CHAPTER V
LYNETTE'S SCRAPE
DENYS told us his adventure the next day. I'll write it down as he said it, because it will be easier. He had been up and down the river near us trying to fish.
"I had no luck the first day at all," he confessed, "so yesterday I went higher up; it's a long way from here, and I got into a jolly shady part, where I saw the fish simply leaping to get to me! And then they began to bite, and I had a lovely time. Some of them were rather small, but they were good trout, and I soon had my basket full. The next thing was to sell them, so I thought I'd make a visit to a few farmers about here on my way home and see if they would buy any. And then I saw a rather big house standing back in a lot of trees, so 'nothing venture, nothing have,' I said to myself, and up I went to it as fast as my legs could carry me. Just before I got to the house, I saw an old chap sitting in a garden-chair and smoking a big pipe. So I took off my hat to him, and he stopped me and asked me who I was.
"'I'm a kind of fish-hawker,' I said. 'I'm selling fish, and I thought your cook might like to buy.'
"He stared at me as if I were a chimpanzee.
"'Have the goodness to open your basket,' he said.
"I showed him my basket with pride. He glared at me.
"'Where did you get these fish—in what part of the river?'
"I pointed it out to him.
"'I've only had luck to-day,' I said; 'I suppose I didn't go to the right spot first. I'll let you have the lot for two shillings, sir. Beautiful and fresh, just caught.'
"He gave a laugh.
"'Who turned you into a fish-seller?' he asked.
"'I turned myself,' I said. 'I'm trying to earn an honest penny to buy a donkey.' And then I told him our plan.
"He seemed awfully tickled, but took out half a crown, and gave it to me.
"'Take the fish up to the house,' he said; 'and bring me a basket again to-morrow.'
"Well, I went on up to the house, and gave my fish in, but there was a groom standing by who asked me where I had got it. I told him.
"'It's lucky Morris didn't nab you,' he said. 'That's the mester's private bit of water, and he prosecutes like mad if any one dares to trespass.'
"I didn't say anything, but just walked off, and then I began to feel rather beastly. I knew now why the old chap had grinned so. But I wasn't going to be made a fool of, so I marched up to him and told him I'd like him to take his half-crown back.
"'I've found out it's your own fish, sir,' I said. 'I'm sorry I trespassed. I won't do it again.'
"'Here!' he said. 'You keep what you've earned. We'll consider you're fishing there with a permit from me. It isn't often I get a chance of buying my own fish! I used to be a keen fisherman once, but my gout has stopped all that.'
"'Well,' I said, 'if you think it square and fair, I'd like to keep the money, for I did have a lot of trouble with those fish. But I won't fish there again; I'd rather not, for your keeper will be nabbing me. I'm much obliged to you, sir. Good afternoon.'
"So I took off my hat and came off, and he laughed as if it were a good joke—but I've got the half-crown."
"Well," I said slowly, "it seems you aren't much better than us after all, for you are catching fish that aren't yours."
"But I'm not going to do it again," said Denys hastily. "I shan't go near the old chap's place. I shall try miles away from him. I know father has fishing rights a part of the way."
"Who is the old gentleman?" I asked.
"He is the Squire of Benton—General Walton his name is; he didn't ask my name, which showed he was a gentleman."
"You said he asked you who you were, the first thing," said Aylwin.
"Yes—he meant my occupation," said Denys grandly. "Gentlemen don't ask each other their names; it isn't good form."
"Well now, as all the plans are known, I'll tell you mine," said Aylwin. "I'm a farm labourer, and I'm doing more work than all of you put together!"
We roared with laughter.
"All right!" said Aylwin, getting very red in the face. "You go and ask old Cummins! He was telling father on Sunday what a busy week he was going to have with his hay, and how he was one man short, and how difficult it was to get labourers. I went to him early Monday morning, and told him I'd work as well as any labourer if he'd give me pay, and he finally said he'd give me lad's pay, because I told him what I wanted money for. I didn't want him to think I was so hard up as to take his labour if I hadn't a purpose. And I've been working hard ever since, and I shall get my pay Friday night, when he hopes to get all the hay in."
We rather admired Aylwin's plan, but we began to wonder how long it would be before we got enough money. I suddenly thought of another plan, and I rushed straight off to Mrs. Tapson's to ask about it. This was to send a hamper in by Bob every Tuesday and let Mrs. Dutton sell it for me. Mrs. Tapson thought it a splendid idea, so I came home and asked father if I could do it, and he said Yes, as long as Baldwin only gave me what could be spared.
And then we all felt a little flat, because now our secrets were known there was no mystery, and we love mysteries. Next week we begin lessons. I wasn't a bit surprised when Lynette came rushing to me the next afternoon, saying:
"Oh, Grisel, I'm in the awfullest scrape; do help me!"
Lynette always comes to me when she has been doing anything outrageous, and she always gets into scrapes when she has nothing to do. She told me she had been swinging on the gate, when she saw passing down the road the little girl I had seen before in the pony-cart. She was quite by herself, and she went into Mrs. Ribbon's shop and left her pony outside, without any one to hold it. Lynette followed her out of curiosity, and then without thinking—Lynette never thinks when she wants to do a thing—she jumped into the pony-trap, and drove it down the village.
"It was only for fun, Grisel," she said. "I meant to come back in two minutes, and she wouldn't have known. But I gave the pony a little flick with the whip, and he tore like the wind, and I couldn't stop him. When I knew I couldn't stop him—" here Lynette's eyes twinkled with mischief—"I sat back and prepared to enjoy myself. We tore along like furies, and then we came to Cross Glen village, and he turned up through some big open gates. Then I began to get frightened, for I know our squire lives there; father told me so. Such a big house, Grisel! And directly we got up to it the pony stopped short, and a butler came down the steps, looking quite scared when he saw me.
"'Where is Miss Clarice?' he asked.
"I got out of the trap as quick as I could.
"'She's in our shop,' I said, 'and the pony ran away with me.'
"Then I felt awfully frightened, Grisel, and I ran away down the avenue, and hid amongst some shrubs at the bottom, for fear any one would see me. At last I ventured out, and climbed over the hedge, and came home by the fields. I'm so hot and tired."
"But how awful of you, Lynette! Where's the little girl?"
"I don't know. I suppose she walked home. Do go across to Mrs. Ribbon's and find out, Grisel. I hope they don't know it was me!"
"Go yourself!" I said crossly.
Then Lynette put her arms round my neck.
"Darling Grisel, I do love you so! You will just go, won't you? Because nobody will know you have anything to do with it."
