Chapter Twelve.Leigh’s Plan.Ever since the day the children had waited for their father outside the Lavender Cottages—the day when it was settled that they were to have Fuzzy—the idea of training the dog to be driven, and making him draw the perambulator as he had seen Ned drawing the Perrys’ old wicker carriage, had been in Leigh’s head. That was why he was so interested about the new carriage for his little sister.He was sensible in some ways. He knew it would be no use harnessing the dog into a cart or anything till he had accustomed him a little to being driven. That was what had made him think of buying reins. He had waited a good while too, till the dog was nearly full-grown and had grown pretty obedient to his voice and call. But when he heard that the perambulator was really to be bought, he thought to himself that it was quite time Fuzzy’s “breaking-in” should begin.For it was now late September. Baby Dolly was close upon her fifth “month-day,” as the children called it, and growing so big and lively that nurse could scarcely manage to carry her any distance without feeling rather tired, as Dolly was very fond of sitting straight up and looking about her and giving little jumps and springs when Mary or the boys ran up to her. And “Fuzz,” as Leigh generally called him—for he thought “Fuzzy” rather a girl’s name—was a very big puppy indeed—so big and playful that, when he came galloping over the lawn to the children, Mary used to run behind nurse, if she was there, for fear of being knocked over.It was fun and affection, of course, and when he stood still Mary would pat him and call him “dear Fuzzy,” “poor old Fuzzy,” quite bravely, but at the bottom, of her heart she was a little afraid of him. And though she did not like to say so to the boys, she often wished that he had stayed a roly-poly, soft, tumbling-about creature, as he was when she had first seen him—only a few weeks old.But Leigh would not have liked that at all, of course.Well, the driving-lessons went on, and thanks to Leigh’s patience, of which he had a good deal when he chose, Fuzz became more manageable, as I said. After a while Leigh found an old remains of a little cart on wheels—it was really a sort of small dray which some of his young uncles had knocked together years ago for dragging wood on—which he managed to harness the dog to, to accustom him to feeling something behind him. Fuzz kicked and spluttered and ran away ever so many times; he did not like the rattling noise coming after him, but after a while he grew used to it and would scamper off quite merrily, and so fast that Leigh could scarcely keep up with him. That was the great difficulty—to make him go slowly.But Leigh was not discouraged.“It’ll be all right,” he thought, “when he feels he’s pulling something heavier.”And still he kept it all a secret, except of course from Mellor and the outdoor servants, and they did not know anything about his plan for the perambulator.It came, about ten days after it had been promised. Mary had been growing very impatient. She thought it wasnevercoming, and even her mamma was on the point of writing to the place where she had ordered it, to ask why they were so long of sending it, when all of a sudden one afternoon it arrived.Everybody admired it extremely. It was really a very pretty little carriage, and Baby Dolly liked it very much, to judge by the way she crowed and chattered in her own sweet baby language the first time she was tucked into it for a drive.This was the very morning after it came. For it was luckily a fine, mild day, and the nursery dinner was made a little earlier than usual, so that Baby Dolly should have the best of the afternoon for the first trial of her perambulator; and Mary and the boys and the under-nurse and Fuzzy were all to go too.Nurse had a holiday indeed! She began by pushing the new carriage herself, just to make sure that baby would not be frightened. But frightened—no, indeed; the little lady chuckled and crowed, and was as happy as could be. So then nurse let Leigh push it for a while, and then Artie, and then even Mary for a little bit, though not for very long, as, though it was beautifully light, it was tiring for her to stretch up her arms, and of course she was too small to see in front if the road was getting at all rough, or if there were stones or ruts to get out of the way of.And then nurse told Emma, the under-nurse (I think I have forgotten to say that “Little Sarah” was not big enough to help with Dolly, so a new under-nurse had come), to push it for a while—not that Leigh and Artie were not most eager to do so, but nurse wanted to make sure that Emma pushed it carefully, for there are two ways of doing even such a simple thing as pushing a perambulator, though you might not think it. And Emma was rather a silly girl, though she was very good-natured.“Now, we’seallpussed it except Fuzzy,” said Mary. She was dancing along holding nurse’s hand and feeling very happy and safe. For, to tell the truth, she was often a little frightened of the doggie knocking her over if she was walking along alone or with only Artie. “Poor Fuzzy!” Mary was always very affectionate to Fuzz when she felt herself well protected; “don’t you think, nursie, he’d like to puss it too? If Leigh made him walk like a bear,”—for walking like a bear was one of the tricks Leigh had taught Fuzz,—“on his two behind legs, and then put his two before legs on the pussing place; don’t you think he could do it a little, nursie dear? And then we’d all have took turns?”Nursie laughed at Mary’s funny idea.“I’m afraid Miss Dolly and the perambulator would soon all be in a heap on the road if Fuzzy was to have a try at pushing,” she said.And Fuzz, who always seemed to know when they were talking of him, came close to nurse and looked up wistfully in her face with his bright sweet eyes as if he would say, “I’m rather afraid so too.”Leigh gave him a pat.“Pushingthe p’rambulator,” he said. “No, indeed. You know something better than that; don’t you, Fuzz?”And Fuzz wagged his tail as much as to say, “Yes, indeed;Leighknows what I can do. But we’ll keep our secret.”No one paid any attention to what Leigh said however; no one had any idea there was any secret to keep.So the little party finished their walk very happily, and returned home greatly pleased with the new perambulator.It was about a fortnight later that something happened which I must tell you about.All this time Leigh kept on patiently with his training or “breaking-in” of Fuzz. Whenever he had a chance of getting off to the stables alone, for half an hour or so, he harnessed the dog to the remains of a cart that I told you of, and drove him up and down the paths. No one but the stablemen and the gardeners knew about it, and they only thought it was a fancy of the boy’s and never spoke about it.And Leigh told nobody—not even Artie—of what he had got in his head.He kept saying to himself he wanted to “surprise” them all, and that if he told Artie every one would be sure to hear of it.“And I must manage to try it first without nurse fussing,” he thought. “She’d never believe it would do. She’s so stupid about some things.”But at the bottom of his heart, I think he knew that what he was meaning to do was not a right thing for him to try without leave from the grown-up people, and that it was the fear of their stopping it much more than the wish to “surprise” everybody that made him keep his plan so secret.So he said nothing, but waited for a chance to come.And before long the chance did come. It does seem sometimes as if chances for wrong things or not-right things come more quickly and more surely than for good things, I am afraid. Or is it, perhaps, that we are more ready to catch at them?Now I must tell you that Emma, the under-nurse, was not a very sensible girl. She was more taken up with herself and her dresses and chattering to whoever would listen to her than with her own work and duties; and she was very fond of calling nurse old-fashioned and fussy and too strict, which was not right. She spoke of her in that way to Leigh, and made him fancy he was too big a boy to be treated like a nursery child, which was very mischievous. But she was a good-natured girl, and she was what is called “civil-spoken” to nurse and to the other servants, so nurse hoped she would improve as she got older, though she found her lazy and careless very often.Just about this time, unfortunately, poor nurse sprained her ankle. It did not make her ill, for it was not very bad and soon began to get better, but it stopped her going out walks for two or three days.The first day this happened was one of the afternoons that Leigh had Latin lessons with a tutor, so only Artie and Mary went out a walk with Baby Dolly in the perambulator and Emma pushing it.Nurse spoke a great deal to Emma about being very careful, and not going near the field where the bull was, and not crossing the little bridge which was soon going to be mended, and about several other “nots.” And Emma listened to what she said, and that day all went well. Artie and Mary trotted along very peacefully, and now and then, when the road was smooth, Emma let them push baby for a little bit, and baby cooed and crowed when they talked to her. They went near the Perrys’ cottage and they met all the children—Janie as usual carrying the baby, Comfort pushing the old wicker carriage with the two other babies, and staring away at the open book in her hand at the same time, so that Janie had to keep calling out every minute or two to warn her where she was going. Ned was not with them, that was the only difference. For Ned was beginning now to do a little work out of school hours.The Perrys all came to a stop when they met the other party.“How do you do?” said Mary and Artie politely. “How do you like our new p’ram-bilator?”“It do be a beauty, Miss,” said Janie.Poor Janie looked tired and hot, though it was not a warm day; the baby was growing heavy.“Law,” said Emma, “I’d never carry that child if I was you. Why don’t you put it in the cart and make one of the others walk?”“Law” is not a pretty word; but Emma was not very particular when she was alone with the children.“Comfort’d never get her reading done if she had to look after Sammy walking,” said Janie. “And I’d have to push the carriage if the dear baby was in it.”“Where’s Ned?” asked Artie. “And why doesn’t he pull the carriage?”Emma stared.“Law, Master Artie—” she was beginning, but Janie, who did not seem at all surprised at the question, for of course she had seen Ned’s attempts to make a horse of himself, answered quietly—“It didn’t do—not so very well, sir, and it gave me a turn, it did, to see Sammy and Bertie a-tumblin’ about, and all but overturned. No, ’tweren’t no good; so Ned, he’s give it up.”“What a pity!” said Artie and Mary together, “isn’t our p’ram-bilator nice, Janie?”“’Tis indeed, the wheelsisbeautifulandthe springs,” said Janie, as she stood watching, while Artie pushed it up and down, to let her see how it went; while even Comfort took her eyes off her book for a minute or two to join in, the admiration. “And Miss Baby do be getting on finely,” the little nurse-sister added.“You’ve not come our way for a good bit, Miss,” said Comfort to Mary. “It’s a nice road past the cottages and on to the wood—so smooth, I can go on reading all the way. No need to look to one side nor the t’other.”And then the Perrys moved on, with a curtsey from Janie, which she managed with some difficulty on account of the fat baby, and a kind of nod from Comfort, as she let her eyes drop on to her book again.That evening at tea, Mary and Artie told Leigh and nurse about meeting the Lavender Cottages children, and how tired poor Janie looked.“Isn’t it a pity Ned couldn’t dror the carriage?” said Artie.“Draw, notdror,” said Leigh. “How vulgar you are, Artie. No, I don’t see that it could do much good to Janie, for somebody’d have to drive, and so she’d still have the baby to carry. The big sister should take turns with her.”“Yes, indeed,” said nurse. “That’d be much better than nonsense about harnessing boys. It’s a wonder those children weren’t driven into bits, that day you told us of.”“Oh, but Ned was so stupid,” said Leigh. “He hadn’t got proper reins, and he fastened the rope in a perfectly silly way.Icould show him how to do it properly. In Lapland, you know, nurse, and in some other country, even dogs pull carts quite nicely.”“They must be a different kind of dog from ours then,” said nurse. “I know dogs used to turn the spit with the meat to roast it before the fire, but they were a queer kind, and I suppose they were trained to it when they were little puppies.”“Yes,” said Leigh, “that’s it. It’s all the training. It’s no good unless you begin to teach a dog while he’s a puppy.”He did not say anything more just then; but that evening he said to Emma that he was going out a walk with the little ones the next day, as he would not have any lessons that afternoon.“I suppose nurse won’t be able to go out to-morrow,” he added.“No, not till the day after, if then,” said Emma. “But never mind, Master Leigh, I’ll go any way you like to name, and we’ll have a nice walk, if it’s a fine day.”“I hope it will be a fine day,” said Leigh.And the next morning, quite early, before his lessons, he took Fuzz a regular “exercising” up and down the long avenue leading to the stables at the back of the house—cart and all—the dog had really learnt to go pretty well. But then a rough little wooden sledge, on wheels, is a very different thing from a beautiful new perambulator with a sweet baby sister inside it.
