'I'LL TAKE ONE HAND AND PAT ONE, AND THEN WE'LL ALL RUN DOWN TOGETHER.''I'LL TAKE ONE HAND AND PAT ONE, AND THEN WE'LL ALL RUN DOWN TOGETHER.'
'I'll tell you what, Ger,' said Rosamond quickly, 'I'll take one hand and Pat one, and then we'll all run down together, and wait for auntie at the bottom.'
To this arrangement Ger condescended, and Aunt Mattie, as she followed the three more slowly, gave a little sigh of satisfaction.
'It's all quite true that her mother said of her,' she thought to herself. 'She's a dear little soul, full of tact and good feeling. I wonder why our boys are so very tiresome?'
For it was new to her to think of them as nothersas much as their parents'.
'I wonder if it's just that theyareboys, or have we mismanaged them somehow or other? I did sohope that my being with Harriet since I grew up had been a real help to her, but it scarcely looks like it. These boys are very troublesome.'
Tea was ready when they all got back to the house—tea and the dispenser of it, in the shape of Miss Ward, very meek and evidently rather sorry for herself, though her face brightened as she caught sight of Aunt Mattie and rose to greet her.
'I am sorry you have got a headache, Miss Ward,' said the young lady, 'I'm afraid you are rather subject to them.'
'N—no, I can't say that I am, or rather I never used to be, and I am particularly sorry to have had one to-day when Mrs. Hervey was away. But I daresay a cup of tea will put it all right—it often does,' replied the governess.
'Then why didn't you ask for one early in the day; I'm sure you could get it at any time,' said Aunt Mattie a little coldly. She was feeling rather irritated with Miss Ward for seeming so doleful, for she had come to them with the recommendation of being specially clever in managing boys. She was no longer very young, but active and capable, at least so she had appeared at first. She grew a little red as she replied,
'Oh! I don't want to give in to these headaches or to make any fuss about them.'
'Poor Mith Ward,' said little Ger, 'all-bodies would have headaches if naughty Jus throwed books at them!'
'Ger, Ger,' exclaimed Miss Ward; while up started Justin in a fury.
'I throw books at Miss Ward; what do you mean, you sneaking little tell-tale?' he exclaimed. 'No, you're worse than that, you are a right-down story-teller.'
'He's not,' said Hec. 'You've done ittwicet, Jus, you know you have.'
Justin was on the point of rushing off from his place to seize Hec, when Aunt Mattie turned to him.
'Be quiet, Justin,' she said, 'and behave like a gentleman. If not, you must leave the room.'
The old habit of obedience to his young aunt told, and Justin sat down again, though not without mutterings to himself.
'I don't want to spoil our tea-time,' said Aunt Mattie quietly, turning to Miss Ward,' but I think it would be best for you to explain what the little boys mean, and—whatyoumean, Justin.'
'I didn't mean to hurt Miss Ward,' said Justin,'and it was settled that nothing more was to be said about it.'
'I don't think Hec and Ger were in the room when we settled that,' said Miss Ward, smiling a little. 'The facts are these, Mrs. Caryll. Justin meant to play a trick on Pat, some days ago—what they call a "book-trap"—some volumes balanced on the top of a door—you have heard of it, I daresay?—so that they fall on the head of the first person who goes into the room. Unluckily for me, I was that person, as I had to go into Pat's room unexpectedly. I did get a bad blow, but Justin was very sorry and promised never to do it again.'
'But you say that was some days ago,' said Aunt Mattie.
'Well, yes,' the governess allowed. 'This morning it was quite a different thing. Pat was not ready to go out when Justin wanted him, or something of that kind, and Justin threw a bookathis door, to make him hurry, I suppose, and again it hitme, as I was crossing the passage. And—and—somehow a very little thing seems to make my head ache lately.'
In her heart Aunt Mattie did not feel surprised.
'If what I have seen to-day goes on from morning till night, I am sure I don't wonder,' she thought toherself, as she turned again to Justin. But he stopped her before she had time to speak.
'Auntie,' he said, looking, and it is to be hoped, still morefeeling, very much ashamed of himself—'auntie, Iwasvery sorry the books hit Miss Ward, especially this morning. But I didn't in the least mean it for her——'
'I should hope not, indeed,' interrupted Mrs. Caryll.
'And,' continued Justin, 'Miss Ward knows I didn't, and we had made it all up and nothing more would have been heard about it but for that little sneak, Hec.'
'You meant to have told your father and mother about it when they came home, surely?' said his aunt.
Justin reddened again, and muttered something about getting into scrapes enough without needing toputhimself into them; remarks which Mrs. Caryll thought it wiser not to hear.
'Please don't say anything more about it,' said Miss Ward, speaking more decidedly than she had yet done. 'It is not often we have the pleasure of visitors at tea, and my head is really much better now. I amsurenothing of the kind will happen again, and—and—little Miss——'
'Mouth,' said Gervais quite gravely.
'Mouth?' repeated Miss Ward, looking very puzzled.
'No,' Hec corrected, 'Mouse.'
'Miss Mouse,' she went on, 'will think us a party of——'
'Wild cats,' interrupted Archie.
And at this everybody burst out laughing, Miss Ward included, for shewasvery good-natured—and on the whole perhaps the laughing was the best thing that could have happened. Then Aunt Mattie had to explain that her little niece's name was not really 'Miss Mouse,' but Rosamond—Rosamond Caryll, as her father was Uncle Ted's brother—though the boys all joined, for once, in saying thattheywere always going to call her Miss Mouse, 'it suited her so well,' in which their governess agreed.
And tea went on peacefully and pleasantly on the whole, though Miss Mouse's eyes grew very round with surprise more than once at the pushes and thumps that passed between the boys, and the growls and snaps and mutterings, even though the five were decidedly on their best behaviour. Aunt Mattie did her utmost quietly to keep things smooth, and so did Miss Ward. But Aunt Mattiewas feeling sorry and disappointed, though she tried not to show it.