So of course I had to go, and Mrs. Ribbon was in an agitated state of mind as she told me what had happened.
"'Tisn't often one of the little ladies from the Hall comes to my humble shop," she said: "And then! You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard the pony galloping away! I was just servin' her with a ounce of Miss Lynette's toffee, and I were makin' her laugh when I telled her who made it, when we heard a noise, and her and I runs to the door, and there we seed Miss Lynette, her hair a-flying like a golden cloud in the air, a-tearin' round the road just for all the world like one o' these motor machines.
"'Stop her!' cried Miss Clarice. 'She's run away with my pony!'
"But one might as well stop a flyin' swaller! Then I begged the little missy to sit down in my shop and wait. But she were real angry, and she stamped her foot, and said, 'My mother will have that toffee girl punished.'
"And then she marches out and down the road. And if Lady Laura do hear of it, she will come up and ask me why I didn't let someun' hold the pony, and like enough she'll make it hot for me. I wouldn't do nothin' to offend her ladyship for all the world, for this be her house, and I be her tenant."
"Well, I'm very sorry, Mrs. Ribbon, but you know what Lynette is. The toffee has kept her quiet for a little, but she's always doing something she oughtn't. Do you think the little girl has got home safely?"
"How am I to tell? I've never seed or heard nothing since."
I came home thoughtfully. I hate being a tell-tale. That's one of the things which are bad form—that, and bragging, and lying, and being a prig. But I knew that father would find it out, and there's nothing he hates more than finding out things. He likes us to tell our scrapes at once. So I told Lynette to go and tell him, but she wouldn't, so I said I should, and then of course she called me names, and father came into the room when we were in the middle of a regular quarrel about it.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"Lynette won't tell you something!" I said, and then I ran out of the room.
Of course she did when I had gone, and father took her into his study and talked to her for ever so long, and she came out crying. She told me after that father made her write a little note of apology, and he wrote himself to Lady Laura and told her how it happened. He told Lynette he was continually being made ashamed of his children, and that made Lynette cry awfully; it always does. But he kissed her before he sent her away; father is very fond of Lynette—he says she reminds him of mother.
The very next afternoon, which was Friday, Lynette and I were having one of our washes in the bathroom. It is great fun. We fill the bath half full of water, then we wash everything we can get hold of Puff was there helping us. We wash all our combs and brushes first, and all Lynette's dolls' clothes, and odd pocket-handkerchiefs, and our lace tuckers, and anything about the house that looks dirty. Puff was bringing us all kinds of things, and he had just plunged an old fur monkey of his in the bath and we were laughing at his draggled look, when Emma came hurrying in.
"Miss Grisel, you and Miss Lynette are to go down to the drawing-room at once; there's company, and your aunt says you're to come now!"
"Oh, bother!" I said. "Who is it, Emma?"
Lynette and I were in our petticoats; we had taken off our dresses because we splash so.
"It's the Lady Laura Londesburg and her little girl."
Lynette and I looked at each other with frightened faces.
"I won't go down," said Lynette—"I won't."
But Emma was dragging us into our bedroom and helping us to get into our tidy frocks.
"We must, Lynette. Oh dear, I wish you hadn't done it. I should like to be friends with that little girl!"
"I shouldn't, and I shan't!"
Lynette spoke crossly, and she wriggled away from Emma, who was trying to brush her hair with one of our brushes we had just washed.
"Go away, Emma. I shall keep them waiting hours and hours for me. I shan't be ready for 'years!'"
Emma went off in a huff.
And then I coaxed Lynette to be good, and in a minute or two she brightened up—she is never cross more than five minutes—and she was quite ready to come downstairs.
"I shall pretend I don't know anything about it," she said; "father is out, so he won't tell!"
So we came into the drawing-room, and I was more frightened than Lynette was. There sat the little girl on a chair, looking very pretty in a white silk frock and hat, and Lady Laura was talking very fast to Aunt Caroline. Everybody in the village is afraid of Lady Laura—why, I don't know; she didn't look stern, and when she saw us she laughed out loud.
"Which of you wrote me that pretty little note? I have come to forgive you, and ask you to tea with my little girls to-morrow. Will you come?"
Lynette didn't look a bit ashamed of herself.
"It's me you have to forgive, please," she said; "I didn't mean to do it."
Then Lady Laura shook hands with us, and we shook hands with Clarice. She frowned rather at Lynette, but smiled at me.
"Have you got a nursery?" she asked.
"No, but a schoolroom. Will you come and see it?"
She followed us at once; Lady Laura said she might. We walked upstairs without speaking, but at the top of the stairs Lynette said, "Would you like to see our bath?"
She stared first, and then said "Yes," and we took her along.
We forgot we had left Puff there by himself, and when we went in we found he had got our old cat and her two kittens in the water, and was trying to wash them all. The kittens were nearly drowning. We were so excited in getting them out, that we forgot to be shy, and Clarice began to talk as fast as we did. She told us that she was a twin, and her twin sister was called Beatrice, but that she had sprained her foot, and couldn't walk, and the doctor said she must lie down for a long time.
Puff looked at her for a minute, then he said:
"Would you like to wash somefing? My pinbefore is vewy dirty!"
He was tugging at it as he spoke, and I scolded him. Lynette was drying the poor cat and kittens, and when they looked more comfortable, we carried them downstairs to the kitchen to dry. Then we let the dirty water go away in the bath, and turned on some more, and Clarice got awfully excited, and we gave her a dirty old woollen sheep of Puff's to wash.
We told her how we had tried to wash a rag doll once—it was Lynette who did it—and she came rushing downstairs, saying, "She's bleeding fast, come and look!"
And Aunt Caroline was awfully frightened, for Lynette's hands were all red, and it was trickling red all down her pinafore. Aunt Caroline screamed, and rushed upstairs, and there she saw the bath water quite red, and it all came out of the red frock the doll had on. Of course she had thought it was I who was bleeding.
Clarice loved that story. Presently we were sent for, and then we found that Clarice's frock was simply soaking, and so was her hat. She was what I call a messy washer. We tried to dry her.
But when we got downstairs Aunt Caroline was dreadfully cross, and Lady Laura looked a little cross too. Clarice had to have Lynette's best white frock—it just fitted her, and Aunt Caroline said to Lady Laura:
"I assure you I never know from moment to moment what will happen. I can't tell you how distressed I am."
But Clarice's face was beaming.
"I enjoyed myself so awfully much, mummy. I never have such a nice time at home!"
And then Lady Laura smiled.