Ever since the day the children had waited for their father outside the Lavender Cottages—the day when it was settled that they were to have Fuzzy—the idea of training the dog to be driven, and making him draw the perambulator as he had seen Ned drawing the Perrys’ old wicker carriage, had been in Leigh’s head. That was why he was so interested about the new carriage for his little sister.
He was sensible in some ways. He knew it would be no use harnessing the dog into a cart or anything till he had accustomed him a little to being driven. That was what had made him think of buying reins. He had waited a good while too, till the dog was nearly full-grown and had grown pretty obedient to his voice and call. But when he heard that the perambulator was really to be bought, he thought to himself that it was quite time Fuzzy’s “breaking-in” should begin.
For it was now late September. Baby Dolly was close upon her fifth “month-day,” as the children called it, and growing so big and lively that nurse could scarcely manage to carry her any distance without feeling rather tired, as Dolly was very fond of sitting straight up and looking about her and giving little jumps and springs when Mary or the boys ran up to her. And “Fuzz,” as Leigh generally called him—for he thought “Fuzzy” rather a girl’s name—was a very big puppy indeed—so big and playful that, when he came galloping over the lawn to the children, Mary used to run behind nurse, if she was there, for fear of being knocked over.
It was fun and affection, of course, and when he stood still Mary would pat him and call him “dear Fuzzy,” “poor old Fuzzy,” quite bravely, but at the bottom, of her heart she was a little afraid of him. And though she did not like to say so to the boys, she often wished that he had stayed a roly-poly, soft, tumbling-about creature, as he was when she had first seen him—only a few weeks old.
But Leigh would not have liked that at all, of course.
Well, the driving-lessons went on, and thanks to Leigh’s patience, of which he had a good deal when he chose, Fuzz became more manageable, as I said. After a while Leigh found an old remains of a little cart on wheels—it was really a sort of small dray which some of his young uncles had knocked together years ago for dragging wood on—which he managed to harness the dog to, to accustom him to feeling something behind him. Fuzz kicked and spluttered and ran away ever so many times; he did not like the rattling noise coming after him, but after a while he grew used to it and would scamper off quite merrily, and so fast that Leigh could scarcely keep up with him. That was the great difficulty—to make him go slowly.
But Leigh was not discouraged.
“It’ll be all right,” he thought, “when he feels he’s pulling something heavier.”
And still he kept it all a secret, except of course from Mellor and the outdoor servants, and they did not know anything about his plan for the perambulator.
It came, about ten days after it had been promised. Mary had been growing very impatient. She thought it wasnevercoming, and even her mamma was on the point of writing to the place where she had ordered it, to ask why they were so long of sending it, when all of a sudden one afternoon it arrived.
Everybody admired it extremely. It was really a very pretty little carriage, and Baby Dolly liked it very much, to judge by the way she crowed and chattered in her own sweet baby language the first time she was tucked into it for a drive.
This was the very morning after it came. For it was luckily a fine, mild day, and the nursery dinner was made a little earlier than usual, so that Baby Dolly should have the best of the afternoon for the first trial of her perambulator; and Mary and the boys and the under-nurse and Fuzzy were all to go too.
Nurse had a holiday indeed! She began by pushing the new carriage herself, just to make sure that baby would not be frightened. But frightened—no, indeed; the little lady chuckled and crowed, and was as happy as could be. So then nurse let Leigh push it for a while, and then Artie, and then even Mary for a little bit, though not for very long, as, though it was beautifully light, it was tiring for her to stretch up her arms, and of course she was too small to see in front if the road was getting at all rough, or if there were stones or ruts to get out of the way of.
And then nurse told Emma, the under-nurse (I think I have forgotten to say that “Little Sarah” was not big enough to help with Dolly, so a new under-nurse had come), to push it for a while—not that Leigh and Artie were not most eager to do so, but nurse wanted to make sure that Emma pushed it carefully, for there are two ways of doing even such a simple thing as pushing a perambulator, though you might not think it. And Emma was rather a silly girl, though she was very good-natured.
“Now, we’seallpussed it except Fuzzy,” said Mary. She was dancing along holding nurse’s hand and feeling very happy and safe. For, to tell the truth, she was often a little frightened of the doggie knocking her over if she was walking along alone or with only Artie. “Poor Fuzzy!” Mary was always very affectionate to Fuzz when she felt herself well protected; “don’t you think, nursie, he’d like to puss it too? If Leigh made him walk like a bear,”—for walking like a bear was one of the tricks Leigh had taught Fuzz,—“on his two behind legs, and then put his two before legs on the pussing place; don’t you think he could do it a little, nursie dear? And then we’d all have took turns?”
Nursie laughed at Mary’s funny idea.
“I’m afraid Miss Dolly and the perambulator would soon all be in a heap on the road if Fuzzy was to have a try at pushing,” she said.
And Fuzz, who always seemed to know when they were talking of him, came close to nurse and looked up wistfully in her face with his bright sweet eyes as if he would say, “I’m rather afraid so too.”
Leigh gave him a pat.
“Pushingthe p’rambulator,” he said. “No, indeed. You know something better than that; don’t you, Fuzz?”
And Fuzz wagged his tail as much as to say, “Yes, indeed;Leighknows what I can do. But we’ll keep our secret.”
No one paid any attention to what Leigh said however; no one had any idea there was any secret to keep.
So the little party finished their walk very happily, and returned home greatly pleased with the new perambulator.
It was about a fortnight later that something happened which I must tell you about.
All this time Leigh kept on patiently with his training or “breaking-in” of Fuzz. Whenever he had a chance of getting off to the stables alone, for half an hour or so, he harnessed the dog to the remains of a cart that I told you of, and drove him up and down the paths. No one but the stablemen and the gardeners knew about it, and they only thought it was a fancy of the boy’s and never spoke about it.
And Leigh told nobody—not even Artie—of what he had got in his head.
He kept saying to himself he wanted to “surprise” them all, and that if he told Artie every one would be sure to hear of it.
“And I must manage to try it first without nurse fussing,” he thought. “She’d never believe it would do. She’s so stupid about some things.”
But at the bottom of his heart, I think he knew that what he was meaning to do was not a right thing for him to try without leave from the grown-up people, and that it was the fear of their stopping it much more than the wish to “surprise” everybody that made him keep his plan so secret.
So he said nothing, but waited for a chance to come.
And before long the chance did come. It does seem sometimes as if chances for wrong things or not-right things come more quickly and more surely than for good things, I am afraid. Or is it, perhaps, that we are more ready to catch at them?
Now I must tell you that Emma, the under-nurse, was not a very sensible girl. She was more taken up with herself and her dresses and chattering to whoever would listen to her than with her own work and duties; and she was very fond of calling nurse old-fashioned and fussy and too strict, which was not right. She spoke of her in that way to Leigh, and made him fancy he was too big a boy to be treated like a nursery child, which was very mischievous. But she was a good-natured girl, and she was what is called “civil-spoken” to nurse and to the other servants, so nurse hoped she would improve as she got older, though she found her lazy and careless very often.
Just about this time, unfortunately, poor nurse sprained her ankle. It did not make her ill, for it was not very bad and soon began to get better, but it stopped her going out walks for two or three days.
The first day this happened was one of the afternoons that Leigh had Latin lessons with a tutor, so only Artie and Mary went out a walk with Baby Dolly in the perambulator and Emma pushing it.
Nurse spoke a great deal to Emma about being very careful, and not going near the field where the bull was, and not crossing the little bridge which was soon going to be mended, and about several other “nots.” And Emma listened to what she said, and that day all went well. Artie and Mary trotted along very peacefully, and now and then, when the road was smooth, Emma let them push baby for a little bit, and baby cooed and crowed when they talked to her. They went near the Perrys’ cottage and they met all the children—Janie as usual carrying the baby, Comfort pushing the old wicker carriage with the two other babies, and staring away at the open book in her hand at the same time, so that Janie had to keep calling out every minute or two to warn her where she was going. Ned was not with them, that was the only difference. For Ned was beginning now to do a little work out of school hours.
The Perrys all came to a stop when they met the other party.
“How do you do?” said Mary and Artie politely. “How do you like our new p’ram-bilator?”
“It do be a beauty, Miss,” said Janie.
Poor Janie looked tired and hot, though it was not a warm day; the baby was growing heavy.
“Law,” said Emma, “I’d never carry that child if I was you. Why don’t you put it in the cart and make one of the others walk?”
“Law” is not a pretty word; but Emma was not very particular when she was alone with the children.
“Comfort’d never get her reading done if she had to look after Sammy walking,” said Janie. “And I’d have to push the carriage if the dear baby was in it.”
“Where’s Ned?” asked Artie. “And why doesn’t he pull the carriage?”
Emma stared.
“Law, Master Artie—” she was beginning, but Janie, who did not seem at all surprised at the question, for of course she had seen Ned’s attempts to make a horse of himself, answered quietly—
“It didn’t do—not so very well, sir, and it gave me a turn, it did, to see Sammy and Bertie a-tumblin’ about, and all but overturned. No, ’tweren’t no good; so Ned, he’s give it up.”
“What a pity!” said Artie and Mary together, “isn’t our p’ram-bilator nice, Janie?”
“’Tis indeed, the wheelsisbeautifulandthe springs,” said Janie, as she stood watching, while Artie pushed it up and down, to let her see how it went; while even Comfort took her eyes off her book for a minute or two to join in, the admiration. “And Miss Baby do be getting on finely,” the little nurse-sister added.
“You’ve not come our way for a good bit, Miss,” said Comfort to Mary. “It’s a nice road past the cottages and on to the wood—so smooth, I can go on reading all the way. No need to look to one side nor the t’other.”
And then the Perrys moved on, with a curtsey from Janie, which she managed with some difficulty on account of the fat baby, and a kind of nod from Comfort, as she let her eyes drop on to her book again.
