of bed. Fibo came to see her in his wheeled chair, and talked to her in his happy comforting way. In a few days she began to feel better, and then she remembered things. Then one evening Annette came in great distress to Fibo.
"Oh, Monsieur, will you come to Miss Emmeline! She cry and cry in a peetiful way. I can no comfort bring her, and I do not understand the wherefore of her cry. It is not that the little leg hurts, so she says!"
So Fibo came and found the golden curly-haired head buried in the pillow, and the small shoulders shaking with sobs.
"Why, Dreamikins," he said, "are you washing your pillow with salt water? That will never do. What's the rub?"
Dreamikins raised her flushed tear-stained face and looked at her uncle.
"I'm miser-rub-bub-bubble!" she sobbed.
"So I see. What has happened?"
"I haven't said my prayers for years, and now when I want to say them God won't listen to me. He's gone away."
"That, I know, isn't true."
"Yes, it is."
Dreamikins mopped her face with her handkerchief, and spoke in her old assured tone.
"It's because of Cherubine, and I'm all alone; and there's nobody to take care of me when I sleeps, and anything might happen. Satan might come and sit on my pillow, and there would be nobody to frighten him away. God won't come near me, and I want to speak to Him badly."
"What do you want to say?"
"Oh, just to tell Him I'm sorry for all I did that day, and I'll never be so wicked again. But God left me; that's why I broked my leg. If Cherubine had been there she would have caught hold of that nasty old roller and not let it slip on me. I sent her away, and God hasn't sent me any angel since."
"If you speak to God now He'll hear you, Dreamikins. He is always ready to forgive us when we are really sorry."
"But I have speaked, and He won't answer. He's gone away."
Fibo hadn't known Dreamikins for so long without understanding her mind.
"Shut your eyes," he said; "I am going to speak to God about you. He is quite close to me."
Then Fibo prayed a short little prayer for his penitent little niece, and light began to dawn in Dreamikins' blue eyes.
"God, of course, listens to you, Fibo, you're so good. Does He say He will come back?"
"Yes; He is here. Now speak to Him yourself."
And then, with a great sigh, Dreamikins began her prayer. Fibo did not hear all she said, for she began to sob again, but after a little she looked up with a smile.
"He's comed back to me, and He's going to look after me to-night all His own Self."
Fibo left her. Dreamikins was just Dreamikins, and could never be altered. He understood why her mother said she was too difficult to manage.
The next day was a brighter one for everybody. Dreamikins had recovered her spirits with a bound. When Fibo came to see her, she was ready for a long talk. She went over in detail all the sins she had committed on that one black day.
"I can't think what made me," she said, with a shake of her curls; "but Cherubine had been aggerrating me for a long time. And even now, Fibo dear, I don't think I want her back. How would it be if I had another little angel for a change?—a boy this time. I wonder if he would be sent? But I expect Cherubine would tell him all about me, and then he wouldn't want to come."
"Look here, Dreamikins, we won't talk about angels now. I was rather ill that day when you ran amuck, but it mustn't happen again. You are getting too old for it, and if you don't try to keep yourself controlled now, you'll grow up such a horrible woman that no one will want to live with you."
"How horrible?" asked Dreamikins, with an eager gleam of interest in her eyes.
"I'll tell you about a man I knew who did much the same as you did. He had a dear little wife, and three sweet little children, and for months they would live happily together, and then suddenly he would, as his wife said, 'go on the burst.'"
"Oh, how did he do it?"
Fibo did not like the pleased expression in Dreamikins' eyes. His face got very stern and grave.
"He went to the first public-house he could get to, and then he got roaringly and disgustingly drunk. He would come home at night, and throw chairs at his wife, and smash them to pieces, and nearly kill her. The next day he would go off and drink again, and behave like a madman. He would generally end by fighting some ones and then would be taken off to the police station, and be locked up. Then, after a time, he would come home, and be good again—as good as gold—till he got tired of being good, and then would have another burst of drinking. And at last, in one of these wicked drunken fits, he went home and threw his dear little baby out of the window, and killed it; and then he kicked his wife downstairs, and she broke her neck. He was tried for murder, and was hanged."
"Oh, Fibo!" Dreamikins gave a shudder. "And will I get as bad as him?"
"The principle is the same," said Fibo gravely. "You get tired of being good, and you then have a real wicked day which you thoroughly enjoy. I've known one or two such days in your life before. It won't do, my Dreamikins; you must stop yourself before it's too late."
Dreamikins lay back on her cushions with soft dreamy eyes and the most angelic expression of face.
"You see, Fibo dear," she said at last, "it's best not to try to be too good, and then you don't get tired so quick!"
