by A. A. Milne
“O grandpa, can’t you see?” asked Rosie Travilla, and they all hurried from the room, to return presently in a procession, each carrying something in his or her hand.
Harold had a log of wood, Herbert a post, Max a block, Frank the wooden part of an old musket, while Chester, though empty-handed, wore an old fashioned stock or cravat and held his head very stiffly.
Maud, dressed as a huckster, had a basket filled with apples, oranges, nuts and candies. Sydney, wearing an old cloak and straw hat, had a basket on her arm in which were needles, tapes, buttons, pins, and other small wares such as are often hawked about the streets.
Lulu and Eva brought up the rear, carrying the parrot and Gracie’s kitten.
Maud and Sydney made the circuit of the room, the one crying, “Apples and Oranges! buy any apples and oranges?” the other asking, “Want any pins to-day? needles, buttons, shoe-strings?”
“No,” said Grandma Rose, “Have you nothing else to offer?”
“No, ma’am, this is my whole stock in trade,” replied Sydney.
“I laid in a fresh stock of fruit this morning, ma’am, and it’s good enough for anybody,” sniffed Maud, with indignant air.
“Do you call that a musket, sir?” asked Chester of Frank.
“No, sir; I called it the stock of one.”
“Lulu and Eva, why bring those creatures in here?” asked Herbert, elevating his eyebrows as in astonishment.
“Because they’re our live stock,” replied Lulu.
Now Frank began to play the part of a clown or buffoon, acting in a very silly and stupid manner, while the others looked on laughing and pointing their fingers at him in derision.
“Frank, can’t you behave yourself?” exclaimed Maud. “It mortifies me to see you making yourself the laughing-stock of the whole company.”
“Laughing-stock— laughing-stock,” said several voices among the spectators, the captain adding, “Very well done indeed!”
“Thank you, sir,” said Harold. “If the company are not tired we will give them one more.”
“Let us have it,” said his grandfather.
Some of the girls now joined the spectators, while Harold drew out a little stand, and he, Chester, and Herbert seated themselves about it with paper and pencils before them, assuming a very business-like air.
Frank had stepped out to the hall. In a minute or two he returned and walked up to the others, hat in hand.
Bowing low, but awkwardly, “You’re the school committee I understand, gents?” he remarked inquiringly.
“Yes,” said Harold, “and we want a teacher for the school at Sharon. Have you come to apply for the situation?”
“Yes, sir; I heered tell ye was wantin’ a superior kind o’ male man to take the school fer the winter, and bein’ as I was out o’ a job, I thought I moût as well try my hand at that as enny thin’ else.”
“Take a seat and let us inquire into your qualifications,” said Herbert, waving his hand in the direction of a vacant chair. “But first tell us your name and where you are from.”
“My name, sir, is Peter Bones, and I come from the town o’ Hardtack in the next county; jest beyant the hill yander. I’ve a good eddication o’ me own, too, though I never rubbed my back agin a college,” remarked the applicant, sitting down and tilting his chair back on its hind legs, retaining his balance by holding on to the one occupied by Herbert. “I kin spell the spellin’ book right straight through, sir, from kiver to kiver.”
“But spelling is not the only branch to be taught in the Sharon school,” said Chester. “What else do you know.”
“The three r’s, sir; reading, ‘ritin,’ and ’rithmetic.”
“You are acquainted with mathematics!”
“Well, no, not so much with Mathy as with his brother Bill; but I know him like a book; fact I might say like several books.”
“Like several books, eh?” echoed Chester in a sarcastic tone; “but how well may you be acquainted with the books? What’s the meaning of pathology?”
“The science of road making of course, sir; enny fool could answer such a question as that.”
“Could he, indeed? Well you’ve made a miss, for your answer is wide of the mark.”
“How wide is the Atlantic ocean?” asked Herbert.
“’Bout a thousand miles.”
“Another miss; it’s three thousand.”
“I know it useter to be, years ago, but they’ve got to crossin’ it so quick now that you needn’t tell me it’s more’n a thousand.”
“In what year was the Declaration of Independence signed?” asked Harold.
“Wall now, I don’t jist remember,” returned the applicant, thrusting both hands deep into his pockets and gazing down meditatively at the carpet, “somewheres ’bout 1860, wuzn’t it? no, come to think, I guess ’twas ’63.”
“No, no, no! you are thinking of the proclamation of emancipation. Another miss. We don’t find you qualified for the situation; so wish you good day, sir.”
“Ah, ah! ah, ah! um h’m, um h’m! so I should say,” soliloquized Mr. Lilburn, leaning on his goldheaded cane and watching the four lads as they scattered and left the room; “and so this is the end of act the first, I suppose. Miss, miss, miss, ah that’s the syllable that begins the new word.”
Evelyn now came in with an umbrella in her hand, Grace and Rose Lacey walking a little in her rear. Evelyn raised the umbrella and turning to the little girls, said pleasantly, “Come under, children, I can’t keep the rain off you unless you are under the umbrella.” They accepted the invitation and the three moved slowly back and forth across the room several times.
“It’s a nice sort of shelter to be under when it rains,” remarked Rose Lacey.