'I think Pat might do so much to make things better,' she thought to herself. 'He is cleverer than Justin, who is just a great, rough, clumsy schoolboy, not bad at heart, but awfully careless and thoughtless. Pat is not thoughtless, but he keeps himself far too apart from his brothers; if he would try to interest himself in their pleasures a little, he might get to have far more influence. I must speak to him again.'
And so she did. There was an opportunity for a little more talk when tea was over and before the pony-carriage came round. Pat was quick at noticing things, and he saw that his aunt's sweet face was less cheerful than usual.
'You're not vexed with me now, auntie,' he said, half wistfully. 'I know it was rather disgusting, that row at tea-time. Miss Mouse won't want to come much to see us.'
'I hope she will,' said Mrs. Caryll. 'Of course I was ashamed for her to hear of those quarrels between you and Justin, Pat. How is it you can't get on better with him? Archie does.'
'Archie's better tempered than me, I suppose,'said Pat, 'and then he daren't check Jus; he's a good bit younger, you see. And then they care for the same sort of things'——
'Ah yes, there's a good deal in that,' she said. 'If you could manage to show some interest in Justin's games and animals and all these things, instead of reading quite so much, you might win him by sympathy and really make home life happier.'
'It hasn't been very happy, lately, I know. And it worries mamma,' said Pat gruffly. 'Aunt Mattie, I'll try. But I wish you were here again.'
Aunt Mattie seemed rather absent-minded during the drive back—quite different from what she had been on their way to Moor Edge, which was the name of the boys' home.Thenshe had talked brightly and cheerfully, pointing out the places they passed—here a wood famed for the earliest primroses, there a cottage burnt down so long ago that no one could remember how it happened, though the dreary, blackened remains still stood, and amusing Rosamond as well with stories of 'the boys' and all their doings.
But the little girl was not sorry that now it was different. She was feeling tired and very puzzled. In one way the afternoon's visit had brought her a good deal of disappointment—her new friends were not at all what she had pictured them—at least—and then her mind went on to what it was that haddisappointed and almost shocked her. She was too sensible a little woman to mind their being noisy and even rather rough. But—'it wasn't a nice kind of noisiness,' she thought, 'they all seemed against each other, as if they were going to begin quarrelling every minute, even though they didn't quite. I'm very glad I live with Uncle Ted and Aunt Mattie. I'd rather have no one to play with than be always afraid of quarrelling.'
Suddenly Mrs. Caryll glanced at her little companion, and it struck her that Rosamond's face was pale and that she was very silent.
'My dear,' she said, 'I don't mind the boys calling you Miss Mouse—it is a nice, funny little name—but I don't want you to growquiteinto a mouse. I have not heard the faintest, tiniest squeak from you since we left Moor Edge.'
Rosamond smiled a little, but it was not a very bright smile.
'I— I thought you were thinking, auntie,' she said, 'and p'raps you were tired.'
'Just a scrap tired, I daresay,' said Aunt Mattie, 'and—yes Iwasthinking, but I shouldn't have forgotten you, my pet. Areyounot tired?'
'I don't know, auntie,' the little girl replied.'My head feels rather buzzy, I think. It gets like that sometimes when I've been in the railway and coming to see places and—and— I never played with such a lot of boys before, you see, auntie. I'm not becustomed to them yet,' and she could not keep back a tiny sigh.
It was repeated, though not to be heard, in Aunt Mattie's heart.
'I am dreadfully afraid I have made a great mistake,' thought the young lady to herself, 'in believing she could get on with them and be happy there. She is too delicate and fragile for them. I must arrange something different and not attempt her going there for lessons.'
But just as she was saying this to herself with a good deal of disappointment, Rosamond called out eagerly, with quite a different tone in her voice.
'Auntie, auntie,' she said, 'is that the signpost with "Whitcrow" on one of the spokes? Justin told me to look out for it. They pass by here when they go to their lessons on rainy days. I mean they turn off here instead of going on to your house. Yes'—as her aunt drew in the pony and passed the signpost at a walk, to let the little girl have a good look at it, and at the road beyond—'yes, that's it,"To W, h, i, t,— Whitcrow," quite plain. I wonder if Whitcrow once was White Crow, auntie? Do you think so? I'd like to see the house they go to school at—at least to lessons to. Can we drive that way some day?'
She was in a little flutter of interest and excitement. Mrs. Caryll looked at her with a smile.
'What funny creatures children are,' she thought to herself. 'A moment ago Rosamond was quite melancholy and depressed, as if the boys had really overwhelmed her, and now she is as bright as anything about them again.'
'Certainly, dear,' she said, her own spirits rising, 'I can show you Mr. Pierce's vicarage any day. What were you asking about Whitcrow? I don't think it ever struck me before that it may have come from White Crow. But awhite crow, Rosamond, that would be a funny thing!'
'Yes,' said the little girl, laughing, 'when we always say "as black as a crow." But— I think Ihaveheard of a white crow—or was it perhaps in a fairy story? I can't think.'
'We must ask Uncle Ted,' said her aunt. 'He knows all about curious things like that—all about wild birds and country things. But why do you saywhen they go to their lessons on rainy days? They go every day.'
'Oh yes, of course,' Rosamond replied. 'But it's only on rainy days they go by the road,' and she explained to her aunt the different plans that Justin had explained to her.
'That is new since my time,' said Mrs. Caryll. 'They used to drive to Whitcrow every morning and walk back if it was fine—and on rainy days the pony-cart was put up at the rectory. On fine days the stable boy went with them and brought it back. I used very often to go to meet them in the afternoons across the moor.'
'Oh then,' said Rosamond eagerly, 'you know the cottage where Bob Crag lives and the queer old woman. I do so want to see her. Will you take me there some day?'
Her aunt hesitated.
'What have they been telling you about Bob and his grandmother?' she asked.
'Oh, only just about how queer they are, and that people aren't very kind to them, because they don't know where they come from and things like that, and I was wondering— I couldn't help wondering'—the little girl went on in a somewhat awe-strucktone of voice—'if perhaps the old woman is a sort of a witch. I've never seen a witch, but I've read about them in fairy stories.'
'And is that why you so much want to go to see old Mrs. Crag,' said her aunt, half laughing.