That evening at tea, Mary and Artie told Leigh and nurse about meeting the Lavender Cottages children, and how tired poor Janie looked.
“Isn’t it a pity Ned couldn’t dror the carriage?” said Artie.
“Draw, notdror,” said Leigh. “How vulgar you are, Artie. No, I don’t see that it could do much good to Janie, for somebody’d have to drive, and so she’d still have the baby to carry. The big sister should take turns with her.”
“Yes, indeed,” said nurse. “That’d be much better than nonsense about harnessing boys. It’s a wonder those children weren’t driven into bits, that day you told us of.”
“Oh, but Ned was so stupid,” said Leigh. “He hadn’t got proper reins, and he fastened the rope in a perfectly silly way.Icould show him how to do it properly. In Lapland, you know, nurse, and in some other country, even dogs pull carts quite nicely.”
“They must be a different kind of dog from ours then,” said nurse. “I know dogs used to turn the spit with the meat to roast it before the fire, but they were a queer kind, and I suppose they were trained to it when they were little puppies.”
“Yes,” said Leigh, “that’s it. It’s all the training. It’s no good unless you begin to teach a dog while he’s a puppy.”
He did not say anything more just then; but that evening he said to Emma that he was going out a walk with the little ones the next day, as he would not have any lessons that afternoon.
“I suppose nurse won’t be able to go out to-morrow,” he added.
“No, not till the day after, if then,” said Emma. “But never mind, Master Leigh, I’ll go any way you like to name, and we’ll have a nice walk, if it’s a fine day.”
“I hope it will be a fine day,” said Leigh.
And the next morning, quite early, before his lessons, he took Fuzz a regular “exercising” up and down the long avenue leading to the stables at the back of the house—cart and all—the dog had really learnt to go pretty well. But then a rough little wooden sledge, on wheels, is a very different thing from a beautiful new perambulator with a sweet baby sister inside it.
Chapter Thirteen.Brave Janie.At dinner that day there was some talk of nurse going out to walk with the children.“Oh do come, nursie dear,” said Mary. “Itareso much nicer when you come too,” and baby cooed up in nurse’s face for all the world as if she were saying “do come,” too.“I’d like to, dearly,” said nurse. “But I think I’d better rest my ankle one day more, and then I hope it will be quite well. I feel quite ashamed of having been so stupid about it.”“It wasn’tyourfault,” said Artie. “It was the carpet’s fault for being loose.”“And mine for not seeing it and getting it fastened,” said nurse. Though really I think it was more Emma’s fault, for she had charge of the passage where nurse had tripped and fallen.“I think you’d much better wait another day,” said Leigh gravely.And nurse said to herself that Master Leigh was very thoughtful for his age.But Leigh had a reason of his own for not wanting nurse to go out with them that day, and if he had let himself think about it honestly he would have seen that his dislike to nurse coming showed that he was not doing right. But all he would allow to himself was “Nurse is so fussy.”“If we could put you in the p’ram-bilator, that would be nice,” said Mary. “But I’m afraid it wouldn’t be big enough.”“Of course not, you silly girl,” said Leigh rather crossly. He did not want the perambulator spoken of, for fear nurse should say something about not playing any tricks with it. But Mary stared at him. She could not understand why he was so cross.It was again a very fine day for October. And as soon as they could be got ready after dinner the children set off for their walk.“I’ll follow you in a moment,” said Leigh, as they were waiting at the side door into the garden while Emma got out the perambulator.“If you go slowly down the drive I’ll make up to you. I’m going to fetch Fuzzy.”Mary’s face fell. She was frightened of the dog, you know, when nurse was not there for her to walk beside, for Emma only laughed at her. “Iwisspoor Fuzzy wasn’t coming,” she said. “Rubbish,” said Leigh, and then he said more kindly, “You needn’t be frightened of him, Mary, you’ll see. He can’t knock you down to-day;” and then, as he ran off, he cried back to Emma, “If I don’t catch you up in the drive, turn to the right. We’re going round by the smithy and the Lavender Cottages—it’s the best road for the p’ram-bilator.”No one paid much attention to what he said, or they might have wondered what he meant, for there were plenty of good roads for the perambulator. Mary kept as close as she could to Emma and baby, and every now and then she looked round over her shoulder for fear of Fuzz coming full bang upon her in his affection, and knocking her down. But till they had got some little way along the road there was no sign of him or of Leigh.Suddenly there came a whoop and cry from behind them. Mary caught hold of Emma’s skirt, and in another moment Leigh rushed past them, “driving Fuzz,” he would have said, though it looked more like Fuzz dragginghim. The dog had his harness on, and Leigh was holding the reins and shouting to him.“I’m taking it out of him,” he called out, “just to quiet him down. Doesn’t he go well?”It was certainly a comfort to Mary to see that Fuzz was not loose; and in a minute or two, when the pair came back again, running more slowly, she left off trembling and began to laugh a little.“Doesn’t Fuzzy go just like a little pony?” she said. “Hasn’t Leigh taught him cleverly?”Then Leigh showed off all he had trained the dog to do. He made him walk quite slowly, and then run, and then stop short when he called out “Woa-wo-a, now; gently, old man,” till they all admired it greatly.“He’d soon learn to pull a cart,” said Emma.“Hecanpull a cart, that’s what I’ve been teaching him for,” said Leigh. “He could draw the p’ram-bilator beautifully.”“Law!” said Emma, “could he now, really?”“Of course he could,” said Leigh, “as soon as we get into the lane I’ll let you see. The road’s nice and smooth there.”Mary clapped her hands. She thought it would be lovely. But Emma did hesitate a little.“Are you sure it’s quite safe, Master Leigh?” she said.“Safe, of course it’s safe,” said Leigh. “But if you’re afraid you can hold on behind just like you’re doing now, and then you can stop us going faster than you like.”The lane, when they got into it, ran almost straight to the cottages. Leigh meant to pass them and come home by the smithy, for he wanted Yakeman to admire him driving Fuzzy. There was a hill to go down, as you may remember, from the cottages to Yakeman’s, and I do not know how Leigh meant to manage there. But as things turned out he did not get so far as that.The little party stopped when they had got some way down the lane, and Leigh began to fasten Fuzz to the perambulator. He had got everything ready—for he had secretly tried it before, and he had straps of the right length which he brought out of his pocket. Mary and Artie stood admiring his cleverness, but Baby Dolly was not pleased. She wanted to go on, and of course she did not understand what they were all stopping for. So she began to cry. Poor little girl, what else could she do?“P’raps she’s cold,” said Mary. “Itareraver cold standing still.”“Cold, Miss Mary, oh dear no,” said Emma. “She’s that wrapped up shecouldn’tbe cold. But she’s very fractious to-day; she was crying and fretting all the time nurse was dressing her. Nurse spoils her—if she were my baby I’d be a bit sharper with her.”“Poor Dolly—dear Dolly,” said Mary, going up to her little sister and trying to sooth her. “Don’t cry—Dolly’s going to have a beauty drive and gosofast.”“Get out of the way, Mary,” shouted Leigh. “We’re just starting, don’t you see?”He held the reins in his hand and ran back behind the perambulator. Then he made Emma take her place as usual, holding the bar—not that there was anyneedfor her, he said, but just to make quite sure of Fuzz not running away—they were a funny-looking party, Emma between the reins and Fuzzy wagging his tail in his hurry to be off. Dolly left off crying and stared about her, wondering what it all meant.“Gee-up, old fellow,” said Leigh, Emma giving a little starting push at the same time, and off they went, Mary and Artie at each side, breathless with excitement.At first it seemed all right. They went slowly, and Fuzzy did nothing worse than stand still every minute or two, and look over his shoulder to see what was behind him. The first and second times he did this Leigh only called out, “All right, old fellow—gee-up then.” But when it got to the third and fourth time Leigh grew impatient.“Get on with you, you stupid fellow,” he shouted, cracking the whip he held.And poor Fuzzy, meaning no harm, not understanding what all the unusual noise and fuss were about, did the only thing he could—hedid“get on.” He started off, running as fast as he could, and that was pretty fast, for the carriage was very light and Emma was pushing—she could not have helped pushing as she was holding the bar and running. And for a minute or two she laughed so that she could not speak. The silly girl thought it was such fun. And seeing her laughing, Leigh thought it was all right and laughed too. But—on went Fuzz, excited by the laughter, and thinkinghewas doing all right, till—at the corner where the lane they were in crossed another lane or road, wider but much rougher, and full of deep cart-ruts—instead of keeping straight on he turned sharply round, for some doggy reason or other, and rushed, still at the same speed, along this road to the right.“Fuzz,” shouted Leigh, tugging at the left rein. “Fuzz, wo-a then, wo-a.”“Stop, stop,” screamed Emma.But it was no use; in another instant Emma, already panting with running and laughing, found herself flung off as it were, and Leigh, a moment after, lay sprawling at full length on the road, the reins torn out of his grasp, while Fuzzy in the greatest delight rushed on, on—the perambulator after him, swaying from side to side; and, oh dear, dear—sweet baby Dolly inside!Mary and Artie were some little way behind, but when they came up, this was what they saw: Emma sitting on the road crying and rubbing her arm, Leigh tearing along as fast as he could go, and a small dark thing far in front of him, bumping up and down among the cart-ruts, and swinging from side to side, as if every moment it would tumble over, or else be broken to pieces.Mary stood still and screamed. Artie ran on at once, shouting at the top of his voice, though I do not quite know what good he thought that would do. And then Mary ran after him and left off screaming, which was sensible. Indeed, I think both of them showed more sense than silly Emma, though she was grown up and they were little children. For what could be less use than to sit on the ground crying and rubbing her bruised arm?But somebody else—somebody none of them was thinking of at all—showed the most sense of any one.The Perry children were coming along a field-path at one side of the road—it was dry weather, and the path was pretty hard and smooth, so Comfort and the old wicker perambulator got on pretty well with Janie and the baby beside them of course—when the sound of Leigh’s shouts came across the hedge. Janie had quick ears and still quicker wits.