"Well, I must say I don't think I've ever found you too good."
"Haven't you really? But then you don't know what goes on inside me—Cherubine pulling me one way and Satan the other. Why, I'm nearly teared in two pieces."
Fibo began to laugh, and his lecture ended.
"You'll want all your goodness now," he said. "If I were you, I would have the little angel Patience to stay with me till you can run about again."
Dreamikins straightened herself in bed, and spoke with great dignity.
"I chooses my own angels, Fibo dear; and I should think Patience wasn't any fun at all."
So they left it, but the days were long and wearisome to Dreamikins; and as soon as she was well enough for visitors, Freda and Daffy were sent for to spend the afternoon with her.
The little friends met again with delight.
"We've never heard what happened after you ran away from us that day," said Freda. "Nurse was the whole afternoon cleaning the paint off Bertie; she was in an awful temper, and she said you should never come near us again. If Mums hadn't been at home, she wouldn't have let us come to-day. But Mums has been very kind; she let Daffy and me go by ourselves to see that old sick washerwoman. Jane knew her, and said she'd be glad to see us, and we've taken her some flowers, and a bun, and a packet of cocoa we bought with our own money. And she's a dear old woman, and tells us stories about when she was a little girl and went to a Dame's school. A Dame is a woman. Did you know that?"
Dreamikins listened with the greatest interest. Then she told them about her adventure at the farm.
"I mean to go and see Mrs. Dufty as soon as ever I'm well. She loves me, and I love her."
"Don't you hate lying in bed?" asked Daffy pityingly.
"Yes; but, you see, I had no angel, or it wouldn't have happened. I shall get a new one soon. I shan't have Cherubine back. I didn't quite like one or two things about her. She got to contradick me so often."
Freda and Daffy often wondered how much Dreamikins believed in her own inventions, but they dared not question it to her.
They visited her very often after this, and brought her story-books to read, and puzzles to solve. Very soon she was carried down into the garden, and placed on a couch close to Fibo's chair.
She was rather proud of this position.
"You and me are just alike now, Fibo. I think we're very interessing, aren't we?"
"Just two L.D.'s," said Fibo.
"Lame dogs—yes; and it's very sad for us, isn't it? P'raps I shall never walk again, just like you. Oh, Fibo dear, how did you feel when they tolded you? Didn't you cry a teeny weeny bit?"
Fibo looked at his small niece with rather a twisted smile.
"It pulled me up," he said; "the fence was too high to take at first, but I managed it after a bit."
"Yes; but weren't you cross? Did you never want to throw things at people? I threw a book at Annette this morning!"
"Throwing things doesn't help, little woman! But I do allow it relieves one's feelings."
"I do love you, Fibo, when you unnerstand so. I wish the fairies would come and hop up and down me when I lie like this. If we were to sleep out here one night, you know, they might. We should feel them tickling us. I think you might make up a story about us!"
Fibo was just going to begin, when there was a scurry of feet behind them, a swish of a silk dress, and a lady in dark blue, with a wonderful hat and veil, and a very happy face, swooped down upon them. She took Fibo's head between her two gloved hands, and bending down gave him a quick little kiss on his forehead; then she put her arms right round Dreamikins and smothered her with kisses.
"My Dreamikins, I've come to nurse you. My poor cripples! Isn't one enough in the family without having another?"
It was Dreamikins' mother. She, like her little daughter, arrived in haste without any warning.
Dreamikins put up her hand, and stroked her mother's cheek caressingly.
"I thought you'd have arroved sooner," she said. "I've been ill years!"
"I dare say it seems years to you; but Daddy got leave, and we were in London together; and Daddy always comes first with me, Dreamikins. You know that."
"I come first with Fibo," said Dreamikins, a little triumphantly.
"Now I want to be told all about it—letters don't count—from the beginning. And whose fault was it?"
"The nasty roller's," said Dreamikins promptly. Then she began to tell the story herself, and her mother sat and laughed.
"I can't help it, Gus; don't frown at me. I never could be a proper mother, and Dreamikins is beyond me. Who is your familiar spirit now, childie? You seem to have behaved very rudely to Cherubine."
"I'm just empty," said Dreamikins, "and God is so kind as to take care of me Himself without any angel at all. I'm going to get a fresh angel soon, and then I'll tell you who it is."
She spoke with great dignity. Then Fibo turned to his sister.
"I hope you've come to stay this time."
"For a week or so, if you can have me."
She looked round the garden as if she loved it.
"I don't forget the old days, Gus. How happy I was, and how torn in two I was when I had to leave you!"
"I shall always live with Fibo when I'm growed up," said Dreamikins. "I shan't leave him like you did."
