by A. A. Milne
* * *
Helena did not notice him for some time; she was feeling a little giddy and queer herself, and found it not too easy to keep her skirts, short as they were, out of the water, and herself on her feet. There were some sharp pebbles among those that made the bed of the stream, and she had never before tried walking barefoot out of doors, even on a smooth surface, and therefore found it very difficult.
* * *
But when at last she happened to catch sight of her little brother, she started violently and nearly lost her balance. "Go back at once, Leigh," she cried. "Look at him, Freda—he's all white and blue."
* * *
Freda was a kind-hearted girl, and she too was startled.
* * *
"I'll take him to the bank—he'll be all right when I've rubbed his feet," she exclaimed, and she hurried forward. But for all her good intentions she only made matters worse.
* * *
Instead of taking hold of the child to help him, she managed to push him over—and in another second Leigh was floundering in the mud at the edge of the little stream!
Part 3
POOR Leigh! What an object he was!
At first the three Kingleys burst out laughing.
* * *
But when Helena and Willie turned upon them sharply, they quickly grew serious, for they were far from unkind children, and the sight of their little friend's real distress and fear made them anxious to help to put things to right.
* * *
"He's as white as a sheet," said Helena, who was almost in tears. "And shivering so. Oh! Leigh dear, do you feel very bad?"
* * *
"N-no, don't cry, Nelly," said the little boy. "It's—it's my jacket and knickerbockers I mind about."
* * *
Freda turned him round promptly.
* * *
"It's only on one side," she said; "and a lot of it will brush off the jacket, at least, and after all, the knickerbockers can be washed. What I mind about is you're shivering so. Sit down, young man—here's a nice dry place, and I'll give your feet a good rub."
* * *
So she did, using for that purpose one of her brother Hugh's long rough stockings, quite heedless of his grumbling. She was certainly a very energetic girl. In a few minutes Leigh's feet were in a glow, and the colour crept back to his face again, and he left off shivering.
* * *
"There now," she said, "you are all right again, or at least you will be, when you've run home and got a clean jacket. After all, you're quite dry underneath—the mud is thick and hasn't soaked through. Now, what had we best do, Nelly?"
* * *
"Get him home as quick as possible some back way, so that we won't meet anyone, I should say," said Hugh, as he drew on his stockings, very glad to have recovered his property.
* * *
But just as he spoke, there came a well-known sound—well known at least to the Frere children, for it was their Mother's voice calling them.
* * *
"Nell-ly! Nell-ly! Will-ie! Will! where are you?" it said.
* * *
They looked at each other.
* * *
"It's Mamma," said Willie.
* * *
"What can have made her come out so soon?" said Helena. "She was going to wait till the other ladies came to tea, and then she said she and Sybil would stroll out with them, and see what we were doing in the garden. But I never thought they'd come down here—we scarcely ever do, 'cos Nurse thinks we'll fall into the water."
* * *
Nurse's fears were not without reason, were they?
* * *
"We mustn't be seen like this," said Freda, "that's certain. Let's crouch in here quite quietly for a minute or two, till they're out of the way—don't speak or anything. Hush! perhaps we can hear their voices."
* * *
Hiding from Mamma was a new experience to Helena and her brothers, and they did not like the feeling of it. But just now there was nothing else to do, and Freda had taken it all into her own hands. So they did as she said.
* * *
No sound of voices reached them for some moments, but they heard footsteps overhead. Several people were crossing the bridge. "Goodness gracious," said Freda, in a whisper, "we've only just hidden ourselves in time. Do come closer, and don't speak, whatever you do," though no one had been speaking but herself.
* * *
Then the steps stopped, and a faint murmur was heard, but not loud enough to distinguish the words; and then the newcomers' steps moved on again.
* * *
The children began to breathe more freely.
* * *
"Better stay quiet another minute or two," said Freda.
* * *
But Helena was not happy in her mind about little Leigh.
* * *
"It's so damp and chilly in here under the bridge," she said to Freda. "He's sure to catch cold unless he gets a run in the sunshine."
* * *
"He must be awfully delicate then," said Hugh, with some contempt in his voice. "You should see the wettings we get—even Maggie, and she's a girl."
* * *
At this Leigh grew very red, and Helena found he was going to burst out crying, which would not have been a very good way of showing he was a man, I consider.
