by Sophie May
CHAPTER XVI
THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION
Every morning there was a skirmish between Betty and Cyril as to whoshould have the first bath, and Betty generally won, because as shepointed out, she had Nancy to bath, too, and to make her bed, and setthe table, and cut the lunches, whereas Cyril only had to bring up twoloads of wood.
But this morning, to Cyril's delight, he was first and he got right intothe room and fastened the door with the prop (a short thick stick whichwas wedged between the centre of the door and the bath, and was Mr.Bruce's patent to replace the handle that "lost itself"), and stillBetty came not. And he loitered in the bathroom and played, andhalf-dressed, and then undressed, and got back into the bath, and outagain, and dressed, and still no Betty banged at the door.
"Can't make out where Miss Betty's got to," said Mary sulkily, "I'lltell your mother on her. She's not set the table, and she's not cut thelunches, and she's not done nothing."
Cyril, who had brought up his wood and otherwise and in every wayperformed his morning's duties, waxed indignant at Betty and hernegligence, and went down the passage to her room, muttering--
"I'll tell mother of you, Betty Bruce, so there!"
But no Betty Bruce was there. Only Nancy in her nightgown still, andplaying with poor faded Belinda.
Mary had to set the table, and Mary had to cut the lunches, and Nancyhad to miss her bath, and go to Mary for the buttoning of her clothes.And all because Betty had gone out to make her fortune!
Mrs. Bruce came out of her room late--which was a very usual thing forher to do--and she called:--
"Nancy, come and take baby. Betty, find me a safety pin _quickly_. Ithink I saw one on the floor near the piano."
And Mr. Bruce followed her in his slippers, and called--
"Nancy--Betty--one of you go down to the gate and bring up the paper."
Cyril ran to them breathless with his news--
"Betty's never got up yet. Mary's had to do all her work an' she's notgot breakfast ready yet. And Nancy's had to dress herself an' all."
Mrs. Bruce opened her eyes--just like Dot did when she was verysurprised, and said,--
"Then go and _make_ Betty get up at once." But Cyril interrupted with--
"She's not in bed at all. She's out playing somewhere; I daresay she'sgone to school so's to be before me and Nancy. She's always doing thatnow."
Mrs. Bruce had to hurry to make up for lost time--as she had perpetuallyto do--and she could not stay to lend an ear to Cyril's tale. So he wasleft grumbling on about Betty, and school, and a hundred and one thingsthat were "not fair."
Nancy had a bowl of porridge and milk in the kitchen, superintended inthe eating of it by Mary, who was giving baby her morning portion ofbread and milk.
Cyril carried his porridge plate to the verandah that he might watch ifBetty was lurking around in the hopes of breakfast.
And Mr. Bruce read the paper and sipped a cup of abominably made coffeeserenely.
They were such a scattered family at breakfast time usually, that oneaway made little difference. No one but Cyril missed Betty at the table.Her services in the house were missed--so many duties had almostunnoticeably slipped upon her small shoulders, and now it was foundthere was no one to do them but slip-shod overworked Mary.
Just as Cyril was setting off to school Mary ran after him with anewspaper parcel of clumsy bread and jam sandwiches.
"I'm not sending Miss Betty's," she said--"it'll teach her not to clearout of the way again."
Mrs. Bruce put her head out of the kitchen window--she had not had"time" for any breakfast yet beyond a cup of tea.
"Send Betty home again," she said; "she _shan't_ go to school till herwork's done."
But even at eleven o'clock no Betty had arrived. Mary, who had done allthe washing-up--and done some of it very badly--was sent by her mistressto strip Betty's bed and leave it to air. And she found the note on thepincushion, and after reading it through twice, carried it in open-eyedamazement to her mistress, who was eating a peach as she sat on theverandah edge, and merely said, "Very well, give it to your master."
So Mr. Bruce took it, and opened it very leisurely, and then started andsaid: "Ye gods!" and read it through to himself first and then outaloud.
"DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER" (it said)--
"I am going away from my childhood's home to make a fortune for all of you. My voice is my fortune. When I've made it I shall come back to you. So good-bye to you all, and may you be very happy always.
"Your loving daughter, "BETTY."
Mrs. Bruce put down her peach and said: "Read it again, will you,dear," in a quiet steady way as though she were trying to understand.
And Mr. Bruce read it again, and then passed it over to her to read forherself.
"She's somewhere close at hand, of course!" he said. "Silly child!"
"She _couldn't_ go very far, could she?" asked Mrs. Bruce, seekingcomfort.
Mr. Bruce shook his head.
"One never quite knows _what_ Betty could do," he said. "She's gone tofind her fortune, she says. I wonder now if that is her old crazy ideaof hunting for a gold mine. No! 'My voice is my fortune,' she says. Goodlord! Whom has she been talking to? What books has she been reading?"
