Separation
IF it had not been for Fibo, Edmund would not have known how to get through the next few days. Fibo and Dreamikins, in turns, heartened and comforted him. Even Freda and Daffy were struck with horror when they heard what he had done. The servants and the villagers soon knew who the culprit was; and no words could be strong enough for their opinion of Edmund. Mr. Denton, the family lawyer, arrived on the scene the next day with the agent of the estate; and in the afternoon both Mrs. Harrington and her sister, Mrs. Walton, came down from town. They were able to sleep at the Hall, but the children still stayed on at the Dower House. Fibo said he would not let them go, and Dreamikins was delighted to have them.
Edmund dreaded meeting his mother. An hour before she was expected to arrive, Dreamikins found him sitting on a wheelbarrow, behind a shed in the garden, biting his nails, and looking as miserable as any little boy could look.
Dreamikins sat down by his side.
"What a nice seat you have! Shall we wheel each other about in the wheelbarrow?"
Edmund shook his head.
"I wish I was dead!" he said.
"So do I, often," said Dreamikins cheerfully; "but Er says God doesn't want us just yet. I s'pose we have a good deal to do for Him when we get old. But Freda and Daffy and me are getting on. We've done an awful lot of things lately."
Then she cuddled against him, and put up one of her soft little hands and stroked his cheek.
"Poor boy! I really are sorry for you. It was a big mistake, wasn't it? And what I'm so sorry for is, we shall never see those beautiful fireworks! But never mind, dear, you tolded the truth, didn't you? Fibo said he could forgive anyfing in a boy who tolded the truth. Do you know, I've been thinking that Er left me, and went along to help you. God's angels are always busy in danger time, and a fire is danger time, isn't it? He helped you all to get downstairs quick before the fire caught you. I was scolding him a little, because he didn't wake me when it all happened. But that's where he was, so he couldn't wake me."
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DREAMIKINS FOUND EDMUND SITTING LOOKING AS MISERABLEAS ANY LITTLE BOY COULD LOOK.
"I don't care anything about angels," said Edmund; "but Mums will think it awful to burn Aunt Helen's house. I don't want to see her."
"I'll stand by you," said Dreamikins sturdily. "When she comes, I'll keep close to you. I won't let her scold you."
Edmund felt sure that a boy ought not to look to a girl to shield him in such a crisis. But his good opinion of himself had vanished; he felt very small, and very frightened. And when he heard the carriage arrive, and the bustle in the house, and when Freda came running out into the garden calling, "Edmund, Edmund, where are you? Aunt Frances and Mums are here, and they want you," he rose to his feet and walked into the house, holding Dreamikins by the hand, and feeling as if he would like the earth to swallow him up. They were all in Fibo's study. Mrs. Harrington looked very sternly at her small nephew; his mother did not hold out her hands to him as she usually did. It was Dreamikins who spoke first.
"We've comed in as quick as we could. Edmund wishes he was dead. But I'm sure God doesn't want him just yet, and we all feel very sorry about the house, and very, very sorry that the fireworks is wasted, and you won't be angry with Edmund; he didn't mean to do it. That old Nurse wanted a frightening, she had been so unkind to him. He only meant just to frighten her!"
She stood in front of Edmund with hot cheeks and anxious eyes. Then she suddenly stepped up to Mrs. Walton, and gave her one of her angelic smiles.
"Will you kiss your poor little boy? I are so sorry for him, he is so mis'able to-day."
Mrs. Walton began to smile.
"You are a first-rate little pleader," she said; "but I assure you I'm the most miserable person of you all to-day! Come here, Edmund! We've heard all about it; but you must ask your Aunt Helen to forgive you, not me."
And then Mrs. Harrington drew Edmund towards her and kissed him.
"You didn't mean it. I know that. I'm sure this will be a lesson to you never to play with fire again."
Edmund began to sob.
And then Dreamikins ran out of the room, and finding Daffy in the passage, seized hold of her, and danced down the length of the hall.
"I always cry myself when other peoples cry, and I aren't going to cry this afternoon. Oh, Daffy, do beg and pray your mother not to take you back to town. What shall I do if you go?"
