I CLIMBED OUT AND WADED THROUGH THE WATER.
"The wheels would be wet, so they would leave the grass wet," said Aylwin, looking very clever. "And here's a wet mark along here; look at my hand!"
"Yes, and the blades of grass are bent over," said Denys. "Now we must begin to track them. I wish we had a blood-hound."
Lynette cheered up, and we felt as if we were playing a game. There was only a short bit of grass beyond the river, and then we came to a lane. So now we started to run our "lopetty" run, as we called it. The boys taught me and Lynette a long time ago how you ought to run in paper-chases or anywhere where you have to go on running a long while. The great thing is not to run too fast. We call it "loping"; it's a kind of running saunter, or perhaps sauntering run. You can keep on ever so long at it, because you don't get out of breath. We all loped along, hoping to see signs of the donkey-cart, but there were none.
Then we came out on the top high road, and now we did not know which way to take, up or down, but we saw a cottage in the distance. So we went off to that, and asked a woman if she had seen a little boy in a donkey-cart. She opened her door wide, and there was Puff sitting on a low stool eating an apple! We were so relieved. And Andy was in her back-yard. She said she had seen them tearing along, and Puff was calling out, "Stop! Stop!"
She rushed out and managed to stop them, and then she tied Andy up and comforted Puff, who was crying from fright. Of course, directly Lynette left them, Andy took it into his head to start. It was only one of his obstinate fits, I think, and he dashed out of the water and up the road. It was a mercy that Puff sat still.
We thanked the woman very much, and then we brought out Andy, and we all drove home together, but we didn't try to take him across the river. We went home another way, and father scolded Lynette well for attempting it. I don't think she will try anything of that sort again.
Puff, of course, pretended he liked it.
"I dwove Andy myself; we went fuwious!"
"Yes, and you cried furious," said Aylwin.
"I only cwied when I saw the wimon," said Puff, who will never be snubbed. "I knewed she would stop me, that was why I cwied!"
"You mustn't say what isn't true, Puff; it's not 'good form,'" I said, "besides being wicked."
"I only cwied a teacup!" said Puff. "I was so angwy with Andy, and I always cwies when I'm angwy!"
He will always have the last word, so I gave it up.
Well, I've had my day, and I really have enjoyed it. To begin with, I started from the house at ten o'clock. Just outside our gate I found a huge brown-paper bundle, with a piece of paper saying, "Please delevar with kare to Miss C. Londesburg. Hall. Cross Glen."
I saw the spelling was bad, so I really thought one of the villagers had sent it. It was very, very heavy, and I could hardly lift it into the cart. I was rather pleased that I was asked to go to the Hall, for I hadn't seen Clarice since the day of our chariot race. I got in at last and drove through the village very slowly. Mrs. Ribbon came down to the gate when she saw me.
"Miss Grisel, my dear, do you mean's you reely will oblige? For I did promise to send old Susan Combe a sack o' coal. You gets it at the station, but my Tom, he has had to go off early into Lincoln by train, and she have no bit o' fire to cook her dinner, and I be that busy in the shop—"
"I'll do it," I said; "I'll go down to the station at once."
So I did, and I got the coal, and drove off to Mrs. Combe. She was so glad to see it, but neither of us could lift it out of the cart, it was so heavy, so she had to take the coal out of it gradually, and that took time.
And just as we were doing it Beatrice and Clarice came by in their pony-trap. They did stare when I told them what I was doing. "I'm a carrier for the day," I said, "and I've got a parcel for you."
They were very much excited.
"For us! Oh, do let us see it! What fun!"
They had to wait till Mrs. Combe got her coals.
And then Clarice insisted upon getting into our cart and looking at it. Then she and I began to undo the parcel together. We could not lift it out, for it was so heavy. There was a lot of paper to be undone, and then we suddenly came upon it—and it was only an old pail full of stones! Clarice was really angry. I knew at once it was the boys' joke. They wanted to make me carry that rubbish to the Hall. I was so glad I had not. I tried to explain it to Clarice, but she said:
"They're rude, horrid boys, and I shall tell mother of them!"
She jumped out of the cart, and went back to Beatrice and told her. She began to laugh—she can see a joke better than Clarice can; so then I told them they had better send a parcel back to the boys. They were quite delighted, and said they would send it by post, and then they would not guess who had sent it. We tipped out the bucket and the stones in the ditch, and I drove back to our village wondering if any one else had an errand for me.
And then I saw lame Hannah, who does dressmaking and sings in the choir. She was standing at her gate, and looked at me as if she wanted to speak, and didn't like to. So I stopped and said, "Can I do anything for you, Hannah?"
She got very red, and then she said in a hesitating kind of way:
"I've got to go over to Farmer Luscombe's, miss, and 'tis a long way for me this hot day; and mother thought as we seed you ride by, and having read your notice—"
"I know," I cried, "you'd like me to drive you there? Get in, Hannah; I shall love to do it. I'm looking out for jobs."
So she got in; she told me her leg hurt her so when she had to walk far, and yet she wanted to make a dress for Mrs. Luscombe, and was hoping that some one would give her a lift there. So I told her I hoped to have Andy one day in every week, when I could do any errands for anybody. And she thought it very nice indeed. After we had been talking some time I said, "I shall have to go back home after this, because it will be dinner-time. But I mean to come out in the afternoon again. Do you know anything that I could do, Hannah?"
She seemed to think for a minute, and then she said:
"I wonder, Miss Grisel, if you know little Annie Steel. She have come from London to live with her gran'mother, Mrs. Buxton, and she be a proper cripple—can't walk at all. Bein' lame myself, I calls in and gives her a cheerin' word. Mrs. Buxton and her old man be terrible strict and hard to her. They think her a great burden not bein' able to help them, and she sits in that back kitchen getting whiter and thinner in spite of our good country air. She never gets out, even so much as to sit on the doorstep; she's a little unformed, miss, with a hump on her back, and terrible sensitive she be, and her grandmother talks as if she be ashamed on her. 'Twould be heaven to the child if she was took a drive in this cart."
"Oh, I'll do it," I cried, "if she can get in. Won't it shake her?"
"Not a bit, miss, if you took a cushion or two, and let her sit in the bottom, and Mrs. Turner nex' door would lift her in, if her gran'mother can't."
"I'll go for her directly after dinner," I said joyfully.
When I got home, they all asked me what I had been doing. The boys didn't say anything about their parcel, and I didn't either. But Aunt C. thought it a very good plan to take Annie Steel out for a drive, and then father said:
"You mustn't work poor Andy off his legs, children, between you all."