Mrs. Bruce sighed and smiled. As no immediate danger seemed to threatenBetty, there appeared no reason for instant action. They could stilltake life leisurely, as they had done all their married days. It wasonly madcap Betty who ever tried to hurry their pace or upset the calmof their domestic sky--Betty with her ways and plans and pranks.
So Mrs. Bruce leaned back on the verandah post.
"Where one has only _one_ child," she said, "life must be a simplematter. It is when there are several of several ages that the difficultycomes in. Now we, for instance, need to be--just a year old--and sixyears old--and twelve and seventeen--all in addition to our own weightof years."
Her husband smiled. "You do very well," he said. "I saw you playing withBaby this morning, and I've heard you and Dot talk, and could haveimagined she had a school-friend here."
"Dot--yes! But Betty--no!"
"Betty is at an awkward age," said Mr. Bruce. "I confess _I_ know verylittle of her. What is her _singing_ voice like? I think, dear, you'dbetter give me a list of the clothing she has on, and I'll go down theroad and make a few inquiries."
The only dress they could discover "missing," to Mrs. Bruce's horror,was the tattered Saturday frock. And Mary found the boots and stockingsunder the dressing-table, so the conviction that she had gone barefootwas forced upon them.
At twelve o'clock Cyril was startled to see his father enter theschoolroom, and he observed that Mr. Sharman shook hands with him in avery affable manner, which was, of course, very condescending of Mr.Sharman. In fact, it led Cyril to hope for leniency from him in thelooming arithmetic lesson.
A low voiced conversation took place, and then Cyril was called down tothe desk and questioned closely about his truant sister.
But of course Cyril knew nothing.
Then another very strange thing happened.
While Mr. Bruce and Mr. Sharman and Cyril were standing in the middle ofthe floor--Cyril feeling covered with glory from his father's and Mr.Sharman's intimacy in the eyes of the whole school--another shadowdarkened the doorway. And the other shadow belonged to no smaller aperson than Captain Carew, of Dene Hall, Willoughby, N.S. Wales.
Miss Sharman went out to meet him before the little trio knew he wasthere, and his hearty "Good morning, ma'am! I've come for news of thatyoung scapegrace, my grandson, John Brown," filled the room.
Whereat Mr. Bruce turned round, and he and the captain faced each other,and Cyril, in great fear, looked up to see if Arthur Smedley, the dreadbully, had heard how the great captain of Dene Hall had absolutely, andin the hearing of the whole school acknowledged John Brown to be hisgrandson, and had not so much as glanced at Cyril, who stood there quiteclose to him.
It was the first time for more than seventeen years that Captain Carewand Mr. Bruce had been so close together, despite the fact that thefences of their respective properties were within sight of each other.
To-day Captain Carew grew a deep dark-red from his neck to the top ofhis forehead, and Mr. Bruce went quite white and held his head veryhigh.
And Mr. Sharman drew back nervously, for he, like most other people,knew all about the relationship of these two men to each other, andabout their deadly feud.
But the captain strode down the room, just as though he owned Mr. andMiss Sharman and every boy in the school, and he raised his voicesomewhat as he repeated his statement about his grandson, "John Brown."
"And if you'll kindly excuse Cyril, I'll take him with me," said Mr.Bruce quietly, continuing his sentence, just as if no interruption hadoccurred at all.
In the playground Cyril received his commands, glad indeed to have themto execute instead of the arithmetic lesson and play-hour which theordinary happenings of life would have brought about.
"Go into the bush," said his father, "and search there for her. Lookeverywhere where you are accustomed to play. She may have fallen downsomewhere and hurt herself."
"Yes, father," said the boy obediently. "How'd it be to see if she'sfallen in the creek?"
His father gave him an angry look.
"Afterwards go home," he said. "Let the creek alone, and don't talk suchfolly--Betty is more than five. Tell your mother I'm going to give itinto the hands of the police."
Cyril went into the bush--not very far--because the growth was thick,and he had a great dread of snakes.
"S'pose I were bitten," he said, "and I just had to stay here by myselfand die! Wonder where Betty is; it's very silly of her to go and loseherself like this. _I_ never lose myself at all."
He came to a two-rail fence, and climbed up and sat on one of its posts,and then he looked around as far as the bush would let him see.
"It's better to keep near a fence," he said. "Then if a bull comes,you're safe. If he jumped over I could roll under, and we could keepdoing it, an' he couldn't catch me.... 'Tis silly of Betty to get lost._I_ wouldn't get lost. You never know how many bulls and things thereare about."
He looked round again, and then he climbed down and ran back to theroad.
"I'll go home now," he said, "I can't find Betty anywhere. I've lookedand looked. And school will be out soon, and how do I know ArthurSmedley took his lunch to-day; he might be coming home."
Whereat this valiant youth looked over his shoulder, and saw the boysrunning out of the school gate. So he took to his heels and ran home asfast as ever he could.