“Someat’s wrong,” she cried, and she plumped the baby into her sister’s arms. “Now hold he,” she added, and for once Comfort had to leave off reading—indeed the flop of the baby made her book drop to the ground—and get it into her head that the care of her three baby brothers washerbusiness for the present, while Janie flew to the gate, which she scrambled over or crept under, I am not sure which, in less time than it takes to tell it, and found herself in the middle of the road.Leigh was some little way off still; but nearer than he, and coming nearer every instant, was something else which made even Janie’s stout little heart rise up to her mouth, as she afterwards said. It was the perambulator from the Hall, the beautiful new perambulator, banging and dashing along, dragged by something that looked just then very like a little wild beast instead of a well-disposed tame doggie. And yet it was only looks, for Fuzzy was in the best of spirits, quite pleased with himself, and thinking that Leigh’s shouts only meant he was to go faster and faster.But Janie had not time to think anything. She only saw that the perambulator was not empty; she only took in that it must be stopped. She would not have been frightened, even if she had thought the dog was mad, for she was very brave. But she knew that her voice would have no power over him, and she made her plan in a moment. Just as the wildly excited dog came close to her—luckily just then he was going pretty evenly—she threw herself in his way, which made him slacken his pace, and then, somehow or other, she got hold of the edge of the carriage, holding on to it with all her strength, and she was very strong for her size. And then—what happened exactly she could not tell—I fancy Fuzzy must have given a bound forward to get rid of this troublesome interruption to his grand race—but before she knew where she was they were all in a jumbled-up heap on the ground, Janie, Baby Dolly, perambulator, and dog—Fuzzy barking loudly; baby, Janie was thankful to hear, crying and roaring, but, as far as the small sister-nurse could make out, unhurt.She had got her safely in her motherly little arms by the time Leigh came up. The first thing he did was to seize hold of the reins which had been dragging behind, for after a glance had shown him that the baby was in good hands, Leigh’s next thought was for the new perambulator.“She’s not hurt?” he exclaimed.“No, no, sir. I think not,” said Janie. “She fell soft—right atop of me, Master Leigh. Hush, hush now, Miss Baby dear. Don’t ’ee cry. There’s Miss Mary a-coming along. Hush, hush, my dearie.”And in surprise at the strange voice, and pleased by the sweet tones, Dolly actually did leave off crying. She opened her eyes wide, and by degrees a smile—a real smile—crept out of her mouth, and brightened up all the little face, still shining with tears. So that when poor wee Mary, all out of breath, and white with fear for her darling sister, came up to the little group, Janie was able to say, while Dolly stretched out her hands in welcome—“She’s not hurt, Miss Mary, dear. She’s not hurt.”Leigh by this time had unfastened Fuzz, and set the perambulator on its legs, or wheels, again. He was all trembling; and though it was not a hot day of course, the drops were standing out on his forehead. Wonderful to say, the perambulator was not broken or spoilt.“Oh Mary,” said Leigh. He could scarcely speak. “Oh Janie, I don’t know how to thank you.”Janie opened her eyes. It had never come into her head that she had done anything to be thanked for. But she was, as I said, very sensible.“Master Leigh,” she replied, “I couldn’t a’ done less—that’s nothing. But I can’t think how Mrs Nurse could a’ let you do such a thing.”“Nurse is ill; at least she’s hurt her leg,” said Leigh. “It’s Emma that’s with us.”“Then she oughter be ashamed of herself,” exclaimed Janie, as if she was nineteen and Emma ten, instead of the other way about. “What’s the good of a big person to look after children if she’s as silly as them. I beg your parding, Master Leigh, but this ’ere precious baby’s had a narrer escape, and no mistake.”Janie was hot with indignation and fright.“But you tried yourselves, Janie,” said Leigh, feeling rather small. “Ned harnessed himself to—”“Thatwas quite different,” said Janie. “And I told you the other day as it hadn’t turned out a good plan at all. I’m sure if I’d had any notion you were thinking of such a thing, I’d have—” she stopped, then went on again, “But you’ll never try such tricks again, now, will you, Master Leigh? And you’ll go straight to your dear mamma as soon as you get in and tell her all about it.”“No, I’ll never try it again, I promise you. And of course I’d rather tell about it myself, Janie. You won’t, will you? They’d be making such a song of it all through the village.”“Very well then, I won’t say nothing,” agreed the little woman. “And I’ll tell Comfort—she’s in the field there behind the hedge with the babies. I’ll see to it that Comfort says nothing neither.”Then Janie put Baby Dolly tenderly back into her nest again, charging the children to stay close round her till Emma came up, “for fear the sweet little lady should be frightened again.” There was a vision in the distance of Emma slowly making her way to them, and Janie did not want to see her.“I’ve a sharp tongue in my head, and I’d mebbe say too much,” she thought.So she hurried back to her own charges, whom she found quite content;thebaby sprawling on Comfort’s knee, and Comfort seated on the grass, late October though it was, buried in her book. There was no need to warnherto say nothing. She looked up with a start as Janie ran up to them.“What have you been doing, Janie?” she said. She had no idea anything had been the matter!Emma was very cross when she got to the children. She was vexed at her own arm being bruised, and began scolding Leigh as if he had done it all on purpose to hurt her.“You said it would be as right as could be, Master Leigh,” she grumbled, “and how was I to know?I’mnot going to be scolded for it, I can tell you.”“You needn’t be afraid,” said Leigh, very proudly. “I’ll take all the blame on myself when I tell mamma.”Then Emma changed her tone and began to cry.“You’ll not really tell your mamma,” she said. “Of courseI’d be blamed, and I’d lose a good place, and what my poor mother’d say I don’t know. It’d go near to break her heart, and she’s not well. Oh Master Leigh, you’ll not tell? There’s no harm done, and Miss Dolly’s none the worse, and we’ll never be so silly again. Miss Mary, my dear, do ask Master Leigh not to tell.”Mary could not bear to see any one cry, least of all a big person. Her lips began to quiver, and she looked timidly at her brother.“Leigh,” she began.And Leigh too was very tender-hearted. But both of them, and Artie too, felt deep down in their hearts that however sorry they might be for Emma they were not doing right in giving in to her.They did promise not to tell, however; and then the little party turned homewards in very low spirits, though they had such great reason for thankfulness that their dear little sister was not hurt.They hardly spoke all the way; and Dolly, by this time, tired out by all her adventures, had fallen fast asleep.
At dinner that day there was some talk of nurse going out to walk with the children.
“Oh do come, nursie dear,” said Mary. “Itareso much nicer when you come too,” and baby cooed up in nurse’s face for all the world as if she were saying “do come,” too.
“I’d like to, dearly,” said nurse. “But I think I’d better rest my ankle one day more, and then I hope it will be quite well. I feel quite ashamed of having been so stupid about it.”
“It wasn’tyourfault,” said Artie. “It was the carpet’s fault for being loose.”
“And mine for not seeing it and getting it fastened,” said nurse. Though really I think it was more Emma’s fault, for she had charge of the passage where nurse had tripped and fallen.
“I think you’d much better wait another day,” said Leigh gravely.
And nurse said to herself that Master Leigh was very thoughtful for his age.
But Leigh had a reason of his own for not wanting nurse to go out with them that day, and if he had let himself think about it honestly he would have seen that his dislike to nurse coming showed that he was not doing right. But all he would allow to himself was “Nurse is so fussy.”
“If we could put you in the p’ram-bilator, that would be nice,” said Mary. “But I’m afraid it wouldn’t be big enough.”
“Of course not, you silly girl,” said Leigh rather crossly. He did not want the perambulator spoken of, for fear nurse should say something about not playing any tricks with it. But Mary stared at him. She could not understand why he was so cross.
It was again a very fine day for October. And as soon as they could be got ready after dinner the children set off for their walk.
“I’ll follow you in a moment,” said Leigh, as they were waiting at the side door into the garden while Emma got out the perambulator.
“If you go slowly down the drive I’ll make up to you. I’m going to fetch Fuzzy.”
Mary’s face fell. She was frightened of the dog, you know, when nurse was not there for her to walk beside, for Emma only laughed at her. “Iwisspoor Fuzzy wasn’t coming,” she said. “Rubbish,” said Leigh, and then he said more kindly, “You needn’t be frightened of him, Mary, you’ll see. He can’t knock you down to-day;” and then, as he ran off, he cried back to Emma, “If I don’t catch you up in the drive, turn to the right. We’re going round by the smithy and the Lavender Cottages—it’s the best road for the p’ram-bilator.”
No one paid much attention to what he said, or they might have wondered what he meant, for there were plenty of good roads for the perambulator. Mary kept as close as she could to Emma and baby, and every now and then she looked round over her shoulder for fear of Fuzz coming full bang upon her in his affection, and knocking her down. But till they had got some little way along the road there was no sign of him or of Leigh.
Suddenly there came a whoop and cry from behind them. Mary caught hold of Emma’s skirt, and in another moment Leigh rushed past them, “driving Fuzz,” he would have said, though it looked more like Fuzz dragginghim. The dog had his harness on, and Leigh was holding the reins and shouting to him.
“I’m taking it out of him,” he called out, “just to quiet him down. Doesn’t he go well?”
It was certainly a comfort to Mary to see that Fuzz was not loose; and in a minute or two, when the pair came back again, running more slowly, she left off trembling and began to laugh a little.
“Doesn’t Fuzzy go just like a little pony?” she said. “Hasn’t Leigh taught him cleverly?”
Then Leigh showed off all he had trained the dog to do. He made him walk quite slowly, and then run, and then stop short when he called out “Woa-wo-a, now; gently, old man,” till they all admired it greatly.
“He’d soon learn to pull a cart,” said Emma.
“Hecanpull a cart, that’s what I’ve been teaching him for,” said Leigh. “He could draw the p’ram-bilator beautifully.”
“Law!” said Emma, “could he now, really?”
“Of course he could,” said Leigh, “as soon as we get into the lane I’ll let you see. The road’s nice and smooth there.”
Mary clapped her hands. She thought it would be lovely. But Emma did hesitate a little.
“Are you sure it’s quite safe, Master Leigh?” she said.
“Safe, of course it’s safe,” said Leigh. “But if you’re afraid you can hold on behind just like you’re doing now, and then you can stop us going faster than you like.”
The lane, when they got into it, ran almost straight to the cottages. Leigh meant to pass them and come home by the smithy, for he wanted Yakeman to admire him driving Fuzzy. There was a hill to go down, as you may remember, from the cottages to Yakeman’s, and I do not know how Leigh meant to manage there. But as things turned out he did not get so far as that.
The little party stopped when they had got some way down the lane, and Leigh began to fasten Fuzz to the perambulator. He had got everything ready—for he had secretly tried it before, and he had straps of the right length which he brought out of his pocket. Mary and Artie stood admiring his cleverness, but Baby Dolly was not pleased. She wanted to go on, and of course she did not understand what they were all stopping for. So she began to cry. Poor little girl, what else could she do?
“P’raps she’s cold,” said Mary. “Itareraver cold standing still.”
“Cold, Miss Mary, oh dear no,” said Emma. “She’s that wrapped up shecouldn’tbe cold. But she’s very fractious to-day; she was crying and fretting all the time nurse was dressing her. Nurse spoils her—if she were my baby I’d be a bit sharper with her.”