I said I hadn't really been very far, and I drove very slowly, but Denys said to me after dinner was over, and he was helping me to harness Andy:
"Don't you overdo this Good Samaritan business, or it will be a perfect nuisance. It's rather setting yourself up as a virtuous story-book kind of person."
"Oh, Denys, you don't call Bob Tapson a story-book kind of person. I'm only a carrier."
"He does it for business, gets paid for it; you don't."
"Of course I don't, but I enjoy the driving."
He was silent for a minute, then he said:
"I believe you're getting goody."
"I wish I was," I said, laughing. "I'm simply doing it because I like doing it, but I think I'll go on for ever doing it if I can, because father said it was like mother."
He didn't say a word more, for Denys simply adored mother, and so did we all.
CHAPTER XII
LITTLE ANNIE STEEL
WHEN I got to Mrs. Buxton's, I found her in the front garden cutting cabbages. She was awfully surprised when I told her what I wanted to do. First she said she couldn't let Annie go.
"I never should ha' had her, if I'd knowed she were so 'elpless. Her mother, which was a widow when twenty, died sudden like, and Annie oughter have gone to the infirmary, but my 'usband's people have never none on 'em come to that. So to humour 'im, I says, 'Us will have the lassie here,' and here she be, and no strength or back-bone in her. All she do is to sit in a hunch like and cry. Can't walk a step, no more than a baby. But there, miss, if you're set on it, come on in and us will get her out into your cart easy enough."
So I tied Andy up to the gate-post and went in. The back kitchen was a stuffy little place, and in a low chair sat Annie. She really looked like a tiny old woman, only she had short fair hair standing out straight. When I told her what we were going to do, she smiled such a pitiful smile that it made me almost cry. She was as white as her pinafore. She is only nine years old—just as old as Lynette, but she is all doubled up. I had brought four cushions and a rug, and I made her as comfortable as I could. Her grandmother lifted her right in. She is as light as a feather. Her grandmother tied a cotton sun-bonnet on her head, and then we were off.
I drove very slowly down the lane, for I was afraid of shaking her, and then she began to talk. At first she lay still, looking up into the sky and opening and shutting her mouth rather like a fish, and when I asked her why she did that, she said:
"'Tis the air, miss; I haven't breathed none at all since I come to granny's. Afore mother died, I always sat at open winder, but granny's back winder don't open at all."
She told me she loved Hannah, and then she began exclaiming at everything she saw in such a funny way.
"There be no houses, miss—what a hempty place. This be the real country. I never seed it till I come to granny's, and then 'twas all over so quick, and I never 'ave come outdoors since. Mother allays said God lived in the country, not in the town. Mother 'ated London, she did, she said 'twas so dirty, but we 'ave the sky in London, only not much of it at a time. Oh! This must be like 'eving. The fields, and the trees, and the flowers—I have seen picturs, but not so living as this."
I stopped at the gate of a field to let her see some rabbits play about, and when a butterfly rested on the cart for a minute, she screamed with delight. And then when she grew tired of exclaiming, I began to talk to her. I told her how we got Andy, and she said to me, when I had finished:
"Does God listen to everybody, miss, or is it only rich folks. I ain't heard nothin' 'bout Him since I come to live with granny. Mother used to have a distric' visitor, but I didn't like her. She were always in such a hurry to get away, and she said I'd be better in a 'ome or 'ospital."
"Of course God hears us all," I said, surprised she was so ignorant. "Don't you pray to Him?"
She shook her head.
"I used to say 'Our Father,' but I've clean forgotten how it goes on arter 'kingdom come.'"
"Can you read?" I said.
She shook her head again.
"I did begin, but mother died afore I'd got to big words, and no one has learnt me since."
"Oh, you poor little thing!" I said. "What can you do with yourself all day?"
"I looks at picturs, and sews—I can sew. I'm doin' patches for a quilt for granny."
"You ought to pray to God," I said.
"Why?"
"Oh, because He likes you to. He loves you. Do you know about Jesus Christ?"
"Him what was killed on a cross? Mother telled me that."
"Do you know why He was killed?"
She shook her head.
"Something about saving sinners and the world," she said. "I've forgotten. I b'lieve He was very good and kind. He's been dead hundreds of years, hasn't He?"
"He isn't dead at all," I said, quite horrified. "Why, Annie, you don't know as much as the infants in my class."
"No one never learns me," she said, in a whimpering voice.
So then I began to tell her as well as I could what Jesus had done for her. She didn't know she was a sinner at all, but I think I made her understand she was, after some time, and she was quite surprised when I told her that Jesus was still alive, and still able to help us and be with us and lead us along, though we couldn't see Him. She didn't know the Cross had anything to do with her, and she drank it all in with big eyes and open mouth, till I wished that some one better than I was talking to her. I had to attend to my driving too, and every now and then I got down and picked her some honeysuckle and wild flowers to take back with her. And at last I felt we had been out long enough, so I drove her back, and when we got to her house, she began to cry, and she caught hold of my hand.
"You will come and take me out again—you won't forget me? Oh, do promise you'll come another day!"
"I'll try and come this day week, Annie," I said, "and I'll come and see you before that, and perhaps I can help you to read. I'll bring some books with me."
Her granny lifted her out and seemed quite pleased.
"Well there, missy, 'tis very good of you, and it'll do her a power o' good. Poor bit of a thing, 'twould be a mercy of the Lord to take her. She'll never be no use to no one in this world."
I felt quite angry, but I didn't know what to say, and I saw that Annie's face quivered all over at her horrid words, so I waved to her.
"Good-bye, Annie. I'll come to see you very soon."
Then I ran home and told father all about her. He said:
"I blame myself for not having discovered her. I have been to see Mrs. Buxton, but she never told me she had a grandchild."
"She's ashamed of her," I said. "Hannah told me she thought a deformed child was a disgrace to any one. Isn't it cruel of her? Do you think I could teach her to read, father?"
"Yes, most certainly. Go to her as often as you like—only mind, ask Mrs. Buxton's permission to do it."
When I told the others about Annie, they didn't laugh, and Lynette was quite interested. She got some of her old dolls out, and told me to take them to her.
Aunt C. said at tea:
"I think Grisel has had the most enjoyable day with the donkey."
"Oh, yes, aunt," said Aylwin quickly, "we know what you're going to say—because she thought of other people's pleasure before her own. But she's made that way, it's no credit to her. And don't you make her conceited, because she thinks a lot too much of herself already."
"I don't!" I said angrily.
"Hush! Hush! No quarrelling!"
Aunt C. is always having to say that, so none of us went on with it.
The next morning came a big parcel by post addressed to "Master Denys and Master Aylwin Marjoribanks."
