Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  PETER MAKES A DIVERSION.

  But for Peter and Becky schoolroom breakfast next morning wouldhave been a very dismal and quiet affair, for the elder cousins hadlittle to say to each other.

  Herbert and Brenda cudgelled their brains for topics ofconversation to keep things going, and they thought they had neverhad any one so difficult to talk to in their lives. The Australiancousins seemed downright stupid and uninteresting. Just for onething Brenda was thankful--they were not outwardly so unpresentableas she had anticipated.

  Nesta, still smarting under a sense of disappointment, had made asullen resolution not to appear to want to know anything at all. Inspite of Herbert's assurances she was quite sure she did know agreat deal about the house and grounds. Brenda and he should seelater that she did.

  Eustace held his tongue because he had literally nothing to saythat was at all agreeable. They had begun the day by going intotheir mother's room to say good-morning.

  "O children," she had exclaimed when she saw them, "isn't it alllovely?"

  "It is, mummie," began Nesta in such a miserable voice that Eustaceknew she was going on with a "but."

  There were tears of joy in Mrs. Orban's eyes. To her at leasteverything was perfect. Eustace was standing close to Nesta, and hegave her a surreptitious pinch that just nipped the complaint rightoff before the "but" could come out.

  "It is ripping, mother," he said. "I never thought it would be halfso splendid."

  "I knew you would love it," said Mrs. Orban confidently; "and it isso jolly for you having Brenda and Herbert. If only--"

  She stopped, and her face had grown suddenly sad. There was alwaysthat "if only." The twins knew she was thinking of Aunt Dorothy.

  "Look here, Nesta," said Eustace in a low voice when they left theroom, "don't you go grumbling to mother and spoiling everything forher, or you will be a selfish little pig."

  "But when things are horrid--" began Nesta.

  "It won't make them better to worry her," said Eustace shortly.

  "But how could you say it is splendid?" Nesta said with a choke.

  "Well, isn't it?" said Eustace. "I was thinking about the house andthe park. It was not the people mother told us about before wecame, but the place."

  "Grannie and grandfather are not a bit like what I thought," Nestaremarked in an aggrieved tone.

  "They are very beautiful," said Eustace in an awed voice. "Theysomehow match the house and everything in it, and it seems to makethem much too grand for us."

  "I know Herbert and Brenda think _themselves_ much too grand forus," said Nesta crossly. "Fancy their thinking such silly thingsabout the way we lived, just as if we weren't ladies and gentlemen!Why, last night, when Brenda told me we were to go in to dessert,she said, 'You know people always dress for dinner in England,' inthat snubby way of hers; and I laughed right out, and said,'Goodness, father and mother dress for dinner every night athome.'"

  "I think they fancy we are sort of savages," said Eustace. "Itmakes me feel inclined to be one, and give them a shock."

  Dessert the evening before had proved a very dull affair, and thetime in the drawing-room afterwards, playing halma with thecousins, was worse. They all four hailed bedtime with thankfulness.Never before had Eustace and Nesta felt so shut in--so pinned downand overawed. Never, thought Herbert and Brenda, had they met suchqueer, unresponsive children.

  At breakfast they found Becky entirely at home with her keeper, whohad a grave kind of way of smiling down upon the small person andPeter.

  "You had better come and see the house now," said Herbertimmediately after breakfast. "I'm going off rabbit-shooting later."

  "Not you, Master Peter," said nurse as Peter shot off his chair;"your hands and face are all sticky, and must be washed before youcan do anything."

  The others did not offer to wait for him, so the crestfallen Peterwas left behind, wondering why people wanted so much washing inEngland.

  Herbert and Brenda took the twins through the house as they mighthave conducted a party of sight-seers. Eustace accepted everythingin silence, but Nesta did not. For instance,--

  "This is the picture gallery," said Herbert, "and all these peopleare our ancestors."

  "Yes, I know," said Nesta.

  "This is the room Queen Elizabeth is supposed to have slept inonce--"

  "Oh yes, mother told us all about that," broke in Nesta; "and thebishop always sleeps here when he comes to hold confirmations inthe neighbourhood."

  The party passed on in silence. This sort of thing was damping tothe showman.

  "You see that group of swords over there," began Herbert, tryingagain as they reached the hall.

  "The middle one was the one Sir Herbert Chase killed the man withat Worcester and just saved the Prince's life, and you are calledafter him," said Nesta, anticipating the tale.

  Herbert mentally voted his cousin a bumptious brat of a girl.Eustace began to wish Nesta would stop showing off so palpably--itseemed small and silly.

  They passed an interesting looking door, and Nesta at once said,--

  "Oh, we're missing one. That must be the library, because of thedouble doors and the carved owl over them. Do let's go in."