It was not much good begging and praying. The very next day Mrs. Walton took Edmund away with her; and Mrs. Harrington said that Nurse must bring the children back to London in three days' time. They were going to stay in a private hotel till their mother could get her town house again. Freda and Daffy were very unhappy at going. It would be a long time before the Hall could be repaired and rebuilt, and Nurse said she would be glad to get away from it. The little girls went to say good-bye to their friend Mrs. Bone, and several other people in the village. The last day came; they gathered round Fibo's fire in his study for a good talk.
Dreamikins was very grave. She sat in a little cushioned chair of her own by Fibo's side.
"If it wasn't for you, Fibo dear," she said, "I should be rolling and kicking on the floor in a—an—agony!"
"Yes," said Freda mournfully, "that's just it; you've got Fibo, and we haven't. We're much worse off than you are."
"But you have each other," said Dreamikins. "I'm only a one, not a two."
"You've got your angels to talk to," said Daffy.
Dreamikins put her head on one side and considered.
"I think," she said slowly, "that I'm getting rather tarred of Er. He's too heavy and grave."
"Oh," cried Freda protestingly, "you haven't had him any time; you get tired so quickly!"
"Well, I'll see. I won't send him away to-day. I'll write a letter and tell you when I do."
"That's the only thing we can do—write letters," said Daffy; "and they are so difficult to write. I expect you'll forget all about us, Dreamikins, when we're away."
"No; I promise truefully I won't. Fibo will remind me."
"Fibo won't forget us, will you?" said Freda. "And do you think you could send us a letter, Fibo, once now and then—one of your funny ones, you know, with little pictures in the middle?"
"Yes, I dare say I shall be able to manage that," said Fibo, with his kind smile; "and you'll soon be coming down to the Hall again. It isn't good-bye for ever; so cheer up."
"It's all Edmund's fault," said Freda; "but he was so sorry I suppose we must forgive him. And, Fibo, when you write to us, you might just put in a word to help us to be good. We seemed to be getting on nicely, Daffy and me; and now we shan't have anybody to help us."
"Nurse tries to make us good," said Daffy thoughtfully, "but her goodness is quite different to yours, Fibo. You and Dreamikins are always so happy. Nurse's goodness is horrid stuff."
"Now what is it to be good, I wonder?" said Fibo.
"Oh," said Dreamikins quickly, "to feed the hungry and thirsty, and visit Michael in prison, and take in strangers, and clothe ragged children, and visit poor sick people."
"Is that all? You can do all that, and yet be thoroughly naughty. To be good is to please God."
"Oh, Fibo dear," said Dreamikins, shaking her head at him, "nobody could be good like God, except Jesus, could they?"
"Jesus Christ was God; He came into our world to show us how to be good. If we try to be like Him, we shall be good."
"But, Fibo, isn't all that we have been doing any use?" asked Freda.
"Of course it is. But to be obedient to Nurse, and unselfish and kind to each other, is quite as important."
"Daffy and me feel we'd like to please God, but we don't care about pleasing Nurse—not always," said Freda.
"And that is just where you are wrong. If you are learning to love the Lord Who loves you, you will only please Him by keeping His commandments. And one of His commandments is, 'Obey them that have the rule over you.' I should like you to practise this verse: 'If ye love Me, keep My commandments.' You have been ready enough to try to follow out some of the commands in the Bible. Visiting the sick and helping the poor is all right. But if you never left your nursery, and could do neither of those, there are other commands you could keep."
"But then we don't know them all, and we forget so."
"Ask God to remind you, and to tell you."
"You'd better have an angel," suggested Dreamikins.
Fibo shook his head at her.
"I don't know that I approve of your angels," he said. "You seem to do pretty well what you like with them. And they get between you and God."
The children were silent. It was not often they had such a grave talk as this.
Then Dreamikins jumped up, and put her little arms round Fibo's neck.
"You are the darlingest, goodest man in the world," she said, "but I don't care so much for you when you're so solemn. And we'll all cheer up, and you must tell us a story that will make us scream and scream with laughter. Now begin!"