“Poor Dolly—dear Dolly,” said Mary, going up to her little sister and trying to sooth her. “Don’t cry—Dolly’s going to have a beauty drive and gosofast.”
“Get out of the way, Mary,” shouted Leigh. “We’re just starting, don’t you see?”
He held the reins in his hand and ran back behind the perambulator. Then he made Emma take her place as usual, holding the bar—not that there was anyneedfor her, he said, but just to make quite sure of Fuzz not running away—they were a funny-looking party, Emma between the reins and Fuzzy wagging his tail in his hurry to be off. Dolly left off crying and stared about her, wondering what it all meant.
“Gee-up, old fellow,” said Leigh, Emma giving a little starting push at the same time, and off they went, Mary and Artie at each side, breathless with excitement.
At first it seemed all right. They went slowly, and Fuzzy did nothing worse than stand still every minute or two, and look over his shoulder to see what was behind him. The first and second times he did this Leigh only called out, “All right, old fellow—gee-up then.” But when it got to the third and fourth time Leigh grew impatient.
“Get on with you, you stupid fellow,” he shouted, cracking the whip he held.
And poor Fuzzy, meaning no harm, not understanding what all the unusual noise and fuss were about, did the only thing he could—hedid“get on.” He started off, running as fast as he could, and that was pretty fast, for the carriage was very light and Emma was pushing—she could not have helped pushing as she was holding the bar and running. And for a minute or two she laughed so that she could not speak. The silly girl thought it was such fun. And seeing her laughing, Leigh thought it was all right and laughed too. But—on went Fuzz, excited by the laughter, and thinkinghewas doing all right, till—at the corner where the lane they were in crossed another lane or road, wider but much rougher, and full of deep cart-ruts—instead of keeping straight on he turned sharply round, for some doggy reason or other, and rushed, still at the same speed, along this road to the right.
“Fuzz,” shouted Leigh, tugging at the left rein. “Fuzz, wo-a then, wo-a.”
“Stop, stop,” screamed Emma.
But it was no use; in another instant Emma, already panting with running and laughing, found herself flung off as it were, and Leigh, a moment after, lay sprawling at full length on the road, the reins torn out of his grasp, while Fuzzy in the greatest delight rushed on, on—the perambulator after him, swaying from side to side; and, oh dear, dear—sweet baby Dolly inside!
Mary and Artie were some little way behind, but when they came up, this was what they saw: Emma sitting on the road crying and rubbing her arm, Leigh tearing along as fast as he could go, and a small dark thing far in front of him, bumping up and down among the cart-ruts, and swinging from side to side, as if every moment it would tumble over, or else be broken to pieces.
Mary stood still and screamed. Artie ran on at once, shouting at the top of his voice, though I do not quite know what good he thought that would do. And then Mary ran after him and left off screaming, which was sensible. Indeed, I think both of them showed more sense than silly Emma, though she was grown up and they were little children. For what could be less use than to sit on the ground crying and rubbing her bruised arm?
But somebody else—somebody none of them was thinking of at all—showed the most sense of any one.
The Perry children were coming along a field-path at one side of the road—it was dry weather, and the path was pretty hard and smooth, so Comfort and the old wicker perambulator got on pretty well with Janie and the baby beside them of course—when the sound of Leigh’s shouts came across the hedge. Janie had quick ears and still quicker wits.
“Someat’s wrong,” she cried, and she plumped the baby into her sister’s arms. “Now hold he,” she added, and for once Comfort had to leave off reading—indeed the flop of the baby made her book drop to the ground—and get it into her head that the care of her three baby brothers washerbusiness for the present, while Janie flew to the gate, which she scrambled over or crept under, I am not sure which, in less time than it takes to tell it, and found herself in the middle of the road.
Leigh was some little way off still; but nearer than he, and coming nearer every instant, was something else which made even Janie’s stout little heart rise up to her mouth, as she afterwards said. It was the perambulator from the Hall, the beautiful new perambulator, banging and dashing along, dragged by something that looked just then very like a little wild beast instead of a well-disposed tame doggie. And yet it was only looks, for Fuzzy was in the best of spirits, quite pleased with himself, and thinking that Leigh’s shouts only meant he was to go faster and faster.
But Janie had not time to think anything. She only saw that the perambulator was not empty; she only took in that it must be stopped. She would not have been frightened, even if she had thought the dog was mad, for she was very brave. But she knew that her voice would have no power over him, and she made her plan in a moment. Just as the wildly excited dog came close to her—luckily just then he was going pretty evenly—she threw herself in his way, which made him slacken his pace, and then, somehow or other, she got hold of the edge of the carriage, holding on to it with all her strength, and she was very strong for her size. And then—what happened exactly she could not tell—I fancy Fuzzy must have given a bound forward to get rid of this troublesome interruption to his grand race—but before she knew where she was they were all in a jumbled-up heap on the ground, Janie, Baby Dolly, perambulator, and dog—Fuzzy barking loudly; baby, Janie was thankful to hear, crying and roaring, but, as far as the small sister-nurse could make out, unhurt.
She had got her safely in her motherly little arms by the time Leigh came up. The first thing he did was to seize hold of the reins which had been dragging behind, for after a glance had shown him that the baby was in good hands, Leigh’s next thought was for the new perambulator.
“She’s not hurt?” he exclaimed.
“No, no, sir. I think not,” said Janie. “She fell soft—right atop of me, Master Leigh. Hush, hush now, Miss Baby dear. Don’t ’ee cry. There’s Miss Mary a-coming along. Hush, hush, my dearie.”
And in surprise at the strange voice, and pleased by the sweet tones, Dolly actually did leave off crying. She opened her eyes wide, and by degrees a smile—a real smile—crept out of her mouth, and brightened up all the little face, still shining with tears. So that when poor wee Mary, all out of breath, and white with fear for her darling sister, came up to the little group, Janie was able to say, while Dolly stretched out her hands in welcome—
“She’s not hurt, Miss Mary, dear. She’s not hurt.”
Leigh by this time had unfastened Fuzz, and set the perambulator on its legs, or wheels, again. He was all trembling; and though it was not a hot day of course, the drops were standing out on his forehead. Wonderful to say, the perambulator was not broken or spoilt.
“Oh Mary,” said Leigh. He could scarcely speak. “Oh Janie, I don’t know how to thank you.”
Janie opened her eyes. It had never come into her head that she had done anything to be thanked for. But she was, as I said, very sensible.
“Master Leigh,” she replied, “I couldn’t a’ done less—that’s nothing. But I can’t think how Mrs Nurse could a’ let you do such a thing.”
“Nurse is ill; at least she’s hurt her leg,” said Leigh. “It’s Emma that’s with us.”
“Then she oughter be ashamed of herself,” exclaimed Janie, as if she was nineteen and Emma ten, instead of the other way about. “What’s the good of a big person to look after children if she’s as silly as them. I beg your parding, Master Leigh, but this ’ere precious baby’s had a narrer escape, and no mistake.”
Janie was hot with indignation and fright.
“But you tried yourselves, Janie,” said Leigh, feeling rather small. “Ned harnessed himself to—”
“Thatwas quite different,” said Janie. “And I told you the other day as it hadn’t turned out a good plan at all. I’m sure if I’d had any notion you were thinking of such a thing, I’d have—” she stopped, then went on again, “But you’ll never try such tricks again, now, will you, Master Leigh? And you’ll go straight to your dear mamma as soon as you get in and tell her all about it.”
“No, I’ll never try it again, I promise you. And of course I’d rather tell about it myself, Janie. You won’t, will you? They’d be making such a song of it all through the village.”
“Very well then, I won’t say nothing,” agreed the little woman. “And I’ll tell Comfort—she’s in the field there behind the hedge with the babies. I’ll see to it that Comfort says nothing neither.”
Then Janie put Baby Dolly tenderly back into her nest again, charging the children to stay close round her till Emma came up, “for fear the sweet little lady should be frightened again.” There was a vision in the distance of Emma slowly making her way to them, and Janie did not want to see her.
“I’ve a sharp tongue in my head, and I’d mebbe say too much,” she thought.
So she hurried back to her own charges, whom she found quite content;thebaby sprawling on Comfort’s knee, and Comfort seated on the grass, late October though it was, buried in her book. There was no need to warnherto say nothing. She looked up with a start as Janie ran up to them.
“What have you been doing, Janie?” she said. She had no idea anything had been the matter!
Emma was very cross when she got to the children. She was vexed at her own arm being bruised, and began scolding Leigh as if he had done it all on purpose to hurt her.
“You said it would be as right as could be, Master Leigh,” she grumbled, “and how was I to know?I’mnot going to be scolded for it, I can tell you.”
“You needn’t be afraid,” said Leigh, very proudly. “I’ll take all the blame on myself when I tell mamma.”
Then Emma changed her tone and began to cry.
“You’ll not really tell your mamma,” she said. “Of courseI’d be blamed, and I’d lose a good place, and what my poor mother’d say I don’t know. It’d go near to break her heart, and she’s not well. Oh Master Leigh, you’ll not tell? There’s no harm done, and Miss Dolly’s none the worse, and we’ll never be so silly again. Miss Mary, my dear, do ask Master Leigh not to tell.”
Mary could not bear to see any one cry, least of all a big person. Her lips began to quiver, and she looked timidly at her brother.
“Leigh,” she began.
And Leigh too was very tender-hearted. But both of them, and Artie too, felt deep down in their hearts that however sorry they might be for Emma they were not doing right in giving in to her.
They did promise not to tell, however; and then the little party turned homewards in very low spirits, though they had such great reason for thankfulness that their dear little sister was not hurt.
They hardly spoke all the way; and Dolly, by this time, tired out by all her adventures, had fallen fast asleep.
