Adventures of Bobby Orde

by Anonymous

  III

  HIDE AND COOP

  Early Monday morning Bobby was afoot and on his way to the Ottawa Hotel.He ran fast until within a block of it; then unexpectedly his gaitslackened to a walk, finally to a loiter. He became strangely reluctant,strangely bashful about approaching the place. This was not to beunderstood.

  Usually when he wanted to go play with any one, he simply went and didso. Now all sorts of barriers seemed to intervene, and the worst of itwas that these barriers he seemed to have spun from out his own soul.Then too a queer feeling suddenly invaded his chest, exactly like thathe remembered to have experienced during the downward rush of a swing.Bobby could not comprehend these things; they just were. He was fairlyto the point of deciding to go back and look at the Flobert Rifle, inthe shop window, when a group of children ran out from the wide officedoors to the croquet court at the side.

  Among them Bobby made out Celia, a different Celia from her of thepicnic. Her curls danced as full of life and light as ever; the biscuitbrown of her complexion glowed as smooth and clean; even from a distanceBobby could see the contrast of her black eyes; but on her head she worea brown chip hat; her gown was of plain blue gingham; her slim straightlegs were encased in heavy strong stockings. She looked like a healthy,lively little girl out for a good time; and the sight cheered Bobby'swavering courage as nothing else could. His vague ideas of retreat werediscarded.

  But he did not know how to approach. The children inside the low railfence were placing the brilliantly-striped wooden balls in a row inorder to determine by 'pinking' at the stake who should have theadvantageous last shot. Bobby, irresolute, halted outside, shiftinguneasily, wanting to join the group, but withheld by the unwontedbashfulness. Amid shouts and exclamations each clicked his malletagainst his ball, and immediately ran forward with the greatesteagerness to see how near the stake he had come. At last the groupformed close. A moment's dispute cleared. Celia had won, and now stooderect, her cheeks flushing, her eyes dancing with triumph. In so doingshe caught sight of Bobby hesitating outside.

  "Why, there's Bobby!" she cried. "Come on in, Bobby, and play!"

  At the sound of her voice, all his timidity vanished. He entered boldlyand joined the others.

  "This is Bobby," announced Celia by way of general introduction, "andthis," she continued, turning to Bobby, "is Gerald, and Morris, andKitty and Margaret."

  "Hullo," said Morris, "Grab a mallet, and come on."

  Bobby liked Morris, who was a short, redheaded boy of jolly aspect.Gerald, a youth of perhaps twelve years of age, rather tall and slender,of very dark, clear, pale complexion, nodded carelessly. Bobby took animmediate distaste for him. He looked altogether too superior, andsleepy and distinguished--yes, and stylish. Bobby was very young andinexperienced; but even he could feel that Gerald's round straw hat, andnorfolk-cut jacket, and neat, loose, short trousers buckled at the kneecontrasted a little more than favourably with his own chip hat, blueblouse and tight breeches. Also he was already dusty, while Gerald wasimmaculate.

  As to Kitty and Margaret, they were nice, neat, clean, pretty littlegirls--but not like Celia!

  Bobby found a mallet and ball in the long wooden case, and joined thegame. He was not skilful at it, and soon fell behind the others in theprogress through the wickets. Indeed, when, after two strokes, he had atlast gained position for the "middle arch," he met Gerald coming theother way. Gerald shot for his ball; hit it; and then, with a disdainfulair, knocked Bobby away out of bounds across the lawn. This was quitewithin the rules, but it made Bobby angry just the same. As he trudgeddoggedly away after his ball, he felt himself very much alone under whathe thought must be the derisive eyes of all the rest. The game endedbefore he had gained the turning stake.

  "Skunked," remarked Morris cheerfully.

  Gerald said nothing, did not even look; but Bobby liked Morris's commentbetter than Gerald's assumed indifference.

  "Let's have another game--partners," suggested Gerald to Celia.

  But Bobby, to his own great surprise, found courage to speak up.

  "Let's not play croquet any more," said he. "Let's have a game ofHi-Spy."

  "It's too hot," interposed Gerald quickly.

  The others said nothing, but with the child's keen instinct for thedrama, had drawn aside in favour of the principal actors. Gerald stoodby the stake, leaning indolently on his mallet, his long black lashesdown-cast over the dark pallor of his cheeks, very handsome, verygraceful. Bobby had drawn near on Celia's other side. The comparisonshowed all his freckles and the unformed homeliness of his rather dumpy,sturdy figure; it showed also the honest dull red of his cheeks and theclear unfaltering gray of his eyes. Celia, between them, looked down,tapping her croquet ball with the tip of her shoe.

