CHAPTER III
A SPRAINED ANKLE
Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was a great walker and took many long, long trampsaround the countryside. The villagers had got quite used to thespectacle of the white-haired lady clad in a short skirt of stout tweedand heavy laced boots. White hair is not always the accompaniment oftrembling fingers, black silk gowns and knitting.
But her habit of taking lonely walks brought about an accident thatmight have been serious if it had not been for the twins’ love ofexploring.
Branching off the main road that led from Sunnycrest to the village wasa winding lane known as Birch Lane, which had a little story attached toit. The road had been built long ago by a very rich man as the avenueleading to his big country house. It was built below the level of theground with grassy terraces sloping up on each side, along the base ofwhich beautiful birch trees had been planted. But the rich man lost allhis money and became too poor to build his house. The lane was leftdeserted and uncared-for, the graceful trees grew bent and gnarled andsome of them died; the grass terraces slipped and caved in until theybecame only clay banks.
Jane and Christopher had often looked up the gloomy little roadway, nowno more than a mere cow-path, and asked many questions concerning it.They both had a great longing to “explore” its depths, each for adifferent reason. Jane was sure that the fairies danced there and felt abreathless hope of one day catching them at it. Christopher, on theother hand, thought it not unlikely that a stray wolf or even a bearmight be prowling around the tiny wilderness.
As the lane was only a mile distant from Sunnycrest, grandmother saidthey might go on a voyage of discovery—“only you go on voyages in aboat,” Christopher had corrected her—whenever Joshua could spare JoPerkins to go with them. Jane rebelled at this, for she was sure thefairies would never appear before a great big boy of fourteen. Butgrandmother was firm on this point; so the trio started off one sunnyafternoon, Jo Perkins carrying a basket containing quite a day’sprovisions “in case they might get hungry before supper-time,” Huldahexplained.
Christopher and Perk discussed fishing, rabbit-shooting and other manlytopics while Jane skipped along in silence, her big eyes shining and herlittle mouth smiling at her thoughts.
“I shouldn’t be a single bit surprised to see some, even with Perkalong,” she whispered to herself. “The books say they dance at night inthe moonlight; but I am sure fairies must love the sunshine, it is sobright and goldy—just like themselves. And I should think they’d feelperfectly safe to dance in such an out-of-the-waysy place when mostpeople are taking naps.”
The lane was very quiet and very beautiful. The sun shone down throughthe dancing leaves of the birch trees in flickering rays that might wellhave been the gleam of a fleeing fairy; the white tree trunks glimmeredlike pillars of silver. The silence was so great that to have it brokenby the growl of a bear or, indeed, the snarl of a tiger, would not havebeen in the least astonishing or out of the way. But no such sound brokethe summer stillness.
Indeed, it looked as if the children were to have the whole length ofthe deserted lane to themselves. They walked along the top of the bank,alert and watchful for any adventure, Christopher chattering as usual,Jane quiet and content.
“There ain’t much use in goin’ any farther,” said Jo Perkins at last.“There’s only one more turnin’, an’ that comes out into Pete Hull’s cowpasture. An’ this basket’s powerful heavy to lug so far. I say we helpmake it a bit lighter by disposin’ of some of the contents,” he added ina suggestive tone.
“Oh, Perk, please let us go just to the last turn, and then we’ll eatour lunch,” coaxed Jane.
So they walked on for another three minutes until a sudden sweep of theroad showed them a broad space of golden sunshine and green grass. Itwas there that the poor rich man’s house was to have stood, tall andstately, with white columns and terraced gardens; alas, it was now onlya pasture for cows.
The wide field with the cows lazily browsing gave the children a homely,comfortable sense of security. They felt that they had penetrated amysterious wild and were back again in civilization. Jo Perkins hadalready begun to unpack the basket and Christopher was watching him withhis soul—or more literally his stomach—in his eyes, when Jane’sattention was suddenly attracted by the flutter of something white downin the lane below them. She knelt on the edge of the bank and peeredover, in breathless excitement. Was she to see a really-truly fairy atlast?