Chapter Fourteen.Happy Again.It was two or three days after Fuzzy’s running away with the perambulator that nurse, who was now quite well again, came in to breakfast in the nursery with a grave face, and without, as usual, Baby Dolly in her arms.“Where’s baby?” said Leigh; and Mary, who was deeply engaged with her bowl of bread-and-milk, looked up.“Where’s Baby Dolly, nursie?” she said, in turn.“In bed,” nurse answered, “in bed and fast asleep. She’s had a bad night, and she only fell really asleep when it was about time for getting up. So of course I didn’t wake her.”“Is she ill?” asked Leigh; and both he, and Mary and Artie, looked at nurse so anxiously that she felt sorry for them.“I hope not,” she said. “I hope she’ll be all right when she wakes up. The best and strongest of babies have their little turns. Don’t look so troubled, my dears.”Just then Emma, who had had her breakfast before, came into the room, and was crossing to the door which led into the night-nursery, when she was stopped.“I’ll tidy the room myself this morning, Emma,” said nurse. “I don’t want any one to go in. Miss Dolly’s not very well.”“She’s been very cross this day or two, crying enough to make herself ill. You spoil her, nurse, that’s what I say,” said Emma, pertly.Nurse made no reply, except to repeat her orders to Emma not to enter the bedroom.As soon as breakfast was over, the three children—Artie and Mary with clean pinafores, and all with smoothed hair and nicely-washed hands—went downstairs as usual to the dining-room for prayers. But to their surprise their mamma was not there, nor was nurse. They did not wonder much about nurse, however, for they knew some one would have to stay beside baby in case she woke.But to-day several things seemed strange and different from usual. Instead of going up to the nursery again their father told them they were all to go to the little study where Leigh and Artie did their lessons with their tutor.“For baby must not be disturbed,” he said, “and if you were all playing in the nursery the noise would go through to the other room.”“Mayn’t I go up to the nursery, papa dear?” asked Mary. “Just me. I’d bekitequiet. I don’t like to be away from nursie and baby,” and her voice sounded as if she were going to cry. “And I don’t know what to do when Mr Fibbetts comes.”“MrPhillips,” said papa. “You’re getting too big to talk so babyishly, Mary. And you mustn’t be selfish, my dear. If you can play quietly in the nursery you can play quietly in the study, or perhaps I’ll send Emma to take you out a little.”“I don’t want Emma. I want mamma, and nursie and Dolly,” said Mary.She thought her papa was rather “c’oss,” and she was not used to his being the least cross. And she was unhappy about baby; and deep down in her heart was a sort of fear she tried not to think about. Mary had never been so unhappy in all her life before.The fear was not inherheart only. Leigh and Artie were feeling just the same. At first when they found themselves alone in the study they all three tried to pretend there was nothing the matter. They hid away the fear, and covered it up, and told it to go to sleep. But fears like that are very troublesome. They won’t go to sleep; just as we think we have got them safely shut in and all seems still, up they jump again, and there they are knocking at the door, not only of our hearts, but of ourconsciences.“You have done wrong,” they say, “and wrongdoing brings trouble.”And after a while the two little brothers and their sister left off pretending. They sat down close together on the hearthrug and looked at each other.“Leigh,” said Artie, in a strange hushed sort of voice, “do you think Baby Dolly’sveryill?”Mary did not speak; but she looked up in Leigh’s face, so that he turned his head away.“How should I know?” he said roughly.“You heard as much as I did. Babies are often ill.”But both the others knew quite well that he was just as unhappy as they were.“Oh, Leigh,” said Mary at last, her voice trembling, “do you think it can be ’cos of—” but here she stopped.Leigh turned round sharply. His face was white, but still he tried to be angry.“Why can’t you speak out, you silly girl?” he said. “Why don’t you say what you mean?—that I’ve made her ill by the tumbling out of the perambulator? Nonsense, she fell on the top of Janie Perry, and Janie said she came quite softly. Howcouldit have hurt her?”“I don’t know,” said Mary, but she spoke very sadly.“There’s was a little boy,” began Artie, “wot fell out of a winder, and he jumped up and said he wasn’t hurt, but then he was killed.”“What do you mean?” said Leigh. “How was he killed if he wasn’t hurt?”“I mean he died soon,” said Artie. “P’raps it was the next day. He was hurt inside his head though it wasn’t blooding outside.”“And babies are so dellykid,” said Mary.Leigh gave a sort of angry grunt, something between a sob and a scold. Certainly Mary and Artie were not comforting. But did he deserve comforting? It was true he had meant no harm at all to dear baby. He had thought it would be fun for her as well as for the others and himself—most for himself, I am afraid—if Fuzz could be taught to draw her carriage quite well, like the dogs papa had told them about. But, had it been right to do it secretly, without anybody’s leave? He had turned it and twisted it so in his mind that he had persuaded himself he only wanted to “surprise” everybody, for one reason; and for another, that nurse was so silly and fussy; and for still another, that there was no need to tease papa and mamma about every little plan for amusing themselves that he and the others made.But now, somehow, none of these reasons seemed any good; they all slipped and melted away as if there was nothing real in them.And then there was the second piece of concealment—the hiding about the accident. There was no good excuse for that. Leigh’s own first feelings had been to tell at once, and Janie Perry had trusted that he would. Why had he given in to Emma? Was it really out of pity for her and her mother; or was it partly—a good big “partly”—that he was afraid of being very much scolded himself? As he got to this point of his gloomy thoughts Leigh gave another groan; it was much more of a groan this time, as if he could not bear his own unhappiness.Then, for he had covered up his eyes, he felt a little hand stealing round his neck—it was Mary.“Oh, Leigh, dear poor Leigh,” she whispered. “Iareso sorry for you, and I are so miderable.”Leigh drew the trembling, quivering little creature to him, and left off trying to keep up. Artie crept near to them, and they all cried together.Then Leigh started up.“I’ll go and tell now,” he said, “now, this minute. It’s been all my fault, and I don’t care what Emma says, nor how I’m scolded. P’raps,p’raps, the doctor’ll be able to do something, even if her head is hurt inside the way that boy’s was.”He kissed the two others and started off. He seemed away a long time; but, alas! when he came back there was no look of comfort or hope in his face. It was only very white, and his eyes very red.“It’s no good,” he said, flinging himself down on a chair and bursting out crying. “It’s no good. That’s my punishment. Now that I want to tell I can’t.”Mary and Artie could not understand.“Was you too f’ightened, poor Leigh?” said Mary. “Shall I go?”“No, no, it’s not about me. It’s this way. Papa’s gone, ever so long ago. He’s gone to the station, and I think he was going to see the doctor on the way. And mamma and nurse are shut up in the night-nursery with baby, not to be disturbed bynobody,” said Leigh, forgetting his grammar in his distress. “I saw Emma, butshe’sno good, she’d only tell stories to keep herself from being scolded. But I do think she looks frightened about baby. Oh dear, whatshallI do? Darling Baby Dolly, and it’s all my fault. I see it now;” and Leigh flung himself on to the floor and burst out sobbing again.“Leigh, Leigh, poor Leigh,” said Mary and Artie together.“Mr Fibbetts will be coming,” said Mary in a moment, “and then I’ll have to go out with Emma. Oh, I don’t want to go.”Leigh looked up.“Mr Phillips won’t be coming,” he said, “I forgot. Everything’s been so strange to-day. It’s Saturday, Mary. He doesn’t come on Saturdays. You shan’t go out with Emma if you don’t want. She’s a untrue bad girl; it’s a good deal her fault, though she’s not been half so wicked as me.”“You’ve not been wicked, dear Leigh. You didn’t mean any harm,” sobbed Mary.“And we’veallbeen naughty for not telling,” added Artie.“Oh, but whatarewe to do?” cried Leigh again. “The doctor’ll be coming and he won’t know, and p’raps he’ll give Dolly the wrong medicines with not knowing, and baby will get worser and worser. Oh, whatshallwe do?”“Iknow,” said Mary, in a clear, decided voice, which made both her brothers look at her in surprise. “We’ll hide somewhere, so that we can jump out when the doctor passes and tellhim. So then he must know what to do for Dolly. Where shall we hide, Leigh?”Leigh stopped crying to consider.“Near the lodge would be best,” he said. “The bushes are thick, and he must pass there. But it’s cold, Mary, and we can’t possibly go upstairs to get your things. Artie and I have got our caps and comforters in the hall. And if we left you here Emma would find you.”“No, no,” said Mary, dancing about in her eagerness, “don’t leave me here, Leigh. There’s shawls in the hall. Can’t you wrap me up in one of them? I’ll bequitegood. I won’t fuss about at all.”So it was settled. The three set off as silently as they could to the hall, where they caught up the best wraps they could find. Then they made their way through the big drawing-room, which opened into a conservatory, out by a side path to the drive.Five minutes after they had left the study Emma came to look for them, but found the birds flown. She took no further trouble; for, to tell the truth, she was not sorry to keep out of the children’s way; her own conscience was not at all at rest, and she had made up her mind to write to her mother asking for her to come home at once.Though it was two miles to the village it did not take long to drive there, and Mr Bertram luckily caught Mr Wiseman the doctor just as he was starting on his rounds.Mr Wiseman was driving a young horse; he went well, but he was rather timid, and apt to shy when anything startled him. The lodge gates were open; as the children’s papa had told the woman that the doctor would be coming, so he drove in without stopping. But, oh dear! Scarcely had he got a few yards up the avenue before there was a great fuss. The young horse was dancing and shaking with fear, and if the groom had not jumped down and got to his head more quickly than it takes me to tell it, who knows what might not have happened.What had frightened him so?Three funny-looking little figures had sprung out from among the bushes, calling out in eager but melancholy tones—“Mr Wiseman, Mr Wiseman, please stop. Oh please stop.”These were Leigh and Artie, one with an old squashy wide-awake of papa’s, that was much too big for him, the other with a cloth deer-stalker cap which made him look like a Laplander, for in their hurry they had not been able to find their own things.And Mary, funniest of all, with a shawl mamma used on the lawn, all huddled up round her, and the fringes trailing elegantly behind. For half a minute the doctor thought they were gypsy children from the van on the common.But then again came the cry—“Oh, Mr Wiseman,pleasestay,” and his quick eye saw that all the little faces were swollen and tear-stained. Something must be very wrong.“The baby,” he thought to himself, “poor little woman. Surely nothing worse has happened to her since I saw Mr Bertram? They could never have sent the children to tell me—”He jumped down, stopping an instant to pat his frightened horse. But he had not the heart to scold the children for startling poor Paddy so.“Whatisthe matter, my dear children?” he said kindly.The children knew Mr Wiseman well, and were not afraid of him, still it was not easy to get the story clearly from them. The doctor saw he must be patient, and as soon as he heard baby’s name he felt that the matter might be serious, and by careful questioning he at last understood the whole. In his heart he did not feel very uneasy, for little Dolly’s father had told him in what way she seemed ill, and it was not the kind of illness that could have come from a fall. But to the children he was very grave, for he thought it most wrong of them, Leigh especially of course, not to have told exactly what had happened; and he thought, too, that the sooner the under-nurse was sent away the better.