'I don't quite know,' said Rosamond. 'Yes, I think it is partly. It's a little frightening to think of, but frightening things are rather nice too sometimes—in a sort of fancying way, I mean. For there aren't really any witches now, are there, auntie?'
She was not quite sure of this all the same, for as she spoke, she crept a little closer to Mrs. Caryll. It was beginning to get dusk, and the part of the road along which they were then passing ran through a wood; at all times it was rather gloomy just here.
'Real witches,' repeated her aunt; 'of course not, though I daresay Pat could tell you stories by the dozen about them, and no doubt Bob's grandmother is a curious old body. Long ago I daresay she would have been called a witch. I don't think she isquiteright in her head, and Bob is a wild, gipsy-like creature. I don't think their father and mother care for the boys to see much of him, though both he and his grandmother are devoted to them. Some day——' but before Mrs. Caryll had time to say more,the sound of some one whistling in a peculiar way, two or three notes almost like a bird call, made her stop short.
'Why, that must be your uncle,' she exclaimed, 'coming to meet us,' and she whipped up the pony to make him go faster.
They were not far from home by this time, and when Uncle Ted, for he it was, got into the pony-cart beside them, there was no more talk between Aunt Mattie and her little niece.
'How are they all getting on at Moor Edge?' was the first thing he asked.
'Oh—all right—at least well enough,' Mrs. Caryll replied, 'though I'm not sorry that their father and mother are coming back to-morrow,' and by something in her tone Uncle Ted understood that she was not quite happy about her five nephews, but that she did not want to say any more at present.
So he went on talking about other things—he had been away all day—which did not interest Rosamond, and the little girl fell back into her own thoughts, companions she was well accustomed to.
Aunt Mattie's house was quite a contrast to Moor Edge. It stood in the midst of a small but pretty park. Everything about it was peaceful and shelteredand charming. The flower gardens were the pride of the neighbourhood. There was a great variety of rare shrubs and plants, which could not have stood the keen blasts that blew over Moor Edge, perched up as it was on high ground. The trees grew luxuriantly at Caryll Place, and there was a little lake famed for the great variety of water-birds who found their home on its borders. This lake, I believe, was the one thing which made the Hervey boys envious. For everything else they much preferred their own home, which they described as 'ever so much jollier,' with the moor close at hand, and the fresh breezes that blew across it at almost all times of the year.
But in Rosamond's eyes, though she had felt the charm of the moorland also, her aunt's home seemed perfection. All about it was in such perfect order, and Rosamond dearly loved order. The Moor Edge schoolroom had been a real trial to her, and as she ran upstairs to her own dainty little bedroom, she gave a great sigh of content.
'I am glad,' she thought to herself, 'to live here, instead of with all those boys. Though Ilikethem very much. At least Iwouldlike them if they were just a little quieter, and not quite so squabbly. I wonder if I had had brothers if they'd have beenlike that? Perhaps I'm a little spoilt with being an only child, and I'm afraid I don't want to have brothers or sisters. All I do want is my own mamma, and that's just what I can't have. O mamma, mamma, if only you hadn't had to go away and leave me;' and the tears began to creep up again, as they had got sadly into the way of doing during the last few weeks, into her pretty grey eyes.
But she bravely brushed them away again, for she knew that nothing would have distressed her dear mother more than for her to give way to unhappiness about a trouble which could not be helped. And after all she had a great deal to be glad about. Many children, as her mother had often told her, whose parents were in India, had no home in England but school, or perhaps with relations who cared little about them, and took small trouble to make their lives happy. How different from Caryll, and dear Uncle Ted and Aunt Mattie, and as she reached this point in her thoughts she heard her aunt's voice calling her, as she passed along the passage on her way downstairs.
Rosamond ran after her and slipped her hand through Mrs. Caryll's arm.
'You don't feel cold after our drive, do you, darling?' said Aunt Mattie.
'No, not the least, thank you, auntie,' the little girl replied, and something in her voice told Mrs. Caryll that Rosamond had cheered up again.
'Uncle Ted says he would like a cup of tea after his journey,' her aunt went on, 'and I have a letter I want to send this evening, so you must pour it out for him while I write.'
Rosamond was only too pleased to do so; they found her uncle waiting in the drawing-room, where some tea had just been brought in. It was a pretty sight, so at least thought Uncle Ted, to watch the little girl's neat and careful ways, as she handled the tea-things with her tiny fingers, looking as important as if it were a very serious affair indeed.
'I suppose you've often made tea for your father and mother; you seem quite at home about it,' said her uncle, as she brought him his cup.
'Yes,' Rosamond replied, 'I used to have breakfast alone with papa sometimes when mamma was tired and didn't get up early. What pretty cups these are, Uncle Ted! I do love pretty things, and you and Aunt Mattie have so many.'
These cups are very old,' said Mr. Caryll, 'theybelonged to our—your father's and my great grandmother—your great, great grandmother that would be, so they are rather precious.'
Rosamond looked at the cups with still greater admiration.
'I'll beverycareful of them,' she said; then, after a pause—'the cups at Moor Edge weresothick. I never saw such thick cups.'
There came a little laugh from Aunt Mattie in her corner at the writing-table.
'Things need to be pretty strong at Moor Edge,' she said.
'Yes,' said Uncle Ted, 'the young men there do a good deal of knocking about, I fancy. How did you get on with them, my little Rose? You are not accustomed to racketty boys. I hope they didn't startle you?'
Rosamond's quiet little face grew rather pink.
'N—no,' she said slowly, 'I like them very much, Uncle Ted—and— I don't mind them being noisy, but'—here she broke off—'they didn't thinkmenoisy,' she went on with a twinkle of fun in her eyes. 'They made a new name for me; they call me "Miss Mouse."'
'A very good name too,' said her uncle. 'I didn'tthink they had so much imagination, except perhaps Pat, who's got rather too much; he seems always in a dream. Was it he who thought of the name?'
'Oh no,' Rosamond replied, 'it was the littlest one, Ger they call him. He's a dear, fat little boy. I don'tthink——' and again she hesitated.
