Adventures of Herr Baby

by Mrs. Molesworth

  CHAPTER VIII.

  FOUND

  ----"he was not there: We searched the house, the grounds--in vain; We searched the green in our despair, And then we searched the house again."

  It _was_ a good thing grandfather was out, for--and this was what motherwas thinking of--poor grandfather, though he looked such a fine, tall,gray-haired old gentleman, was not really very strong or well. It was agreat deal for him that they had all come abroad this winter, and thedoctors had told mother and auntie that anything to startle or distresshim might make him very ill indeed. Poor grandfather! I can't tell youwhat a kind, good man he was. He had stayed a great many years in India,though he would have liked dreadfully to come home, because it was "hisduty" he said, and this had made him seem older than he really was, fora hot country is very wearing out to people who are not born to it.And, though he was so fond of his grandchildren, I think if he _had_ apet among them, it was little Herr Baby. The mere idea of his tinyRaymond--Baby was named Raymond after grandfather--being lost, even foran hour or two, would have troubled him dreadfully, and thinking ofthis, auntie, too, repeated after mother,

  "Yes, indeed, what a good thing grandfather isn't in. We _mustn't_ lethim know, May, till Baby's found."

  They didn't stay to say anything more. Off they all set into the garden,for, though Fritz said he had looked all over, they couldn't feel surethat they might not find Baby in some corner, hiding, perhaps, for fun,even. But when they had all been round and round the garden in everydirection--mother, and auntie, and Celia, and Denny, and Fritz, andMademoiselle Lucie, and Lisa, and Linley, and Peters, and Francois, and,even at the end I believe, Monsieur Jean-Georges himself, and the restof the French servants--when they had all looked, and peeped, andshouted, and whistled, and begged, and prayed Baby to come out if he washiding, and there was no answer, then they gave it up. It was impossiblethat the little man could be in the garden.

  Where could he be?

  Fortunately there was nowhere in the garden where he could have hurthimself--no pit or pond into which he could have fallen. And it wassurely impossible that any one could have come into the garden andstolen him away, as Celia, with a pale face, whispered to auntie. Wherecould he be, and what should they do?

  Time was passing--the friends who were coming to dinner would be at thevilla before long; grandfather was _sure_ to appear in a few minutes.What could they do?

  "We must not tell grandfather, that is certain," said auntie. "May,dear, it is very hard on you, I know, but I'll tell you how it must be.You must stay here quietly and be ready for the friends who are coming,and I will go off at once and do all, everything I can think of.Mademoiselle Lucie, you know the town, and you can tell me all about thepolice, and where to go to _in case_ we don't find our darling at once,though I quite think we shall. I can't take you, Peters," for Peters waseagerly coming forward, "Sir Raymond would miss you, nor you, Lisa, foryou must take care of the other children," at which Lisa all but brokeout crying; "It was too good of Mademoiselle Helene to trust her; shedidn't deserve it." "And Francois would be no good. You and I,Mademoiselle Lucie, will go at once. And you must tell grandfather thatI was obliged to go out, for an hour or two, unexpectedly."

  "I am afraid he will think it very strange," said mother, "but I will domy best."

  Mother spoke quietly, but her face was very white.

  "Do go, Nelly," she said, "as quick as you can."

  And Celia and Denny, who had been thinking of bursting into tears, tookexample by her and auntie, and tried to look cheerful.

  "Auntie," said Celia, running after her to the gate, "I'll be very goodand try to comfort mother. And we'll not let grandfather think there'sanything wrong. But oh, auntie dear, I _hope_ you'll soon bring dearBaby safe home."

  "So do I, darling," said auntie, stooping to kiss her, even though shewas so hurried, and, for the first time, there was a little quiver inher voice, and Celia ran back to the others, thinking even more thanbefore how good and brave auntie was.

  They hastened down the road, auntie and little Mademoiselle Lucie, Imean. But when they had gone some little way, auntie stopped short.

  "He may have gone by the other road, and we may miss him that way;" for,without thinking, auntie had hurried out by the little gate opening onto the lower road.

  "I think not," said Mademoiselle Lucie, "at least the concierge wouldhave been sure to see him, and we did ask her, and she had not seen himat all."

  "To be sure," said auntie, "I forgot about the concierge."