They were awfully excited, and didn't notice Lynette's and my sniggles, for I told her about it. Well, they went on unrolling and unrolling paper after paper, and at last they came to a cardboard box; and when they opened it, it was full of old cabbage-stalks, and a little piece of paper was folded up at the bottom of the box, and they read it out:
"With thanks from Beatrice and Clarice."
Then Lynette and I danced round the table and laughed at them, for they deserved it. And then I told them that I'd never taken the parcel to the Hall at all, and they were awfully disappointed and very angry at the "cheek of those girls," as they expressed it.
I told them they always liked playing jokes on other people, but never liked to have them played on themselves. And Denys said he would have his revenge, but he always says that when he comes off worst in anything, and then he forgets all about it.
I was so interested in Annie Steel, that nearly every day I went to see her, and she got a pink colour in her cheeks, and looked almost pretty. Every Wednesday I take her out.
We're all hard at work earning money for a saddle for Andy. The boys find Captain Rogers likes the most enormous lot of fish. They can't keep him supplied, and he pays them very handsomely. I still send some vegetables and flowers in to Lemworth market by Bob Tapson, and Lynette makes toffee on and off—she gets tired of doing it very often. But the money seems long in coming.
Mrs. Rogers brought Captain Rogers to tea yesterday afternoon, and he made us open our money-box. We found we had fifteen shillings. We had great fun. We had tea out on the lawn—a kind of picnic it was—and Captain Rogers said we must try and make money quicker than we were doing or we should never get our saddle. So then we asked him if he had any plan, and he said Yes, he thought he had. He said he and his wife were going to have an archery competition in their big field, and a lot of grown-up people were coming to it, and also he was going to ask all the children he knew for a children's competition, and he was going to give a prize to the best shooter, and the prize-money was going to be one guinea.
"So all you have to do is to win that prize," he said; "and I know a place where you can get a good boy's saddle for thirty shillings or so."
We all set up a shout; it was lovely to think of. And then we told him that we didn't know how to shoot with bows and arrows, but we supposed we could learn. He said it was one of the few things left to him to do, and that we must come over and practise in his field.
"And we can set up a target here and practise," said Denys. "I will make it; only we have no bows or arrows. Are they expensive?"
"We'll ask Mrs. Ribbon," said Aylwin. "I bet you she'll have to own she doesn't sell them."
"No," said Captain Rogers, "I'll lend you some of mine till after the competition. Let me see, you'll want four, won't you? One apiece."
"Me too!" cried Puff, in an injured tone. "I want to shoot."
So Captain Rogers promised to send five bows round and a packet of arrows. And Denys said, to save him trouble, he'd go back with him and get them, so that we could start at once.
"And how is Andy behaving?" he asked.
"Just as uncertain as ever he was," I said. "Sometimes he's very good, and then he suddenly plays up his old trick of coming to a standstill, and not one of us, or all of us together, can make him move. He's not a faithful animal—he never will be."
Captain Rogers laughed, and pulled a bit of my hair.
"Come here, you little old woman, and tell me what a faithful animal is."
"One you can depend upon," I said; "a certain, sure animal, that is always the same. Isn't that the meaning of faithful? We were talking about it the other day."
"Yes," he said, "that's a very true description of faithfulness. I think I would back you to be faithful, Grisel."
"Oh, I wish I was. But I'm not. You aren't properly faithful if you aren't always faithful, like our knight—'semper fidelis.' I'm trying to be a faithful servant, but I'm always forgetting."
"Whose servant?" he asked. "I think I would like you for a faithful friend, Grisel."
"Christ's servant," I said to him in a whisper. "He comes first, you know. But I'd like to be your faithful friend very much, Captain Rogers."
"We'll make a compact now," he said; "and if I get into trouble and want a friend, I shall know to whom I can turn."
Both the boys went back to the farm with Captain Rogers, and they came home triumphantly with the bows and arrows. And all to-day they have been making a target with straw and white calico and paint. I do hope one of us will get the prize. We stand a good chance, as there are four of us. Beatrice and Clarice are to be asked too, and some other children from a long way off. I believe Captain Rogers hopes we shall win.
*****
It is some time since I wrote in this book, for I have been so busy. First of all I must tell about our archery competition. We began to practise hard for it the very minute the target was ready. We put it up at the end of the lawn and shot at it from as far as we could get away from it. And it's awfully exciting, and great fun. I thought I was getting on splendidly, but I'm rather afraid I was very cross at being called so often away from my practice. As it happened, Emma scalded her leg, and had to be in bed for a whole day, and when she got up, she couldn't move about. And so Aunt C. said Lynette and I must make our beds, and dust the rooms, and help in the house as much as possible. It seemed very provoking, because we did want to be good shooters. I can't bear not doing things well.
Lynette kept running away, but I couldn't do that; and I helped all I could, only I felt very cross the whole time. I don't think I was at all good that week. When Wednesday came, I didn't want to take Annie out for a drive, because Beatrice and Clarice came to spend the afternoon with us, and all of them were shooting hard at the target. I went off with Andy, wishing I hadn't promised to take Annie out every week, but when I saw her little smiling face, I was ashamed of myself. I was half an hour late. She said:
"Grannie said you wouldn't come. I knewed you would. I wakes in the night and thinks o' my drive. You never disapp'int me, do you, miss?"
"I hope I never shall," I said.
Annie was very talkative. "I says my prayers proper when I goes to bed and when I gets up," she said. "I telled granny 'bout it. I said to her, I oughter speak and thank for all the nice things I was havin', special to thank Him Who died on cross for me; and she said so I did oughter, that 'twas more 'n I deserved to have a young lady come so constant to see me. And please, Miss Grisel, you said las' time you were here, you and me were both the Lord's servants, and please if I'm one, what can I do for Him?"
Annie always makes me feel that she is really much better than I am, though she has known about things for such a short time. She seems so dead in earnest.
"I wants to do somethin' for Him," she said; "I loves Him so."
"I don't think Jesus wants us to do very big things for Him when we're children, Annie," I said. "That's what father says. He wants us just to do all day and speak all day as if He were in the room smiling and watching us. Of course He is really in the room with us, you know, but we can't see Him. I'm sure He must often want to turn away His head and look the other way when we get cross and disobliging and grumbling. I do forget about it so. I've been cross to-day myself."
"I cries and grumbles when my back is bad," Annie said thoughtfully. "I'll hush up nex' time if He's near. And do you think He'd like me to peel the taters for granny, and learn to mend grand-dad's socks? 'Cause I sometimes tells of 'er I can't do nothin' when my back aches?"