"I expect you have your hands full, Miss Marjoribanks, but I must have no washing when they come to tea with my little girls."
And then they drove away in a grand carriage and pair, and Lynette and I had dry bread for our tea because we let Clarice splash herself.
I think that kind of thing is very unfair. We often get unfair punishments from Aunt Caroline, but never from father. Aunt Caroline thinks we ought to be more grown-up than we are. And we privately think to ourselves that grown-ups are the dullest people in the world. And they have the dullest time in the world, so we don't mean to be like them before we can help it.
CHAPTER VI
OUR VISIT TO THE HALL
LYNETTE and I were very excited about going out to tea. We wanted to dress ourselves long before Aunt Caroline would let us do so. Emma was going to walk with us, and she talked a good deal about the squire's big house. I wish they all came to our church, but they don't; they attend another church nearer to them. I think the boys were rather jealous of us, but I reminded them that there were no boys, and Denys said a girls' tea-party was poor fun. Lynette was in wild spirits; I told her if she did anything to disgrace us, I would run off home and leave her. Of course she called me a prig, but I didn't care, for when Lynette gets excited, she doesn't mind what she does.
She sobered down when we got up to the big front door. I think she was rather frightened. I was, I know, when the footman took us up a very broad staircase lined with pictures and books, and along huge passages that seemed as if they would never end. At last he threw open a door, and announced:
"The young ladies from the Rectory."
And then we found ourselves in a lovely big nursery, and Clarice came up and shook hands with us. She took us over to the window where Beatrice was lying on a sofa. She was just like Clarice, only her cheeks were paler and her face thinner. There was rather a nice governess in the room—Miss Tudor was her name, and Lynette actually asked her if she was any relation to the Tudor kings! She didn't mean it for cheek, she really thought she might be. She didn't seem offended, for she laughed and said she was afraid she wasn't.
And then Clarice began showing us her big dolls' house and all her toys. Lynette sat down on the floor at once by the dolls' house, and I sat by the sofa and talked to Beatrice.
"Clarice told me about your washing," she said; "I wish I'd been there. Tell me more."
So I told her about our donkey, and how we were trying to get money, and she was frightfully interested.
And then Clarice came running up to us.
"Oh, Bee, we're having such fun with our dolls' house; Lynette has been telling me such lovely things to do. We're making burglars climb down the chimney and hide under the beds, and—" here she lowered her voice to a whisper—"when Miss Tudor goes out of the room, we're going to make a fire happen, and then we're going to be firemen, and get the garden syringe, and syringe it with water."
Beatrice's eyes shone, but I had to spoil that game. I told them how we had done that to our old dolls' house once. The boys did it. They put a lighted match under one of the dolls' beds. Of course it was awfully exciting, but the whole place caught on fire, and all our dolls were burnt. And though it was great fun putting it out with water, mother came in and made us promise we would never, never attempt such a thing again. And I said, "If we make a mess with water again, we shall never be allowed to come here."
Lynette looked at me very crossly.
"You're so stupid, Grizzy, you never like any fun!"
I think it's very hard to be thought stupid when you're trying to be good, but I didn't say anything more, and then Lynette thought of something else, and the next thing they were doing was turning the dolls' house into a castle besieged with soldiers, and she and Clarice were soon shrieking at the top of their voices as the lady dolls were racing about trying to hide from the soldiers, and some of them were being caught and killed.
Beatrice told me how tired she was of lying on a sofa, and how she longed to get up and run round the room. And then she showed me some of her books, and we played a funny game together—something like parlour croquet—and then came tea. We were all the greatest of friends by tea-time, and Clarice told us there were no other little girls like us for miles and miles. Then we asked them to tell us all the clergymen's names who lived near, and their families, and then all the squires, and theirs, and they appeared to know everybody. The families seemed to be mostly grown-ups, except where the boys are going to school, and there are no girls there. It is funny, because where we've come from, we knew quantities of girls and boys, and here in Lincolnshire there seems hardly any. The country is empty, I suppose. I know every house seems to be either the squire's or the clergyman's. Nobody else seems to live in this part.
Beatrice said to me after tea, when Miss Tudor was out of the room:
"I'm so glad you aren't good. I thought clergymen's children were always very goody; I shouldn't have liked you a bit if you had been like that."
"Wouldn't you?" I said slowly, and feeling a little uncomfortable. "I don't want to be goody, but I try to be good."
She stared at me.
"But it's much more fun to be naughty."
"I don't know," I said. "It seems so at the time, but it isn't afterwards!"
"I wish there was no 'afterwards' in the world!" said Beatrice impatiently. "This is an 'afterwards'—my lying on this horrid old sofa, I mean. You see, I sprained my foot trying to climb a tree like a boy. Miss Tudor told me to come down, but I laughed at her and went up higher, and then I tumbled!"
"How dreadful!" I said. And then added, while I felt my cheeks get hot and red, "That's just the kind of thing I should have done. It's the only thing I want to be grown-up for—it's so awfully easy to be good then."
"I like to be naughty best," said Beatrice firmly—"it's more fun."
"I wish you knew father," I said; "he likes us to have plenty of fun. He keeps saying to Aunt Caroline, 'A loose rein, Caroline, with my wild young colts, and as few orders and commands as you can help, for it only incites to disobedience.'"
"What a nice father!" said Beatrice.
"He says," I went on, warming with my theme, "that if we obey God's commands, we shall obey his. When I was a little girl, I used to read over the Commandments in church, and I thought I never broke one of them. I know better now. Father told us of three commands last Sunday; they're lovely and short. 'Come,' 'Go,' 'Do.'"
Beatrice seemed rather interested.
"Tell me more. You are a funny girl; one moment you roar with laughter, and the next you preach a sermon!"
So I told her as much as I could of father's sermon. "It's what a faithful servant does," I said. "There's a knight buried in our church who was 'always faithful' and 'always ready.' Father says he tries to be that, and of course he is, but, when I don't forget, I'm going to try to be it too!"
"And do you often forget?"
"Nearly always," I said, sighing.
Then Lynette and Clarice interrupted us; they wanted to dress up, so I went with them into Clarice's bedroom, and we all put on different things and came back and visited Beatrice. Clarice was an old beggar woman in a shawl and apron, and a long black skirt, and a red handkerchief tied round her head. And Lynette was an Indian in bath towels and striped silk rug. And I was a fashionable American lady, with a long train I made out of a counterpane, and some feathers and flowers in my hair. And we all told her our stories and said we had come over to England to see her because we heard she was so rich and good. And then Lynette said she would give an Indian dance, and she got up on the table, and spun round and round till she made us giddy, and Beatrice laughed till she cried.