“Yes, I like to be under it,” said Grace.
“But it is wearisome to walk all the time; let us stand still for a little,” proposed Evelyn.
“Yes; by that stand yonder,” said Grace.
They went to it and stationed themselves there for a moment; then Grace stepped from under the umbrella and seated herself on the carpet under the stand.
“Look, look!” laughed Rose Lacey, “there’s Miss Grace Raymond under the stand; a miss-under-stand.”
A storm of applause, and cries of “Well done, little ones! Very prettily done indeed!” and Gracie, rosy with blushes, came out from her retreat and ran to hide her face on her father’s shoulder, while he held her close with one arm, softly smoothing her curls with the other hand.
“Don’t be disturbed, darling,” he said; “it is only kind commendation of the way in which Rosie and you have acted your parts.”
“Why you should feel proud and happy, Gracie,” said Zoe, drawing near. “We are going to have that tableau now in which you are to be a little flower girl. So come, won’t you? and let me help you dress.”
Tableaux filled up the rest of the morning.
After dinner Harold and Herbert gave an exhibition of tricks of legerdemain, which even the older people found interesting and amusing. The little ones were particularly delighted with a marvellous shower of candy that ended the performance.
Some of Cousin Ronald’s stories of the heroes of Scottish history and song made the evening pass delightfully.
But at an early hour the whole company, led by Grandpa Dinsmore, united in a short service of prayer, praise, and the reading of the scriptures, and at its close the guests bade good-bye and scattered to their homes.
“Well,” said Max, following the rest of the family into the parlor, after they had seen the last guest depart, “I never had a pleasanter New Year’s day.”
“Nor I either,” said Lulu; “and we had such a delightful time last year too, that I really don’t know which I enjoyed the most.”
“And we have good times all the time since we have a home of our own with our dear father in it,” remarked Grace, taking his hand and carrying it to her lips, while her sweet azure eyes looked up lovingly into his face.
An emp
hatic endorsement of that sentiment from both Max and Lulu. Then the captain, smiling tenderly upon them, said, “I dearly love to give you pleasure, my darlings, my heart’s desire is for my children’s happiness in this world and the next; but life can not be all play; so lessons must be taken up again to-morrow morning, and I hope to find you all in an industrious and tractable mood.”
“I should hope so indeed, papa,” returned Max; “if we are not both obedient and industrious we will deserve to be called an ungrateful set.”
Chapter 14
The weather the next day was so mild and pleasant that Max and Lulu asked and obtained permission to take a ride of several miles on their ponies.
They went alone, their father and Violet having driven out in the family carriage, taking the three younger children with them.
On their return Max and his sister approached the house from a rear entrance to the grounds, passing through the bit of woods belonging to the estate, the garden and shrubbery, and across the lawn.
In traversing the wood they came upon a man leaning idly against a tree, in a lounging attitude, with his hands in his pockets, a half consumed cigar in his mouth.
He was a stranger to the children, and from, his shabby, soiled clothing, unkempt locks, and unshaven face, it was evident he belonged to the order of tramps.
He stood directly in the path the children were pursuing, just where it made a sudden turn, and Lulu’s pony had almost trodden upon his foot before they were aware of his vicinity.
Fairy shied, snorting with fright, and almost unseated her young rider.
“Look out there, and don’t ride a fellow down!” growled the man, catching hold of Fairy’s bridle and scowling into the face of her rider.
Lulu did not seem to be frightened. Her quick temper rose at the man’s insolence, and she exclaimed authoritatively, “Let go of my bridle this instant, and get out of the path.”
“I will when I get ready, and no sooner,” returned the man insolently.
“What are you doing in these grounds, sir?” demanded Max, adding, “You have no call to be here. Let go of that bridle and step out of the path at once.”
“I’m not under your orders, bubby,” said the tramp with a disagreeable, mocking laugh.
“These are my father’s grounds,” said Max, drawing himself up with a determined air, “and we don’t allow tramps and loafers here; so if you don’t let go of that bridle and be off I’ll set my dog on you. Here, Prince, Prince!”
At the sound of the call, answered by a loud bark, and the sight of Prince’s huge form making rapid bounds in his direction, the tramp released Fairy’s bridle, and growling out an oath, turned and made his way with all celerity toward the public road, leaping the fence that separated it from Capt. Raymond’s grounds, barely in time to escape Prince’s teeth, as he made a dash to seize him by the leg.
“Oh,” cried Lulu, drawing a long breath of relief, “what a happy thing that Prince came running out to meet us!”
“Yes,” said Max, “and I hope he has given that fellow a fright that will keep him from ever coming into these grounds again. If he isn’t a scoundrel his looks certainly belie him very much.”
They had held their ponies in check while watching the race between man and dog, but now urged them forward in haste to reach the house; for the short winter day was fast closing in.
The captain was standing on the veranda as they rode up.
“You are a trifle late, children,” he said, as he stepped to the side of Fairy and lifted Lulu from the saddle, but his tone was not stern.
