The lane brought them to the back streets of the little town and they followed these toward the sunset. Beyond the town the road began to climb steeply between woods and fields. Streams ran through the fields, quick-running streams that had come down from the hills, and buttercups lay in pools of gold beside them. Birds were singing everywhere, in the woods and beside the streams. The air, coming down from the hills as the streams had, was cool and yet the golden sun gave a warm edge to it. It made them want to sing and so they sang, not with any particular words but just humming and whistling, laughing and calling out to each other as the birds were doing. They felt happy and it was a long time since they had. It was wonderful to be happy again.
And then gradually one by one they began to leave the birds to sing alone. Betsy stopped first and complained that her legs were aching and Nan said, “You’d better carry her, Robert.” He took her on his back willingly, being fond of her, but that silenced him too for she was heavy. Then Timothy stopped whistling because actually Father had been quite correct in considering him not as strong as the others. Then Nan stopped singing because
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she was beginning to feel worried. It was getting dusky under the trees and when she looked up at the bits of sky that showed through the pattern of branches they were no longer gold but rose-colored. The cool air no longer had an edge of warmth but was downright chilly and they had not brought their coats with them. She and Betsy were only wearing their linen smocks, Betsy’s green to match her wicked eyes and hers blue to tone with hers, that were gray-blue, quiet and gentle. The boys wore linen sailor suits, which were the fashion for the male young in those days, very dirty after the hen-house light, but there’s no warmth in dirt. And still they were not up in Robert’s mountains but only climbing the lower slopes and the slopes of mountains can last a long time, Nan knew. It would be dark when they got there and how did they know if they would find anywhere to sleep or anything to eat when they arrived? She began to think that Robert’s latest idea had not been one of his best, but she did not say so because when an idea has hardened into consequences it is too late to change it for another. That is why ideas should never be put into practice the moment you have them. They should be chewed like cud for twenty-four hours.
But the children tonight were to have a luck greater than they deserved, for rounding a corner they saw a thatched inn beside the road, with light shining from a curtained window. They knew it was an inn because the painted sign of a wheatsheaf hung over the door. A pony and cart stood outside. The cart was the type known in
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those days as a governess cart and there was plenty of room in it for four children and a dog. The pony was looking at them over his shoulder and he seemed to like them for he whinnied softly. He was piebald, chestnut and white, fat but not too fat. There was no one with him and the reins were loosely knotted around an old thorn tree. He was the pony of Robert’s dreams and before he knew what he was doing he had spilled Betsy off his back onto the seat of the cart and untied the reins from the tree. Then he picked up Absolom and dropped him on top of Betsy. “Get in,” he said to the other two. Timothy scrambled in at once but Nan hesitated. “It’s stealing,” she said.
“Borrowing,” said Robert. “There’s a difference.”
Nan thought to herself that it was hard to tell the difference sometimes, but she got in because just at that moment her loving anxiety to get Timothy and Betsy and Absolom wherever it was they were going rather got the better of her honesty. i
They drove off at a good pace, Robert holding the reins. There was no whip but they did not need it, so eager was the strong brisk little pony to take them wherever it was they were going. He seemed to know exactly where that was for whenever they came to a turn in the road he did not hesitate. Robert was in an ecstasy. His red hair lifted on his head with the wind of their going and his green eyes shone like lamps. He had never driven a pony and cart before but he did it as though to the manner born. He felt as though he and the pony were
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one person. “He’s called Roy/’ he shouted to the others. “Rob-Roy. Rob’s Roy. I’m Rob and he’s Roy.” And throwing back his head he began to sing again. Over their heads the sky was a mysterious green and a few stars were showing.
The others were glad to be off their feet but less ecstatic because they were cold and hungry. However Timothy, flung off the seat to the floor as Rob-Roy whirled them around a corner, made in his prostrate position a most timely discovery. Under one seat was an old rug full of holes and a bag of apples and under the other a basket of groceries: crackers and cheese, slices of cold ham, a jar of pickles, lump sugar, a pot of marmalade, eight cans of sardines and a bar of Sunlight soap. “Stop!” yelled Timothy and they stopped by a gorse bush and had a gorgeous meal. They did not forget the pony and Absolom. Rob-Roy crunched up four apples and a quarter of a pound of lump sugar in his strong white teeth and Absolom had eight crackers and a quarter of a pound of cheese. When they had finished eating, there was nothing left except half a pot of marmalade, the soap and sardines, and they all felt completely different.
From then on it was a wonderful drive, and when the road was so steep that Rob-Roy could only go at a walking pace they looked about them in wonder, for they seemed to be climbing to the top of the world. Great hills shouldered up into that strange green sky, and below they fell steeply away into deep valleys filled with mist. The shadows on the hills were the color of grapes. Then
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gradually the color drained away. The sky changed from green to deep blue, the stars grew brighter, and a hidden moon shone behind a hill that had an outcrop of rock like a castle or a city on its crest, and another rock like a lion’s head beneath it. It grew steadily colder and even with the rug and after all they had eaten they began to shiver. They were a bit scared, too, for it was strange and lonely and they didn’t seem to be coming to wherever it was they were going. But no one cried or complained for though insubordinate they were courageous. Nan did say just once, “Robert, are you quite sure Rob-Roy knows where we’re going?” but after Robert had answered very snappily, “Can’t you see he knows?” she did not say anything more. But she could tell by his snappishness: that Robert was a bit worried too.