* * *
But Freda told Hugh not to talk nonsense, for she was sensible enough to know that what Helena said was true.
* * *
"I'll peep out now," she said, "and if the coast is clear, I'll 'cooey' to you very softly, like we do at 'I spy,' and then you can all come out. I'll wait for you at the top of the bank. It's a bother to go up it and down and up again—it's such slippery work."
* * *
She peeped out as she said—cautiously at first; then again encouraged, she made her way half way up the bank and glanced round her.
* * *
It seemed safe enough.
* * *
The group of ladies was to be seen at some little distance now; they were returning towards the house by the proper road, which it would be easy for the children to avoid.
* * *
And in her satisfaction, Freda gave a loud "cooey"—much louder than was needed, as her companions were close by.
* * *
Out popped all the heads from below the bridge, but before their owners had time to begin to climb the bank, they were stopped by a "Hush," and an energetic shake of the head from Freda, who next, greatly to their surprise, flopped straight down among the high grass at the top, and lay there motionless and quite flat.
* * *
The reason of this was soon explained. Again came the cry—"Nell-y! Will-ie! Nell-y!" from Mrs. Frere, and a whistle, which Hugh Kingley whispered to the others was his sister Sybil's.
* * *
"They've heard Freda's 'cooey,'" he said. "What a goose she was to call so loud!"
* * *
Again there was nothing for it but to stay quiet, which was becoming very tiresome.
* * *
The Frere children began to think that their ideas of "great fun," and the Kingleys', did not at all agree.
* * *
"Wasting all the afternoon in this nasty damp hole, and risking Leigh's getting really ill," thought Helena.
* * *
And at last she sprang up and called out to Freda.
* * *
"I won't stay here any longer," she cried. "Whether we are scolded or not, I won't. It isn't safe for Leigh."
* * *
"How cross you are!" said Freda coolly. "I was just going to tell you to come out. I think it's all right now; they've moved on. We can make a rush for the house across the grass somehow, can't we? There must be some back way in, where we shouldn't meet anyone. Then you and I can take Leigh up to the nursery and say he had an accident, which is quite true—and when he's clean again he can come out to us and your Mamma needn't know anything about it. The rest of
us are all quite tidy—quite as tidy as can be expected after running about."
* * *
Helena did not reply. She was feeling too annoyed and vexed, and she did not like Freda's wish to hide what had really caused their troubles.
* * *
But she took Leigh by the hand—Freda, it must be allowed, taking him kindly by the other, and they all set off as fast as they could to the house. They could not go quite straight for fear of being seen; they had to "dodge" once or twice, but in the end they got safely there without meeting anyone more formidable than a tradesman's cart driving away from the stables, or an under-gardener laden with a basketful of vegetables.
* * *
Nurse looked grave, as she well might do, when she saw Leigh's plight. But Freda had a very pleasant bright manner, and Nurse was quite satisfied with her explanations.
* * *
And as the run home had brought back the colour to the little boy's cheeks, nothing much was said as to the fear of his having caught cold.
Part 4
SOME half an hour or so afterwards, all the party, the children included, assembled on the lawn for tea.
Nurse had seized the opportunity of Helena's running in with Leigh, to "tidy her up a bit," and Freda too had not objected to a little setting to rights, so that both the girls looked quite in order.
* * *
And Willie and Hugh had also removed all traces of their adventures; only Maggie was still rather rumpled and crumpled, but as she was counted a tom-boy at all times, it did not so much matter.
* * *
"What became of you all, this afternoon?" asked Mrs. Frere. "We walked down to the bridge to look for you, as one of the men said he had seen you going that way. And I am sure I heard one of you 'cooeying'—did I not? Yet when I called, no one replied."
* * *
The children looked at each other. Mrs. Frere felt surprised.
* * *
"What is the mystery?" she said, though with a smile.
* * *
"Oh," began Freda, "there wasn't any mystery—we were only——" She stopped, for she felt that Helena's eyes were fixed on her, and Freda was not by nature an untruthful child. It was through her heedlessness and wildness that she often got into what she would have called "scrapes," from which there seemed often no escape but by telling falsehoods, or at least allowing what was not the case to be believed.
* * *
She grew red, and Mrs. Frere, feeling that it was not very kind to cross-question a guest, finished her sentence for her.
* * *
"Hiding?" she said. "Were you hiding?" though she wondered why Freda should blush and hesitate about so simple a thing.