  "I don't think it's very hot," she said at last, looking up. "Let's playHi-Spy."

  A wave of glowing triumph rushed through Bobby's soul. Gerald merelyshrugged his shoulders.

  But unmixed joy was to be a short-lived emotion with Bobby as far asCelia was concerned. He knew lots of fine hiding-places about thegrounds of the Ottawa, and he promised himself that he would take Celiato them. They could hide together; and that would be delightful.

  Morris counted out first to be "it." He leaned his arm against a post,his head against his arm, and closed his eyes.

  "Ten-ten-double-ten-forty-five-fifteen" he repeated over ten times asrapidly as possible. That was his way of counting a thousand.

  The other children scurried off as fast as their legs could carry themin order to reach concealment before the end of the count. And somehow,against his will, Bobby found himself cast in the hurry of the momentwith Kitty instead of with Celia. And Celia he saw disappear in Gerald'sconvoy.

  "Coming!" roared Morris, uncovering his eyes.

  "Oh dear, he's coming!" cried Kitty in distress, "and we're not hid!Where shall we go? Don't you know any good places?"

  But Bobby, still confused over his disappointment, had not the witswherewith to think in so pressing an emergency. He vacillated betweenpillar and post; and so was espied by the goal-keeper. Morrisimmediately set himself in rapid motion for the "home."

  "One, two, three for Bobby Orde!" he cried, striking the postvigorously. "One, two, three for Kitty Clark!"

  The two reluctantly appeared.

  "There, now, you got us caught," accused Kitty sulkily.

  "Never mind," consoled Bobby, "anyway he saw me first. I'm it!"

  Morris was off prowling after more prey. As he disappeared around thecorner of the building a rapid flash of skirts was visible from theother. Morris caught it; and, turning, raced with all his might back tothe home goal. But Margaret had too good a head start. She arrivedfirst; and immediately began to dance around and around, her long legstwinkling, her two thick braids flying.

  "In free! In free!" she shrieked over and over again.

  There still remained Celia and Gerald. Morris set himself very carefullyto find them, prowling into all likely places, but returning abruptlyevery moment or so in order to forestall or discourage attempts to getin. He proved unsuccessful; nor did his absence seem to afford theothers chances to run home. The other three watched with growingimpatience.

  "Oh, Morris, let them in!" begged Kitty. Bobby felt a glow of kindlinesstoward her for making the suggestion. He would not have proffered ithimself for worlds. Morris, however, was obstinate. He continued hissearch for at least ten minutes. At last he had to give in.

  "All sorts in free!" he called at the top of his voice.

  Celia and Gerald appeared smiling and unruffled. They refused to divulgetheir hiding-place.

  "We'll save it until next time," said Celia.

  Bobby blinded his eyes and counted. He had no interest in the game, andexperienced inside himself a half-sick, hollow feeling unique in hisexperience. Morris, Kitty and Margaret got in free, simply because hisattention was too lax. Gerald and Celia had once more disappeared. Aftera decent interval the others became clamorous again for general amnesty.


  "Blind again, Bobby," they urged, "let them in free."

  But Bobby continued to search beyond the places he had already looked.His further knowledge of the hotel grounds was a negligible quantity; sohe began, consistently to eliminate all possibilities. From one cornerhe zigzagged back and forth, testing every nook and cranny that mightcontain a human being. Thus he examined every foot of the place; butwithout results. He was puzzled; but he would not give up. Methodically,and to the vast disgust of the others, he began over again at the cornerfrom which he had started. No results.

  "No fair outside the grounds!" he shouted. To this of course, no answercame.

  "Give it up!" urged the others.

  "I won't!" insisted Bobby doggedly.

  He did not know where to search next, so he looked up. The hotel wasprovided with a broad shady flat-roofed verandah. At the edge of thisroof, projecting the least bit above, Bobby glimpsed a fold of blue. Thepair were evidently lying at full length in the spacious water gutter.The blue could be nothing but the gingham of Celia's dress. NeverthelessBobby walked to goal and calmly announced.

  "One, two, three for Gerald--on the verandah roof!" And then, after adeliberate pause, "All sorts in free!"

  Gerald blinded. Bobby, with determination, took Celia's hand, andbreathlessly the pair sped away. The little boy's first move was toplace the hotel building between himself and Gerald.