  "Besides," Mademoiselle Lucie continued, "to get to the town he mustpass the way we are going, a little farther on where the two roads runtogether."

  "To be sure," said auntie, again.

  "It is to the town we are going?" asked Mademoiselle Lucie.

  "Yes," said auntie, "I have an idea, but I did not like to say it to mysister for fear it should lead to nothing. There is a shop in the townwhere there is a picture that Baby took a great fancy to the other day.At least it was I that noticed it first, and he was so pleased with it.There was something else in the shop that he was looking at--I don'tremember what--when we noticed the picture."

  "Do you know where the shop is? Can we easily find it?"

  "I think so; yes, I am sure I can find it," said auntie. "It is a shopof curiosities, a shop at a corner, the street is narrow."

  "I know it," said Mademoiselle Lucie, "though it is not very well known.There are grander shops of curiosities which are more visited, but Iknow that shop, as I often pass it."

  She told auntie the name of the owner of the shop, and of the street,and then auntie fixed, as they were now near the town, that she would goon alone to the shop, while Mademoiselle Lucie went to her brother, who,she hoped, would be at home at this hour, and get him to go with her tothe police office, so that no time should be lost.

  Auntie hurried on by herself, but though she went so fast that theeasy-going peasants driving their sleepy bullocks, whom she met, lookedafter her in surprise, she did not, for one moment, leave off lookingabout her on every side, to see if by any chance she could discover thewell-known little figure it would have given her such joy to see. Butno. Once or twice a child in the distance made her heart beat a littlequicker, but, as soon as she got near enough to see it clearly, herhopes sank again. There were very few houses on the country road leadingfrom the villa till one was quite in the town. So auntie thought it notworth while to ask, for, in a street of houses and shops standing closetogether, and people constantly passing, it was much less likely thatany one would have noticed a little tot like Herr Baby making his way.

  "No," said auntie to herself, "it is no use stopping to ask. The bestthing I can do is to find the shop at once, and if they can tell menothing there, to follow Mademoiselle Lucie to the police office."

  And, with a deep sigh, for, somehow, every step she took farther withoutseeing anything of the little truant, made auntie's heart feelheavier--she hurried on again.

  She soon found the wide street--the street with the dressmakers' andmilliners' shops, which Fritz had not cared to look at--then she turnedone corner and went on a little farther, then another, and--yes, therewas the little old shop, looking just the same as the day they had allstood there so happily. Auntie had been walking very quickly, almostrunning, but when she saw the shop just before her she stood still--shefelt _so_ anxious--what should she do if she could hear nothing of Baby?

  When she got to the door she stopped and looked in; there seemed to beno one in the shop. Auntie glanced up to the side of the door where thelittle portrait had hung. It was gone! Could that have anything to dowith Baby? auntie asked herself in a sort of puzzled way. Could Babyhave thought of buying it? how much money had he? But it was stupid andfoolish to stand there puzzling and wondering, instead of boldly goingin to ask. Auntie took her courage in her two hands, as the saying is,and went in.

  No one there; where could the owner of the shop be? The last time he hadcome forward at once when they
were only looking in--a little-dried upold man, just the sort of person one would expect to find in such ashop, sitting in a dark corner like an old spider, watching to see whatflies were passing his way. Auntie went right in without seeing any one,but she heard voices not far off, and, in her anxiety, she went forwardto a door slightly open, leading into rooms behind the shop. Sheknocked--but for a moment no one took any notice. They were talking soeagerly inside that she had to knock again, and in the moment or twothat had passed without them hearing her, she heard one or two wordsthat made her eager to hear more.

  "No, no," some one was saying, "much better go at once to the office. Wemay get into trouble."

  "He seems so sensible," said another voice. "_I_ say, better go with himand carry the things, and we shall soon see if he knows his way,and----"

  Auntie _could_ not wait any more. She pushed open the door and went in.There was, however, no Herr Baby to be seen, as she had almost expectedthere would be. There was the old man that she remembered having seenbefore, looking like a very startled spider this time, as he raised histwo shrivelled old arms in surprise at her appearance, and beside himwas a very pleasant, bright-faced, young woman, with a baby in her arms,talking, or at least looking as if she had just been talking veryeagerly.

  "Is he here?" said auntie, quite breathless, "my little boy, my littlenephew, I mean. Is Baby here?"