'Don't be afraid of speaking out about them,' said Uncle Ted. 'I saw you had something more in your little head when you stopped short before.'
Rosamond grew redder.
'I don't want to seem unkind,' she said, 'but are boys always like that, Uncle Ted? I don't mean noisy, but sofighting. The big ones teach it to the little ones. I was going to say that I'm sure Ger would be very good-tempered if they didn't tease him so. They all seemed to be teasing each other the whole time.'
'It's boy nature, I'm afraid, to some extent,' said Uncle Ted, 'especially where there are only boys together. It's a pity they haven't a sister or two to soften them down a bit.'
Miss Mouse's eyes grew bright.
'I don't mind their not having a sister,' she said, 'if they'd let me be like one. Do you think theywould, uncle? They were all very nice tome, though they squabbled with each other.'
'They're not bad boys,' said Uncle Ted, 'in many ways. And boys must fight among themselves more or less, though I think our English ideas about this go rather too far. I can't stand anything like bullying, and there's a little of it about Justin.'
'IthinkI like Archie best of the big ones,' said Rosamond. 'But I'm not frightened of any of them, though I was a little at first.'
Uncle Ted looked pleased at this.
'That's right, my little girl,' he said kindly. 'It never does any good to be frightened. And you may be of a great deal of use to Aunt Mattie's nephews while you're here. I can never forget how muchIowed to a dear little girl cousin of ours when I was a small boy with a lot of brothers like the Herveys—a very rough set we were too.'
'How nice,' said Rosamond, looking very interested. 'Do I know her, Uncle Ted?'
He shook his head.
'I don't think so,' he replied. 'She's never been in our part of the world since she married. But, oddly enough, you rather remind me of her sometimes, Miss Mouse.'
And when Miss Mouse went to bed that night, her thoughts about Moor Edge and the five boys there were all very bright and pleasant. Itwouldbe so nice if she could be 'of use to them all,' like that cousin of Uncle Ted's long ago.
When the boys had watched their aunt and Rosamond drive away, Justin turned to Archie.
'Come along,' he said, 'I want to go and ask Griffith about the ferrets. I wonder if Tom Brick has brought them.'
The two walked off together, but they had not gone far before they were overtaken by Pat, who came running after them.
'What doyouwant?' said Justin, not too amiably. 'I didn't ask you to come.'
'You're not my——' began Pat, but checked himself. 'Why shouldn't I come?' he went on in a pleasanter tone. 'I should like to see the ferrets too.'
'Yes,' put in Archie, 'why shouldn't he, Justin, if he wants to?'
'I suppose you've finished your story,' said Justin gruffly, 'and then when you've nothing better to doyou condescend to giveusyour company. But I warn you, if you come with us, I won't have any sneaking or tell-taleing about anything we do.'
Pat opened his eyes—they were large dark eyes with a rather sad expression, quite unlike any of his brothers'—with a look of great surprise.
'What on earth could there be for me to tell-tale about,' he said, 'in just going to look at Tom Brick's ferrets? And what's more,' he added, with some indignation in his voice, 'it'll be time enough for you to speak to me like that when you do find me tell-taleing.'
'Yes,' chimed in peace-loving Archie, who was struck by Pat's unusual gentleness, 'I think so too, Jus. You're rather difficult to please, for you're always going on at Pat for not joining in with us, and when he does come you slang him for that.'
Apparently Justin found self-defence rather difficult in the present case, for he only muttered something to the effect that Pat might come if he chose—it was all one to him.
But Pat already felt rewarded for what he had tried to do by Archie's taking his part. For though Archie was a most thoroughly good-natured boy, he had come to be so entirely under Justin's influencethat his acting upon his own feelings could scarcely be counted upon. And he himself was a little puzzled by what Justin had said. There could not be anything to sneak or tale-tell about if old Griffith had to do with it— Griffith had been with their father long before they were born, and Mr. Hervey trusted him completely.
Justin led the way to the stable-yard, which was at some little distance from the house. There was no one to be seen there, though the boys called and whistled.
'Griffith may be in the paddock,' said Archie, 'looking after mamma's pony,' for Mrs. Hervey's pony had not been driven lately, having got slightly lame.
The paddock was some way farther off, but as the boys ran along the little lane leading to it, they heard voices in its direction which showed that Archie's guess was correct, and soon they saw a little group of men and boys, old Griffith in the middle of them.
Justin ran up to them eagerly.
'I say,' he began, in his usual rather masterful tone, 'has Tom——' and then he stopped, for Tom Brick, a labourer on a neighbouring farm, was thereto answer for himself. 'Have you brought the ferrets?' the boy went on, turning to him. 'I suppose it's too late to do anything with them this afternoon?'
Tom Brick touched his cap, looking rather sheepish.
'I've not brought 'em, sir,' he replied; 'fact is, I've not got 'em to bring. I just stepped over to tell Master Griffith here as I've sold 'em—for a good price too; so I hope you'll ex—cuse it. I didn't want to keep 'em, as they're nasty things to have about a little place like mine with the children and the fowls, and my missus as can't abide 'em.'
'I certainly think you should have kept your promise to us before you parted with them,' said Justin, in his lordly way. 'I think it's a great shame. What's to be done now, Griffith?' he went on, to the coachman. 'The place will be overrun with rats.'
But Griffith was just then absorbed by the pony, for the third man in the group was the 'vet' from the nearest town, who had come over to examine its leg again, and, before replying to Justin, he turned to the stable-boy, bidding him fetch something or other from the house which the horse-doctor had asked for.
'Griffith!' repeated Justin impatiently, 'don't you hear what I say?'
Griffith looked up, his face had a worried expression.
'Is it about these ferrets?' he said. 'I can't be troubled about them just now, Master Justin. It's this here pony needs attending to. We'll get rid of the rats, no fear, somehow or other.'
Justin was too proud to begin any discussion with the coachman before the 'vet,' who was an important person in his way. So he walked off, looking rather black, followed by his brothers, Pat, to tell the truth, by no means sorry at the turn that things had taken.
'Griffith is getting too cheeky by half,' said Justin at last, in a sullen tone.