“I don’t think,” he said, “I don’t think I need to tell you how wrong you have been. There is no fear, Leigh, of your ever trying anything of the kind again without leave. And even you two little ones are old enough to know you should not have kept the accident a secret. But I must hurry on to see poor baby as quickly as possible. Come back to the house now, for it is too cold for you to be standing about, and as soon as I can I will let you know how your little sister is. All you can do now is to be as good as possible, and give no trouble while she is ill, even if your mamma and nurse cannot be with you at all.”With these words he sprang up into his dogcart again and drove off quickly to the house, the children gazing after him.Then Mary burst into a sad fit of crying again. “Oh Leigh! Oh Artie!” she said. “Does you think Baby Dolly’s going to die?”Leigh was very pale, and his eyes were still swollen and red, but he had made up his mind not to cry any more. He felt he was so much more to blame than the others that he wanted to try to comfort them.“I hope God will make her better,” he said in a very low voice. “Please try not to cry, Mary dear. It makes me so very miserable. Let us go home now and wait quietly in the study till Mr Wiseman comes to tell us how baby is.”Mary slipped her hand into Leigh’s, and choked down her tears.“I’ll try not to cry,” she said. “But I can’t help thinking about if we have to be all alone with Emma, and she’ll be so c’oss. Do you think, p’raps, we won’t see mamma for a lot of days, Leigh?”Leigh could only say he did not know, but he squeezed Mary’s hand tight.“I’ll not let Emma be cross to you, Mary dear,” he said. “I’ll try to be very good to you, for it’s all my fault.”Artie took Mary’s other hand, and they all three went back to the house. The study was just as they had left it—there was no sign of Emma, which they were very glad of. They felt chilly and tired, though they had walked such a little way, and they were glad all to creep round the fire again, and sit there waiting—oh so very, very anxiously, till they heard Mr Wiseman coming. For Leigh had told him they would be in the study.It seemed a long time.“I wonder if he’snevercoming,” said Mary, more than once.At last there came the sound of footsteps, quick and firm, running downstairs.“There he is,” said Leigh, and he ran to the door which he opened and stood there listening. But strange to say the footsteps crossed the hall towards the front door, instead of turning down the passage to the study. Leigh could scarcely believe his ears—surely itcouldnot be the doctor?Yes it was—he heard his voice speaking to the butler in the hall. And then—before Leigh had time to run out and call to him, there came the sound of Mr Wiseman’s dogcart driving away as fast as it had come.Leigh felt faint with disappointment. He came back into the room again, looking so white that Mary and Artie started up.“He’s gone,” said Leigh, “gone without coming in to tell us.”“Can it be that Dolly’s so ill he doesn’t like to tell us?” said Artie.“P’raps he’s gone to get another doctor,” said Mary. “Peoples has two doctors when they’re very ill, nurse said. Oh Leigh, dear Leigh, I’m afraid I’m going to cry.”Leigh did not speak. If he had, he would have burst out crying himself, I’m afraid. But just then—just when they were feeling as if theycould notbear it any more, there came again the sound of some one hastening downstairs, a lighter tread than Mr Wiseman’s this time. And the footsteps did not cross the hall. They came quick and eager, one after the other, down the passages to the study. Then the door opened—and—some one stood there, looking in.“My poor dears,” said a loving voice with a little tremble in it. And in another second somebody’s arms were round them all—it is wonderful how many children can creep into one pair of arms sometimes!—and they all seemed to be kissing mamma, for of course it was mamma—and each other at once. And somehow—Mary could not remember how mamma told it them—they knew that there were good news. Baby Dolly was not going to be very ill!It had nothing to do with the fall—but, till the doctor came, it was thought the little sister had got scarlet fever or measles, and that was why the children had been kept out of the nursery all the morning and not allowed to see the baby, or mamma or nurse who had been with her. For those illnesses are very easily caught.But it was nothing so bad. It was only a little feverish attack, which would soon pass away if she was kept quiet and warm.“You shall see her this afternoon, just for a minute or two,” said mamma. “I told the doctor I would come down myself to tell you the good news. And I am going to take you out a walk, so as to leave the nursery quite quiet.”“Not with Emma?” said Mary. She was not sorry, but she was rather surprised.“No, dear, not with Emma. You will not be with Emma any more, for I cannot trust her.” Leigh grew very red at this.“Mamma,” he said, “then you can’t trustme.”“Yes,” she replied. “I do trust you, for I know you have had a lesson you will never forget. Will you, my boy?”“No, mamma, never,” said Leigh in a very low voice.The walk was to the Lavender Cottages. Mamma had two reasons for going there. She wanted to thank Janie Perry for the brave way she had behaved; and she also wanted to ask Janie’s mother about a niece of hers, who she thought would make a nice nursery-maid instead of Emma.It was a very happy walk; they all felt as if they had never loved mammaquiteso much before.And a few days later, when Baby Dolly had got quite well and was able to go out in her carriage once more, mamma came with them again for a great treat. And Fuzzy came too.“Poor old Fuzzy,” said Mary, who was hopping along as merry as a cricket, feeling quite safe with mamma’s hand. “Poor old Fuzzy. He nevermeanedto run away, did he, mamma? When Baby Dolly’s a big girl we’ll tell her she needn’t be f’ightened of poor Fuzzy—it’s only his play; isn’t it, mamma dear?”The End.
It was two or three days after Fuzzy’s running away with the perambulator that nurse, who was now quite well again, came in to breakfast in the nursery with a grave face, and without, as usual, Baby Dolly in her arms.
“Where’s baby?” said Leigh; and Mary, who was deeply engaged with her bowl of bread-and-milk, looked up.
“Where’s Baby Dolly, nursie?” she said, in turn.
“In bed,” nurse answered, “in bed and fast asleep. She’s had a bad night, and she only fell really asleep when it was about time for getting up. So of course I didn’t wake her.”
“Is she ill?” asked Leigh; and both he, and Mary and Artie, looked at nurse so anxiously that she felt sorry for them.
“I hope not,” she said. “I hope she’ll be all right when she wakes up. The best and strongest of babies have their little turns. Don’t look so troubled, my dears.”
Just then Emma, who had had her breakfast before, came into the room, and was crossing to the door which led into the night-nursery, when she was stopped.
“I’ll tidy the room myself this morning, Emma,” said nurse. “I don’t want any one to go in. Miss Dolly’s not very well.”
“She’s been very cross this day or two, crying enough to make herself ill. You spoil her, nurse, that’s what I say,” said Emma, pertly.
Nurse made no reply, except to repeat her orders to Emma not to enter the bedroom.
As soon as breakfast was over, the three children—Artie and Mary with clean pinafores, and all with smoothed hair and nicely-washed hands—went downstairs as usual to the dining-room for prayers. But to their surprise their mamma was not there, nor was nurse. They did not wonder much about nurse, however, for they knew some one would have to stay beside baby in case she woke.
But to-day several things seemed strange and different from usual. Instead of going up to the nursery again their father told them they were all to go to the little study where Leigh and Artie did their lessons with their tutor.
“For baby must not be disturbed,” he said, “and if you were all playing in the nursery the noise would go through to the other room.”
“Mayn’t I go up to the nursery, papa dear?” asked Mary. “Just me. I’d bekitequiet. I don’t like to be away from nursie and baby,” and her voice sounded as if she were going to cry. “And I don’t know what to do when Mr Fibbetts comes.”
“MrPhillips,” said papa. “You’re getting too big to talk so babyishly, Mary. And you mustn’t be selfish, my dear. If you can play quietly in the nursery you can play quietly in the study, or perhaps I’ll send Emma to take you out a little.”
“I don’t want Emma. I want mamma, and nursie and Dolly,” said Mary.
She thought her papa was rather “c’oss,” and she was not used to his being the least cross. And she was unhappy about baby; and deep down in her heart was a sort of fear she tried not to think about. Mary had never been so unhappy in all her life before.
The fear was not inherheart only. Leigh and Artie were feeling just the same. At first when they found themselves alone in the study they all three tried to pretend there was nothing the matter. They hid away the fear, and covered it up, and told it to go to sleep. But fears like that are very troublesome. They won’t go to sleep; just as we think we have got them safely shut in and all seems still, up they jump again, and there they are knocking at the door, not only of our hearts, but of ourconsciences.
“You have done wrong,” they say, “and wrongdoing brings trouble.”
And after a while the two little brothers and their sister left off pretending. They sat down close together on the hearthrug and looked at each other.
“Leigh,” said Artie, in a strange hushed sort of voice, “do you think Baby Dolly’sveryill?”
Mary did not speak; but she looked up in Leigh’s face, so that he turned his head away.
“How should I know?” he said roughly.
“You heard as much as I did. Babies are often ill.”
But both the others knew quite well that he was just as unhappy as they were.
“Oh, Leigh,” said Mary at last, her voice trembling, “do you think it can be ’cos of—” but here she stopped.
Leigh turned round sharply. His face was white, but still he tried to be angry.
“Why can’t you speak out, you silly girl?” he said. “Why don’t you say what you mean?—that I’ve made her ill by the tumbling out of the perambulator? Nonsense, she fell on the top of Janie Perry, and Janie said she came quite softly. Howcouldit have hurt her?”
“I don’t know,” said Mary, but she spoke very sadly.
“There’s was a little boy,” began Artie, “wot fell out of a winder, and he jumped up and said he wasn’t hurt, but then he was killed.”
“What do you mean?” said Leigh. “How was he killed if he wasn’t hurt?”
“I mean he died soon,” said Artie. “P’raps it was the next day. He was hurt inside his head though it wasn’t blooding outside.”
“And babies are so dellykid,” said Mary.
Leigh gave a sort of angry grunt, something between a sob and a scold. Certainly Mary and Artie were not comforting. But did he deserve comforting? It was true he had meant no harm at all to dear baby. He had thought it would be fun for her as well as for the others and himself—most for himself, I am afraid—if Fuzz could be taught to draw her carriage quite well, like the dogs papa had told them about. But, had it been right to do it secretly, without anybody’s leave? He had turned it and twisted it so in his mind that he had persuaded himself he only wanted to “surprise” everybody, for one reason; and for another, that nurse was so silly and fussy; and for still another, that there was no need to tease papa and mamma about every little plan for amusing themselves that he and the others made.
But now, somehow, none of these reasons seemed any good; they all slipped and melted away as if there was nothing real in them.
And then there was the second piece of concealment—the hiding about the accident. There was no good excuse for that. Leigh’s own first feelings had been to tell at once, and Janie Perry had trusted that he would. Why had he given in to Emma? Was it really out of pity for her and her mother; or was it partly—a good big “partly”—that he was afraid of being very much scolded himself? As he got to this point of his gloomy thoughts Leigh gave another groan; it was much more of a groan this time, as if he could not bear his own unhappiness.
Then, for he had covered up his eyes, he felt a little hand stealing round his neck—it was Mary.
“Oh, Leigh, dear poor Leigh,” she whispered. “Iareso sorry for you, and I are so miderable.”
Leigh drew the trembling, quivering little creature to him, and left off trying to keep up. Artie crept near to them, and they all cried together.
Then Leigh started up.