So Fibo began one, and before long the little girls were laughing almost as much as Dreamikins wished. When they went to bed that night, Dreamikins was allowed to sit for ten minutes by the bedside, before Annette came for her. There was a fire in the room, and the three little girls were alone. Dreamikins, in her pale blue dressing-gown and golden curls, looked a perfect picture.
"I shall never leave Fibo till Mummy comes for me," said Dreamikins thoughtfully; "but when she does, I'll get her to take me to London, and we'll look in upon you. We shall come up in a cab, and you'll be having tea in the nursery—that's when I like you best; and Nurse will say, 'Here comes that dreadful child. I do wish you'd never known her.'"
"And we shall scream with delight when we see you; but it will be ages and ages before that happens. And perhaps you will have altered then. Your hair will have gone out of curl, and you'll be walking instead of dancing, and you'll shake hands very stiffly, and say, 'I'm very pleased to see you, my dears,' in a prim and proper way!"
Dreamikins shook her head vehemently.
"I never will be stiff, never; my bones couldn't be; I can't keep them still enough. It's been lovely knowing you, and I don't know which I like best."
"Like us both the same," said Freda; "Daffy and me are just alike, Dreamikins. We'll look-out for people who want clothes and food in London; there are sure to be some. And you'll go and see Mrs. Bone as well as your old man, won't you?"
"Yes, I will; I like seeing people. When I grow up I shall try to get to know everybody I ever see. It's so interressing. Here's Annette; hide me, quick!"
In an instant she had scrambled into their big bed, and wriggled down in the middle of it out of sight.
"Has Miss Emmeline gone?" asked Annette.
Freda and Daffy giggled. Annette, knowing Dreamikins' ways, looked under the bed, then Dreamikins jumped out of the bed on her back. Annette screamed, and Nurse came in. She had been busy packing, and was looking tired and cross.
"Come," she said, "this won't do; my young ladies must go to sleep—we can't have games here."
"It's the last night, H.D.," said Dreamikins. Then she took hold of Nurse's hand.
"You won't forget me, will you?" she said. "I don't like being forgotted. And I'll bring you a present when I come and see you in London. What would you like?"
Nurse looked down upon the child gravely.
"If you behave prettily, that is all I want, Miss Emmeline. Your uncle spoils you, and Annette is no disciplinarian."
"Oh, what's that?"
But Nurse would not answer, and Dreamikins was led off to bed.
Early the next morning, Nurse and her little charges departed. There were tears at the end. Dreamikins stood on the doorstep, and waved her tiny handkerchief till the carriage was out of sight; then she went mournfully into her uncle's study.
"They're gone, Fibo dear, and you and me are all alone."
"Miss Fletcher will be here directly."
"Oh, but she doesn't belong to us, and Freda and Daffy seemed as if they did."
"Well, we did manage to get along before they came," said Fibo; "but I quite agree that it's a sad business when friends leave us."
"So it is. And we'll have to take a lot of drives to Cressford, Fibo, and have buns in the tea-shop, or my heart will ache."
"We mustn't let it do that. But my poor bones don't like the cold, and a very bright thought has come into my head. What do you think of a nice new saddle being put on Shylock, and Dreamikins perched on the top of it?"
Dreamikins burrowed her head in his shoulder with a little squeal of ecstasy.
"I believe Er poked that thought in your head! He's been very sorry for me, and he's so fond of me that he said he'd think of something nice for me if only I didn't send him away just yet. Why, Fibo, it will be lovely! Do you really and truefully mean it?"
"Yes, I do, if you'll promise me not to try to ride alone. Daw knows all about ponies, and he says he will be able to take you out. Shylock is so quiet that you will be quite safe with him."
"Oh, Fibo dear, what a darling you are!"
Dreamikins went off to her lessons in great excitement. Miss Fletcher did not expect too much from her that morning; she knew how she would miss her little companions, and was extra kind and cheerful.
In a very few days a letter arrived addressed to, "Miss Emmeline Broughton." Dreamikins opened it with trembling fingers, and got her uncle to read it to her.