And then the moon sailed up from behind the hill and the whole world was washed in silver. They could see more now: low stone walls, clumps of thorn trees blown all one way by the prevailing wind, and ahead of them a cluster of cottages on a small hill with lights showing in their windows and a tall church tower rising behind them. Rob-Roy quickened his pace. He rattled them down a slope and over an old stone bridge that crossed a little river, and then uphill again toward the village. Just at the foot of the village street he turned left through an open gate in a stone wall, jolted them over the cobbles of a yard and stopped dead in front of a stable door. They had arrived.
2
Wliere Tliey Went
They jumped eagerly out of the cart and looked about them. The yard was enclosed by the stable and three high stone walls and had a pump in the middle of it. One wall was built against the hillside and a flight of stone steps led up beside it to a door at the top. Beyond the door there seemed to be a garden on the slope of the hill and above it a house. They could not see any lighted windows but there was a glimmer through the trees that made them think there must be a light in one of the downstairs rooms.
“But we must stable Rob-Roy first/’ said Robert. None of them had unharnessed a pony before but by dint
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of unfastening every buckle they could find they got Rob- Roy free and led him into the stable. In the moonlight flooding through the open door they could see a rough towel hanging from a nail on the wall and with this Robert rubbed him down and they put the rug from the cart over him. There was hay in the manger and wate
r in the bucket and he immediately made himself at home. They kissed him and patted him and said, “Good night Rob-Roy,” and they felt he liked them.
They came out and shut the stable door and climbed up the stone steps beside the wall. It seemed to be an old wall, built of rough gray stone, with small ferns and plants growing in the crannies. The door at the top of the steps had a stone arch over it and seemed old too but the latch lifted easily and they went through into the garden. It was queer and creepy in the garden because there were so many tall bushes and odd steps here and there. Then the bushes vanished and they came out on a sloping lawn and there was the house up above them, its granite walls covered with creepers and a terrace running along in front of the French windows of the ground floor.
It was the center one that was lighted, and framed in the shadows of the creepers it was like a picture hung on a dark wall. There was a table in the window and in front of it an elderly gentleman dressed in black sat writing with a large quill pen, an oil lamp beside him on the table and piles of books all around him on the floor. He had a big domed forehead with white hair sprouting up on either t side of it, and white whiskers, but the rest of his face was
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clean-shaven. His eyes beneath bushy white eyebrows were looking down at the paper but Nan was quite sure they were bright and fierce. He was writing with great concentration, his pen spluttering and his grim mouth working. He was a most alarming figure altogether for his broad strong shoulders suggested he would be at least six feet tall when he stood up. The children and Absolom drew nearer, both terrified and attracted, for behind him they could see in the glimmer of firelight a great globe of the world shining like a second moon, and perched on the high carved back of the chair was a little owl. As the children watched, it spread its wings and flapped them twice and hooted. They had now come so close that they were standing at the bottom of a flight of four narrow steps that led up from the lawn to the terrace exactly in front of the window. The owl hooted again in warning and the elderly gentleman looked up.
It was no good running away for, caught in the beam of lamplight, he could see them as clearly as though it were broad daylight. Nor could they have run if they had tried, for his terrible gaze transfixed them. At first he was as still as they were, his face a mask of incredulous anger, and then he rose slowly to his feet, so slowly that it seemed his great height would never cease rising toward the ceiling. His big strong chin was propped up on a stiff white high collar that seemed to make him stiffer and taller than ever. He unfastened the French window, flung it wide and came out onto the terrace.
“What on earth?” he inquired in a terrible deep voice,
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gazing down at them huddled together at the foot of the steps.
Robert was usually the family spokesman but his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and it was Nan who replied. “Please, sir, four children and a dog.”
“I have my eyesight,” said the elderly gentleman, “and have already observed that there are four children and a dog, but may I be permitted to inquire what four children and a dog are doing on my lawn at this time of night?”
“It’s where we’ve come to,” said Nan.
“That also I observe. But how did you come?”
Robert’s tongue came unstuck and he said, “Rob-Roy brought us, sir. Rob-Roy, my pony. He brought us in the cart.”
“And where have you left this pony and cart?” “Rob-Roy is in the stable,” said Robert, “and the cart in the yard.”
“My yard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also possess a pony and cart,” said the elderly gentleman. “My gardener drove to the town this afternoon to fetch my groceries and I am momentarily expecting his return. What do you suppose my own pony, Jason by name, will make of an intruder in his stable?”
