“ Shake it off! ” I exclaimed impulsively.
“ What? ” asked Freda in surprise.
“ The black monkey, of course. Oh, Freda, do shake it off and be happy! ”
“ I don’t know what you mean,” said Freda crossly … but she did know; we had laughed together often over old Meg’s black monkey.
“ Come on,” I said. “ Let’s play ordinary hide-and-seek. I’ll take Janet and hide and you and Elsie can look for us.”
“ That’s no fun,” declared Freda. “ There’s no time, either. The twins go to bed at six.”
“ It’s only just five,” I said. “ There’s time for one game. This place will be the den. Hide your eyes and count two hundred slowly. Come on, Janet.”
I started off there and then; Janet ran after me and slipped her hand into mine. It was warm and soft and very small.
“ Where shall we hide, David? ” she asked.
“ I know a place … but we’ll have to hurry ” I told her.
There was a little bluff higher up the river with a few stunted trees growing on it. One day when I was fishing I had taken shelter from a shower beneath the overhanging bank and I had found a tiny cave between two rocks with gorse bushes masking the entrance. Freda did not know about the cave and I was pretty certain she would not find it.
We ran along the path by the edge of the stream and climbed the slope and crawled into the cave. Janet’s face was crimson and she was panting like a steam engine.
“ Goodness! ” I exclaimed. “ You are hot! You should have told me I was going too fast. Why didn’t you tell me? ”
“ It’s—all—right,” she gasped. “ I’ll be—better—in a minute.”
She was even more dishevelled than before, her skirt was torn and her hair-ribbon had come off again. It had caught in one of the gorse bushes. She handed me the ribbon without speaking and turned her head so that I could tie it on. By this time the little piece of blue ribbon was so crumpled and dirty that it was like a piece of boot-lace but I realised that if Freda saw her without it there would be trouble. I smoothed it out and divided her hair carefully. It was soft silky hair which accounted for the fact that the ribbon slipped off so easily. I was not an experienced tier of ribbons so the job took time, but when I had finished it and arranged the bows I was pleased with the effect. I had made a better job of it than Freda, anyway.
By this time Janet had recovered her breath and had begun to chatter excitedly. “ This is a lovely hidey-hole, David. Does Freda know about it? ”
“ Nobody knows about it,” I told her.
“ That’s good. They’ll never find us here. It was nice of you to show it to me—I won’t tell anybody, I promise. It’s a secret, isn’t it, David? A secret between you and me.”
“ Yes, it’s a secret.”
She clasped her hands ecstatically. “ I do love secrets,” she said. “ D’you think this dear little cave belongs to a fox—or an otter—or perhaps a badger? D’you think it belongs to a badger, David? ”
“ I think it’s too small for a badger.”
“ It is small,” she agreed. “ There’s only just room for you and me. I do think it’s a dear little cave. It would be fun to sleep here all night. We could make a bed of heather like the Covenanters, couldn’t we? Oh, David, it would be fun! Couldn’t we? Couldn’t we just stay here——? ”
“ What would Mrs. Lorimer say? ”
Janet sighed. “ That’s it,” she said. “ You never can do anything really thrilling when you’re eight. I wish I was eighteen. When I’m eighteen I shall do exactly as I like.”
“ What will you do? ”
“ See things,” said Janet vaguely. “ Go about alone.”
“ Go about alone? ”
She nodded. “ I want to be me,” she said. “ It’s awfully sickening being half another person and nobody ever knowing whether you’re you or somebody else.”
“ I thought twins liked being twins,” I said.
“ I want to be me,” she repeated. “ I want to go right away. I want to go to places where there are lots and lots of flowers—great big beautiful coloured flowers and butterflies …”
“ Wheesht, they’re coming! ” I whispered.
They were walking along the path by the river, Freda in front and Elsie trailing along behind. They passed so close to our hiding place that I could have tossed a lump of earth on to their heads quite easily. It was amusing to see them and not be seen. Janet evidently thought it was funny too for she gave a little smothered giggle.