'He's in a fuss about mamma's pony, I suppose,' said Archie. 'But it is rather too bad of that Tom Brick, only——'
'What?' said Justin. 'Why don't you finish what you've got to say?'
'It's only that I don't know if papa and mamma care much about our ferreting; at least mamma doesn't, I know,' said Archie. 'I've heard her say it's cruel and ugly.'
'All women think like that,' said Justin; 'my goodness, if you listen to them you'd have a pretty dull time of it. I don't see anything cruel about it when they're just muzzled, and as for killing the rats!—theyhaveto be killed.'
'All the same,' said Pat, 'it must be rather horrid to see.'
'It's no horrider than heaps of other things that are awfully jolly too,' said Justin. 'I suppose when you're a man you won't hunt, Pat, for fear you should be in at the death.'
'Hunting's different,' said Pat. 'There's all the jolliness of the riding. And shooting's different. There's the cleverness of aiming well, and papa says that when a bird's killed straight off, it's the easiest death it could have.'
'It's bad shots that make them suffer most,' said Archie. 'But I say, Jus, where are you going to. It must be nearly six. Have you finished your lessons?'
'Mind your own business,' said Justin, 'I'm not going in just yet, to be mewed up with Miss Ward in the schoolroom. I want a run across the moor first.'
To this neither of his brothers made any objection.There was one point in common among all the Hervey boys, and that was love, enthusiastic love, of their moor—its great stretch, its delicious, breezy air, the thousand and one interests they found in it, from its ever-changing colouring, its curious varieties of moss, and heather, and strange little creeping plants, to be found nowhere else, to the dark, silent pools on its borders, with their quaint frequenters; everything in and about and above the moor—for where were such sunsets, or marvellous cloud visions to be seen as here?—had a charm and fascination never equalled to them in later life by other scenes, however striking and beautiful.
Pat felt all this the most deeply perhaps, but all the others too, even careless Archie, and Justin, rough schoolboy though he was, loved the moor as a sailor loves the sea.
This evening the sunset had been very beautiful, and the colours were still lingering about the horizon as the boys ran along one of the little white paths towards the west.
'It's a pity Miss Mouse can't see it just now,' said Archie suddenly. 'She's a jolly little girl. I liked her for liking the moor. The next time she comes we can take her a good way across it, asfar as Bob Crag's; she'd like to see the queer cottage.'
'I bet you she'd be frightened of old Nance,' said Justin, with some contempt, 'she'd think her a witch; girls are always so fanciful.'
'Youcan't know much about girls,' said Pat. 'I'm sure Miss Mouse isn't silly. If she did think Nance a witch she'd like her all the better. You heard what she said about fairy stories.'
'Fairy rubbish,' said Justin. 'I believe you were meant to be a girl yourself, Pat.'
Pat reddened, but, wonderful to say, did not lose his temper, and before Justin had time to aggravate him still more, there came an interruption in the shape of a boy who suddenly appeared a few paces off, as if he had sprung up out of the earth. He had, in fact, been lying at full length among the heather.
'Master Justin!' he exclaimed. 'I heard you coming along and I've been waiting for you. I were going home from Maxter's,' and he nodded his head backwards, as if to point out the direction whence he had come.
'Well,' said Justin, 'and what about it?'
'I axed about them there ferrets as I was telling you about t'other day,' said the boy.
Justin threw a doubtful glance over his shoulder at his brothers. Bob, for Bob Crag it was, caught it at once.
'It was just when we was talking about what they cost,' he said carelessly, 'I thought maybe you'd like to know.'
'Tom Brick has sold his, did you know that?' said Pat, by way of showing interest in the subject.
'He's been talkin' about it for a long time,' said Bob. 'Buthisweren't up to much. Those I've been told about are—why, just tip-toppers!' and out of his black eyes flashed a quick dart to Justin.
He was a striking-looking boy, with the unmistakable signs of gipsyhood about him, sunburnt and freckled, as if his whole life had been spent out of doors, which indeed it mostly had. His features were good, his eyes especially fine, though with an expression which at times approached cunning. His teeth, white as ivory, gleamed out when he smiled, and in his smile there was something very charming. It was curiously sweet for such a rough boy, and with a touch of sadness about it, as is often to be seen in those of his strange race. He was strong and active and graceful, like a beautiful wild creature of the woods. Nevertheless it was not to be wonderedat, that, in spite of his devotion to the boys, to Justin especially, Mr. Hervey had often warned his sons against making too much of a companion of old Nance's grandson, for hitherto no one had succeeded in taming him—clergyman, schoolmaster, kind-hearted ladies of the country-side had all tried their hands at it and failed. Bob was now thirteen, and did not even know his letters! Yet in his own line he was extremely clever, too clever by half in the opinion of many of his neighbours, though not improbably it was a case of giving a dog a much worse name than he deserved. Never was a piece of mischief discovered, which a boy could have been the author of—from bird's nesting to orchard robbing—without gipsy Bob, as he was called, getting the credit of it. And this sort of thing was very bad for him. He knew he was not trusted and that he was looked upon askance, and he gradually came to think that he might as well act up to the character he by no means altogether deserved, and his love of mischief, innocent enough as long as it was greatly mingled with fun, came to have a touch of spite in it, which had not been in Bob's nature to begin with.
There were two things that saved him fromgrowing worse. One was his intense, though half-unconscious, love of nature and all living things, with which he seemed to have a kind of sympathy, and to feel a tenderness for, such as are not often to be found in a boy like him. The second was his grateful devotion to the Hervey family, which his strange old grandmother, or great-grandmother, maybe, had done her utmost to foster.
'Where are they to be seen?' said Justin, in a would-be off-hand tone. 'It would do no harm to have a look at them.'
'In course not,' said Bob eagerly. 'It's a good bit off—the place where they are—but I know what I could do— I could fetch 'em up to our place to-morrow or next day, and you could see them there.'
Justin glanced at his brothers, at Pat especially, but, rather to his surprise, Pat's face expressed no disapproval, but, on the contrary, a good deal of interest. It was from Archie that the objection came.