  The young woman looked at the old man with a sort of little nod oftriumph.

  "You see," she said quickly, "I said there was no need to frighten thepoor darling by taking him to the police office." "Yes, Madame," shewent on, turning to auntie, "the dear bebe is here--that is to say, hecannot but be the one you are looking for. I sent him out into thelittle garden with his cat and my little girl, while my grandfather andI talked about what to do. I would have sent him home, I mean we wouldhave tried to find his home, if my husband had been here, but he isaway."

  "And I am too feeble, Madame, as you see, to walk far," said the oldman, who seemed now anxious to be very amiable.

  "But you talked of taking him to the police office," said the youngwoman, in a low voice, "the idea! to frighten a bebe like that."

  "Hush, hush," said the old man, "all was to be done for the best. Youshall see him, your dear child, Madame," he went on, bustling about.

  "But tell me first--a moment----" said auntie, "What did he come for?Did he buy the picture?"

  "The picture," repeated the old man, "no, surely. It was the glass jugs,the little gentleman wanted, and he had his money all right--I took butthe just price, Madame--I would not deceive any one."

  "They are very dear to _my_ mind," said the young woman, "but there--Iknow nothing about old things. This is not our shop, Madame--I look inin passing, to see the grandfather sometimes, that is all."

  Auntie stood still a moment to listen.--P. 155.]

  "And Baby came to buy some _jugs_, you say," repeated auntie. Therewas a confused remembrance in her mind of something Baby had said aboutjugs, something he had asked her to look at the day they had stood atthe shop window, but which she had since forgotten. Her only idea incoming to the little old shop had been the picture. "You said he came tobuy some jugs?" she said again.

  "Yes, Madame," said the old man "two glass jugs--Venetian glass."

  "Ah!" said auntie, and then she remembered it all--about the glass jugsthat Baby had broken at home, and what he had said to her about those inthe shop window being like them. "And the picture?" she said, "is it nolonger there? But first, let me have my little boy. He is in the garden,you say?"

  She looked round, for there was no sign of a garden. The window of thelittle room in which they were, looked out only on to a blank wall.

  "This way, Madame," said the young woman, opening a door at the side. Itled into a little dark passage, and, at the end of it, there was anotherdoor, standing open, and through this door came the sound of children'svoices.

  Auntie stood still a moment to listen--the first words made her smile.

  "Him wants to go home now," said the well-known voice. "Little girl, why_won't_ you listen? Him wants to go home, and so does Minet. Doesn't youhear?"

  The little girl must have been very much puzzled, for auntie heard hertrying her best, in her baby talk, to make this queer little strangerunderstand that they were to stay out in the garden till her mothercalled them in.

  "Him wants to go _home_, and so does Minet," repeated poor Baby, and hisvoice began to quiver and shake, as if he were going to cry. Auntiecould stand it no longer. She hurried out into the little garden.

  "You shall go home now, Baby dear," she said. "Auntie has come to fetchyou."

  Baby looked up eagerly at the sound of a well-known voice. He ran to herand held up his little face for a kiss. He looked very pleased, but notat all surprised. It was one of Herr Baby's funny ways, that he almostnever seemed surprised.

  "Him is so glad you's come," he said. "You'll help him to carry home theshiny jugs, for Minet's _raver_ tired, and him might have to carry herand the money-box. But you won't tell mother about the jugs, will you?You'll let him run in wif them him's self, won't you, auntie? _Won't_mother be pleased?"

  "But you must tell me all about it, dear," said auntie; "did you comeoff all alone to get the glasses? Why didn't you ask some one to comewith you?"

  Baby looked a little troubled.

  "Him didn't come _alone_," he said. "Him told Minet, and Minet comedtoo, only her's werry tired. And it were for the party, auntie," headded, looking up wistfully, "Lisa said mother had no pitty jugs forher's party. And oh, auntie, p'ease do be kick, 'fear we shall be toolate."

  Auntie took his hand and led him back into the shop, where the old manwas wrapping up the jugs with a great show of soft paper, that auntieshould see how careful he was.

  "Has my little boy paid you?" she asked.

  "Oh yes," said Herr Baby, understanding, though she did not speakEnglish. "See in him's money-box;" he held out the money-box with somedifficulty for, having Minet under the other arm, it was not easy forhim to get his hands free; "him had two yellow pennies, one big and onelittle, him gived the big one for the shiny jugs."