"OUR DARLING DREAMIKINS,—We are going to write between us, and you need not guess who does it, because Freda writes best, and Daffy spells best, and we've got our spelling-book and dictionary on the table, and Nurse tells us some. We are not doing lessons yet. Our governess is away. We are in a big hotel, and there are two boys who play with us and Bertie. We are going to give a penny to an old flowerwoman to get a cup of tea. She says she suffers from thirst, but tea does not agree with her; but she will get a glass of something else instead, and we are wondering if she is like your man, and means beer. Dear Dreamikins, we miss you so. Tell Fibo we are trying to keep the Commandments, but Nurse makes us knit mittens for soldiers, and we would rather do frocks for Miss Fletcher's sister's children; but we have to do Nurse's way. Nurse says a goat is not wickeder than a sheep except that it is mischievous. She says we are more like goats than sheep. We asked her which she was, and she said she wasn't either of them. Ask Fibo where she'll stand when they are sorted out. But she lets us put our pennies in a box for orphan children, to get them into a Home. Daffy and me are going to the Zoo with a man who is our Cousin John. He is in the War. He says they sent him home because the shells are too fond of him. He has a hole in his arm; he showed it to us. Edmund has gone back to school. Mums says he must not come to stay with us again. Kiss Shylock for us, and give Fibo a good big hug—one for Daffy and one for me. When we grow up we mean to build a house to take in strangers. Daffy and me saw a poor old man who was blue-coloured, he was so cold. He was selling papers. Nurse would not let us speak to him, but we kissed our hands to him. There is a waiter here who has sixteen children. Would you not like so many brothers and sisters to play with? We would. Good-bye, darling Dreamikins. Have you still got Er? And please tell Fibo we are looking out for a letter with pictures from him. We love him next to you. We think he has an angel's heart, he is so kind.—Your loving friends,"FREDA and DAFFY."P.S.—We told Cousin John about the little door, and the day we first found it. He said it was a wonderful find, and we think it was too."
Of course Dreamikins never rested till she had written a letter too.
"MY SWEET FREDA AND DAFFY,—Fibo is writing this for me in my very own words, for I can't do it as quick as I ought, and the pen won't go so fast as my tongue. I have heaps and heaps and heaps to tell you. Kontities has happened. I must tell you, I nearly went to heaven the other day. Fancy, I might have been there to-day instead of writing this letter—having fun with all the angels and harps! But Er and a strange man stopped me going. I was walking home from the post office, and in the lane a dear, tiny little mouse was lying in the middle of the road. I was just esgamining him very carefully, when all in a minute a great big motorcar came rushing at me, and it made such a noise that my head felt silly, and I didn't know what to do. And then I was snatched out of the way by a man. Er gave me a pull too, and my hat flew off, and, do you know, when the car stopped, there it was in a mash in the road! Fancy, if I had been mashed like my hat! But it wouldn't have hurt my soul a tiny little bit. Fibo says I must never stop in the middle of the road again, even if I see a dead camel or effelunt. I like Mrs. Bone. I wented to see her, and she made me laugh. Fibo and I are going to be dreffully busy. We have some darling little robins who hop and skip on the window-ledge. We are making a little house for them, and we mean to put their breakfes in it. It is made of wood, and is called Redbreast Inn. It has a big, open door, and a red roof with a chimley, and Mrs. Robin will want to live in it. We had some snow yesterday. I think it is the little angels tearing the clouds into bits and throwing them down for fun, but Er shakes his head and says they never tear things in heaven. I am making a coat for Grinder, he is so cold, and then I am going to make one for Drab and for Whiskers; they do look so funny! I tied a pocky-hanker round Drab, and she arched her back and sweared. Fibo lets me make hot toast for tea all myself. And we think a Pixie lives in the chimley; there is a coorious noise when we listen, and Mrs. Daw says it may be a bird, but Fibo and me knows better. He is called Shicketty Shock, and he is hiding his bags of gold there. One day he'll tumble down, and then I'll catch him quick. Miss Fletcher and me miss you very much, and she lets me put your two chairs up, and then I pretend you're there and I say things to you. Last night I had a dream. Fibo says it was a dream, but I think Er pulled a bit of me out of my body and we flew to London. I thought you was both with me talking in a shop full of Christmas things. Do you remember doing it? How many kisses shall I make on the paper for you? Freda is first, then Daffy. Fibo is going to write to you all hisself soon. Good-bye. Good-bye. And don't you think this is a nice long letter from your—"DREAMIKINS."P.S.—This is a sekret I am riting it myself. Er is two grav for me and he says God wants him to cary up por solders in batle so he is going to moro. I am so glad. I am going to have a little old mery angel wuman, she will mak me laff like Mrs. Bone only much beter. I will tell you how we get on togever in my nex leter."