“ Come on, Elsie! ” exclaimed Freda. “ You aren’t looking for them. You don’t seem to take any interest in the game.”
“ I don’t like this game,” complained Elsie.
“ You’re just a mutt, that’s all.”
“ I’m not a mutt.”
“ Yes, you are.”
“ I’ll tell Mother you said I was a mutt.”
“ I don’t care what you tell her,” Freda declared. “ Tell her anything you like, you horrid little clype.”
“ I’m not a clype.”
“ Yes, you are.”
They walked on up the river and disappeared.
When they had gone Janet and I crawled out of the cave and went back to the ruined cottage. Janet was quite happy now, she ran about and collected some more flowers.
“ Look, David! ” she cried. “ Look at this darling little orchis! And here’s a clump of speedwell! Don’t you love its tiny blue flowers? It’s almost a pity to pick them—but nobody would see them here, would they? I think flowers like to be seen. Look at these great big golden buttercups! ”
Fortunately I had another piece of string in my pocket so she made another posy. She sat down and put the flowers together carefully with her tiny hands; there were buttercups and scabious and thrift and big heads of mauve clover.
“ It’s very pretty,” I said.
“ Yes,” she agreed. “ Yes, it’s a lovely posy. D’you think Mrs. Kirke would like it? ”
“ I’m sure she would.”
“ Are you really sure, David? They’re only wild flowers, you know. Some people think wild flowers are just rubbish.”
“ Mother doesn’t. I’m really truly sure Mother would like it.”
Janet smiled and gave it to me. I found some sphagnum moss and packed it round the posy to keep it fresh.
“ They like that,” said Janet nodding approvingly.
We sat down and waited. It was some time before the others returned.
“ Oh, there you are! ” said Freda crossly. “ Where were you? We looked everywhere.”
“ You didn’t,” laughed Janet. “ You didn’t look everywhere. If you’d looked in the right place you’d have found us. We saw you.”
“ Where were you? ”
“ That’s a secret. It’s a secret between David and me. You passed quite close, didn’t they, David? It was awfully funny to see you, wasn’t it, David? ”
“ All right, I don’t care,” declared Freda. “ You were hiding in the bracken, I suppose.”
Janet did not answer.
“ Come on,” said Freda. “ We must go home. I don’t know what Mother will say when she sees you. You’re a perfect sight.”
“ I’m not! ” cried Janet.
“ You are! Look at that great jagged tear in your skirt! and your face is filthy! You’re not fit to be seen. Come on, Janet … and don’t hang on to David’s hand. David doesn’t want to be bothered with you! ”
“ But, Freda——” began Janet.
“ Oh, come on and don’t argue. You can walk in front with Elsie and then I’ll see what you’re doing.”
The twins walked on and we followed.
“ They’re such a nuisance,” complained Freda. “ You’re lucky not to have any sisters, David.”
“ Well, I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “ Janet is rather sweet——”
“ She’s very naughty—much more bother than Elsie. Oh, it’s all very well f
or you, just seeing them now and then! If you had them under your feet all the time it would be a different story.”
“ I suppose it would.”
“ You’d soon get sick of them,” declared Freda with conviction.
It had been a wretched afternoon. The only nice thing about that picnic was the little posy. I gave it to Mother with Janet’s love and she put it in a bowl on her desk.
“ Janet’s mad about flowers,” I said.
“ So am I,” said Mother smiling.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Soon after that unsuccessful picnic Uncle Matthew came to stay with us. It was early September so I had not gone back to school and I was involved in the tremendous preparations which were made for his comfort. The whole house was scrubbed and polished and all the curtains and cretonne covers were washed. In fact it was like spring cleaning all over again, only more so.
“ I don’t know why you bother,” Father said. “ Matthew will never notice.”
“ Never notice! ” cried Mother. “ Your brother Matthew notices everything. He’s very particular. His own house is twice the size of this and as spick and span as can be.”