'I don't see the good of Bob getting them, as we can't buy them,' he said.
'How do you know we can't buy them?' asked Justin sharply.
'They cost a lot,' Archie replied, 'and, besides,I'm sure papa and mamma wouldn't like us to have them. Mamma can't bear them, as you know.'
'She need never see them,' said Justin, whose spirit of contradiction was aroused by Archie's unusual opposition, 'and as for what they cost—how muchdothey cost, Bob?'
'I couldn't say just exactly,' said Bob, 'but I can easy find out, and I'd do my best to make a good bargain for you. Five to ten shillin' a couple, any price between those they might be,' he went on, 'and if you really fancied them—why, I daresay granny'd let me keep them for you, and when there come a holiday I could fetch 'em to wherever you like.'
'There's the old out-houses that papa thought of pulling down,' said Justin. 'They're a nest of rats, I know, and we might be there a whole afternoon without any one finding out, or we might use them for rabbiting sometimes.'
Bob's face grew rather serious.
'That's not as good fun,' he said quickly. To tell the truth he had a very soft corner in his heart for the poor little bunnies, with their turned-up, tufty white tails, scampering about in their innocent happiness. 'Rats is best, and a good riddance.'
'Five to ten shillings a couple,' repeated Justin.'I have only got two, if that. What are you good for, Archie?'
'Precious little,' the younger boy replied. 'And I don't know that I care about——'
'You are a muff,' said Justin crossly, 'a muff and a turncoat. You were hotter upon ferreting than I was.'
'I'd be hot upon it still,' said Archie, 'if we could do it properly, with Griffith at home. But I don't think it worth spending all our money upon when very likely we wouldn't be allowed to keep them.'
'We could keep them at Bob's place,' said Justin. 'But as we haven't got the money there's no more to be said, I suppose.'
'I'vegot some money,' said Pat. 'Why don't you ask me to join, Justin?'
'You!' said Justin, in a tone of mingled contempt and surprise. 'When do you ever spend money on sensible things?— Would they want to be paid the whole at once, do you think, Bob?' he went on, turning to him.
'I shouldn't think so,' the boy replied, 'anyway I could see about that.'
'How much have you got, Pat?' Justin now condescended to ask. Pat considered.
'Three shillings, or about that,' he answered.
'Three and two, and something to make up another shilling with Archie's,' said Justin. 'Well we shouldn't be far short. I think you may as well fetch them, Bob, and let us know. You can look out for us on our way home to-morrow afternoon.'
They had not been standing still all this time. The ground was a little clearer where they had met, and they had been able to stroll on abreast, though scarcely noticing they were moving. And now they were but a short way from Bob's home.
He was always eager to show such hospitality as was in his power to 'his young gentlemen,' as he called them, and he knew that few things pleased his granny more than to have a word with them.
'I'll show you the corner where I could put up a box for the ferrets, if you'll step our way,' he said, and in a minute or two the four boys had reached the cottage, if cottage such a queer erection could be called.
Justin and his brothers knew it well by sight, but they had very seldom gone inside, and, to Pat especially, there was a good deal of fascination about theCrags' dwelling-place. He was not sorry, as they came near to it, to see old Nance herself standing in the doorway, a smile of welcome lighting up her brown wrinkled face, and showing off her still strong even white teeth and bright black eyes.
Old Nance's way of speaking, like everything else about her, was peculiar to herself. Nobody could tell by it from what part of the country she had come, all that they could say was, that her talk was quite unlike that of her neighbours. Neighbours, in the common sense of the word, the Crags had none, for their cottage was very isolated. Moor Edge was the only house within a couple of miles, and except for the Herveys themselves, its nearness would have been no good to the old woman, for the servants were all full of prejudice against her and her grandson. This she well knew, but she did not seem to mind it.
'Good-day, Master Justin,' she said, as the boys came within speaking distance. 'Iampleased to see you. You won't be on your way to school just now, so you'll spare the old woman a few minutes,won't you? and give her some news of your dear papa and mamma, bless them, and Miss Mattie that was, and the little young lady that's biding with her, and is going to have her lessons with the little young gentlemen at the house.'
The three Hervey boys stared.
'Who told you so, Nance?' said Archie, the readiest with his tongue. 'There is a little girl at Aunt Mattie's, but we never saw her till this afternoon, and nobody has said anything about her having lessons at our house.'
'How do you hear things?' added Pat, looking the old woman straight in the face, for he had had, before this, experience of old Nance's extraordinary power of picking up news. 'Is she really a witch?' he added to himself, though he would not have dared to say it aloud.
Nance smiled, but did not reply.
'Won't you step in?' she said, pushing the door of the cottage wider open. 'I've just tidied up, and I was fetching in a handful of bracken. It flames up so brightly.'
It was chilly outside, and Nance's fire was very inviting. Pat stepped forward to it, and stood warming his hands over the blaze.
'And so your papa and mamma are away?' continued the old woman. 'You'll be missing them, though it's not for long.'
'There you are again!' said Pat. 'You know more about us than we do ourselves.Wehave not heard for certain when they're coming back.'
'Idon't mind if they stay away a little longer,' said Justin. 'It's rather fine being alone for a bit. If only we had holidays just now, and Miss Ward was away too, it would be very jolly.'
Nance patted his shoulder with her thin brown hand.
'Book learning's all very well,' she said. 'Young gentlemen like you must have it. But it do seem against nature for young things to be cooped up the best part of the day. There's my Bob now, there's no getting him to stay indoors an hour at a time, be the weather what it will,' and she glanced at her grandson with a certain pride.
Bob laughed, and in the dancing firelight his teeth glistened like pearls.
'I think we mustn't stay longer,' said Archie suddenly. He meant what he said, but, besides this, somehow or other, he always felt a little afraid of Nance, and this evening the feeling was strongerthan usual. The growing darkness outside, the peculiar radiance of the fire, for the flames were dancing up the chimney like live things, and, above all, the old woman's strange knowledge of matters which it was difficult to account for her having heard, all added to this creepy feeling. And added to this, Archie had a tender conscience, and he knew that though they had never been actually forbidden to speak to the Crags, their father and mother did not care about their doing so, more than was called for in a kindly, neighbourly way.