"Oh yes, you will, when a man walks in who means to be your husband. And if I had stayed with your uncle, there would have been no Dreamikins in the world, for God only sent you to me after I had left him."
Dreamikins considered this.
"I don't quite remember," she said quietly; "but I s'pose there were other fathers and mothers who might have liked me besides you and Daddy."
"No," said her mother, shaking her head at her; "there was nobody in the wide world who wanted to have you but Daddy and me. And there would be nobody who could love you, and put up with your antics, as we do, so be thankful you are our child and no one else's. Gus, she must be educated; how is it to be done?"
Mrs. Broughton turned to her brother eagerly as she spoke.
He laughed.
"She's tied by the leg for a good month at least, so we won't load her with education just now. My dear Minna, have you brought any luggage with you? Are they getting your room ready? Will you have some tea?"
"Yes, yes, yes," cried Dreamikins' mother. "Carrie is seeing to everything. I am going to sit here, and do nothing but talk."
She did it in her gay fascinating way, first turning to one of the invalids and then the other. When tea came she poured it out, and the afternoon seemed crammed with sunshine to both Dreamikins and her uncle.
Dreamikins told her mother all about her little friends; in fact her tongue ran on so fast that she quite forgot her leg, until a sudden twinge of pain reminded her, and then her mother took her in her arms, bandaged leg and all, and kissed and fondled her, and sang little gay songs which took away the pain.
When Dreamikins was at last carried off to bed, her mother went into the house, and later on came to dinner in a lovely white lace gown, and Fibo assured her that she was younger and prettier than ever.
"And I hope wiser and better," said Mrs. Broughton, laughing. "I feel I ought to be very clever to have to deal with my small daughter. You manage her best. We love each other dearly, she and I, but we have passages of arms, and then we get very angry with one another, and that isn't good for her or for me. Will you have her, Gus, for a good three months? I'm tired of doing nothing but amuse myself, now every woman is working. And a friend of mine wants me to go out to France with her and help her to work a young women's hostel. Now don't pull a long face, but wish me all success."
"I shall be quite willing to keep Dreamikins; but, my dear Minna, you will be back at the end of your first week out there."
"Not I. This War is altering us all. And I shall be nearer Charlie. It's an awful life when he's out there and I'm here. I was wondering if I should send Annette away and get a nursery governess, because the child must begin to learn something. Do you think Mrs. Harrington would let her little girls learn with Dreamikins? I wonder if I might call, or is it too soon after her husband's death?"
"Write and ask her," said Fibo. "I rather dread possible combats between Dreamikins and a governess. You would have to get the right sort, or there would always be squalls."
"Yes. Is the child extra naughty, do you think, Gus? She has such a will and personality, and her imagination runs riot. That's partly your fault. You always soaked me with poetry and romance, and so it appears in my child. Her father and I gaze at her half paralysed sometimes when she insists upon repeating to us conversations she has with her invisible playmates."
"That will right itself as she gets older. She is a lonely child, and is bound to invent companions if she has none. I did as a boy."
So they talked together, and before she went to bed that night she paid a last visit to Dreamikins.
She lay a picture of health and innocence; and then, as her mother stooped and kissed the soft, flushed cheek, Dreamikins smiled and murmured:
"It's no good to make up to me, Cherubine, I—are quite firm—I won't have you back."
The Governess
TEN days Mrs. Broughton stayed with her brother, and in that time she had seen Mrs. Harrington, and actually found a daily governess, who was coming in on her bicycle from the nearest town, three miles off. She was to come to the Dower House every morning, except Saturday, from nine o'clock till twelve, and Freda and Daffy were coming over to learn lessons with Dreamikins.
At first it had been proposed that the lessons should take place at the Hall, but Mrs. Harrington seemed rather afraid of friction between the governess and Nurse, and Freda and Daffy were only too delighted to go to the Dower House. They assured their mother that it was much the best plan, and she willingly agreed with them. For the present, at all events, Dreamikins could not be moved, though the doctor said she was making a marvellously quick recovery, and Mrs. Broughton was anxious that lessons should start as soon as possible.
One other thing Mrs. Broughton did before she left her brother, and this was a great surprise and pleasure.
One sunny afternoon a low four-wheeled pony-chaise drew up at the door of the Dower House, drawn by a stout white Shetland pony with flowing mane and tail. Fibo was taken out in his wheeled chair to inspect it, and Dreamikins was carried out by Daw, her eyes almost starting out of her head with astonishment and delight.
