The Fairchild Family

by Mrs. Sherwood

  The Unruly Family

  They had a game at marbles]

  After Mr. Fairchild was gone out with Mr. Burke, the young people, whostill sat round the table, all began to speak and make a noise at once.The two youngest were crying for sugar, or ham, or more butter. Tom wasscreaming every moment, "I am going to the river a-fishing--who comeswith me?" looking at the same time daringly at his mother, andexpecting her to say, "No, Tom; you know _that_ is forbidden;" for theriver was very dangerous for anglers, and Mr. Burke had given hisorders that his boys should never go down to it unless he was withthem.

  James and Judy were squabbling sharply and loudly about Miss Killigrewand her gentility; William, in a quieter way, and with a quiet face,was, from time to time, giving his sister Mary's hair a violent pull,causing her to scream and look about her for her tormenter each time;and Elizabeth was balancing a spoon on the edge of her cup, and lettingit fall with a clatter every moment. Children never mindnoise--indeed, they rather like it; and, if the truth must be told,Henry was beginning to think that it would not be unpleasant if hisfather would let him and his sisters have their own ways, as thesechildren of Mr. Burke seemed to have, at least on holidays and afterlesson hours.

  When Miss Jane's mouth was well filled with jam, and Dick's with fatmeat, Tom's voice was heard above the rest; he was still crying, "I amgoing a-fishing; who will come with me?" his large eyes being fixed onhis mother, as if to provoke her to speak.

  "You are not going to do any such thing, Tom," she at length said; "Ishall not allow it."

  Tom looked as if he would have said, "How can you help it, mother?" buthe had not time to say it, had he wished; for Miss Judy, who had agreat notion of managing her brothers, took him up, and said:

  "I wonder at you, Tom. How often have you been told that you are not togo down to fish in the river?"

  "Pray, miss, who made you my governess? If it's only to vex you, I willgo to the river--if I don't fish I will bathe. Will that please youbetter?"

  Henry Fairchild could not make out exactly what was said next, becausethree or four people spoke at once in answer to Tom's last words, andas all of them spoke as loud as they could in order to be heard, asalways happens in these cases, no two words could be made out clearly.But Henry perceived that Tom gave word for word to his sisters, andwas, as he would himself have said, "quite even with them." After alittle while, James, at the whisper of his mother, cried, "Nonsense,nonsense! no more of this;" and taking Tom by the arm, lugged him outof the room by main force; whilst the youngster struggled and tuggedand caught at everything as he was forced along, the noise continuingtill the two brothers were fairly out of the house.

  "_The noise continued till the two brothers were fairlyout of the house._"--Page 230.]

  Mrs. Burke then turned to Henry; and thinking, perhaps, that someexcuse for her boy's behaviour was necessary, she said:

  "It is all play, Master Fairchild. Tom is a good boy, but he loves alittle harmless mischief; he has no more notion of going down to theriver than I have."

  "La, mother," said Miss Judy, "that is what you always say, though youknow the contrary; Tom is the very rudest boy in the whole country, andknown to be so."

  "Come with me, Master Fairchild," said William, in a low voice toHenry, "come with me. Now Judy is got on her hobby-horse, she will takea long ride."

  "What is my hobby-horse, Master William?" said Judy sharply.

  "Abusing your brothers, Miss Judy," replied William.

  She set up her lip and turned away, as if she did not think it worthwhile to answer him, for he was younger than herself; but the nextsister took up the battle, and said something so sharp and tart, thateven William, the quietest of the family, gave her a very rude andcutting answer. Henry did not understand what he said, but he was notsorry when Mrs. Burke told him that he had better go out with Williamand see what was to be seen.

  William led Henry right through the kitchen and court into thefold-yard: it was a very large yard, surrounded on three sides bybuildings, stables, and store-houses, and cattle-sheds and stalls. Inthe midst of it was a quantity of manure, all wet and sloppy, and uponthe very top of this heap stood that charming boy, Master Tom, with hisshoes and stockings all covered with mire.

  On one side of the yard stood James, talking to a boy in a labourer'sfrock. These last were very busy with their own talk, and paid noheed to Tom, who kept calling to them.

  "You said," he cried, "that I could not get here--and here I am, do yousee, safe and sound?"

  "And I do not care how long you stay there," at length answered theeldest brother; "we should be free from one plague for the time atleast."

  "That time, then, shall not be long," answered Tom, "for I am coming."

  "Stop him! stop him!" cried James. "Here, Will--and you, Hodge,"speaking to the young carter, "have at him, he shan't come out so soonas he wishes;" and giving a whoop and a shout, the three boys, James,William, and Hodge, set to to drive Tom back again whenever heattempted to get out of the heap of mire upon the dry ground.

  There were three against one, and Tom had the disadvantage of veryslippery footing, so that he was constantly driven back at everyattempt, and so very roughly too, that he was thrown down more thanonce; but he fell on soft ground, and got no harm beyond being coveredwith mire from head to foot.

  The whole yard rang with the shouts and screams of the boys; and thismight have lasted much longer if an old labouring servant had not comeinto the yard, and insisted that there was enough of it, driving Hodgeaway, and crying shame on his young masters. When Tom was let loose, hewalked away into the house, as Henry supposed, to get himself washed;and James and William, being very hot, called Henry to go with themacross the field into the barn, in one corner of which they had alitter of puppies. They were a long time in this barn, for after theyhad looked at the puppies they had a game at marbles, and Henry wasmuch amused.