“Yes, papa,” said Max; “I’m afraid we went a little farther than we ought; at any rate it took us longer than we expected to reach home again; and we were detained a minute or two just now, out here in the grove, by a tramp that caught hold of Fairy’s bridle and wouldn’t let go till I called Prince and he showed his teeth.”
“What! can it be possible?” cried the captain closing his fingers more firmly over the hand Lulu had slipped into his, and gazing down into her face with a look of mingled concern and relief. “It is well indeed that Lulu was not alone, and that Prince was at hand. Come into the library and tell me all about it.”
He led Lulu in as he spoke, Max following, while a servant took the ponies to their stable.
Capt. Raymond sat down and drew Lulu to his side, putting an arm protectingly around her, while Max, standing near, went on to give the particulars of their encounter with the tramp, Lulu now and then putting in a word.
“Now, daughter,” the captain said at the conclusion of the story, “I hope you are quite convinced of the wisdom and kindness of your father’s prohibition of solitary rides and walks for you?”
“Yes, papa, I am, and do not intend ever to disobey you again by taking them. I wasn’t much frightened, but I know it would have been very dangerous for me if I’d been alone.”
“No doubt of it,” he said, caressing her with grave tenderness, “it almost makes me shudder to think of what might have happened had you been without a protector.”
“And I doubt if I could have protected her without Prince’s help, papa,” said Max. “I think he’s a valuable fellow, and pays for his keep.”
“Yes; I am very glad I selected him as a Christmas gift to you,” said his father. “But now I must warn you both to say nothing to, or before Gracie, about this occurrence; for timid as she is, it would be apt to cause her much suffering from apprehension.”
“We will try to keep it a secret from her, papa,” replied both children.
“And in order to succeed in that you will have to be on your guard and give no hint of the matter in presence of any of the servants.”
“We will try to remember, papa,” they promised with evident intention to do so.
“That is right,” he said. “I think I can trust you not to forget or disobey. I know you would be loath to have your little sister tortured with nervous terrors. Now go and get yourselves ready for tea.”
Lulu was full of excitement over her adventure, and through the evening found it difficult to refrain from speaking of it before Grace; but equally desirous to obey her father and to save her little sister from needless suffering, she resolutely put a curb upon her tongue till she found herself alone with him at bedtime.
Then she must needs go over the whole scene again, and seeing that it was a relief to her excitement, he let her run on about it to her heart’s content.
“Has it made you feel at all timid to-night, daughter?” he asked kindly.
“No, papa,” she answered promptly; “I don’t think the man could get into the house; do you?”
“I think it most probable he has walked on till he is miles away from here by this time,” the captain answered. “But even did we know him to be prowling round outside, we might rest and sleep in peace and security, assured that nothing can harm us without the will of our heavenly Father who loves us more than any earthly parent loves his child.”
He drew her very close to his heart and imprinted a tender kiss upon her lips as he spoke.
“Yes, papa, it makes me feel very safe to remember that, thinking how dearly you love me; so that I know you would never let anything harm me if you could help it,” she returned, putting an arm round his neck and hugging him tight. “Oh I am so glad that the Bible tells us that about God’s love to us!”
“So am I; and that my children have early learned to love and trust in him.
“’Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.’ That is not a promise that God’s faithful followers shall be rich in this world’s goods, but faith in God’s loving care makes life happy even in the midst of poverty and pain. Riches have not the power to make us happy, but the love of God has.
“And those who begin to serve God in the morning of life and press onward and upward all their days, keeping near to Jesus and growing more and more like him, will be happier in heaven— because of their greate
r capacity for the enjoyment of God and holiness— than the saved ones who sought him late in life, or were less earnest in their endeavors to live in constant communion with him, and to bear more and more resemblance to him.
“The Bible speaks of some who are ‘scarcely saved,’ and of others to whom ’an entrance shall be ministered abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.’”
“Papa,” said Lulu earnestly, “I want to be one of those; I want to live near to Jesus and grow every day more like him. (Oh I am so little like him now; sometimes I fear not at all). Won’t you help me all you can?”
“I will, my darling,” he replied, speaking with emotion. “Every day I ask wisdom from on high for that very work;— the work of helping you and all my dear children to be earnest, faithful servants of God.”
The talk with her father had done much to quiet Lulu’s excitement, and she fell asleep very soon after laying her head on her pillow.
It was still night when she awoke suddenly with the feeling that something unusual was going on in the house.
She sat up in the bed and listened. She thought she heard a faint sound coming from the room below, and slipping from the bed she stole softly across the floor to the chimney, where there was a hot air flue beside the open fireplace.
Dropping down on her hands and knees, she put her ear close to the register and listened again, almost holding her breath in the effort to hear.
The chimney ran up between her bedroom and the little tower room opening into it; the library was under her bedroom, and opening from it was the ground floor room of the tower, which was very strongly built, had only the one door and very narrow slits of windows set high up in the thick stone walls.
In a safe in that small room were kept the family plate, jewelry, and money; though no very great amount of the last named, as the captain considered it far wiser to deposit it in the nearest bank.
The door of the strong room, as it was called, was of thick oak plank crossed with iron bars, and had a ponderous bolt and stout lock whose key was carried up stairs every night by the captain.