"This is my present to you both," said Mrs. Broughton. "Let me show you how the cushions can be moved, so as to support your poor legs. It has been made expressly for you, Gus, by a Brighton coachbuilder, a friend of mine; and I've spoken to your doctor about it, and he says it's the best thing for you, so you can raise no objections. The summer is going fast. You won't be able to sit out in the garden much longer, and Daw knows of a lad in the village who will come in and look after the pony. You will be able to drive yourself about the lanes, and Dreamikins can learn to drive too if she's a good girl."
Dreamikins gave a yell of delight; she almost threw herself out of Daw's arms; and when she was lifted into the carriage, and a little sliding shelf covered with a cushion shot out from under the seat and received her bandaged leg, she clapped her hands in ecstasy. Then Fibo was lifted in, and they took a trial trip up and down the drive. Mrs. Broughton watched them with a happy smile. Everything worked smoothly. The pony was quiet and manageable, and Fibo had not a single objection to make, except that money ought not to be spent on such things in war-time. Mrs. Broughton said that money was being showered down on invalids, and she was going to shower a little on her two invalids. And after she had given them this present, she said good-bye to them with smiles, and a few tears, and went away.
She was very much missed; but Dreamikins was so full of the pony and of the new governess that she could not be sad, and Fibo was only too glad that his little niece was going to stay on with him. He had been afraid when he first saw her mother that she had come to take her away.
Two days after Mrs. Broughton's departure Dreamikins knocked at her uncle's door before breakfast. She found him nearly dressed in his dressing-gown, lying on his couch by the window enjoying his breakfast. She came in on two crutches, which the doctor now let her use, with a mysterious air.
"I thoughted you'd like to know, Fibo dear, that he's just come down. About half an hour ago he did."
"Who is he?" asked Fibo.
"He's one of God's best angels, and he's very strong, and has been all over the world, and done the most wunnerful things. He can tell stories—lovely ones—of where he has been and what he has done, and his name is Er."
She paused, adding thoughtfully:
"I found that name in my Bible, and God told me it was the right one."
Fibo looked at her.
"Well, it seemed as if God did," said Dreamikins. "I aren't making it up altogether, Fibo."
Then she went on smilingly:
"He won't let nothing hurt me, because he'll be stronger than Cherubine, and he'll make me like to be good, Fibo. Cherubine tried to make me good, but I never liked it, never!"
"Dreamikins," said Fibo gravely, "there's only One Person Who can make you really good. No angel can."
"Yes, of course," said Dreamikins, shrugging her shoulders. "I quite unnerstand, Fibo; but Er and me unnerstand each other, and he'll be a great 'normous help to me. I'm going to show him the garding now, and tell him a few things. Do say you're pleased he has come! He likes being with me very much, he says, and he's promised to always take care of us when we go driving, so that you may be quite comfortable about me driving you. We couldn't have a naxident with Er."
Fibo laughed out at the artfulness of this, and then Dreamikins hobbled away, and he heard her out of his window talking volubly to her new guardian angel.
That same afternoon Freda and Daffy came to tea, and were delighted to see their little friend off her couch, even though she had to use crutches. Her nimbleness with these made her uncle rather nervous.
"Not so fast, little woman. If you had another tumble and another break it might be bed again for six months."
"Oh, I have Er now," said Dreamikins cheerfully; "he'll look after me."
And then, seeing her little friends' surprise, she introduced her new guardian to them promptly, and for a quarter of an hour had a good deal to say about him. After that, they began discussing the new governess, who was to appear in a very few days' time.
"Do you know what she is like, Fibo?" asked Daffy anxiously. "Will she be another kind of nurse? We had a governess in London, she was young, but she didn't like lessons, and used to read story-books to herself while we were doing our sums."
"And where are we going to do our lessons?" asked Freda. "Daffy and me hope perhaps in the garden."
"Oh no," Dreamikins told them; "Mummy got one of Fibo's rooms ready for us. It's upstairs, and the table is so big it takes up all the room. And Mummy says our governess is called Miss Fletcher, but Fibo and I call her the R.P.—that's the Ruling Power. But I hope she won't rule me up and down too much."
"She'll save me from doing it," said Fibo. "Now, I prophesy that she'll be the most charming lady, and we shall all fall in love with her violently, and long for her to live with us altogether!"
"It's very exciting," said Freda. "And do you know, Fibo, Mums is soon going back to London to do war work, and we shall be left here all the winter. She's coming back to us for Christmas, and we mean to have all kinds of nice things then."
"By Christmas I shall be able to dance on both my legs again," said Dreamikins.
They chattered on, for they had a good deal to tell each other, then Freda and Daffy went off to visit Shylock, the pony, in his stable. They loved him as much as Dreamikins did, and longed to possess a pony of their own. Dreamikins told them grandly that she and Fibo were going to drive into the town the next day and do some shopping.
"P'raps you'll see the governess," said Daffy.