  "Was that the price of the jugs?" auntie asked the man.

  "No, Madame, I have the change to give the little gentleman. See here,"and he held out two large silver coins, the size of crowns, which auntietook.

  "I don't think the jugs are dear," she said, with a smile, turning tothe young woman, who looked pleased. "And some day," she went on, "wewill come to see you, and bring you some little thing for your littlegirl, as you have been so kind to my little boy. Come now, Baby dear, wemust get home as quick as we can."

  "But the little girl, the pitty little girl," said Herr Baby, "him mustsay good-bye to _her_."

  "There she is beside you," said auntie, thinking, of course, that hemeant the young woman's little girl, "say good-bye to her."

  "No, no," said Baby, "him doesn't mean her. Him means the pitcher littlegirl, _her_," he went on, pointing to the young woman, "her gottened herdown for him to see, 'cos him were trying to reach up to kiss her."

  That was why the picture was no longer in the window then? Where was it?Auntie turned round as she felt Baby pulling her.

  "Her's there," he said, pointing to a chair on which the picture hadbeen set down hurriedly with the face the other way. Auntie turned itround. Dear little face! It smiled at her again with the pretty halfwistful, half wise expression, which had so taken her fancy. Now itseemed to her to be saying--

  "I am so glad you have found him. I knew where he was. I am so glad tohave helped you to find him;" and when Baby lifted his little face tokiss, with his rosy living lips, the picture of the child, who had oncebeen living and loving like him, I can hardly tell you the strangefeeling that went through auntie's heart.

  "She must have been a dear good little girl, whoever she was," shethought to herself. "It would be nice to leave a sweet feeling behindone in the world long after one is dead, such as that little face gives.I
should like to have that picture. I must see about it."

  But to-day there was no time to be wasted.

  Auntie took Baby by the hand, persuading him to let her carry theprecious jugs, as Minet and the money-box were already more than enoughfor him. And, even with her help, it was not so easy to manage at all,and auntie was very glad to meet Mademoiselle Lucie a little way downthe street, and get her to carry part.

  Mademoiselle Lucie was delighted, as you can fancy, to see Herr Babyagain. She had been coming back in great trouble to look for auntie; forvery unluckily, as she thought, she had found that her brother was out,and she had not therefore gone to the police office.

  "A very good thing, after all," said auntie; "it would only have beengiving trouble for nothing, as we have found him."

  But she said to Mademoiselle Lucie, in a low voice, to say nothing aboutthe police before Herr Baby, as it might frighten him.

  "Would it not, perhaps, be a good thing to frighten him a little?" saidMademoiselle Lucie; "he would not run off again."

  Auntie shook her head.

  "Not in that way," she said. "We will make him understand how he hasfrightened _us_. That will be the best way."

  "How did he mean to get home alone, I wonder," said Mademoiselle Lucie;"how could he have carried all he had, and Minet too?"

  "I don't know, I'm sure," said auntie. "How did you mean to carryeverything home, Baby dear?"

  Baby looked puzzled.

  "Him doesn't know," he said. "P'r'aps him thought Minet would carrysome," he added, with a smile.

  Auntie smiled too. Mademoiselle Lucie looked up for auntie to explain toher, for she did not understand Baby's talk any better than he did hers.

  Suddenly another idea struck auntie.

  "How did you manage to tell the old man in the shop what you wanted tobuy?" she said.

  Baby considered.

  "Him sawed the pitty little girl," he said; "her was looking at theshiny glasses--_always_--her was keeping them for him. Him asked her to.Then him touched them; him climbed up on a chair in the shop and touchedthem, and then him showed all him's pennies to the old man; but the ladywif the baby knowed the best what him wanted. Her were very nice, butthe pitty little girl were the goodest, weren't her?"

  Auntie listened quietly, for Baby spoke quite gravely.

  "It would be nice to have that pretty picture, wouldn't it, Baby?"

  "Yes," said Baby; but he didn't look _quite_ pleased. "Auntie," he said,"him doesn't like you to call her a _pitcher_. Him thinks her's a _zeal_little girl, a zeal fairy little girl. Her tookened care of the shinyglasses so nice for him, didn't her?"

  And auntie smiled again.