"I'm sure He would like you to help your granny all you can, Annie," I said. And then I didn't want to be a hypocrite, so I told her how cross I had felt when Aunt C. had asked me to do things, and we agreed together that we must keep saying to ourselves:
"Jesus is in the room. He is watching to see what I'm going to do."
I felt quite happy when I came home from our drive. The others were just having tea, and afterwards I ran out and practised with my bow and arrow for a little, and once I hit the bull's-eye, but I couldn't do it again, though I tried ever so.
HE SHOT SO STEADILY AND FIRMLY.
At last the day came, and we all went off to the farm, and the field was full of people, and there was the most lovely tea spread out under the trees, and four boys and five girls, all strangers to us. Three girls and a boy were the children of the Squire of Tenbury, a village seven miles from us, and the others were a clergyman's family near Lincoln. They had come by train. We liked them all, and they were quite as excited as we were over the archery.
We began at once, and it was great fun taking it in turns; the boys lay on the grass and cheered when any one did well. I was very nervous when my turn came, and my hand shook as if I had the palsy. But I didn't do badly, only of course I didn't win; I knew I shouldn't do that. I don't think any of us were surprised when Denys was the winner. Somehow I felt he would be. He stood up so straight, and shot so steadily and firmly—just like a grave man. He said after, he felt it was a matter of life or death, because he was determined to get the prize. And then we all cheered like mad, and Mrs. Rogers gave him his prize in a pretty bead purse.
We all came home wild with joy, for we had got our donkey, and donkey-cart, and now we had got the money for the saddle. And none of us need try to earn money any more.
It seemed too good to be true.
CHAPTER XIII
OUR DREADFUL DAY
AND now I've got to write about a dreadful day. And I'll begin at the very beginning of it. It was rather near the end of our holidays. We had got our saddle by this time, and we all used to ride Andy anywhere; he was a very good donkey on the whole, and he galloped awfully well. We were just talking over our plans for the day at breakfast when Emma came in with a telegram for father. He often got telegrams about meetings, so we didn't take any notice, until we heard him give a kind of groan, and hand it to Aunt C. And then she began to cry, and we knew it must be something bad. It was to say that granny had been taken dangerously ill, and father must go at once.
Aunt C. gasped out:
"She's dying, John; I must come with you."
"There's no train till ten-thirty. We must catch that."
Aunt C. rushed out of the room; then father turned to us:
"Children, can I trust you alone? It would be a sad thing for your aunt if she did not come with me. Will you try to prove yourselves trustworthy? Denys, you are getting a big boy, and know the difference between right and wrong. I look to you in my absence to take care of your brothers and sisters. Grisel, keep Lynette with you, and do not get into mischief. I will go and have a talk with cook. There is no time to be lost."
We promised faithfully to be as good as gold. We were very sorry about granny, but we couldn't help feeling a little tiny bit glad that we were to be left to take care of ourselves. We never have been before, and it's a delicious feeling to be quite, quite alone in the holidays, and to manage ourselves. I don't think there could be a nicer thing happen. Then I ran upstairs and helped Aunt C. to pack up her portmanteau. She was very upset, and Emma and cook were so excited, they kept running up and down stairs the whole time asking her questions.
At last they were off; and Denys drove their small luggage in the donkey-cart to the station. Father said he would be sure to come home in time for Sunday, as this was only Tuesday. Aunt C. kissed me very hard, and said she knew I would do my best to be good and to keep the others good, as I had been a great comfort to her lately. I was so pleased when she said this that I nearly cried, but I put both my arms round her neck instead, and gave her a good hug.
When Denys came back, we all went out into the garden to the summer-house to talk about it.
"Granny was quite well two days ago," I said. "She wrote to Aunt C. and said she had just been for a drive. I didn't know people could die without being ill."
"But she is ill," said Aylwin.
"Yes, but she couldn't get very ill all at once, could she?"
"Lots of people do," said Denys.
"Could we?" asked Lynette, with a frightened look. "I shouldn't like to. Aunt C. said she was sure granny was dead, and that was how Aunt Mildred broke the news."
"Anyhow, granny won't mind dying," I said. "She is like the knight, 'semper paratus.' And you ought to be too, Lynette."
"I'm not," she said; "are you?"
"Oh, do stop talking rot!" said Aylwin. "Now, what shall we do with ourselves?"
"A picnic would be nice," I suggested, "down by the river."
"And we might take Andy with us, and give him a good tubbing in the water. He must be dreadfully dirty; he never has a bath."
Lynette said this. If there's one thing she is fonder of than another, it is water, and washing something.
"And we'll boil a kettle, and pretend we're gipsies," said Aylwin.
"All right; let's go to cook and see if she's got any raw meat we can cook ourselves—that's half the fun."
So Denys and I went off to the kitchen, and cook seemed only too delighted to have us out for the day. She gave us some sausages, and a frying-pan with some fat in to fry them, and a bit of rabbit-pie, and some cold potatoes, and some apples, and half a loaf of bread, and a bottle of milk, and a small tin of sugar, and an envelope filled with salt, and another with tea in it. And then we all bustled about and got some cups and plates and the kettle, and then we packed ourselves in the donkey-cart, and away we drove, and we were all feeling so jolly that we had to keep reminding ourselves that granny was dying. And for a few minutes we tried to keep sad and have dismal faces. At last Denys said:
"Look here, we can't go on like this. We'll hope she has turned the corner and is getting well fast. Lots of people do, you know. And doctors always say, 'While there is life there is hope.' So we'll be as jolly as we like, because she's getting better."
We were all quite relieved. It was so much nicer having cheerful thoughts about granny than sad ones. And I'm afraid we didn't think much about her again, for we got very busy when we got down to the river. And then Denys said to Lynette:
"I say, if you want to wash anything, you can wash yourself—your hands would be all the better for it—and you can wash our dinner-plates, but don't you try it on Andy, or I'll duck you in the river head first. Donkeys aren't made to be washed."
Lynette was awfully disappointed, but she was rather afraid of Denys.
We had the most lovely time cooking our dinner. We first made the fire, and then we boiled the kettle, for we were all going to have cups of tea, and then we got the frying-pan and put the sausages in and the bit of rabbit-pie and the cold potatoes, and they smelt delicious. Denys and I were cook by turns, because Aylwin would taste so often that we were afraid there would not be enough to go round, and Lynette said the fire scorched her face. I don't expect grown-ups would have liked our fry, because it was rather smoky, and once the frying-pan tipped right over, and we lost some of the potatoes in the fire. But we all liked it immensely, and then we made tea, and we felt as if we were having a thorough good kitchen dinner—Emma and cook always have tea with their dinner. Then we tried to roast our apples, but it was too much bother, and we were tired of cooking by that time, so we just ate them raw.