Justin and Patrick had consciences too, though Justin was very clever at 'answering his back,' and trying to silence its remarks, while Pat was so often in a kind of dreamland of his own fancy, that he slipped into many things without quite realising what he was about. Just now he was enjoying himself very much. He loved the queerness and fascination of old Nance and her belongings. It was like living in a fairy-story to him, and he felt rather cross at Archie for interrupting it, though he said nothing.
'I'm not going,' said Justin, 'till I've seen the corner where Bob means to keep our ferrets if we get them.'
'To be sure,' said Bob eagerly. 'I'll show you where in a minute if you'll come with me, Master Justin.'
And the two went out together. Archie got up to follow them, but stopped short in the doorway, for, in spite of his fears, he was really more interested in Nance than in the ferrets. Her first remark surprised him again exceedingly.
'And you'll bring the little young lady to see me some day soon, Master Pat, won't you?' she said. 'She'd like to come, I know, for she's heard tell of me, and she loves the moor.'
'Nance,' said Pat gravely, 'I do believe you heard us talking on the mound this afternoon, when Miss Mouse was with us, and that's how you know all these things.'
Nance only laughed.
'Think what you're saying, Master Pat,' she replied. 'Could I have been near you and you not see me? Unless I had the hiding-cap that the fairies left behind them on the moor many a year ago, but that nobody's found yet, though many have looked for it.'
'Then how do you know they left it,' said Pat quickly.
''Tis just an old tale,' she said carelessly. 'These days are past and gone—worse luck. It was fine times when the good people came about—fine times for those they took a fancy to, at least. Why, there was my own great-grandmother had many a tale to tell, when I was a child, of what they did for her and hers to help them through troubles and bring them good luck.'
'Your great-grandmother,' repeated Pat, 'why what an awfully long time ago that must have been! For I suppose you are very old yourself, Nance, aren't you?'
She did not seem at all offended at this remark. On the contrary she nodded her head as if rather pleased, as she replied,
'You're in the right there, Master Pat,' she said. 'I've lived a good while; longer than you'd think for, perhaps, and I've seen strange things in my time. And my great-grandmother was a very old woman when I remember her. And yet it was seldom, even in those days, that the good people showed themselves.'
'Do theynevercome now?' inquired Archie, from the doorway. 'Not even in wild, lonely places like this,' for he was gazing out upon the moor, andthe fast-falling darkness added to the mysterious loneliness of the far-stretching prospect before him.
His words gave Pat a new idea.
'Your stories can't have to do with this moor, Nance,' he said. 'You didn't live here when you were young, I know.'
Nance shook her head.
'Deed no,' she replied. 'Many a long mile away from here. The place I first rememberwaslonesome, if you like. There's not many such places to be found now, and they're getting fewer and fewer. No wonder the good people are frightened away with the railways coming all over the country. Why, the stage-coaches were bad enough, and some folks say there'll be no more of them,' and again Nance shook her head.
'Was your old home a moor too?' asked Pat. 'Was that why you came to live here?'
'You've guessed true,' replied the old woman. 'The moorland air is native air to me, though this is a small place compared to where I was born. It'll last my time, however, and yours too for that matter. There'll be no railroads across it till the world's a good many years older.'
'How do you know that?' asked Pat, with increasingcuriosity. 'Do you know things that are going to happen as well as things that have happened? I wish you'd tell me how you find them out!'
'That I can't do,' was the reply. 'There's some as has the gift, though how it comes they can't tell. It's like music, there's some as it speaks to more than any words, and others to whom one note of it is like another. And who can say why!' She ended, drawing a deep breath.
This talk was growing rather beyond Archie. He strolled into the little kitchen again towards his brother, who was still seated by the fire, where Nance had by this time settled herself opposite him. The flames were still dancing gaily up the chimney. It almost seemed to Pat as if they leaped and frolicked with increased life as the old woman held out her hands to their pleasant warmth. But then of course Pat was very fanciful.
'Tell us a story of the fairies and your great-grandmother,' said Archie. 'What was it they did to help her?'
'There's not time for it now,' Nance replied. 'There's Master Justin and Bob at the door,' and, sure enough, as Archie looked round the two otherboys made their appearance, though not the slightest sound of their footsteps had been heard.
Certainly, old as she was, Nance's hearing seemed as quick as that of the fairy Five-Ears.
'I don't want to keep you longer,' she went on, 'or your folk wouldn't be best pleased with me. You must come another day, and bring the little young lady, and old Nance will have some pretty stories ready for you.'
So the three boys bade her good evening and set off homewards, Bob accompanying them a part of the way, talking eagerly to Justin about the ferret scheme they were so full of.
Pat was very silent.
'What are you thinking about?' said Justin, when Bob had left them. 'You seem half asleep, both you and Archie.'
'I was thinking about old Nance,' said Pat; 'she's awfully queer.'
'Yes,' Archie agreed. 'I like her and I don't like her. At least I felt to-night as if I were a little afraid of her.'
'Rubbish,' said Justin. 'That's Pat putting nonsense in your head. If you're going to stuff him with all your fancies, Pat, I'd rather you didn't come with us.'
Archie turned upon him.
'That's not fair of you, Jus,' he said indignantly. 'Ithink Pat's been very good-natured this evening. And if I were he I wouldn't give you any money for those ferrets if you spoke like that.'
This reminder was not lost upon Justin.
'Pat's all right,' he said. 'He wants the little beasts too, don't you, Pat?' turning to him.
Pat murmured something, though not very clearly, to the effect that he didn't mind, Jus was welcome to the money. Then another thought struck Archie.
'I say!' he exclaimed. 'I wonder if it's true about Miss Mouse coming to have lessons with Miss Ward? That'd mean her being at our house every day.'
'Weshouldn't see much of her,' said Justin, 'we'd be at the vicarage. So we needn't bother about it. It wouldn't interfere with us.'