Dreamikins got her new angel; so she informed her uncle, and she named her Meribah. Fibo told her that the name did not suit an angel, that it meant "quarrelling" or "strife." Dreamikins was undaunted.
"She does quarrel with Satan when he tries to come near me. She pushes him away. And I like the name, Fibo, because she is so merry."
Meribah lived with Dreamikins quite a long time, and then one day, when Fibo and his little niece were talking together, Dreamikins looked up at him with soft, pitying eyes:
"What a pity it is, Fibo, that you have no nice angels to talk to you, and 'muse you when I aren't here," she said.
"Well," said Fibo, leaning back in his chair, "I think we may have our guardian angels in the same way that you have; but when you get older, my Dreamikins, I hope your heart and thoughts will be occupied with Somebody better than angels. I think angels may guard and keep our bodies from dangers, but I have Somebody Who guards and keeps my soul—yes—and Who takes possession of it, if I am willing."
"Who?" Dreamikins asked in a breathless whisper.
"Do you remember the picture in your nursery, where our Lord is standing outside a door knocking at it?"
Dreamikins nodded.
"Yes. He has a lamp in His hand."
"That's a picture of a person's heart. I haven't said much to you about your angels, because you're only a little girl. But when you grow bigger, you'll feel that nobody will satisfy you but the Lord Jesus Himself. Angels can't get the victory over our evil tempers; they can't conquer the Devil when he fights with us, but Jesus can. And His Holy Spirit lives in people's hearts, and comforts them and helps them. And if I have the very best Friend on earth to live with me, I don't think so much about angels. I am content, more than content, to have Him!"
Dreamikins put her head on one side, and began blinking her eyes very fast, a sure sign that she was thinking deeply. Then she clasped her small hands eagerly and leant towards her uncle:
"But, Fibo dear, I 'sure you I want to have the bestest I can have, without waiting to grow bigger. It does take so long to grow. I think if I was watered like the flowers it would be quicker, but Annette won't do it for me, and she even won't let me water my head in the bath! But I'm afraid Jesus would be so shocked to live inside me, and I couldn't talk to Him like I do to my angels, could I? It would be so very dirrispeckful."
Fibo did not answer. He liked Dreamikins to do some thinking sometimes.
She said presently:
"Of course Jesus is the Best, the very bestest Best. And I always mean to have the best of everyfing if I can get it. And my angels do dis'point me dreffully. I get so tarred of them. Would He really come right inside of me, Fibo dear, where I could feel Him when I went to bed and it was dark?"
"Listen, Dreamikins. This is what the Lord Jesus says. You can find it in your Bible, if you like: 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear My voice and open the door, I will come in to him.' And another time He said to His disciples: 'If a man love Me, he will keep My word, and We will come unto him, and make Our abode with him.'"
"But I'm not a man, Fibo dear. I'm 'fraid, after all, it doesn't fit."
"It means everybody—men and women, boys and girls."
Dreamikins' eyes grew bigger and bigger, with the big thoughts behind them.
Then like a flash of light she vanished from the room, and Fibo was left alone.
In about ten minutes' time she reappeared. This time she walked very softly, with her finger on her mouth. She came up to her uncle, then put her hands behind her and said in an awed whisper:
"I've been talking to Jesus upstairs. I got into a cupboard, like He tells us to. I thought I must be most partic'lar, for I reely think it's too grand to be true! But, Fibo, you telled me the truth. He says He'll be very happy to do it." She paused, then took hold of her uncle by the lappet of his coat, and went on gravely:
"Of course I just tolded God I was much 'bliged for all the angels He sent me. But I'd had enough of them. And He said, 'Very well.' And then I just sat down on the floor and waited for Jesus to come into my heart. But He didn't come, and so I comed down to you; but God seemed to tell me Jesus would come before I go to bed to-night."