“ It’s like every other Edinburgh house; tall and grey and hemmed in by its neighbours, with a wee cat-walk at the back. I wouldn’t exchange houses with Matthew for a king’s ransom.”
“ I never said I would exchange,” replied Mother smiling.
“ Why has he never been to see us before? ” I wanted to know.
“ He’s coming for a change of air,” replied Mother. “ He’s had ’flu and the doctor said he must get away for a holiday.”
This explained the reason for his visit, but it did not answer my question, so when I got Mother to myself I asked her again. We were hanging up the curtains in the spare-room.
“ Why? ” I asked. “ Why has Uncle Matthew never been here before? ”
“ Oh well, sometimes brothers and sisters don’t see eye to eye about things. I never had any brothers or sisters and neither have you, so we can’t judge, can we? ”
I thought of the Lorimers. “ No, I suppose we can’t,” I said slowly.
“ They have different ideas, that’s all.”
“ Isn’t Uncle Matthew nice? ”
“ Oh Davie! What a boy for questions! ”
“ Well, isn’t he? ”
“ He’s always been very nice to me—in his own way.”
I saw I should get no further information on that point. “ Mother,” I said. “ I’ve got an aunt too, haven’t I? Does she live with Uncle Matthew? ”
“ She lives near him in Edinburgh.”
“ You’d think she’d live with him, wouldn’t you? ”
“ No, I wouldn’t, Davie.”
“ Why? ” I asked. “ I mean neither of them is married. Why doesn’t Aunt Etta live with Uncle Matthew and keep house for him? ”
“ Oh Davie, how should I know! ” exclaimed Mother as she stood back and arranged the folds of the curtains. “ I’ve told you brothers and sisters have different ideas about things. When you see Uncle Matthew you’ll understand.”
It was a damp rainy evening when Uncle Matthew arrived. Father hired Mr. Grigg’s car and drove over to Drumburly to meet him at the station. It was a five-mile drive. I peeped out of my bedroom window as they came up the path together and my first impression was that they were very alike. They were the same height and had the same wavy grey hair. Later I changed my mind and decided that no two men could be more unlike.
“ Well, David,” said Uncle Matthew when I went downstairs. “ So this is you, is it? We’ve met before but I dare say you’ve forgotten me.”
“ Yes,” I said doubtfully. “ I’m afraid I have.”
He shook his head sadly and said, “ Some people have short memories. It’s ten years—that’s all—since you and I foregathered. I remember the occasion as if it were yesterday, but you’ve forgotten! Well, well! ”
“ I must have been two——” I began.
“ You know how to do subtractions! ” he exclaimed raising his eyebrows in surprise.
I saw now that it was a joke. Perhaps it was dense of me not to have seen it before but I was shy and nervous; besides he looked like Father and Father never made jokes.
“ David is quite well on with his lessons,” said Father encouragingly.
“ And what are you going to do with him? ”
“ David hasn’t decided what he wants to be,” said Mother.
We sat down to supper. It was a good supper—Mother had seen to that—and Uncle Matthew did full justice to it. He ate and talked and told us funny stories and laughed uproariously at his own jokes.
“ How is Etta? ” Father asked.
“ Etta enjoys bad health,” replied Uncle Matthew. “ I can’t tell you whether there’s much wrong with her or not. She likes nothing better than to tell you about her pains and aches but she looks uncommonly well.”
“ It’s terribly sad! ” exclaimed Mother.
“ Sad! ” echoed Uncle Matthew. “ There’s a lot of people worse off than Etta. She’s got comfortable rooms and a pleasant, kindly woman to look after her. It’s my belief that if Etta would take a little exercise it would do her all the good in the world. I’ve no sympathy for people who sit about and do nothing all day long. They’re bound to be unhealthy.”
“ Etta should have married,” said Father.
“ Who’d marry Etta? ” cried Uncle Matthew.
“ She must have been very pretty when she was young,” said Mother gently.