And then we were told that Emma had come to take us home. So we said good-bye, and they begged us to come again soon.
We enjoyed ourselves awfully, and Lynette said to me coming home:
"You see, it was rather a good thing I drove off in the pony-carriage, for that has made us know Clarice and Beatrice."
"No," I said, "it was a good thing you told father about it, as he made you write the note. And I believe that made Lady Laura come to see us."
When we got home, we found the boys very busy counting out their money. Denys had made one shilling and tenpence by some fish which he had caught and sold at two or three different farm-houses, and Aylwin had three shillings from Mr. Cummins. He had given him sixpence a day for his work in the hayfield.
"It has been earned by the sweat of the brow," Aylwin said proudly, "but it's all I shall get, for there are no more hayfields to be worked. And it's school next week."
We counted our money up anxiously; it was not nearly enough to buy a donkey, but we were hopeful about getting more. Lynette could go on making toffee, and I could go on picking flowers, and sending vegetables to market. Denys could go on fishing, for the farmers' wives all liked to get fish, but Aylwin would have to get some other plan quickly.
"Shan't!" he said. "I have worked harder than the whole lot of you put together. I've done my share nobly!"
"Three shillings isn't very much," I said.
"It's the quality, not the quantity, you have to consider," said Aylwin, beginning to argue. "These three shillings repre—sent—" he brought out the long word with a slow drawl—"a huge lot of heavy toil. Which would you value most for a birthday present—a book that some one threw away and which was picked up and given to you, or a book that had taken the earnings of a year to buy, and had quite exhausted the strength of the one who bought it?"
I was much impressed, but Denys wasn't a bit.
"You're a lazy sluggard," he said; "I know you rested half the time in the hayfields, and drank lots of cider."
Then after a lot more talking, Aylwin said he would take one whole week's rest, and then start another plan.
"My body is so tired that my brain won't think, and I must rest it thoroughly. And I tell you, I'll take care my next plan is as jolly easy as yours is!"
When Saturday choir practice came round again, and I was singing away just opposite the knight, I thought of father's sermon and of "Semper fidelis, semper paratus." I thought of what father wanted me to do. But I still felt I hadn't the courage to do it. Denys would laugh at me, I thought, and I should never hear the last of it. We hate children who are always trying to teach others how to behave, and if I had a class, he would be always teasing me about it.
Before I went to bed, I added a little bit in my prayers. I asked God to make me brave enough to do it. And then I felt almost afraid of being made brave. It was dreadful of me, and my last prayer was made in bed before I went to sleep. I said, "O God, answer my prayer, even if I don't want You to."
On Sunday morning we were all at breakfast. Aunt Caroline very often gets up from the table and leaves us to finish by ourselves, as she has to go to the school.
She was just leaving us, when to our astonishment Denys sprang up from his seat too, after hastily swallowing the last drop of his tea. He was rather red in the face, but he said:
"I'm coming to school with you, Aunt C. I'm going to take the infants' class."
Aunt Caroline took it very quietly, but if a cannon had been roared off in our ears, we couldn't have been more astonished.
"I have so often suggested that one of you should do it," said Aunt Caroline. "The poor babies cannot understand my class at all."
Denys dashed out of the room.
Aylwin cast up his eyes to the ceiling, and raised his hands mockingly. "Sky, fall!" he ejaculated.
Lynette began to giggle.
"Fancy Denys teaching the infants! He won't know what to teach them except 'good form'!"
I felt literally crushed to the earth. If only I had known!—If only I had known! The very one I was afraid of, was doing what I ought to have done; I had lost my opportunity for ever. I went out into the garden and had a good cry in the shrubbery. And oh, how I admired Denys! He is always doing those kind of things. He never talks, and sometimes pretends he doesn't care, and then he suddenly gets up and goes and does it. It makes me wish so to be like him.
"I'll have a good joke over this baby teaching," said Aylwin to me, as we walked to church together.
"No, you mustn't," I said, "because it's very good of Denys to do it, and I know it's father's sermon last Sunday has made him. It nearly made me, only I was afraid you would all laugh at me, and so I didn't, and Denys has done it instead. And do you know, Aylwin, all breakfast I was getting up courage to say what he did, and—I was just too late."
Aylwin looked at me curiously, but he said nothing, and when we saw Denys at dinner-time, none of us said anything to him about it; we just pretended nothing had happened. I'm wondering so if Denys is getting good. He always says he isn't; I think he would be simply furious if I was to say he was. But we never can talk about good things to each other—we think it's priggish.
Now I must come to Monday morning, and to the great surprise that came to us. Puff has been saying every day that he is going to get a letter from God with the money for the donkey. And every morning, he runs out to the postman. I don't know what he thinks of him, but we heard Puff say the other morning:
"Are you tru'fully sure there's no letter for me, for I'm 'specting one from God, and it will be a heavy one, I can tell you!"
On Monday he brought the letters in and gave them to father; and, sorting them out, father said suddenly:
"Is there a Master George Marjoribanks in the room?"
"It's me!" yelled Puff, dancing round him in a perfect frenzy of excitement. "Let me open it my own self! Oh! It hasn't any money at all."
He was holding it in his hand, and there was bitter disappointment in his voice.
"Open it!" said father, in a curious tone.
Puff opened it. Three postal orders were done up in a sheet of paper, and across it was written:
"From Granny. For a donkey."
And the postal orders were for £1 each.
We could hardly believe it. Granny very seldom gave us money—only on birthdays. Of course I knew that Aunt Caroline must have told her how hard Puff was praying for it and expecting it. Puff's face was a study when it was explained to him. His eyes looked as if they were going to start out of his head, and then he puffed out his chest.
"O' course," he said. "I knows very well what's happened. Father says God gives a lot of His money to peoples to take care of, and so He was too busy to send it Hisself, so He tolded granny to do it."
"I think you've hit upon the truth, Puff," said father, kissing his curly head.
Puff looked round at us with great solemn eyes.
"It's me that's gotted it," he said. "My plan is the bestest one of all."
We were too surprised to speak. Father murmured to himself:
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."
And then we couldn't help sending up a wild cheer. The donkey was as good as bought, and we would have some money over. Denys said at once that it would do for a saddle, but father said that we might get a second-hand cart and a donkey too for three pounds, perhaps. But father always thinks things are cheaper than they are.