Lynette and Puff and I washed up our plates and cups, and then we packed them away, and then we began having a game of hide-and-seek. There was a small wood close to us, so we had great fun. And now the first thing began to go wrong with us. We had unharnessed Andy and let him munch about on the grass, but when we were playing we forgot all about him, and suddenly we found out that he had gone off. We all hunted for him, and called and shouted, but there was no sign of him. And then we felt angry with him. Lynette said he must have remembered running off with Puff the other day, and the river must have reminded him of it.
"It will be no joke if we spend the rest of the day in hunting for the old beast!" said Aylwin sulkily. "I vote we go home, and let him find his way back!"
"But we can't leave the cart here," said Denys.
"Harness Aylwin to it, and let me drive him," said Lynette, dancing up and down in delight at the thought.
The boys wouldn't listen to her. We spent nearly an hour looking for Andy.
We were quite three miles from home, and we didn't know what to do. Then the boys said we must all help to drag the cart home. We cheered up then, because we thought it would be great fun. There was a great deal of talking, of course, before we settled it. I said we ought to draw it tandem, and Lynette could be leader, because she was the youngest, and I believed it was the easiest place, but Denys said we must be a four-in-hand, and Puff could-drive, because he was tired out already, and would have to be in the cart. So then we settled that Lynette and I should be front horses, and Denys and Aylwin back ones. We had some rope which we had brought to tie our hamper with, and after some time we got ourselves arranged, and started.
"Let us think Puff is member for the county," Denys said, "and he's just elected, and we've taken out his horses and are pulling him round the town."
So we all yelled out, "Three cheers for Puff, M.P., the labourer's friend!"
For we had seen plenty of elections before we came into Lincolnshire. But, oh dear! It was hard work pulling that cart. It was easier pulling it on the high road, but we all got very tired, and had to rest pretty often. Puff was the only one who enjoyed it, only we had to take the whip away from him, because he got so excited that he forgot we hadn't donkeys' skins, and really hurt us with it. And then, as we were all pulling our very hardest, who should come by but Lady Laura in her grand carriage and pair, and Beatrice and Clarice were with her.
"We've lost our donkey!" we shouted out to them. "And we're a four-in-hand."
We were trying to gallop past, for it was a little down-hill when we met them, only Lady Laura made us stop.
"Oh, you madcaps!" she said. "I am so glad you don't belong to me."
We thought that was rather nasty of her, because we really didn't want to draw our cart home; we were only doing it because it was our duty. So Denys took off his cap to her and tried to explain, and asked her if she saw Andy anywhere to let us know, and she laughed and promised she would, and Beatrice and Clarice called out that they would love to get out and be a six-in-hand, only they had their best clothes on.
We got on pretty well after that, until we came to a steep hill before we came to our village. We thought we would have a regular gallop down it, and come through the village in style. I suppose we went a little too fast, because just before we came to the bottom the cart seemed to come on the top of us, and Denys and Aylwin couldn't hold it back. Lynette tumbled, and then I hardly know what happened, but the next thing we were all in a confused heap in the ditch, and Puff was yelling as if he was being murdered. The hamper tumbled out, and nearly all the plates and cups were broken. I suppose we hadn't packed them very well. Denys picked himself up first. He was all right—only a few bruises, he said. Lynette had a great bump on her forehead almost as big as a small egg, and Aylwin had hurt one of his legs most dreadfully; he said he was sure it was broken, but Denys felt it all over and said there were no bones sticking out anywhere. Puff had only grazed his knees; one was bleeding rather—I tied my handkerchief over it. I had cut one of my elbows with a stone and felt rather bruised, but that was all.
THE NEXT THING WE WERE ALL IN A CONFUSED HEAP
IN THE DITCH.
We all sat down in the hedge to rest, after we had examined ourselves. And then, as no one came by who could help us, we left our cart in the hedge, and Denys carried Aylwin on his back all the way home, which was very good of him. Lynette's frock was all torn, and my hat was covered with ditch mud. When we came in, Emma shrieked at the sight of us. She told Baldwin to go and get the cart, and Aylwin got on the sofa, and cook came in to look at his leg. She said she thought it would be all right if she put a cold-water bandage on. It was rather swollen and bruised, but she said she was sure nothing was broken.
We were all rather disgusted with ourselves for coming home in such a state, but of course it was all Andy's fault, not ours.
Just after we had had our tea, a boy came to the Rectory. He had found Andy tearing about in a farmer's field, with some young colts, ever so far away. How he got there we don't know. He must have broken through the hedge somewhere. We were very glad to see him, but Denys nearly gave him a good beating. Emma said it was a regular hospital with all of us so scratched and bruised, and she said we might have all killed ourselves.
I wish I could say our day ended there, but the worst is still to come.
I was sitting in the garden reading a story-book. Puff had already gone to bed, and Lynette was playing a game of Halma with Aylwin indoors, when Denys came to me in great excitement.
"I say! There's a fire at a farm half a mile out of the village. It is Mr. Gaythorpe's. I'm off to it!"
"Oh, I must come too!" I said.
I suppose it is a dreadful thing to like, but we all love seeing a fire. We saw one or two in the place we were in before we came here, and we always went to them if we could. If it was at night, the boys would steal out of their beds and go off just the same. And, of course, a fire is much more exciting in the country.
I put on my hat and ran off with Denys. We saw volumes of smoke going up into the sky. Denys said some hayricks must have caught fire. We ran as hard as we could, and at last we came to it. It was a rick, we found, but it had caught on to the stables, and the stables were close to the house. There were a lot of men and boys throwing buckets of water over it. There was no fire-engine nearer them than Lemworth, so of course that was no good at all.
Denys at once began helping the farmer's wife to bring her furniture out of the house; it had a thatched roof, so there didn't seem the slightest chance of saving it. I stood a little distance off and watched the flames curl and lick up to the sky. It sent a little thrill through me as I saw them. Only I was glad that all the horses had been brought out and all the farmer's children. There was no one in the house at all. The farmer did his very best to save his house. One of the men got a ladder and began cutting away the thatch on the roof, and they soaked it with water, but the ladder actually caught on fire, and the man had to get down as quick as he could. His hands were quite burnt, and he was taken away by his wife at once.
All the time the farmer's wife, and her two servants, and Denys, were bringing out everything into the field which was close to the house. I wanted to help too, but Denys wouldn't let me; he said it wasn't girls' work. I felt quite sorry that Aylwin and Lynette knew nothing about it; they would so have enjoyed seeing it.