  William Burke was generally the quietest of the family, and almost allstrangers liked him best; but he had his particular tempers, and asthose tempers were never kept under by his parents, when they broke outthey were very bad. James did something in the game which he did notthink fair, so he got up from the ground where they were sitting orkneeling to play, kicked the marbles from him, told his brother that hewas cheating, in so many plain words, and was walking quietly away,when James followed him, and seized his arm to pull him back.

  William resisted, and then the brothers began to wrestle; and fromwrestling half playfully, they went on to wrestle in earnest. One gavethe other a chance blow, and the other returned an intended one, andthen they fought in good earnest, and did not stop till William had gota bloody nose; and perhaps they might not have stopped then, if HenryFairchild had not begun to cry, running in between them, and beggingthem not to hurt each other any more.

  "Poor child!" cried James, as he drew back from William, "don't youknow that we were only in play? Did you never see two boys playingbefore?"

  "Not in that way," replied Henry.

  "That is because you have no brother," answered James. "It is a sadthing for a boy not to have a brother."

  They all then left the barn, and William went to wash his nose at thepump.

  Whilst he was doing this, James turned over an empty trough which layin the shade of one of the buildings in the fold-yard, and he and Henrysat down upon it; William soon came down to them. He had washed awaythe blood, and he looked so sulky, that anyone might have seen that hewould have opened out the quarrel again with James had not HenryFairchild been present; for, though he did not care for the little boy,yet he did not wish that he should give him a bad name to his father.

  Henry Fairchild was learning the best lesson he had ever had in hislife amongst the unruly children of Mr. Burke; but this lesson was notto be learned only by his ears and eyes; it would not have been enoughfor him to have seen Tom soused in the mire, or William with his bloodynose; his very bones were to suffer in the acquirement of it, and hewas to get such a fright as he h
ad never known before.

  But before the second part of his adventures that morning is related,it will be as well to say, in this place, that Mr. Fairchild was takenfirst by Mr. Burke to the poor widow's cottage, where he found heralmost crippled with rheumatism. She had parted with much of herfurniture and clothes to feed the poor children, but was gentle and didnot complain.

  From the cottage Mr. Burke drove Mr. Fairchild to the park, and thereMr. Fairchild had an opportunity of speaking of the poor grandmotherand the little children to Mr. and Mrs. Darwell.

  Mr. Darwell said that if the cottage required repair, Mr. Burke mustlook after it, and then speak to him, as the affair was not his, as hewas only Sir Charles Noble's tenant.

  Mrs. Darwell seemed to Mr. Fairchild to be a very fine lady, and onewho did not trouble herself about the concerns of the poor; but therewas one in the room who heard every word which Mr. Fairchild said, andheard it attentively.

  This was little Miss Darwell. She was seated on a sofa, with a piece ofdelicate work in her hand; she was dressed in the most costly manner,and she looked as fair and almost as quiet as a waxen doll.

  Who can guess what was going on in her mind whilst she was listening tothe history of the poor grandmother and her little ones?

  Miss Darwell, in one way, was as much indulged as Mr. Burke's children,but of course she was not allowed to be rude and vulgar; therefore, ifher manners were better than those of the little Burkes, it was onlywhat might be expected; but, happily for her, she had been providedwith a truly pious and otherwise a very excellent governess, a widowlady, of the name of Colvin; but Mrs. Colvin seldom appeared in thedrawing-room.

  Mr. Darwell was proud of his little girl; he thought her very prettyand very elegant, and he wanted to show her off before Mr. Fairchild,who he knew had some little girls of his own; so before Mr. Fairchildtook leave, he called her to him, and said:

  "Ellen, my dear, speak to this gentleman, and tell him that you shouldbe glad to see his daughters, the Misses Fairchild; they are about yourage, and, as I am told, are such ladies as would please you to beacquainted with."

  The little lady rose immediately, and came forward; she gave her handto Mr. Fairchild, and turning to her father:

  "May I," she said, "ask the Misses Fairchild to come to my feast uponmy birthday?"

  "You may, my love," was the answer.

  "Then I will write a note," she said; and Mr. Fairchild saw that thepretty waxen doll could sparkle and blush, and look as happy as his ownchildren often did.

  She ran out of the room, and a minute afterwards came back with a neatlittle packet in her hand. There was more in it than a note, but sheasked Mr. Fairchild to put it into his pocket, and not look at it.

  Mr. Fairchild smiled and thanked her, and at that very moment othermorning visitors were brought in, and took up the attention of Mr. andMrs. Darwell.

  Mr. Fairchild was rising, when the little girl, bending forward to him,said in a low voice:

  "I heard what you said, sir, about those poor little children, and Iwill try to help them."

  How pleasant was it to Mr. Fairchild to hear those words from that fairlittle lady! And he came away quite delighted with her, and pleasedwith Mr. Darwell.

  He found Mr. Burke in his gig at the gates, with the horse's headturned towards home.

  As they were driving back, Mr. Fairchild spoke of Miss Darwell, andsaid how very much he had been pleased with her.

  Mr. Burke said that "she was a wonder of a child, considering how shewas indulged, and that she seemed to have no greater pleasure than indoing good to the poor, especially to the children." They then talkedof the old woman.

  Mr. Burke said he would, on his own responsibility, have the cottageput to rights. "It should have been done before," he added. "And I willsee that she receives some help from the parish for the children; shehas had a little for herself all along. And my wife shall send her somesoup, and, may be, I could find something for Edward to do, if it bebut to frighten away the birds from the crops; so let that mattertrouble you no more, Mr. Fairchild."