CHAPTER VII
THE GIPSY CAMP
"AND now where can we buy the donkey?" We were all lying out on the lawn under the trees. Puff was the only one who couldn't keep still. Every now and then he would dart out into the sun, chasing a butterfly or pursuing a bee. It was a very hot afternoon.
"You generally see donkeys grazing somewhere," said Aylwin, leaning over towards Lynette and tickling her ear with a bit of grass, "but I haven't set eyes on a donkey since we've come here."
"Let's go and tell Mrs. Ribbon we want one," I said, and then I chanted:
"If once you come, you come again,
You never come to us in vain."
"She'll produce it from the back-yard," said Denys, "and it will be a mangy one, I can tell you. No, the only people who have real good donkeys are gipsies, and we shall have to find them first of all."
"Hurrah! We'll all go and visit a gipsy camp," shouted Aylwin.
"Mrs. Ribbon will tell us where to find one," said Lynette.
"Wait a bit," said Denys. "We'll put up a notice in the village like they do in the police stations. I'll make it out."
"Oh, but we may as well try Mrs. Ribbon first," I urged. "I should love to hear her say, 'I'm afraid I can't do it for you.'"
So we all started to our feet and swooped over to the village shop. There were two women gossiping over the counter, but when they saw us, they went off, and we quite filled the shop. Of course Puff insisted on coming too. Oh, how hot it was! The flies were swarming over everything. Mrs. Ribbon's face looked as if she had put some sticky syrup over it to attract the flies—they were dotted about her like currants in a cake. She kept flicking them off with her handkerchief, but she smiled upon us as she always does. She never does anything but smile at everybody.
"If you please, we want a gipsy camp," said Denys, in a business-like tone.
She looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. Mrs. Ribbon loves a joke—that's why we like her so.
"How much have you got to pay for it?" she asked. "They be expensive, Master Denys."
"Oh, if you find us one, we'll pay afterwards," said Denys.
"A gipsy camp be a big order," said Mrs. Ribbon thoughtfully. "You must give me more particulars. How many gipsies do you want, or is it only their camp?"
We saw she was laughing at us, so Aylwin pointed to the motto outside.
"The first time we come here in vain, Mrs. Ribbon, we'll take that notice down. We want a regular gipsy camp—with live gipsies in it."
"But bless your heart, I only sells things for folks to buy. Live gipsies aren't to be bought and sold in this here Christian country."
We began to feel rather small. Mrs. Ribbon is too clever for us.
"We'll put up a notice," said Denys; "I told you we should have to do it. It's the 'information' about a gipsy camp we want to buy, Mrs. Ribbon, but we won't trouble you any further."
We all marched out of the shop with our heads very high in the air.
"She'll be sorry she didn't help us now," said Denys.
And then we came home, and he wrote out on a big sheet of father's sermon paper, in his best handwriting:
"Wanted immediately. Information of the nearest gipsy camp. To be
brought to the Rectory within a week.—DENYS MARJORIBANKS."
Then the question was where to put this, and we determined we wouldn't let Mrs. Ribbon have the pleasure of putting it in her shop window. Denys thought of a beautiful place. At the cross-roads, just at the beginning of our village, there is a big-signpost. We got some paste and went off there at once. On the way, I said:
"You'll have to offer a reward, Denys."
He hadn't thought of that, but he quickly added it on the paper—"The informer will be suitably rewarded."
We pasted it high up, so that everybody should see it, and then we came home. After tea Denys went off on two visits to it, to see if it was sticking properly. The last time he went, he said there were two men and a boy reading it.
"I didn't let them see me," he said—"I hid behind the hedge, but they seemed very much interested."
"I think it would have been better to ask for information about a donkey," I said.
But the boys both exclaimed at this.
"The gipsy camp is half the fun," Denys said.
"Perhaps they don't have camps in Lincolnshire," said Lynette.
This hadn't struck us. We began to be very interested in gipsies and their ways now. We asked father a lot about them, and he told us that once he had often visited a gipsy camp, as there was a man ill there; we didn't tell him why we asked, but Puff was anxious to know whether they stole boys and girls. The very next day a boy came to the back-door and asked to see Denys. It was very fortunate he was home, for we were going to begin lessons the day after.
Denys came in after a few minutes, very excited.
"I've got the information," he said. "Farmer Brown, up on the high road to Lemworth, always lets tramps and gipsies camp out on a waste bit of ground of his; and this is the month they generally come, because they always attend Lemworth Fair, and that's in about a week from to-day."
"We're in luck!" said Aylwin. "How much did you give him?"
"Sixpence. He was quite satisfied. I shall take it out of the money-box, of course."
"I should like to get the donkey to-morrow," I said; "it seems so stupid to wait so long."
But the boys said it was well worth waiting a week to choose a real donkey out of a real gipsy camp. And then lessons began. The boys were away all day. Lynette and I did lessons all the morning with Aunt Caroline, and Puff pretended to do some too. The afternoons we had to ourselves, but there was always something to take to a sick villager, or a message to some one.
One day father heard me grumbling, for I wanted to read a new story-book that had been got for the school library, and I had been out once for Aunt Caroline, and now she wanted me to go again.
He shook his head at me.
"'Semper paratus,'" he murmured. "You're not making a good servant, Grisel."
"But I'm not Aunt Caroline's servant," I said rather quickly.
"I thought you were one of Christ's servants," he said gravely. "Your little daily duties are the duties He gives you. You can't separate His service from your service at home; they're one and the same thing. Do you ever think of His commands day by day, child?"
"I forget so," I murmured.
"An unfaithful servant is such a disappointment," father said, in his soft low voice.
Then I began to cry. I couldn't help it.
"I don't believe I shall ever be a faithful, ready servant, father."
"Why not? This errand of your aunt's was one of the 'go's,' was it not?"
"I suppose it was," I murmured.
"Do you consider yourself in the service of Christ?" he asked me.
"I hoped I was, father. I want to serve Him, because He has died for me, and I do love Him for it—a little, not as much as I ought to. I think the 'come' you told us about is easier than the 'go.' And as for the 'do,' I haven't thought about it at all. And, father, I'm dreadfully sorry I didn't take the Sunday school class; Denys was too quick for me."
"I wonder if you have taken in, Grisel, that you must 'come,' every day, as well as 'go.' A servant comes to his master for orders the first thing in the morning, every day. Did you go to your Master this morning for His orders?"
"No, father," I said, "I rather hurried my prayers this morning—I got up late."
"Ah, that is the cause of unfaithfulness, Grisel. I have been in my Master's service many more years than you have. If I try to carry out His orders without going to Him continually, I get into trouble at once. It is 'come' and 'go' all day long, Grisel."