Then I heard something about oil in the back kitchen; the farmer was afraid the fire would get to it. And just then we heard the most awful howl, and we looked up, and there at one of the top windows which was open stood a dear little terrier.
"It's Foxy!" screamed Mrs. Gaythorpe. "I must have shut him in when I got the children out!"
"I'll get him!" shouted Denys, and he dashed into the house and up the stairs. I never thought he would be in danger, until, a minute after, there was an awful flare coming out of the kitchen windows, and Mr. Gaythorpe said it was the cask of oil. Then we saw Denys at the top window holding out the dog.
"Shall I throw him out?"
"Come down yourself!" shouted out the farmer. "The oil has caught downstairs!"
Denys disappeared. I still didn't think he was in danger until I saw him back at the window, and heard him shout out:
"The staircase is on fire. I can't come down!"
Then I felt quite sick. It was an awful moment.
"Hold out a blanket," said Denys, "if you've got one, and I'll throw you Foxy."
Two men held out a blanket, and Foxy was thrown out and caught. Meanwhile, Mr. Gaythorpe had gone for the ladder. It was broken and was too short to reach Denys. They tried another, but it was too short; then they began to splice them together, and I was in perfect agony.
Denys was awfully calm.
"Hurry up!" he said. "The fire is coming into the room."
Then we saw an awful volume of smoke behind him. The old house was burning like tinder.
"Oh, Denys! Denys!" I screamed, hardly knowing what I said. "Won't somebody save him?"
I heard afterwards that the ladders had been so badly burnt that they were quite rotten. And still Denys never lost his courage.
"Throw me up a coil of rope," he shouted. "I must get out of this; the floor is burning under me!"
He was standing on the sill as he spoke. I felt awful, as if I longed to be there instead of him. And then they got hold of a mattress, and four men held it at each corner.
"Jump!" they cried. "We'll catch you. 'Tis your only chance!"
For one moment Denys hesitated; he looked down. He was up such a long way, for it was a high house. Then he looked behind him, and then he sprang forward. I hid my eyes in terror. I suppose he must have jumped too strongly—he was always a splendid jumper—for I heard a sickening crashing thud, and they hadn't caught him! They said after, he jumped beyond them. I don't think I shall ever forget that moment all my life long. There was a loud groan from the whole crowd, and then dead silence. I dashed forward, but Mrs. Gaythorpe caught me by the arm.
"Stay with me, my pretty; 'tis no sight for you! Ah, the poor, poor boy!"
I have never done such a thing before, and I hope I never shall again, but I fainted. I seemed to know that they were taking up Denys's dead body, all crushed and still.
When I came round, I was in a cottage near, and a woman was tickling my nose with burnt feathers. I sat up, and remembered it all.
"Where's Denys?" I cried.
"The doctor's with him, missy. Such a chance; he were riding home from Farmer Turts, who have been to bed with the gout, and he saw the fire and comed straight up. They've taken him in next door."
"Oh, is he dead?" I cried. "He can't be dead, he can't be dead!"
"There now, my dear, we'll hope for the best!"
I dashed her arm away from me, and rushed out of her cottage. I hardly knew what I was doing, but I found myself saying, "I don't want to hope, I want to be sure!"
And then outside Mrs. Blatch's cottage next door I met cook and Baldwin. Some one had run off and told them.
Cook was wringing her hands and crying:
"The master is away, and who will tell him? Oh, never will I be left again in charge of these children!"
And her screaming and crying made me feel quiet. I walked into the cottage through a crowd of people.
"Is he dead?" I kept saying, and no one answered me.
And then the woman the cottage belonged to came out of a back room, and I shall love her till the day of my death.
"There, dearie," she said; "take heart: he's only a few broken bones, and young bones mend fast, the doctors say. Alive! Bless your little heart, he'll be laughing in a day or two! And I'll keep him here and look after him. He mustn't be moved, the doctor says. I was nurse once in the Lemworth Infirmary, and I'll look after him right well, I promise you!"
Then she told everybody to go away except cook and Baldwin and me, and we sat down in her front parlour and waited till the doctor came out.
CHAPTER XIV
A DONKEY IN A NIGHT-CAP
DR. FENNING was an old man. He lives about six miles from us. He came out with a smiling face. I think he saw how frightened we all were.
"He'll do!" he said. "With care. But he must be kept absolutely quiet, and I can't allow any one to see him but Mrs. Blatch. She'll carry out my orders."
"Oh, please!" I said. "Couldn't I see him for a minute? Father is away. Is he much broken?"
"It's a mercy he fell where he did, on the grass; and it's a miracle that he is as much alive as he is. Broken? Well, he has got a rib broken and an arm, and a nasty crack on his head, but he's young, and I'll pull him round, so trot along home and leave him here."
Then cook and Baldwin would have their say, and Dr. Fenning got impatient and broke away from us, and then we went home, and I found Lynette and Aylwin knew nothing about the fire, so I told them. We all settled that I must write at once to father and tell him of it, and I wrote the letter before I went to bed, so that the postman could take it as early as possible the next morning.
And then, for the first time in my life, I was glad to get to bed to end our horrible day. I was so tired that I fell asleep directly, but when I woke the next morning it seemed as if there was a great weight on me pressing me down, and then I remembered Denys.
When the post came in, I had a letter from father. He wrote to say that dear grannie had just died, and he hoped we would all be good children, as he could not be back till after the funeral, which was to be on Saturday. Lynette and I felt very unhappy. We didn't think that granny would really die.
Aylwin's leg was paining him a good deal. He tried to order us about, and tell us what we were to do, but we wouldn't have it. We told him he was pretending to be like Denys, and he never could be. And then after breakfast we left him and went off to Mrs. Blatch's cottage to ask how Denys was. She wouldn't let us see him, and she told us that he was sleeping, and mustn't be disturbed.
"Is he in pain?" I asked. "Does he talk? What does he say?"
"He isn't rightly conscious, missy, but the doctor gave him some stuff to keep him quiet. He'll do nicely. Don't you fret."
"Father isn't coming home till Saturday," I said, trying to keep the tears out of my eyes; "and it's dreadful being without Denys. Are you quite sure he won't die, Mrs. Blatch?"
"I don't think he will, dearie, not if I can help it, and if the good God gives us His help."
"Oh, Lynette, let's go home and pray for him," I said; "I've been so miserable that I haven't done it."
So we went back. Lynette was quite grave, not a bit harum-scarum as she always is. And we went upstairs to our bedroom and knelt down and prayed that Denys might get better soon. And when we got up from our knees, we felt much better.