“I’ll go and tell now,” he said, “now, this minute. It’s been all my fault, and I don’t care what Emma says, nor how I’m scolded. P’raps,p’raps, the doctor’ll be able to do something, even if her head is hurt inside the way that boy’s was.”
He kissed the two others and started off. He seemed away a long time; but, alas! when he came back there was no look of comfort or hope in his face. It was only very white, and his eyes very red.
“It’s no good,” he said, flinging himself down on a chair and bursting out crying. “It’s no good. That’s my punishment. Now that I want to tell I can’t.”
Mary and Artie could not understand.
“Was you too f’ightened, poor Leigh?” said Mary. “Shall I go?”
“No, no, it’s not about me. It’s this way. Papa’s gone, ever so long ago. He’s gone to the station, and I think he was going to see the doctor on the way. And mamma and nurse are shut up in the night-nursery with baby, not to be disturbed bynobody,” said Leigh, forgetting his grammar in his distress. “I saw Emma, butshe’sno good, she’d only tell stories to keep herself from being scolded. But I do think she looks frightened about baby. Oh dear, whatshallI do? Darling Baby Dolly, and it’s all my fault. I see it now;” and Leigh flung himself on to the floor and burst out sobbing again.
“Leigh, Leigh, poor Leigh,” said Mary and Artie together.
“Mr Fibbetts will be coming,” said Mary in a moment, “and then I’ll have to go out with Emma. Oh, I don’t want to go.”
Leigh looked up.
“Mr Phillips won’t be coming,” he said, “I forgot. Everything’s been so strange to-day. It’s Saturday, Mary. He doesn’t come on Saturdays. You shan’t go out with Emma if you don’t want. She’s a untrue bad girl; it’s a good deal her fault, though she’s not been half so wicked as me.”
“You’ve not been wicked, dear Leigh. You didn’t mean any harm,” sobbed Mary.
“And we’veallbeen naughty for not telling,” added Artie.
“Oh, but whatarewe to do?” cried Leigh again. “The doctor’ll be coming and he won’t know, and p’raps he’ll give Dolly the wrong medicines with not knowing, and baby will get worser and worser. Oh, whatshallwe do?”
“Iknow,” said Mary, in a clear, decided voice, which made both her brothers look at her in surprise. “We’ll hide somewhere, so that we can jump out when the doctor passes and tellhim. So then he must know what to do for Dolly. Where shall we hide, Leigh?”
Leigh stopped crying to consider.
“Near the lodge would be best,” he said. “The bushes are thick, and he must pass there. But it’s cold, Mary, and we can’t possibly go upstairs to get your things. Artie and I have got our caps and comforters in the hall. And if we left you here Emma would find you.”
“No, no,” said Mary, dancing about in her eagerness, “don’t leave me here, Leigh. There’s shawls in the hall. Can’t you wrap me up in one of them? I’ll bequitegood. I won’t fuss about at all.”
So it was settled. The three set off as silently as they could to the hall, where they caught up the best wraps they could find. Then they made their way through the big drawing-room, which opened into a conservatory, out by a side path to the drive.
Five minutes after they had left the study Emma came to look for them, but found the birds flown. She took no further trouble; for, to tell the truth, she was not sorry to keep out of the children’s way; her own conscience was not at all at rest, and she had made up her mind to write to her mother asking for her to come home at once.
Though it was two miles to the village it did not take long to drive there, and Mr Bertram luckily caught Mr Wiseman the doctor just as he was starting on his rounds.
Mr Wiseman was driving a young horse; he went well, but he was rather timid, and apt to shy when anything startled him. The lodge gates were open; as the children’s papa had told the woman that the doctor would be coming, so he drove in without stopping. But, oh dear! Scarcely had he got a few yards up the avenue before there was a great fuss. The young horse was dancing and shaking with fear, and if the groom had not jumped down and got to his head more quickly than it takes me to tell it, who knows what might not have happened.
What had frightened him so?
Three funny-looking little figures had sprung out from among the bushes, calling out in eager but melancholy tones—
“Mr Wiseman, Mr Wiseman, please stop. Oh please stop.”
These were Leigh and Artie, one with an old squashy wide-awake of papa’s, that was much too big for him, the other with a cloth deer-stalker cap which made him look like a Laplander, for in their hurry they had not been able to find their own things.
And Mary, funniest of all, with a shawl mamma used on the lawn, all huddled up round her, and the fringes trailing elegantly behind. For half a minute the doctor thought they were gypsy children from the van on the common.
But then again came the cry—
“Oh, Mr Wiseman,pleasestay,” and his quick eye saw that all the little faces were swollen and tear-stained. Something must be very wrong.
“The baby,” he thought to himself, “poor little woman. Surely nothing worse has happened to her since I saw Mr Bertram? They could never have sent the children to tell me—”
He jumped down, stopping an instant to pat his frightened horse. But he had not the heart to scold the children for startling poor Paddy so.
“Whatisthe matter, my dear children?” he said kindly.
The children knew Mr Wiseman well, and were not afraid of him, still it was not easy to get the story clearly from them. The doctor saw he must be patient, and as soon as he heard baby’s name he felt that the matter might be serious, and by careful questioning he at last understood the whole. In his heart he did not feel very uneasy, for little Dolly’s father had told him in what way she seemed ill, and it was not the kind of illness that could have come from a fall. But to the children he was very grave, for he thought it most wrong of them, Leigh especially of course, not to have told exactly what had happened; and he thought, too, that the sooner the under-nurse was sent away the better.
“I don’t think,” he said, “I don’t think I need to tell you how wrong you have been. There is no fear, Leigh, of your ever trying anything of the kind again without leave. And even you two little ones are old enough to know you should not have kept the accident a secret. But I must hurry on to see poor baby as quickly as possible. Come back to the house now, for it is too cold for you to be standing about, and as soon as I can I will let you know how your little sister is. All you can do now is to be as good as possible, and give no trouble while she is ill, even if your mamma and nurse cannot be with you at all.”
With these words he sprang up into his dogcart again and drove off quickly to the house, the children gazing after him.
Then Mary burst into a sad fit of crying again. “Oh Leigh! Oh Artie!” she said. “Does you think Baby Dolly’s going to die?”
Leigh was very pale, and his eyes were still swollen and red, but he had made up his mind not to cry any more. He felt he was so much more to blame than the others that he wanted to try to comfort them.
“I hope God will make her better,” he said in a very low voice. “Please try not to cry, Mary dear. It makes me so very miserable. Let us go home now and wait quietly in the study till Mr Wiseman comes to tell us how baby is.”
Mary slipped her hand into Leigh’s, and choked down her tears.
“I’ll try not to cry,” she said. “But I can’t help thinking about if we have to be all alone with Emma, and she’ll be so c’oss. Do you think, p’raps, we won’t see mamma for a lot of days, Leigh?”
Leigh could only say he did not know, but he squeezed Mary’s hand tight.
“I’ll not let Emma be cross to you, Mary dear,” he said. “I’ll try to be very good to you, for it’s all my fault.”
Artie took Mary’s other hand, and they all three went back to the house. The study was just as they had left it—there was no sign of Emma, which they were very glad of. They felt chilly and tired, though they had walked such a little way, and they were glad all to creep round the fire again, and sit there waiting—oh so very, very anxiously, till they heard Mr Wiseman coming. For Leigh had told him they would be in the study.
It seemed a long time.
“I wonder if he’snevercoming,” said Mary, more than once.
At last there came the sound of footsteps, quick and firm, running downstairs.
“There he is,” said Leigh, and he ran to the door which he opened and stood there listening. But strange to say the footsteps crossed the hall towards the front door, instead of turning down the passage to the study. Leigh could scarcely believe his ears—surely itcouldnot be the doctor?
Yes it was—he heard his voice speaking to the butler in the hall. And then—before Leigh had time to run out and call to him, there came the sound of Mr Wiseman’s dogcart driving away as fast as it had come.
Leigh felt faint with disappointment. He came back into the room again, looking so white that Mary and Artie started up.
“He’s gone,” said Leigh, “gone without coming in to tell us.”
“Can it be that Dolly’s so ill he doesn’t like to tell us?” said Artie.
“P’raps he’s gone to get another doctor,” said Mary. “Peoples has two doctors when they’re very ill, nurse said. Oh Leigh, dear Leigh, I’m afraid I’m going to cry.”
Leigh did not speak. If he had, he would have burst out crying himself, I’m afraid. But just then—just when they were feeling as if theycould notbear it any more, there came again the sound of some one hastening downstairs, a lighter tread than Mr Wiseman’s this time. And the footsteps did not cross the hall. They came quick and eager, one after the other, down the passages to the study. Then the door opened—and—some one stood there, looking in.
“My poor dears,” said a loving voice with a little tremble in it. And in another second somebody’s arms were round them all—it is wonderful how many children can creep into one pair of arms sometimes!—and they all seemed to be kissing mamma, for of course it was mamma—and each other at once. And somehow—Mary could not remember how mamma told it them—they knew that there were good news. Baby Dolly was not going to be very ill!
It had nothing to do with the fall—but, till the doctor came, it was thought the little sister had got scarlet fever or measles, and that was why the children had been kept out of the nursery all the morning and not allowed to see the baby, or mamma or nurse who had been with her. For those illnesses are very easily caught.
But it was nothing so bad. It was only a little feverish attack, which would soon pass away if she was kept quiet and warm.
“You shall see her this afternoon, just for a minute or two,” said mamma. “I told the doctor I would come down myself to tell you the good news. And I am going to take you out a walk, so as to leave the nursery quite quiet.”
“Not with Emma?” said Mary. She was not sorry, but she was rather surprised.
“No, dear, not with Emma. You will not be with Emma any more, for I cannot trust her.” Leigh grew very red at this.
“Mamma,” he said, “then you can’t trustme.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I do trust you, for I know you have had a lesson you will never forget. Will you, my boy?”
“No, mamma, never,” said Leigh in a very low voice.
The walk was to the Lavender Cottages. Mamma had two reasons for going there. She wanted to thank Janie Perry for the brave way she had behaved; and she also wanted to ask Janie’s mother about a niece of hers, who she thought would make a nice nursery-maid instead of Emma.
It was a very happy walk; they all felt as if they had never loved mammaquiteso much before.
And a few days later, when Baby Dolly had got quite well and was able to go out in her carriage once more, mamma came with them again for a great treat. And Fuzzy came too.
“Poor old Fuzzy,” said Mary, who was hopping along as merry as a cricket, feeling quite safe with mamma’s hand. “Poor old Fuzzy. He nevermeanedto run away, did he, mamma? When Baby Dolly’s a big girl we’ll tell her she needn’t be f’ightened of poor Fuzzy—it’s only his play; isn’t it, mamma dear?”
The End.