"But," I said perplexedly, "I can't keep going upstairs and saying my prayers, father. I shouldn't have time."
He looked at me meditatively.
"'Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates,
waiting at the posts of my doors.'"
Father has a way of quoting texts to himself which makes one think. Then he added:
"We must live close to the Master, child, to get the listening attitude. It doesn't come quickly. You may take years to learn it, but remember it was a child who said, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.'"
"That was Samuel," I said. "Father, are you angry with me that I didn't take that class? Because I'll take it now, whenever Denys wants to give it up."
"Oh, Grisel," said father, as he turned to leave the room, "when will you learn to put your Lord and Master before me?"
I got into a long fit of thinking then. Of course it was Jesus Christ who ought to be angry with me, not father, so I went upstairs and asked to be forgiven, and I made a promise in my heart that I would try to be a ready servant, and not grumble if I were sent a hundred errands in the day. I think, if it isn't wicked to say so, grown-ups never mind interrupting children. They often say to us, "Don't interrupt me now; I'm reading, or writing," but when we're reading or writing or painting we can never say that to them, and we are always being interrupted.
We heard a good deal about the fair that was coming off at Lemworth, and we asked father if we could go to it, but he said No. And then the boys asked him if we could all go out for the day on Saturday, which was a holiday, and take our lunch with us.
"We want to go a long walk," Denys said, "just to see if some gipsies have got a donkey that would do for us."
And father said we might, and told us that we could make inquiries, but must not buy—we must leave that to him. We thought Saturday would never come. But it came at last, and we started off directly after breakfast. Puff roared and cried because he couldn't come with us, and Aunt Caroline began to promise him all kinds of treats to quiet him.
We started, and went about two miles along the hot, dusty high road, then we climbed over a fence and kept along in the fields. And we talked hard the whole time; the boys were telling us about the other boys at their school. I'm going to call it a school, though it isn't a proper one. There's one boy there that Denys says he knows he shall fight before long. He comes from London, and talks as if his father is a duke, and he has a scorn for "parsons' sons," as he calls them.
"I don't think it's 'good form' for gentlemen's sons to fight," I said.
I always like to use Denys's words against him.
"He'd go down like a sausage!" said Denys. "I'd love to get my knuckles into him. But I'll leave him alone unless he runs down parsons, and then I'll give him a licking!"
"Do you think we're sure to find the gipsies at home?" asked Lynette presently. "Don't you think they'll be at the fair?"
This had not suggested itself to us. We stopped to consider it, and then we began to feel hungry, and so we sat down on the grass and ate our lunch.
"All the donkeys can't be at the fair," said I.
"Do gipsies always have donkeys?" asked Lynette. "Do they ride them?"
"Oh, shut up, and don't ask so many beastly questions," said Denys a little crossly.
It seemed a long way to Farmer Brown's waste bit of ground, but we came to it at last, and there to our delight was a caravan, a dirty-looking tent, and a lot of grimy children playing about. One swarthy woman was washing some clothes in a big saucepan.
But there were no donkeys to be seen, only one old white horse grazing close by.
"I'm afraid they're at the fair," whispered Aylwin. "Go ahead, Denys, and do the polite."
Denys can always do that. The village people love him because he takes off his cap to them. He walked straight up to the woman and raised his straw hat.
"Good-morning, ma'am; may we have the pleasure of speaking to you for a minute or two?"
She took her hands out of the saucepan and stared at us as if we were wild animals.
"We have been waiting for you to arrive for a long time. I don't know who is the—the boss of your camp, but I should like to see him on business."
"Are ye sarcing?" she asked a little roughly.
"We're all in serious earnest," said Denys. "We want—if you would like to know—to buy a donkey, and we conclude you have one to sell!"
The woman laughed, then she called out:
"Jim! Come and tell the young gent that 'e's come to the wrong quarters for donkeys!"
A man lounged round the corner. He was a real gipsy. I am sure he was, because he had a lot of buttons all over him, and a red and yellow handkerchief round his neck, and a big ring on one of his fingers.
"Us don't deal in no donkeys!" he said, sticking a pipe in his mouth, and looking at us out of the corners of his eyes. "How much be 'ee goin' to give for un?"
"Father will settle that," said Denys grandly. "We want a ripping good donkey, one that will go like the wind, and we want him sent to Warlington Rectory for us to see one evening, after six o'clock, without fail."
Denys is always awfully business-like, just like a grown-up man. But we all felt dreadfully disappointed not to see any donkeys.
Lynette stole away to the caravan and peeped in, then she came back to the woman.
"Do show me the inside of your little house," she said in her coaxing way. "I should love to live in a caravan."
The woman good-naturedly led the way, and Aylwin and I followed, while Denys talked to the man. It was quite lovely inside. There were little pictures, and muslin curtains, and brass pans hung on the walls, but it didn't smell very nice—stuffy and oniony, I thought. Lynette was delighted. Then she said:
"Do tell me—we won't tell anybody—but do you ever steal children now, or is it only in books you do? Are any of those children out there stained with walnut-juice?"
The woman laughed out loud.
"Would 'ee like to come 'long wi' us, missy?"
"Oh, awfully!" exclaimed Lynette. "Just for a few weeks, you know, in the holidays. I should think it would be lovely to be stolen."
The woman shook her head.
"Children be more bother than they're worth," she said; "us bain't likely to want more 'n we have, as 'tis!"
Lynette was quite disappointed. Then Aylwin asked her if she could tell fortunes, and she shook her head. So we told her we were afraid she wasn't a proper gipsy at all, and then she said if we wanted our fortunes told, we must go to the fair.
So then we found out the proper fortuneteller was there. Then we asked her if they all sat round the fire in the evening, and ate stews of chicken and rabbit, and Aylwin said we should love to be invited to supper one night, and she laughed till she shook herself all over. Then Denys called us.
"It's all right," he said; "we're going to have some donkeys sent to choose from, the day after to-morrow. We'll have to wait till then."
Then Aylwin asked him to ask the man to invite us to a proper gipsy supper one evening. And Denys asked, and said we could pay fourpence a head. And the man grinned, and told us to come on Tuesday night at nine o'clock. So then we wished them good-bye and came away.
I don't know how it is, but we're always getting disappointments. We expected to see a beautiful donkey and come home with everything settled, and we thought we should see a crowded gipsy camp, with an old kind of witch that told fortunes, and men with earrings in their ears, and dancing and feasting going on, and perhaps a stolen child crying behind a tree. At least, that is what Lynette and I expected, and it all seemed so tame.