  "Can't," said Herbert, glad to show some superior knowledge atleast of the ways of the house if not of its contents. "Grandfatheris always there all morning, and no one ever disturbs him."

  "That portrait over there is our great-great-grandfather," saidBrenda in the dining-room.

  "No," said Nesta, shaking her head; "one more great.Great-great-great-grandfather, Eustace Chase."

  Brenda flushed with annoyance.

  "Well, I really think I ought to know," she said, "considering I'velived here all my life.--It is only great-great, isn't it,Herbert?"

  Herbert looked worried.

  "No, it is three greats," he said grudgingly.

  "I knew for certain," said Nesta.

  Brenda allowed Herbert to take up the _role_ of conductor awhile.Nesta was getting on her nerves. But presently, in the smallerdrawing-room, they all came to a standstill in front of the pictureof a beautiful little brown-haired girl.

  "That was Aunt Dorothy when she was little," said Brenda very low.

  Nesta knew this also, but she said nothing for once.

  Herbert led the way out of the house in silence.

  Out of doors Nesta displayed just the same irritating certainty ofthings. The sun-dial she noticed from a distance.

  "That has '_Sic transit vita_' on it," she said hurriedly, lest sheshould be forestalled. "Oh, and that tank is the little well placemother fell into when she was Becky's age."

  But she received a check later.

  "The good old swing and the giant's stride," she said withenthusiasm.

  "No--new ones," said Herbert with satisfaction; "the old ones wererotten, and these were put up for us."

  Nesta put her next venture in the form of a question.

  "Is that the summer-house mother and the aunts played dolls in?"

  "No," said Brenda, "that fell down. This is mine. Grandfather gaveit me one birthday."

  Everything had the impress of the Dixon children--everything seemedto be "mine" or "Herbert's." It was a depressing morning for theAustralians, though Nesta did flatter herself she must have clearlydemonstrated her knowledge of Maze Court and pretty well surprisedher cousins. It annoyed her that Eustace had been so dumb, andseemingly unable to say more than "yes" or "no" to things. Itshowed a lack of spirit about him she would not have expected afterhis sally about the troughs they fed out of with the coolies, andhis assertion only that morning that he felt inclined to become asavage and astonish the Dixons.

  "I expect he's afraid of Herbert," she thought; "but I'm not."

  Eustace was not either, but he was just a little ashamed of hisoutburst of the evening before. Looked at by light of day it seemedunnecessary waste of temper. He thought Bob would not have thoughtmuch of him for it; it was rather babyish.

  Oh
, how homesick he felt! What wouldn't he have given to have seenBob walking down one of those wide paths towards them. Good oldBob! Poor old Bob! What would Brenda and Herbert think if they onlyknew all that story? It was enough to keep the boy silent to havesuch thoughts as these starting up in his memory again and again;enough to make him ashamed of any pettiness. But the thought ofBob alone had power to do that; he was so big, so splendid, such aman!

  Coming out of the gardens into the park they met nurse and Becky.

  "Oh," said nurse, looking flushed and flustered, "isn't MasterPeter with you? I can't find him anywhere. I just left him while Iwent to dress Miss Becky, and never thought to tell him to wait forme."

  "Peter isn't used to staying in one room," said Eustace quietly. "Iguess he is looking for us."

  "But it is very naughty of him," said the English nurse invexation.

  "Peter wouldn't mean to be naughty," said Eustace in the same quiettone; "but you see we are so used to be all together all day longon the veranda."

  "That's all very fine," said nurse, "but it doesn't find him forme. I just hope he won't come to some harm or do some mischiefbefore I get him."

  "Could he come to any harm?" asked Nesta anxiously.

  "Well, there are ponds he could fall into, and places he couldclimb and tumble out of. And as to mischief--there are thingseverywhere he could handle and break," said the woman. "I never sawsuch an inquisitive little fidget as he is. He is all the timeasking questions and wanting to touch everything he sees."

  There immediately began a hunt for Peter. Here, there, andeverywhere they went in pairs, but nowhere could he be found. Theycalled him, but there was no answer; they asked every one theymet, but no one had seen him.

  Mrs. Chase was out driving with Mr. and Mrs. Orban; there seemed noone to appeal to.

  The search reminded Eustace of the story of the loss of AuntDorothy, and he went and looked in the turret and the secretchamber through the cupboard door; but Peter was not there.

  Nurse was becoming frantic, for of course she felt responsible forher charge. Eustace and Nesta began to be worried. Herbert wascross because this prevented his rabbit-shooting; he could not verywell go away leaving such an anxious household as this. Brenda feltsorry both for him and for the twins, but said nothing.