"I expect I shall. I hope I shan't drive over her when I see her. I shall be so ercited I may pull the reins crooked."
"Fibo will be driving, not you."
"I shall be driving, always," said Dreamikins, with extreme dignity.
"You don't know how," said Freda. "You think too much of yourself, Dreamikins. Daffy and me say so."
"I don't care what Daffy and you say!"
Dreamikins' cheeks got hot. She was not accustomed to be contradicted.
"You'd better go home," she added, turning her back on them, and beginning to play with Drab's tail.
They were all sitting on the grass together. Freda and Daffy jumped up at once.
"We'll go. It isn't much fun to play with you when you can only hobble and crawl!" said Freda angrily.
Dreamikins' blue eyes sparkled dangerously.
"You're two big babies with a nurse. No wonder she whips you and puts you in the corner. You want smacking now. Go home and tell her to do it. I hate you! I'll never play with you again as long as I live!"
She burst into a storm of sobs, and ran back to Fibo for comfort.
Freda and Daffy ran away down the garden as fast as they could, and crept out of the little door. They felt guilty, and were ashamed of themselves. It was their first quarrel.
"She's too ordering," said Freda; "she always thinks herself better and cleverer than us!"
"Yes," said Daffy quietly; "but I s'pose she is more clever. We don't make up stories half so well as she does. And we oughtn't to have found fault with her broken leg!"
"She's so aggerrating!" said Freda. "Now she'll make Fibo angry with us, and I love Fibo!"
"We'll tell him we're sorry when we go to lessons," said Daffy.
Nothing put Daffy out. But Freda's ruffled feathers took some time smoothing down, and it was not till she had slept over it that she was able to acknowledge herself in the wrong.
The eventful day came at last, and Freda and Daffy were dispatched by Nurse at a quarter to nine. Jane was to take them as far as the gate, and they were to be trusted to come home by themselves.
When they arrived at the Dower House, Carrie showed them into a little cloak-room in the hall where they could hang up their coats and hats.
"Has she come?" Daffy asked eagerly.
"Yes, miss."
"What's she like?"
"A nice-spoken lady," was all that Carrie could tell them.
Then they went upstairs to the room that had been turned into a schoolroom, and found Dreamikins sitting at the table by the side of Miss Fletcher, who was looking through some old lesson-books. Dreamikins, of course, was talking hard. She stopped when Freda and Daffy came into the room; but she evidently had forgotten their quarrel, for she put up her face to be kissed as usual when they came up to her.
"This is Freda and Daffy, Miss Fletcher," she said; "they live next to us, and are very nice."
Miss Fletcher shook hands with them. She had a bright face, fair hair coiled round her head, and was dressed in a dark blue gown. Freda and Daffy liked her at once, for she did not wear spectacles, and they never liked people who did.
"Come along and sit down," she said brightly. "We will not do much this morning, for I am going to pick your brains, and find out how much you know."
She began to question them. The little girls were shy, and answered to the best of their ability. But suddenly Dreamikins rested her elbows upon the table and looked at Miss Fletcher in her intense kind of way.
Miss Fletcher did not notice her look, but asked her:
"And now, Emmeline, we are coming to arithmetic. How many of us are in the room at present?"
Dreamikins slowly answered, "Five."
"Count again."
"Five," she repeated, "but you can see only four; there's you and me and Freda and Daffy and Er."
Miss Fletcher looked at her in a puzzled sort of way.
"Er is sitting close to me," Dreamikins went on; "he never takes a chair, but I feel him squeezing me. He won't want to do lessons, but he must be counted, for he's at the table with us."
Miss Fletcher looked under the table.
"Is it a dog?" she asked.
Freda and Daffy giggled. Dreamikins' face kept quite grave. Then Freda thought she had better explain.
"It's Dreamikins' guardian angel—at least she says it is."
"Oh, I understand now," said Miss Fletcher quietly. "Well, Emmeline, we'll say there are five of us at the table; if three of us went out of the room, how many would remain?"
But Dreamikins did not answer. She was thinking of other things. Then she smiled sweetly at her governess.
"Fibo says—Fibo is my uncle who lives here—Fibo says you're a most charming lady, and he'll fall in love with you violently—yes, violently—and long for you to live here altogether!"
The colour came into Miss Fletcher's cheeks.
"Emmeline," she said quietly, "this is the first day, so I shall make no rules, but to-morrow there must be no talking in lesson-time except about the lessons themselves."
Something in Miss Fletcher's tones reduced Dreamikins to silence. Miss Fletcher turned to Freda and Daffy, and went on questioning them.
Presently a meek little voice said:
"Please, I are waiting to answer."