But Denys said that the man knew some one who kept a lot of donkeys to sell, and he was at the fair. And he said he would tell him we wanted one, and he'd bring them along.
"I've given him till Monday evening," said Denys grandly; "and I've thought of a ripping plan. We'll put up another notice at the cross-roads, and tell people to bring their donkeys for us to choose from, the same evening."
"It'll be a kind of donkey-show," said Aylwin, capering in the road. "We'll have hordes of them driven in!"
So we cheered up, and looked forward to Monday. We always like something to look forward to. That's the best of making plans, and that's why we're never dull. Beatrice and Clarice say they are very often, but I told them they should make up plans as we do. We walked home quite contentedly, but when we began to talk about the gipsies' supper-party, I felt rather uncomfortable, for I didn't believe father would like Lynette and me to go to it. I told Denys so.
"Oh, well," he said, "you had better not go. Aylwin and I will, because father used to go into a gipsy camp; he told us so, and he had supper with them once. He said some of them are the most sober, respectable people there are."
"But we should love to come," I said a little discontentedly. "I do wish all the delicious things weren't wrong!"
"Don't be a prig!" said Aylwin.
And Lynette said excitedly:
"I mean to go—I don't care what old Gristle does; I shall be there if I'm punished ever so much afterwards!"
I didn't say any more, but I felt rather sober all the way home after that.
CHAPTER VIII
THE DONKEY RACE
PUFF was awfully disappointed when we arrived home without the donkey. Denys put up the notice on the signpost directly after tea. We all went along and helped him. He wrote up:
"Wanted. A high-class donkey. To be brought to the Rectory on show,
Monday evening at six o'clock." And he headed it with the words,
"Important and immediate."
I said he ought to have put "first-class" donkey, not "high-class," and Aylwin said "fast-class" would have been better still, but Denys said that "first-class" would make all donkey-owners sit up. I don't know what he meant, and he didn't explain.
Then I had to go indoors and help Aunt Caroline with the mending, for it was Saturday night. She had let us off the choir practice, because we had been out. But before we went to bed, she took us to the piano in the drawing-room, and we sang over the chants and hymns to make sure we knew them. And then Aunt Caroline said to Denys:
"Are you coming to school to-morrow?"
And he answered very gruffly, "I s'pose so."
Then I said:
"I would take a class if you had another, Aunt Caroline."
"I don't think there are enough children, Grisel. I wanted you to do it a long time ago."
"What do you teach them, Denys?" asked Lynette.
Denys simply left the room, whistling loudly.
I wondered very much what he taught them, but when I asked Aunt Caroline she said:
"Denys is the best of the lot of you underneath, Grisel. It is a pity boys always think they must hide their feelings. He keeps the infants in perfect order, teaches them their text and hymn, and tells them a Bible story beautifully."
I sighed, for I wished so much that I had been brave enough to do it.
On Monday afternoon Lynette came rushing to me.
"Oh, Grisel, I've been over to Mrs. Ribbon's, and she says she knows of a beautiful donkey, and she could have told us long ago if we had asked her, instead of going off to the gipsies. She says it belongs to a farmer, and he wants to sell it."
"Well," I said, "tell her to tell him to send it in for us to look at to-night."
"I told her, but she said she had no one to send and tell him."
"Where does he live?"
"I don't know."
So I ran across to Mrs. Ribbon at once, and found out. It was rather far off across the fields, but I thought I might go if Aunt Caroline would let me. She was just going out with father. They were going to some meeting in Lemworth, and father was going to take the chair at it. They told me I could go, and said we mustn't wait tea for them.
"But you'll be back in time to choose our donkey, father?" I said anxiously.
He smiled.
"I think we shall have to advertise for one," he said: "I doubt if you will have any donkeys arrive, my dear child."
"We expect loads!" I cried out gleefully as I ran away.
Lynette said she would come with me, so we set off across the fields. We didn't hurry, as it was very hot; we picked dock-leaves and ferns to fan our faces. At last we came to the farm. It looked bigger than our Rectory, and had a lovely garden. There was a gentleman lying on a cane couch on the lawn and a lady was sitting by the side of him. I wondered if we had made a mistake, but we had to go across the lawn to get to the front door, so I asked them if Mr. Donnyball lived there. The lady smiled.
"Yes, dear, he does. Go up to the house and you will find his wife there. We are only lodging here."
I went on, but Lynette lingered behind. She likes to make friends with strangers; I don't much. I rang the bell, and a farm servant came out, but she soon called the farmer's wife, who was very nice when she knew who I was. I recognised her at once, as she and her husband always come to church Sunday morning, and sit in the middle pew.
"Ah," she said, "come in, dearie. Me and John always say you sits up like cherubs in the church, and sing so pretty-like, 'tis a treat to hear you; and your dear good father do preach like one of the 'postles. Come in, and I'll fetch you a bit of my home-made cake and a glass of milk. And what is your message, dearie?"
She talked so fast that I could hardly get in a word. But I told her at last, and she said:
"Well, to think of your wanting a donkey, now! It's like this: we takes in lodgers at times, and a Captain and Mrs. Roger's have come all the way from London—they have relatives in Lincoln; and he is crippled since the war, and we thought as how our old Nell would draw him out nicely in a wicker chair, but she turns nasty at the sight of it and refuses to move, so we think o' gettin' a small Welsh pony. MY husband's brother breeds 'em, and so I was saying to Mrs. Ribbon the other day, we shouldn't be keepin' Nell. You see, my little boy used to ride her—" Here she began to cry, so I knew her little boy was dead, and I said I was very sorry.
Then she made me sit down in such a nice cool hall, and called Lynette in, and we both had a glass of milk and a piece of cake, and she promised she would send the donkey up that evening by one of the farm lads. I was delighted, and we wanted to see the donkey, only she had gone to the mill for some flour. Then we said good-bye and came away, but Mrs. Rogers and her husband spoke to us from the lawn. Lynette, of course, had told them everything, and the Captain looked at us and laughed.
"How much are you going to give for the old brute?" he said.
And then I explained that we were having a donkey-show to choose from.
"Oh!" he said. "I think I must come along and see the show."
And Lynette clapped her hands and begged him to come.
But Mrs. Rogers shook her head—she didn't want him to come; she said he wasn't well enough.
And then Lynette said:
"I'll write you a letter and tell you about it, if you like. Aunt Caroline lets us write letters for composition when we're doing lessons."
So Mrs. Rogers said that would be very nice, and we came away.