'Bother about it!' repeated Archie. 'I think it would be rather nice. I like her. But we'd have to leave off racketing about so, I suppose. Shedidlook frightened once or twice this afternoon.'
'Perhaps it would be a good thing,' said Pat. 'I don't think we were like what we are now, when Aunt Mattie was with us, and yet nobody could say that she would like boys to be muffs.'
'Speak for yourself,' said Justin. 'There's always been one muff among us, and that's you!'
It was too dark for Pat's face to be seen, and he controlled himself not to reply. It was easier to do so as he was, to confess the truth, feeling not a little pleased with himself for his good-nature to his elder brother.
'I'm sure Aunt Mattie would think I'd done my best this evening,' he thought; 'Justin hasn't been a bit nicer and I've not answered him back once, and I really will give him the money for the ferrets, though I'm sure I never want to see the nasty little beasts. I don't mind them so much if they're kept down at old Nance's, for then when Justin goes to see them I can go too and make old Nance tell me some of her queer stories.'
For Pat was very much fascinated by the old woman and her talk—more than he quite knew indeed. He put down the whole of his amiability to Justin to his wish to follow his aunt's good advice.
Justin was struck by Pat's forbearance.
'What's coming over him?' he said to himself, 'I've never known him so good-tempered before.'
Archie noticed it too, as he had already doneearlier in the afternoon, and he was not afraid to say so.
'You're really too bad, Jus,' he exclaimed. 'Pat's far too patient. If I were he I wouldn't stand it.'
This gave Pat great satisfaction, for though he seemed unsociable and morose he was really very sensitive to other people's opinion of him, and eager for approval.
'Don't you meddle,' said Justin. 'Pat and I can manage our affairs without you. We're both older than you, remember.'
But before Archie had made up his mind what to reply, the threatening quarrel was put a stop to by an unexpected diversion. They had by this time left the moor and were making their way home by a little lane which skirted their own fields, across which it was not always easy to make one's way in the dark. A few yards ahead of them this lane ran into the road, and just at this moment, to their surprise, they caught sight of a carriage driving slowly away from Moor Edge.
'What can that be?' said Justin. 'It's the fly from the station, I'm almost sure. I know it by the heavy way it trundles along.'
'I do believe,' said Archie joyfully, 'that it's papa and mamma come back without warning!'
His brothers did not seem equally pleased.
'If it is,' said Justin, 'we'll get into a nice scrape for being out so late. Run on, Archie, you're mamma's pet, and tell her we're just behind.'
Archie made no objection to this, he was not unused to being employed in this way, and when a few minutes later the elder boys entered the house, they found that their pioneer had done his work well.
Their mother was crossing the hall on her way upstairs when she caught sight of them coming in by a side door; Archie was beside her, laden with bags and rugs.
'My dear boys,' said Mrs. Hervey, 'you shouldn't be out so late. I was just beginning to wonder what had become of you when Archie ran in.'
'We never thought you'd come back to-night,' said Justin, as he kissed her, 'or we'd have been in, or gone along the road to meet you.'
'That's not the question,' said their father's voice from the other side of the hall, where he was looking over some letters that had come for him. 'I'm afraid it's a case of "when the cat's away,"' but by the tone of his voice they knew he was not very vexed. 'So,Pat,' he went on, 'you were out too. I'm glad of that, it's better than being always cooped up indoors. What have you all been after? Archie says you weren't far off—were you with Griffith?'
'Part of the time,' said Justin. 'The vet came over to look at mamma's pony.'
'Oh, by the bye, how is it?' asked Mr. Hervey quickly, but Justin could not say.
'I'll run out and ask Griffith now,' he volunteered, and off he ran.
Pat followed his mother and Archie upstairs. He did not quite own it to himself, but he had a strong feeling of not wishing his father to know that they had been for some time at the Crags' cottage.
On the landing upstairs, Mrs. Hervey and the boys were met by the two nursery children. Hec kissed his mother in a rather off-hand way—there was a good deal of Justin about Hec—but fat little Ger ran forward with outstretched arms.
'Mamma, mamma!' he cried. 'I amsoglad you've comed home. And Mith Mouse has been here, did you know? Aunt Mattie brought her.'
'My darling, what are you talking about?' said his mother. 'Pat— Archie, what does he mean?'
'The little girl,' said Archie, 'Aunt Mattie's ownlittle girl. Didn't you know she was coming, mamma?'
Mrs. Hervey's face cleared.
'Do you mean little Rosamond Caryll?' she said. 'Oh yes, of course I knew she was expected to stay with your Aunt Mattie. But I forgot she was coming so soon. And so she has been to see you already? That is very nice. She must be a dear little girl, I am sure.'
'Hersjuthlike a mouse,' said Ger, 'all tho thoft and juth the right colour—greyey, you know!'
His mother laughed.
'You funny boy,' she said. 'When are you going to leave off lisping altogether? You can say S's quite well if you like. Did she mind your calling her "Miss Mouse"?' she went on, turning to the elder boys.
'No, not a bit,' said Archie. 'I think she liked it.'
'And so did Aunt Mattie,' added Pat. 'She said it suited her. Is it true that she's coming here to have lessons, mamma?'
'Who told you so?' asked his mother, with some surprise. 'There's nothing settled about it.'
Pat and Archie glanced at each other, but neither replied. Their mother, however, did not notice theirsilence, for just then Miss Ward made her appearance. She was all smiles and cheerfulness now, for Mr. and Mrs. Hervey's return was the greatest possible relief to her.
'I hope everything has been all right while we were away?' said the boys' mother kindly.
'Yes, thank you,' said Miss Ward, 'at least everything is quite right now. I had just a little trouble, but it was really accidental, and Mrs. Caryll's coming this afternoon was such a pleasure.'
Mrs. Hervey saw that Miss Ward did not wish to say any more before the children. Her face fell a little.
'I am afraid,' she thought to herself, 'that Justin may have been unmanageable, but I shall hear about it afterwards if there is anything that must be told. Pat,' she went on to herself, 'looks wonderfully bright and cheerful, more like what he used to be when Mattie was here. I do hope it will turn out nicely about little Rosamond coming.'