* * *
"Yes," said Helena quickly, replying instead of Freda, "yes, Mamma, we were hiding—under the bridge."
* * *
At the moment she only felt glad to be able to say what in words was true.
* * *
For hiding they certainly had been. And Mrs. Frere, thoroughly trusting Helena, turned away and thought no more about it, only adding that it must have been rather dirty under the bridge; another time she would advise them to find a cleaner place.
* * *
"I suppose it was 'I spy' you were playing at," she said, and she did not notice that no one answered her.
* * *
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly enough.
* * *
Hugh and Freda were rather unusually quiet, at which their Mother and elder sister rejoiced.
* * *
"I do hope," said Sybil, as she drove home with Mrs. Kingley, leaving the younger ones to follow as they had come, "I do hope those Frere children, though they are younger, will have a good influence upon Hugh and the girls, Freda especially. She has been getting wilder and wilder. And Helena is such a lady-like, well-bred little girl."
* * *
"I hope so too," said her Mother. "I own I was a little afraid of our children startling the Freres, but they seem to have got on all right."
* * *
"Good night, dears," said Mrs. Frere to her three children an hour or so later. "You were happy with your new friends, I hope? I think they seem nice children, and they were very quiet and well-behaved to-day. Leigh, my boy, you look half asleep—are you very tired?"
* * *
"My eyes are tired," said Leigh, "and my head, rather."
* * *
"Well, off with you to bed, then," she said cheerfully. She would not have felt or spoken so cheerfully if she could have seen into her little daughter's heart.
* * *
Nurse too noticed that Leigh looked pale and heavy-eyed.
* * *
She said she was afraid he had somehow caught cold. So she gave him something hot to drink after he was in bed, and soon he was fast asleep, breathing peacefully.
* * *
"He can't be very bad," thought Helena, "if he sleeps so quietly."
* * *
But though she tried not to be anxious about him, she herself could not succeed in going to sleep.
* * *
She tossed about, and dozed a little, and then woke up again—wider awake each time, it seemed to her. It was not all anxiety about Leigh; the truth was, her conscience was not at peace; she felt as if she deserved to be anxious about her little brother, for she saw clearly now, how she had been to blame—first, for giving in to the Kingleys in doing what she knew her Mother would not have approved of, and besides, and even worse than that—in concealing the wrong-doing, and telling what was "not quite true" to her trusting Mother.
* * *
The tears forced their way into Helena's eyes when she owned this to herself, and at last she felt that she could bear it no longer.
* * *
She got softly out of bed without waking Nurse, and made her way to the little room where Willie slept alone.
* * *
"Willie," she said at the door, almost in a whisper, but Willie heard her. He, too, for a wonder, was not able to sleep well to-night, and he at once sat straight up in bed.
* * *
"Yes, Nelly," he said, in a low, though frightened voice, "what is it? Is Leigh ill?"
* * *
"No," Helena replied; "at least, I hope not, though I'm awfully unhappy about him. It's partly that and partly—everything, Willie—all we did this afternoon. And worst of all," and here poor Nelly had hard work to choke down a lump that began to come in her throat, "I didn't tell Mamma the truth, when she asked what we were doing, you remember, Willie."
* * *
"Yes," said Willie, "I remember. You said we were hiding, and so we were."
* * *
"But it wasn't quite true the way I let her think it," persisted Helena. "Even if the words were true, the thinking wasn't. And it has made me so dreadfully unhappy. I didn't know how to wait till the morning to tell her—I know I shan't go to sleep all night," and she did indeed look very white and miserable.
* * *
Willie considered; he had good ideas sometimes, though Helena often called him slow and stupid.
* * *
"I know what," he said. "You shall write a letter to Mamma—now, this minute. I've got paper and ink and pens and everything, in my new birthday writing-case, and I've got matches. Since my birthday, Papa said I might have them in my room."
* * *
For Willie was a very careful little boy. If there was no likelihood of his "setting the Thames on fire," his Father had said once, "there was even less fear of his setting the house on fire," and though Willie did not quite understand about the "Thames"—how could a river burn?—he saw that Papa meant something nice, so he felt quite pleased.
* * *
And the next morning, the first thing Mrs. Frere saw on her toilet-table was a note addressed rather shakily in pencil, to "dear Mamma."