Nan suddenly turned very white and then all by herself she mounted the steps and came to the elderly gentleman. They were all brave children but she was the bravest. She looked up at him where he stood with his
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hands behind his back and his legs wide apart, glaring down at her, and she said, “Rob-Roy isn't really Robert’s pony. He only calls him that because he loves him so. Rob’s Roy. We’d walked a long way uphill and we were dreadfully tired, especially Betsy because she’s only six, and we saw the pony and cart outside an inn with a wheatsheaf painted on the sign, and we got in and Rob- Roy, I mean Jason, brought us here.” Then she turned as red as she had been white, swallowed hard and whispered, “I’m afraid we’ve eaten all the groceries except half a pot of marmalade, the soap and eight cans of sardines.”
Her voice died away and she began to tremble and to her horror she could feel a few hot tears trickling over her cheekbones and down in front of her ears, but she did not take her eyes from the elderly gentleman’s face or flinch when he shot out a large brown wrinkled hand, gripped her shoulder and swung her around so that the lamplight fell on her face. It fell on his face too and she ceased to be afraid. He was not exactly smiling but there was a slight twitching at the corners of his grim mouth and the grip on her shoulder, though it hurt her, was reassuring. And then a very odd thing happened to her. From one moment to another she loved him.
“Stealing, eh?” he said. “Were you running away by any chance?”
Nan nodded.
“From whom?”
“Grandmama and Miss Bolt.”
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“Merciful heavens!” he ejaculated. “What’s your name?”
“Anna Linnet,” said Nan.
The elderly gentleman gave a deep groan and looked down at the others. “You three down there. Come up. Come in. Bring the dog. Might as well go the whole way. If there is anything I dislike more than a child it’s a dog. Merciful heavens! And I trusted never to set eyes on a child again.”
He made a despairing gesture and led the way into his library. The children followed in single file, Absolom bringing up the rear with his tail between his legs. Then he caught sight of the owl, barked joyously and leapt up into the elderly gentleman’s chair. The owl took off and floated to the top of a large oil painting of some ruins and a thunderstorm that hung over the fireplace. Then he opened his beak, said, “Hick,” and a pellet shaped like a plum stone shot out of it and hit Absolom on the nose. Glancing off onto the carpet the pellet broke open and disintegrated into a collection of small beaks and claws and a penny. “Do not do that again,” said the elderly gentleman to Absolom. “If Hector is annoyed he shoots out undigested matter in this unpleasant fashion. You, boy, what’s your name? Speak up. What? Timothy? Shovel up the beaks and claws and put them in the Ere. You may keep the penny. Sit down. Do not touch my books or my papers. In twenty minutes I shall for my sins be with you again. Merciful heavens, here’s a kettle of fish!”
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He left the room, banging the door behind him. They heard his footsteps in the hall and another door banged.
“Is he quite right in his head?” asked Robert hoarsely.
“Quite right,” said Nan. “Let’s sit down, like he told us, and get warm.”
They sat in front of the fire and looked about them. It was a big room but the bookcases that lined the walls could not hold the number of books the elderly gentleman possessed and they had overflowed onto the chairs and the floor. Where the carpet could be seen it was deep crimson, and so were the velvet curtains at the three long windows, but they were faded and torn and the deep leather armchairs had the stuffing bursting out of them. The mantelpiece was comfortably littered with pipes and tobacco jars, and the grandfather clock and the wonderful globe of the world were as kindly presences in the room as the glowing fire. Suddenly they felt befriended, in spite of Hector’s outraged gaze. It was a friendly room, smelling of leather and tobacco and burning logs and
home. Absolom expressed the feelings of them all when he flopped down on the woolly hearthrug in front of the fire, laid his chin on his extended paws, sighed twice and fell asleep. Betsy fell asleep too, in Nan’s arms in the deepest armchair, and the boys sat on the rug by Absolom and contentedly fed the fire with fir cones from a basket that stood on the hearth. The grandfather clock ticked gently and Hector’s expression slowly changed from outrage to resignation.
And then suddenly their drowsy peace was shattered
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by the sound of a quickly trotting horse coming from the direction of the village. The rider came past the house, slowing down where the hill was steep, crossed the bridge at the bottom and then urged his horse to a canter up the long slope beyond. The sound of the hoofs died away in the distance and the children looked at each other in dismay. There were no telephones in those days, and only rich people had cars, so urgent messages were often carried on horseback.
“Has he sent a message to Grandmama?” gasped Timothy.
“How could he?” asked Nan. “He doesn’t know where she lives.”
“Don’t be such a fool, Tim,” said Robert.
Yet in spite of the impossibility of a message being sent to Grandmama they all felt a little uneasy, and still more so when the elderly gentleman returned looking grimmer than ever and capable of anything. “I see nothing to be done but for you to stay the night,” he growled. “Dog and all. Merciful heavens, what an infliction! Since nothing is left of my groceries except marmalade and soap and Hector’s sardines I presume you are not hungry. You are however extremely dirty and one of you is smelling abominably of violet scent. I dislike scent. That is why I am a bachelor. You must wash and get to bed. I know nothing of the routine of getting children to bed but you, I presume”—and he pointed a long forefinger at Nan—“can superintend the horrid business. I’ll show you where the bed is and provide you with hot water and
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