Again Fibo felt speechless, as he so often did when Dreamikins talked.
Then Annette came in to take her for a walk, and Fibo did not see her till after her tea. He happened to look-out into the garden, and saw Dreamikins standing in the middle of the path shaking herself most violently. The whole of her little body was in a quiver; her hair was whirling round her head, and both hands were shaking her pinafore and frock and petticoats, as if she were shaking her handkerchief out of the window.
He tapped on the window-pane and called out:
"Come indoors, Dreamikins. What are you doing? You make me giddy to look at you."
But Dreamikins stopped for a minute, then she called out cheerfully:
"I'm just shaking old angel Meribah out of me; she doesn't want to go, and so she sticks!"
Then she went on shaking herself again.
Her uncle checked his laughter. He looked on at Dreamikins' antics, and watched for the next step. Suddenly she stopped, then threw up her arms towards the sky, and looked upwards with the most ecstatic smile upon her face. And then very gravely and seriously she walked back into the house. Fibo waited patiently. It was not long before she appeared at his door, and then she came in on tiptoe, with shining eyes. Walking straight up to him, she climbed upon his knees and put her arms round his neck. She held him tight for a minute without speaking a word, then she put her little mouth to his ear and whispered:
"Jesus Christ has done it. He really has comed into me, and He's going to lock the Devil out, so I shall never be naughty again—never!"
Fibo shook his head in a perplexed fashion.
"I don't think you will always be good, Dreamikins. I am afraid sometimes you will shut the Lord out of His rightful place, and then you will be naughtier than ever. But I hope that will happen less and less frequently."
"I shall have to walk on tiptoe always," said Dreamikins, taking her arms away from his neck and settling herself comfortably on his knee. "But it's a very wunnerful thing to happen to me, Fibo. It's a—don't you call it a mirricle?"
"Yes, I think it is always a miracle," said Fibo gravely.
"And of course," Dreamikins went on, dropping her awestruck tone and speaking in her natural eager little voice,—"of course I had to empty myself, before Jesus could come to me. That's why I went into the garding to do it, so that Meribah could get up easily to heaven. She was quite differcult to get rid of, do you know? And I told her to make haste. She was actooly keeping God waiting! And then she flew up quite frightened. And I watched her till she was out of sight. And then I was ready, so I went upstairs and knelt down in the cupboard, and then you know—then it happened!" After a minute's silence she said:
"I'd like to write to Freda and Daffy and tell them about it. They never did believe in my angels—not properly, but they'll have to believe in Jesus going about with me everywhere, because it says so in the Bible! Can I do it now?"
Fibo was quite willing to help her, and the next morning Freda and Daffy got another letter from their little friend; but it was a short one.
"MY DARLING FRIENDS,—I've just done a most wunnerful thing. I've talked with Fibo, and angels are mostly for babies, and they aren't the Best, so I've sent Meribah back, and Jesus Christ is actooly coming His Own Self to live in my heart. And He has come, and I'm so happy I don't know what to do. It's almost as good as heaven. I can't quite see Him, but when I shut my eyes I do. And He's going to be with me for ever and ever. Good-bye.—Your loving DREAMIKINS."P.S.—I've said to God that if His angels are dis'pointed they can look after me when I'm asleep. But when I'm wide awake, I'd rather, oh, much rather have Jesus Christ. Now I feel the grandest, greatest person in the world."
When Freda and Daffy read this letter Freda said:
"It is like Dreamikins, and yet it isn't as funny as she really is. I like to see her when she talks, her eyes laugh so!"
"There will never be anybody again like her wherever we go," said Daffy. "If we sorted out the whole world there couldn't be!"
"I suppose," said Freda slowly, "God took extra trouble when He made her."
"And what a very good thing it was when we went through that little door."
"Yes," said Freda, with a smile at the memory of it. "That door led us to Fibo and Dreamikins."
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