And there was no more inattention from Dreamikins that morning.
In a few days lessons were firmly established. Miss Fletcher was fond of teaching, and did it in a happy way. The little girls all enjoyed the lessons, but the time they liked best was the half-hour in the middle of the morning, when they had a break and could do what they liked. It was this half-hour which helped Miss Fletcher to understand and know her little pupils. She heard all about Cherubine and her dismissal, and the coming of Er. She was told about the plans of befriending the hungry and thirsty and sick, and the stranger in want of a bed. And then she started a little working party for some poor ragged children. She said if they liked to have it on Saturday afternoon she would bicycle over and help them; and they were all delighted at the idea.
Fibo was very pleased when he heard of this, and promised to provide tea after it. And on Saturday, Miss Fletcher arrived with some pretty warm material already cut out to be made into frocks. The three little girls set to work bravely and cheerfully, but Dreamikins was the first to get tired.
"My fingers is hurting. My thimble has made a mark—it's too tight. My back aches, and now my leg is hurting. I believe sewing is very bad for it."
Then Miss Fletcher produced a storybook, and began to read to them. That made the time pass quicker. They worked for one hour and a half, and Dreamikins was proud of what she had done in the time.
"I'm glad you didn't let me stop," she said to Miss Fletcher. "And Er is very glad too; he wanted me to go on. We've really been working clothes for Jesus Christ, haven't we? He says He'll count it as if it was His!"
Then they had tea in the dining-room, because the weather had turned cold; and Fibo joined them and sat in his big chair at the head of the table, and cracked jokes, and made every one feel happy and comfortable.
Miss Fletcher had to hurry home; she said she had an invalid sister waiting for her. But the little girls stayed on. Freda and Daffy never wanted to go; and then Fibo let them come into his study, and he made funny sketches of an old man called Tumbledown who was never steady on his feet, and at last one day he climbed into an aeroplane because he wanted to go across the world without using his feet, and was never heard of any more.
"I hope you won't go away like that one day," said Dreamikins.
Her uncle looked at her with his funny twinkle.
"One day I shall climb right out of my poor old body, and go up away from you all without any need of an aeroplane," he said.
"And I'll hang on behind you!" said Dreamikins.
"Fibo means that he'll die and go to heaven," said Daffy gravely. "You won't be able to go with him."
"I'll go after him then. Er will take me. That's what he does—takes people to heaven when God calls them. He likes doing it better than anything else. He says he'll tuck me very comfy between his two wings and fly up and up, and he'll show me the moon and all the stars on the way. He tells me just at first I may feel cold, but when you come near heaven it's ever so nice and warm, and you never feel nothing when you get inside."
"But I should like to feel something," objected Freda.
"I mean nothing nasty. What a stoopid you are!"
Then Fibo changed the conversation. When Dreamikins once began to talk about heaven, she could never stop, and invented so fast, and was so angry when she was contradicted, that he thought it better to bring her to safer ground.
When Freda and Daffy went home that afternoon, they told Nurse that even she would have been pleased to see their work.
Nurse sniffed and said:
"I dare say you're proud of it, but in my time children used to be made to sew in school as a regular thing every afternoon; and if you were properly behaved young ladies you would like to do it too."
After that, Freda and Daffy judged it best to keep silent about their good works.
A Visit to a Farm
THE little girls became very fond of their governess. Miss Fletcher loved them all; but of the three, Dreamikins was the most difficult to manage.
One morning she was very inattentive. She sat with her slate before her, apparently working out a sum, but her brain was far away.
"Dreamikins, this is lesson-time," said Miss Fletcher sharply.
She had given up calling her Emmeline. Nobody called her that except Annette and the servants.
"Yes," said Dreamikins, smiling; "but Er is talking to me, and then I have to listen."
"Not in lesson-time," said Miss Fletcher firmly.
"Yes; I do 'sure you he does. I was asking him what happened to the little boy he took care of in a Indian forest when his Daddy was hunting lions, and got lost, and night came on in the dark,—black dark it was,—and the snakes crept up softly to the house, and the wolves sniffed and followed the snakes—"
"That will do. Go on with your sum."
"You interrup' me, and now I can't think at all—not to do sums nor nothing."
Dreamikins spoke in an injured tone. She put down her slate-pencil.
"Sit still for five minutes to clear your brain of all those exciting stories, and then begin your sum. If Er is an angel, Dreamikins, he wouldn't help you to be idle in school-time."
"No; and he doesn't," said Dreamikins quickly. "I were just going to tell you he said to me, 'You must not ask me to finish my story in sum-time.'"
She gave a triumphant look at Freda and Daffy as she spoke.
Miss Fletcher laid her watch on the table.