  The search-party met in the hall, just as that other search-partyhad kept doing so many, many years ago, but there was never anynews.

  "Can there be a secret chamber somewhere else?" said Nesta.

  Brenda shook her head.

  "I don't think so," she said.

  "I wish father would come home," Eustace thought miserably. "Hemight think of something."

  "We had better ask grandfather what is to be done," said Herbert atlast in desperation.

  It was a last resource. Nothing but the most serious business wasallowed to interrupt Mr. Chase's morning, but this had becomesufficiently pressing to warrant the intrusion.

  In through the folding-doors trooped the anxious-looking searchers,Herbert first.

  "Well, I never!" he exclaimed, for there stood Peter as calm asyou please, his hands behind him, staring at his grandfather acrossthe broad writing-table.

  "Can you ride bareback?" he was inquiring in his shrill treble."Bob can; but he said I mustn't try because it is slimy."

  "Slimy?" repeated Mr. Chase, with brows bent in perplexity.

  "Yes," said Peter, "sliddery, you know. A horse is a very slipperybeast for short legs, Bob says."

  He went on quite regardless of the intruders, who stood watching inawed silence, because if Mr. Chase did not order Peter out of theroom, it was no one's business to do so.

  "And who may this Bob be you keep quoting?" asked Mr. Chase--"abushranger?"

  "No, he's our friend," replied Peter. "He is just Bob, you know,who comes to see us. Once Eustace and he were lost in the scrub.And Bob says Eustace is a--"

  "Peter!" exclaimed Eustace.

  "I wasn't going to say anything bad," said Peter. "I was only goingto tell grandfather how you--"

  "Grandfather doesn't want to know," said Eustace, looking red anduncomfortable.

  Mr. Chase turned his bright blue eyes on Eustace; they were blueeyes, very like Peter's.

  "Perhaps grandfather does," he said firmly.--"Go on, Peter."

  "I can tell you better," said Eustace hurriedly. "It is only Bobwas lost, and I got lost looking for him; and we thought somenatives were going to kill us, but the chief wanted a reward, sohe fetched father and Mr. Cochrane to take us home."

  Mr. Chase listened quietly. It was a tame little story, withoutmuch point to it told like that, but he had watched Eustace'ssensitive face narrowly, and he asked no further questions.

  "I seem to be honoured with much company this morning," he saidinstead, looking round the group on the threshold. "What are youall doing, if I may ask?"

  "Looking for Peter, grandfather," explained Herbert uncomfortably,certain that Mr. Chase was annoyed. "We've been hunting for him forthe last hour."

  "I've had the pleasure of his society for about that space oftime," said Mr. Chase. "I have had to give an account of how manyblack men and how many Chinkees I employ about the place; whether Iwouldn't rather live in Queensland if I had a hundred pounds of myown; and how long I sleep in the winter. I don't know why he wantsto know that, I am sure."

  "Oh," said Peter quickly, "because Bob says people in England sleeplike dormice in the winter, and have to be wakened by big knockerson the door."

  "I see," said Mr. Chase gravely, "your friend Bob seems to knowmore about England than I do--probably because I sleep rightthrough the winter. Now, if you have asked everything you can thinkof, perhaps you will take your tribe away with you, Peter Perky."

  The twins jumped violently at the name, and stared at the speakerin astonishment. No one but Aunt Dorothy had ever called Peterthat.

  "I should like to know if you roll up when you sleep, or lie flat,"Peter said, not feeling at all anxious to go. "Aunt Dorothy alwayscalled me a dormouse at night--"

  "You can go, Peter," interrupted Mr. Chase hurriedly; "I am busy."

  Herbert took the child by the shoulder and marched him out of theroom.

  "Peter, how could you?" exclaimed Brenda, when they reached theschoolroom.

  "How could I what?" demanded Peter, looking puzzled.

  "Why, speak about poor Aunt Dorothy before grandfather," said thegirl. "Nobody does; he can't bear it."

  "Can't he?" said Peter mildly; "but he asked me a lot of questionsabout her himself. And I told him how she called me Peter Perky,and all about her saving my life in the wreck."

  "What!" interrupted the cousins in a breath; "she did what?"

  "Didn't you know?" said Eustace.

  "We don't know anything except what that awful cable said," Brendasaid in a low, shaky voice.

  Between them the twins and Peter told the whole story. Herbert satat the table, his head buried in his hands. Brenda listened withher back to the speakers, looking away out of the window.

  There was a long pause.

  "Then," said Herbert huskily at last, "if it hadn't been for Peter,Aunt Dorothy would never have been drowned."