  "Can you climb a fence?" he asked hurriedly.

  "If it isn't too high."

  "Come on then, I know a dandy place."

  Bobby attacked the board fence behind the hotel. Two packing-boxes ofdifferent heights made the problem of ascent easy. But the other sidewas a sheer drop; and Celia was afraid.

  "I can't!" she cried. "It's too far!"

  "Just drop," advised Bobby desperately. "Hurry up! He'll be around thecorner!"

  "I daren't!" cried poor Celia. "You go first."

  Promptly Bobby dangled; and dropped.

  "See; it's easy. Come on, I'll catch you!"

  Finally Celia wiggled over the edge, shut her eyes, and let go. Shelanded directly on Bobby, and the two went down in a heap.

  "Come on!" whispered Bobby. "Scoot!"

  Before them rose a whitewashed barn. Celia's hand in his, Bobby dartedin at the open doorway, and more by instinct than by sight, found arickety steep flight of stairs and ascended to the hay-mow.

  "There, isn't that great?" he whispered.

  They sank back on the soft fragrant hay, and breathed luxuriously afterthe haste of the last few moments. A score of mice had scurried away attheir abrupt entrance; and the fairy-like echoes of these animals' tinyfeet seemed to linger in the twilight. Through cracks long pencils ofsunlight lay across the hay and the dim criss-cross of the raftersabove. Dust motes crossed them in lazy eddies, each visible for a goldenmoment as it entered the glow of its brief importance, only to beblotted into invisibility as it passed.

  "Is this a fair hide?" whispered Celia. "This is outside the grounds."

  "It's the hotel barn," replied Bobby. "I bet he doesn't find us here."

  They fell silent, because they were hiding, and in that silence theyunconsciously drew nearer to each other. The delicious aroma of the hayovercame their spirits with a drowsiness. New sensations thronged onBobby's spirit, made receptive by the narcotic influences of the tepidair, the mysterious dimness, the wands of gold, the floating briefdust-motes. He wanted to touch Celia; and he found himself diffident. Hewanted to hear her voice; and he suddenly discovered in himself anembarrassment in addressing her which was causeless and foolish. Hewanted to look at her; and he did so; but it was not frankly andopenly, as he had always looked at people before. His shy side-glancesdelighted in the clear curve of her cheeks; the soft wheat-colour of hercurls; the dense black of her half-closed eyes; the brown of hercomplexion; the sweet cleanliness of her. A faint warm fragranceemanated from her. Bobby's heart leaped and stood still. All at once heknew what was the matter. It is a mistake to imagine that children donot recognize love when it comes to them. Love requires no announcement,no definition, no description. Only in later years when the first freshpurity of the heart has gone, we may perhaps require of him anintroduction.

  At once Bobby felt swelling within his breast a great longing, a hungerwhich filled his throat, a yearning that made him faint. For what? Whocan tell. The idea of possession was still years distant; the thought ofa caress had not yet come to him; the bare notion that Celia could carefor him had not as yet unfolded its dazzling wings; even the desire totell her was not yet born. Probably at no other period of a humanbeing's life is the passion of love so pure, so divorced from allconsiderations of the material, or of self, so shiningly its etherealspiritual soul. Yet love it is; such love as the grown man feels for hismate; with all the great inner breathless longings of the highestpassion.

  The two lay curled side by side in their nests of hay. Time passed, butthey did not know of it. The little boy was drowned in the depths ofthis new thing that had come to him. Celia filled the world to him. Hisreverie brimmed with her. Yet somehow also there came to him otherthings, unsought, and floated about him, and became more fully part ofhim than they had ever been before. It was an incongruous assortment;some of the knights of Sir Malory; the River above the booms, with thebrown logs; a plume of white steam against the dazzling blue sky; themellow six-o'clock church bell to which he arose every morning; thesnake-fence by the sandhill as it was in winter, with the wreaths ofsnow; and all through everything the feel of the woods he had seen atthe picnic, their canopy of green so far above, their splashes ofsunlight through the rifts, the friendly summer warmth of their air,their hot, spicy wood-smells wandering to and fro; their tall trunks,their undergrowth, with the green tunnels far through them, the flashesof their birds' wings, their green transparent shadows. These came tohim, vaguely, and their existence seemed explained. They were becauseCelia was. And so, in the musty loft of an ill-kept stable, Bobbyentered another portion of the beautiful heritage that was some day tobe his.