Mother hated unkindness; she always found something good to say about everybody. (She even found something good to say about the tramp who came to the back door begging bread and, while Mother was cutting him a piece and spreading it with butter, made off with her purse which was lying on the kitchen table. “ I expect he needed the money,” Mother said. “ He had such kind eyes; I’m sure he would never have taken it if he hadn’t needed it very badly.”)
Uncle Matthew had come to Haines to throw off the aftereffects of his illness; but he did not look ill and he was very cheerful; in fact he was boisterous. He talked a great deal and even when he was silent it was impossible to forget he was there; the house seemed full of him. Fortunately the weather was fine and he was able to spend most of his time sitting in a deck-chair in the garden. Every morning immediately after breakfast he walked off to the village and returned with a sheaf of newspapers which he read and strewed about. The Scotsman was delivered daily of course and he read that too.
“ What a waste! ” said Father one day. He was looking out of his study window at the figure in the deck-chair.
“ They’ll be useful for the fires,” said Mother smiling.
“ I wasn’t thinking of the money so much; it’s the time,” explained Father. “ He could be reading something worth while.”
This was the only criticism I heard, and yet I knew that Uncle Matthew did and said a good many things of which Father disapproved. I knew Father thought he was the World, the Flesh and the Devil all rolled into one man. In spite of this I liked Uncle Matthew—I could not help liking him—and I had a feeling that Mother liked him too. He was always kind and cheerful and he was certainly very amusing. Some of his stories were very funny indeed. Uncle Matthew was a solicitor, he was a partner in an old-established Edinburgh firm, so many of his jokes had a legal flavour and he told them in a dry pawky way, which made them seem even funnier than they really were. The only thing was they amused him so much that he usually began to laugh before he came to the end. It would have been better if he could have kept a straight face over them.
Towards the end of Uncle Matthew’s visit I became aware that there was “ something in the wind.” Several times when I went into the room there was a sudden uncomfortable silence and then they would all start talking about the news.
I was wondering about this, and sawing up some wood, when Meg came to tell me I was wanted in the study.
“ What have ye done, Da
vid? ” asked Meg anxiously. “ Ye must have done something bad. They’re all sitting there mim as mice waiting on ye. Maybe ye’d better wash before ye go in.”
I had not finished cutting up the wood and it seemed a waste to wash, so I put down the saw and went in just as I was.
“ David,” began Father in a serious tone, “ there’s something——”
But Uncle Matthew interrupted him. “ Hold your tongue, James,” said Uncle Matthew. “ Let me speak first. You can have your turn later.”
It was very funny to see Father’s face of astonishment at being told to hold his tongue and if I had not been so anxious about what was coming I might have laughed. But I was anxious so I did not feel like laughing; I just looked at them and waited.
“ Now, David,” said Uncle Matthew kindly. “ You’re a sensible boy and it seems to me you’ve the right to have a say in your own future. You’ve done well at your lessons but you can’t continue at the village school much longer. You’re aware of that, of course. The question is what’s to be done. Well, I’ve offered to defray the cost of your education. I’ve offered to have you to live with me in Edinburgh and send you to a good day-school. What do you say to that? ”
I looked at Mother. There were tears in her eyes but she made no sign; Father was tapping on the desk with his pencil and gazing out of the window. I did not know what to say.
“ I don’t know! ” I said uncomfortably. “ It’s awfully kind of you, Uncle Matthew, but—but——”
“But what? ” asked Uncle Matthew.
There was a little silence.
“ You’re all crazy,” said Uncle Matthew at last. “ You all say, but—but—but—and you’ve no alternative plan. What do you propose doing with the lad? Is he to leave school at fourteen and become a ploughboy? ”
“ We thought of Dumfries,” began Father in a low voice. “ It wouldn’t cost much. We could manage——”
“ What do you say, David? ” asked Uncle Matthew. “ Would you rather your parents pinched and scraped and sent you to school at Dumfries, or would you rather accept my offer and come to Edinburgh? ”
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