"I will tell you when the five minutes are up."
Dreamikins kicked her legs against her chair. Then she put her head on one side and smiled coaxingly at her governess.
"Fibo says you're a M.R.P., dear Miss Fletcher. Wouldn't you like to know what that means?"
"After lessons are over, I should."
So, with a sigh, Dreamikins tried to apply herself to her sum when the five minutes were up. It was the only lesson she disliked. Freda and Daffy did their sums in pencil in an exercise-book; Dreamikins made such a mess of her figures that she had to use a slate.
She tried hard to add up her figures, but when she brought them to Miss Fletcher they were all wrong, and angry tears rose in Dreamikins' eyes.
"It must be Satan who jumbles them up, and you won't let Er have nuffin to do with me, and so I've nobody to help me."
Then Miss Fletcher patiently made her stand by her side and count out loud, and in a very short time the sum was done and Dreamikins was happy again.
"Why need we do sums?" she asked.
"Because when you grow up you may have a good deal of money to spend, and if you don't want to waste it you must keep accounts, and put down what you spend; and when you do that, you have to add and subtract and do all the sums I am trying to teach you now."
"When I grow up," said Dreamikins, her eyes gleaming, "I shan't do nuffin that grown-ups gene'lly does. I shall have a airship, and go right away from the world for days and days, and go and see what the moon is like inside, and the stars, and p'raps, if God will let me, I shall climb as near to heaven as I possibly can, just to hear the harps and the singing. And then—"
"You must do some dictation now," said Miss Fletcher gently.
Poor Dreamikins! She was so quick in soaring away, and so quickly brought back to earth again!
Another morning she began to tell some adventures of Er, and this time Miss Fletcher did not interrupt her. She listened for some minutes, then said:
"Very interesting, Dreamikins. And now, instead of telling us the rest of it, just write it all down on your slate. Ask me how to spell the long words, and I will correct it when you've done. It will teach you how to spell."
Dreamikins very slowly obeyed. Her crestfallen little face made Freda giggle, but Miss Fletcher stopped that at once.
The sighs and groans that came from the poor little inventor were pitiable, and after half an hour's hard writing Miss Fletcher let her stop.
But after that, Dreamikins never attempted to tell stories in school-time again.
One afternoon she and Fibo went out in the pony-carriage together. It was a lovely day, bright and sunny, though there was a touch of cold in the air, and the leaves of the trees were turning a beautiful red and yellow and brown. Grinder always followed the carriage close behind, but Fibo would not have Drab or Whiskers taken in the carriage with them, though Dreamikins begged hard that they might come.
Fibo drove through the village, but when they were in the quiet lanes he let Dreamikins hold the reins. That was one of the proudest and happiest moments of her life.
She sat up like a little queen. Occasionally she would steal a glance at her uncle.
"I have my eye on you," he would say.
"Yes, Fibo dear; but I 'sure you, you can go to sleep and I'll drive quite steady. I should like you to have a little nap. It would rest your legs."
"Go to sleep, with the sun shining, and the fairies pelting us with leaves, and the breeze whispering stories into our ears, and the sheep and the cows calling out to us as we pass them? What do you take me for?"
"Oh, Fibo dear, I do love you!"
Dreamikins laughed out in the fulness of her joy.
"Where are we going?" she asked presently. "Always straight on?"
"Where would you like to go?"
"To see Mrs. Dufty, who called me lovie," said Dreamikins, suddenly having an inspiration. "Oh, do you think we could? I believe she would give us some tea in that lovely kitchen of hers."
"I think we might," her uncle said. "I know where she lives; we turn to the right soon."
"I'll turn when we come to it. I know how to turn! I love turning."
But if Fibo's hands had not been quickly over hers, Dreamikins would have pulled the pony right into a ditch.
"You're a little bit too energetic," her uncle told her.
The pony trotted on so quickly, and it was such a flat road, that they very soon came to the farm. Mrs. Dufty came down to the gate in great delight at seeing Dreamikins again. With the help of his crutches, Fibo managed to leave the carriage and get into the kitchen. One of the farm lads held the pony, and then Dreamikins chattered away to her heart's content. Mrs. Dufty listened to her with a beaming face, and produced out of the oven a delicious little apple dumpling.
"'Twas just as if I were expecting you, lovie. Couldn't have baked itself in better time. Only wants to be eaten; and I'll just trot off and get some cream to go with it. And perhaps the gentleman will take a glass of cider, or a drop of my rhubarb wine. I believe we have some sloe gin, if he prefers that?"
Fibo thanked her, but declared a glass of milk would suit him best.
Dreamikins was in the farmer's big armchair, and a tortoise-shell cat sprang up into her lap and purred her approval of her.