And then we went back to Aylwin, who was on the dining-room sofa. Puff was riding Andy in the field, and Aylwin was quite cross. We told him about Denys. He said:
"Well, I know I'm jolly ill; my leg gets worse and worse. I think it's going to mortify—it's turning black. I shall soon be every bit as bad as Denys; and then they'll amputate me, and I shall be on one leg for the rest of my life!"
We felt rather frightened, and made him pull off his linen bandage and show his leg to us.
"Oh!" I said. "It's badly bruised. Bruises always turn black; I've lots on my arms!"
I pulled up my sleeve and showed him.
"Yes," said Lynette eagerly, "and look at my forehead!"
"Pooh!" said Aylwin. "I'd swap my leg in a minute for any of your trifling bruises! I consider I ought to have had the doctor called in. Cook thinks herself very clever, but she's made a hash of me."
We couldn't help laughing, for that's cook's one saying to Aunt C. when she doesn't know what to have for dinner. "We'll make a hash, mum," she says, and she would give us hashes every day of the week if she could, and if there was meat to do it.
"I wonder what Denys feels like!" I said. "What an awful day yesterday was!"
"Andy was at the bottom of it all!" grumbled Aylwin. "If he hadn't run away, I shouldn't have hurt my leg, and I should have gone to the fire with you."
"And then what?" I said.
"I shouldn't have let Denys be so foolhardy as to run into a blazing house."
"He saved the dog," I said. "I think he was very kind and brave. I wouldn't like to have been him just before he jumped. It was awful! And I think he must have felt he was going to miss the mattress. He stood up so straight, and looked so grave. The village people think he was a regular hero."
Aylwin didn't say any more, but he made us help him out into the garden, where he lay on the grass, and we sat and talked to him. It was a very dull long day, and we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Cook and Emma kept going off to Mr. Blatch's to see how Denys was; at least they said they were there, but they stood in the village half the time, talking to every one. Mrs. Ribbon told cook we ought to have telegraphed to father about Denys, but she said she thought not, as we couldn't properly explain in a telegram.
And then in the afternoon we got a visit from Mrs. Rogers. We were so glad to see her. I began to feel I had had enough of being without any grown-ups to talk to. She went to see Denys at once, and stayed till the doctor came, and said she would write to father herself.
"You must all come over and spend a long day with us at the farm," she said. "You will cheer my husband up."
"But there's nothing but misfortune happened to us," I said: "accidents and death and illness. We don't feel very cheerful!"
"Yes, but we won't look at the blackest side. Andy isn't lost, and none of you were seriously hurt when you tumbled into the ditch with your cart, and Denys is going to get better, and your father will be home on Saturday!"
"Oh!" I said. "I wish you'd come and stay with us till father comes back!"
But she said she could not leave Captain Rogers. We were very sorry when she went, but we said we would like to spend a day at the farm the next day, and so we did, and quite enjoyed ourselves. I had another letter from father, and cook had one too. He said he had been coming straight back to us, only he telegraphed to the doctor, and he told him he need not, for Denys was going on well. And he said he hardly knew how to leave before granny's funeral, he had so much to do and arrange. And he told me that Aunt Mildred was coming back with him on Saturday instead of Aunt C.
We were quite delighted to hear that. Aunt Mildred is the very best story-teller we know. In winter we sit in the dark with just a little bit of fire, and she begins to tell us a story of the Civil Wars, hundreds of years ago, between the Royalists and Roundheads. She tells us about girls and boys hiding their fathers in secret rooms, and creeping along secret passages, in and out of dungeons. And our hearts thump, and we hold our breaths, because the most awful things are going to happen, and you think there is no possibility of escape this time, and then they just miss coming by a hair's breadth. It's so deliciously exciting to listen to her!
I haven't written in this book for a long while, so I must make up for lost time now. Denys got very slowly better, but even when father and Aunt Mildred came back, he couldn't be brought home. That came about three weeks later. We were very glad to see him, but he looked dreadfully white and thin, and his arm was in a sling, and he had to stay in bed; he was quite an invalid.
We used to go up to his room and sit with him, and we did a good many things up there to amuse him. We acted charades sometimes, and once we had a kind of acrobat performance, and Aylwin tried to walk across a pole between two chairs and balance a tumbler on his nose; he didn't do the tumbler badly, but he smashed both chairs and the pole itself, and came an awful cropper. Denys was just as full of fun and plans as ever, but one Sunday afternoon I was sitting with him alone, and he got quite grave and earnest.
He asked me about my class, and then he said, "Father was quite right, Grisel; I wasn't fit to teach them. I was trying to take a servant's message when I wasn't a servant at all. Do you know what I thought about when I stood on the windowsill and waited for the ladder to come, and felt the flames roar behind me and underneath me?"
"No," I said; "I knew you were thinking of something; you looked so grave and quiet. Oh, don't let us talk about it. It was horrible!"
"But I want to talk about it. The words on the knight's tomb flashed across me: 'Semper fidelis, semper paratus.' And I felt I was looking death in the face, and I wasn't 'paratus.' And I hadn't been 'fidelis.'"
"You didn't look frightened," I said. "I thought you didn't understand how near the fire was to you."
"A fellow wouldn't be much good if he funked at a time like that," said Denys, with his grand air. "It's never good form to show your feelings."
Then he added in a different tone:
"But all the same I was in a funk, and I had reason to be, for I wasn't ready to die, and I knew it. How would you have felt, Grisel?"
"I think I should have screamed with fright," I said; "I'm afraid I should. But it wouldn't be death that would frighten me, it would be the fire. I think—" I stopped, for I always find it difficult to talk about myself—"I think I shouldn't be afraid of dying—because it would be all right after."
"How do you know?"
"The Bible says so. Sometimes I wonder, when I feel very blue, if I've made a mistake after all, and if I'm not safe in the fold. And then I think of that chapter about sheep, and how Jesus said about His sheep, 'I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand.'"
"Yes, but how do you know you're one of the sheep?"
"He died for me," I said slowly; "and He called me, and I came. I can't explain it better."
Denys was silent.
"I'm going to be jolly sure of myself before I leave this bed," he said. He didn't mean it irreverently; he always talks like that. "I'm going to be so sure, that if I was to meet sudden death every day, I should never blink, or think it mattered a bit. A man has no business to have anything to make him funk; I mean inside him. I shall be 'paratus' for death. I'll make it my business to be."
"Father will tell you how," I murmured.
We didn't say any more, but a few days after Denys said to me:
"It's done. I've settled it, or I suppose I should say, God has. I don't think I shall funk death again—at least, I hope I shan't. And I hope if I'm 'paratus,' I shall be able to keep 'fidelis.'"