"They're so nice," said Lynette, skipping along. "I think Captain Rogers has forgotten to grow up—he talked just like the boys do. Mrs. Rogers keeps looking at him, and once she said, 'Charlie, don't shock the child.' That was when he said he didn't care a hang for the old doctors, and he was going steeple-chasing in a bath-chair! I said I couldn't possibly be shocked by anything in the world, because I wasn't grown-up, and it was only grown-ups who were shocked.
"And then he said in a solemn whisper to me: 'You take a straight tip from me and don't you move from where you are. Nine years old is old enough for anything. If you sleep head-downwards you'll stop growing. It's a tragedy to be grown-up, I can tell you.'"
"I think he sounds almost as nice as Aunt Mildred," I said. "I wish he would come and see us."
"I'll write him a letter and ask him to," said Lynette.
When we got home it was tea-time, and the boys were just back from school. They were rather scornful over our donkey.
"If it's Mrs. Ribbon's donkey, we'll beat that when the others arrive," they said.
And we told them it was not her donkey, but Mr. Donnyball's.
We got very excited as six o'clock arrived, and Puff climbed on the front gate to be the first to see them come. We waited and waited till nearly half-past six, and then up came Nell. She looked a perfect beauty, fat and clean, and a pretty grey colour. The boy who led her looked very proud of her. And then, as we were all crowding round her, up came, in a perfect cloud of dust, four ragged, miserable-looking beasts, and a man and boy were driving them.
Then business began. I wished father was there, but Denys didn't seem at all afraid of choosing. We were all walking round these four donkeys when an old woman came up with another one, and hers was in much better condition. It was getting quite exciting; a crowd of village children was round us, and more kept coming. We now had six donkeys, and father wasn't in. The four mangy-looking donkeys belonged to the gipsies' friend, the nice black one belonged to a friend of Mrs. Tapson's, and there was the fat grey one from the farm.
Denys was quite important. He presently whispered to Aylwin something, and Aylwin threw up his cap and shouted "Hurrah!" So then we knew it was something nice, and so it was.
"Look here," said Denys in a loud voice, "we want a donkey who'll go, and we've got to find out the best of the lot. We'll have a donkey race for one mile, and the one who comes in first will be our choice."
The village children all cheered at this, and we joined them; the man with the shabby donkeys didn't look over-pleased.
"I've brought these 'ere vallyble beasts o' mine near ten mile; didn't know a racehorse were asked for. Yer can't look for a flier from them wot have done ten mile on a broilin' afternoon."
"Well," said Denys, who was always very just, "we'll have a handicap, and we'll give them a fair start. We'll have the race on the high road; it's half a mile to the old oak-tree that was struck by lightning. I've measured it, so I know it's just half-way between the milestones. We'll race them there and back. We'll have the winning-post outside our gate."
Then he asked Mrs. Tapson's old friend, Mrs. Rowe, how far her donkey had come. She said five miles. Bob Tapson had seen our notice on the signpost and sent her word, and she had come in her donkey-cart.
So then Denys began arranging the race.
"We'll have to have jockeys," said Aylwin excitedly, "and I'll be one. I'll ride the grey beast."
"I'll ride the black one," said Denys.
That was Mrs. Rowe's donkey.
But Mr. Donnyball's farm lad said he ought to ride Nell because he knew her ways, so Aylwin took the best of the four brown ones, and the boy who brought them rode another, and the man was going to ride another, but Denys told him he was too heavy weight. Lynette and I begged to ride too, but Denys wouldn't let us. He said we might hold the tape at the winning-post, so we went into the house to get it, and when we came back we found two village boys were mounted on the other donkeys. They were all to ride bareback, but they were allowed to have the halters on.
It was great fun; every one got very excited, and when we got the donkeys out on the road all in a row, the whole village seemed to have turned out to see us.
Denys gave the ten mile donkeys two hundred yards' start, Mrs. Rowe's black donkey had one hundred yards' start, and the grey one that had only come a mile started from our gate. It all seemed to take up a good deal of time to arrange. Denys said we ought to fire a pistol off, but we hadn't got a proper one, so we got our dinner gong, and I went up the road a short way off, so that they all could hear, and then I struck it with all my might.
They were off, but the whole of the village children started running after them, and the screams and yells were something fearful. Lynette and I longed to run too, but we had to hold the tape, so we got ready as soon as possible. One of the brown donkeys wouldn't go at all: he sidled into a ditch and nobody could move him. The man who brought him ran up and began swearing and beating him. Lynette and I were quite frightened. I told Baldwin to go after him and make him stop. Of course cook and Emma and Baldwin all came to the gate to look on.
It seemed a long time before they came back, but we heard cheers, and then we saw Denys on the black donkey coming up in fine style. He simply galloped in to the winning-post, and the others were nowhere to be seen.
At last Aylwin appeared: he had been thrown twice; he said his donkey bucked, and just as he was telling us so, the creature did it again, and he went over his head into a bed of stinging-nettles. I couldn't help laughing, though I felt very sorry for Aylwin. Then the farm boy came along, but his donkey lay down on the road and rolled him off every few minutes, how he got on at all I don't know. The other donkeys were no good at all, they didn't even get as far as the oak-tree; they stood still in the road and wouldn't budge. As Denys said to the man, we wanted a donkey to go, not to stand still.
The man was very unpleasant, and he swore a good deal, and he said he meant to be paid for his journey, and then he went off to the public-house to wait till father came home. Of course we hadn't a doubt which donkey was the best—the winner. And Mrs. Rowe was very pleased. She said her Andy was a splendid trotter, and she said she would sell us her donkey-cart and harness too very cheap if we liked, so we all went off and looked at it. It was very shabby, but she said it only wanted a fresh coat of paint and would look as good as new.
And then we asked her the most important thing of all—the price. She said she didn't want the donkey or cart any more, for she was going to live in Lemworth, so she would let us have it very cheap; and then she said she would take four pounds ten shillings for the whole concern. It seemed a bargain, but then we hadn't got as much as that. Denys counted up that he only had about seventeen shillings in our money-box, and then there was granny's three pounds.
Whilst we were still talking to her, father and Aunt Caroline came up the hill from the station. Though father was very tired, he helped us at once. He asked a lot of questions about the donkey, how old he was, and how long she had had him, and if he had any vicious tricks, and how fast he could go, and then we told about the races, and father said he must see the others. And then in the middle of it all, Aunt Caroline called Lynette and me to come to bed. She had taken Puff in with her when she arrived. So we were obliged to go, but we felt quite sure that father would choose Andy.