"Aren't you happy, Fibo? Isn't it lovely here? Just look at those lovely china dogs and heads on the dresser! When I grow up I shan't have a drawn-room, but a kitchen just like this, and I shall have tea-parties in it. And look at the shining pans! It's perfectly exkisit!"
"When you grow up, Dreamikins," said Fibo, shaking his head at her, "I pity your mother from the bottom of my heart."
Dreamikins was too absorbed in stroking the cat to pay attention to what he said.
When Mrs. Dufty came back, Dreamikins sat up at the table and ate her baked apple dumpling, with a generous dab of cream on the top of it, with the greatest relish.
"A darling little lady," said smiling Mrs. Dufty, turning to Fibo.
"She's an anxious charge, Mrs. Dufty," said Fibo, smiling back.
But Mrs. Dufty retorted:
"The precious things in this world always are."
And that reduced Fibo to silence; but he much enjoyed his glass of milk.
"I wish I could run about," said Dreamikins, with a wistful droop to her mouth. "I should love to see your cows, and baby cows, and pigs and chickens; and they have little turkeys, Fibo. Mr. Dufty told me so! I wish I could have a little turkey to play with Whiskers! I'm sure they'd just love each other."
"And then you would have to kill it and eat it for your Christmas dinner," said Fibo; "turkeys only live for that."
Dreamikins shuddered at this. Then Mrs. Dufty said she hoped she would come out and spend a long day at the farm when her leg was quite well. And Dreamikins promised she would.
It was almost beginning to get dusk when they started to drive home. Fibo drove this time, and Dreamikins talked hard the whole way.
When they got home there was no lad to take the pony, and Daw came out with a very grave face.
"I'll see to him myself, sir. That Michael Dunn is a bad lot, I fear."
"Michael!" cried Dreamikins in dismay. "Why, I love him. He cut me a whistle out of a stick!"
Daw shook his head.
"The police have been after him and took him away. It seems he was helping in a shop at Cressford before he come to us, and he helped himself out of the till, and some pound notes have been found in his home. It's lucky he didn't steal from us; but I had my suspicions that the oats were disappearing quicker than they ought to!"
Fibo was vexed and troubled to hear this. He sent Dreamikins upstairs to Annette, and talked for some time with Daw about the boy, who had only been with him a few weeks, and seemed a bright respectable lad.
To Dreamikins it was a terrible blow. She was full of it the next morning when Freda and Daffy came to lessons. They listened awed and dismayed to the story; then Freda's eyes began to sparkle.
"Dreamikins, it's all for the best! Think of it, he'll be put in prison!"
"Well," said Dreamikins, "that's dreadful! It makes me cry to think of it. I thought only wicked people went to prison. Michael wasn't a bit wicked to me, and he liked Shylock and Shylock liked him!"
"But don't you see, if he's in prison we can go and see him; that's just what we thought was quite impossible; and then we shall have done everything to make us into proper sheep."
"Dreamikins hasn't visited any one sick yet," said Daffy; "we have."
"Yes, but it's only because of my leg I haven't. I mean to visit hundreds in the village. Everybody I shall go and see. Oh, what a joyful thought, Freda!" Her little face was alight with pleasure again. "How splendid it will be! Is he in prison now? Can we go and see him to-morrow? Will they let us in?"
They could only wonder and conjecture, and then lessons began, and they could discuss Michael no longer; but the minute Dreamikins was free she seized her crutch and almost dashed into her uncle's study.
"Fibo! Fibo! When can I go and see Michael in prison? Freda and Daffy and me all want to go."
"Not so fast!" said Fibo. "Poor Michael hasn't been brought before the magistrates yet."
"But the police have got him."
"I don't know where he is at present. I'm going to find out. I assure you, he won't be hustled into prison so quickly. You seem anxious to get him there."
Dreamikins sat down on the floor with a perplexed frown on her face.
"I are sorry for him, very truly sorry, but you see, Fibo dear, he'll be in the very place we want to go to. And you mustn't on no account whatever stop us from going, because it's so very important. Don't you remember what the Bible says?"
"Now I see what you're driving at. But you're asking a big thing, Dreamikins, and perhaps you'll be disappointed. Michael may never be put in prison after all. I hope not. He'll get off with a fine, I dare say. Prison hardens lads like that. Wouldn't you rather he stayed away from prison altogether?"
Dreamikins sighed heavily.
"It's very differcult, Fibo. I don't want to feel unkind about him."
"I'm sure you don't."
Dreamikins slowly got upon her feet again.
"And how soon shall we know about him?"
"I dare say in a few days. I will tell you as soon as I hear. Are lessons over?"