I nodded, but I didn't speak, and we didn't talk about it again.
Aylwin went off to school before Denys was well, and Lynette and I did our lessons with Aunt Mildred. And now it began to get cold and wet, and we began fires, and the winter slowly came along.
Sometimes when we couldn't go out we played hide-and-seek all over the house, and Aunt Mildred played with us. She used to come out with us in the donkey-cart, and father drove to one or two places with Andy. He got more and more useful. He used to bring up parcels from the station, and coals and oil, and every week I drove Annie Steel out, and did errands for the village people. And at last Denys got well enough to drive out, and then he went back to school.
One thing Aunt Mildred did which was very nice. She changed the choir practice to Friday, so that every Saturday we could go out for the whole day if we wanted to, and we generally had a plan which lasted all day, for it was our holiday. But sometimes it was a wet day, and then it was horrid. I don't know how it is, but it is quite impossible to stay the whole day in the house without doing something wrong, and we generally end by having a regular fight all round.
Last Saturday was a dreadfully wet day. We shut ourselves up in the schoolroom in the morning, and determined to be jolly without getting into any scrapes. And then Aylwin said:
"We've had old Andy a perfect age, and we haven't taught him any tricks yet. He ought to be like a circus donkey."
"What do circus donkeys do?" asked Lynette.
"Why, they sit up and eat dinner with table-napkins, and dance the hornpipe in caps and gowns, and play the piano with their hoofs, and all kinds of things."
"I think we ought to train him a little," said Denys thoughtfully.
"I heard of a donkey who used to come indoors," I said.
Then we all put our heads together, and Aylwin ran out of the room. He was going to see if Andy had been brought into the stable. Lynette and I went upstairs to our piece box. Our piece box is a box where Aunt C. puts odd pieces of our dresses and anything she cuts out. And at the bottom of it are some old clothes we play charades with. We chose out an old lady's night-cap that we had, and a long blue cloak, and a black-and-white plaid shawl. These two last were very moth-eaten, but we thought that wouldn't matter, and we got some tape and pins and scissors and needle and cotton and went downstairs to the drawing-room.
Aunt Mildred had gone out to see a sick woman with father. She never stops in for the rain.
Denys was holding the hall door open, and then I thought of the dining-room carpet, so Lynette and I very carefully put newspapers down in case Andy might be muddy. And presently we heard a great noise in the hall, and we ran out, and there was Andy looking quite pleased with himself! Aylwin had found him in the stable, and he had groomed him down and washed his hoofs before he brought him in. Aylwin is a very tidy boy. He had put the halter on, and Andy was in a very good temper. He didn't pull back at all; he just walked in straight after Aylwin and came into the dining-room like a lamb. We shut the door and locked it, in case Emma or cook would come peeping in. We wished we could have taken him to the schoolroom, but Denys said he would never go upstairs, he was sure. That would come afterwards when he was properly trained. Denys had meanwhile got a lovely bunch of carrots from Baldwin, and this was to train Andy with.
The dining-room was a very good place to have him in, we thought, because if Andy got troublesome, we could just open the French window and take him into the garden, back to the stable again.
"Now," said Denys, "we must dress him first."
So we put the night-cap on, and first he began twitching his ears and shaking himself about, until we thought of cutting holes to let his ears through, and then he let us tie it under his chin properly, and he looked so funny that we all went into shrieks of laughter. It was rather small for him, but we fixed it very firmly on so that he couldn't shake it off. Then we folded the blue cloak round him and tied it round and round with tape. And then came the most difficult part, and I had to do this with needle and cotton. We cut up the black-and-white shawl into four bits and made him trousers. We sewed them round his legs and fastened them on to the blue cloak, so that they couldn't slip down. He kept shaking himself, and looked at us as if he thought we were humbugging him, but he was awfully good until Denys tried to make him sit up and beg like a dog.
He held the carrots up very high, for he tied them on a stick, and then when we all tried to heave Andy on his hind legs, he suddenly kicked out and tore round the room. We opened the window quickly, for fear he should break something, and he dashed out.
It was raining horribly, but Denys and Aylwin rushed out after him. That stupid Baldwin had got the front gate wide open, and of course Andy tore out of it and along the village as hard as ever he could. Denys said he could hardly run after him for laughing, for he looked so awfully funny in his night-cap and blue coat and trousers. Some men were coming home from work, and they didn't attempt to catch him. They simply stood still in the middle of the road, and roared with laughter.
Lynette and I had promised Aunt Mildred we wouldn't go out, so we left the boys to catch Andy, and we tidied up the dining-room, as it was in an awful mess. We thought the boys would never come back. Father and Aunt Mildred came in, and asked us where they were, so we told them, and father was very shocked. He said he would send Andy right away if ever we brought him into the house again. Aunt Mildred laughed.
"I should love to have seen him," she said. "I think we'll dress him up another day in the stable, and then I shall be in the fun."
It wasn't till dinner was nearly over that the boys came back, and then they were in the most awful state of mind. They had lost Andy altogether. He got to the four cross-roads before they did, and they didn't know which way he had gone.
"He tore like the furies," said Denys, "and if he meets a carriage, he'll frighten the horses into fits. I can't tell you what he looked like going through the village."
"There's one comfort," said Aunt Mildred, "he will easily be traced. Donkeys in night-caps are not common in this part."
"You must go out again and look till you find him, boys," said father sternly. "It would serve you right if you lost him altogether. You must have thoroughly frightened him."
Denys and Aylwin were quite willing to go off again. They got into dry clothes, had their dinner, and then went off. And this time they didn't come home till tea-time, and they were dead tired.
But they had not found Andy!
Father sent Denys straight to bed, and told Aunt Mildred to give him something hot to drink, for since his fall, he hasn't been quite as strong as he used to be.
"We'll put up a notice," I said. "He is sure to come back; he always does."
But we had to wait till Monday came to do that, and all Sunday passed and no one had seen or heard anything of Andy.
Mrs. Rogers was in church in the morning, and we told her all about it. She said that she and Captain Rogers were leaving their lodgings very soon, and going back to London. We were awfully sorry to hear it, for we all loved Captain Rogers, and used to go over to the farm very often and see him.
"I'm sure," she said, "I don't know what we shall do without you children. You keep us so lively. I must tell Charlie about poor old Andy."
"There's always something happening to us," I said. "We hardly go a week without some scrape coming."
She laughed.
"I would back you against any one for getting into scrapes!" she said.
And when she had gone, I didn't feel very happy. The odd thing is, that when we do things they never seem wrong till afterwards. I didn't think dressing up Andy was wicked, but it seems as if it was now, and we have lost him through doing it.