What she did see surprised her so that she almost lost her balance andtumbled over the edge of the bank. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones was seated on theroots of an old birch tree, her back against the clay bank, the yellowclay of which clung to her jacket when she leaned forward to catchJane’s eye. But she did not get up.
“Oh, you blessed child!” she called. “Never was I so thankful to see anyone in the whole of my life! I have sprained my ankle and cannot move astep. The fairies must have sent you! I began to think I should have tosit here forever and forever.”
At once there was a grand excitement. The three children, basket andall, came tumbling down the bank to Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s side, everyone talking and suggesting aid at once. After the first moment of flurryPerk pocketed half a dozen doughnuts, to fortify him on the way, andbolted for home at top speed to fetch help. Jane and Christopher busiedthemselves in trying to make Mrs. Hartwell-Jones more comfortable. Byleaning on Christopher’s stalwart little shoulder she managed to getupon one foot and move to a drier, sunnier spot where she sat uponJane’s jacket and leaned against Christopher’s—which arrangement thetwins insisted upon in spite of her protests.
“For you see you might get inflammation or something dreadful if youcatch cold in your hurt foot,” Jane explained in her most motherlymanner.
To beguile the time of waiting for Jo Perkins’s return they lunched outof Huldah’s generous basket and Mrs. Hartwell-Jones explained everydetail of her accident, in answer to Christopher’s rapid questions,trying to identify for his satisfaction the exact root which had twistedher foot, and even what she had been thinking about not to have noticedthe rough place. Jane listened with interest and sympathy but she saidnothing. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s impulsive words: “I believe the fairiesmust have sent you” still rang in her ears. Had the fairies guided herto that last turn? She shuddered as she thought that if Jo Perkins hadhad his way they would have stopped short of that final bend and thenperhaps Mrs. Hartwell-Jones would have had to sit on and on through thechilly evening and perhaps the night. Blessed fairies!
“If Letty had been with us to-day, she would have helped me watch forthe fairies,” she broke out suddenly.
“Did Letty believe in fairies?”
“Yes, she told me so. She said she loved fairy stories. I wish——” Janepaused and her eyes grew wistful. “I wish Letty hadn’t had to go off insuch a hurry the other day. She looked so sad. You know her mother diedand she told me on the train platform that day that her brother had diedtoo. I don’t believe she has anybody now. And she didn’t even have timeto tell me where she was going.”
“Oh, she’ll turn up again; people always do,” declared Christophercheerfully. “I don’t see why you need be so sorry for Letty. It must bejolly fun, belonging to a circus.”
“I wonder if she still has Punch and Judy. They were such cunningponies, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones.”
“I see that a circus is to visit Hammersmith before very long,” repliedMrs. Hartwell-Jones. “Do you suppose it could possibly be the one towhich your little friend belongs?”
“Oh, I wonder if it is! I hadn’t thought of that!” exclaimed Jane ingreat excitement. “Oh, I wish—I hope it will be!”
When the carriage arrived—the big family carryall it was, with Joshuadriving, grandmother was in it. She would not hear of Mrs.Hartwell-Jones’s taking the long, jolty drive to the village. She was tocome directly to Sunnycrest and there be nursed and cared for until herfoot was well again. By the most wonderful good luck Dr. Greene haddriven past the gate of Sunnycrest just as J
o Perkins delivered hismessage, had been hailed, brought back and was at that moment waiting tosee the patient.
Joshua assisted Mrs. Hartwell-Jones carefully into the carriage, thechildren tucked themselves and the hamper in, and they drove rapidlyaway from the deserted lane, looking more mysterious than ever under thelengthening shadows of the afternoon sun; left it to the bees and therabbits and—perhaps—to the fairies. Who knows?
Letty and the Twins Page 3