by E. Nesbit
THE CIRCUS
The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods began, atabout this time, to bother.
They said we had not done anything really noble--not worth speaking of,that is--for over a week, and that it was high time to beginagain--"with earnest endeavor," Daisy said. So then Oswald said:
"All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let's each of usthink of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others shall helpto work it out, like we did when we were Treasure Seekers. Then wheneverybody's had their go-in we'll write every single thing down in theGolden Deed book, and we'll draw two lines in red ink at the bottom,like father does at the end of an account. And after that, if any onewants to be good they can jolly well be good on our own, if at all."
The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, butDicky and Oswald were firm.
So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness andobstinacy have to give way.
Dora said, "It would be a noble action to have all the school-childrenfrom the village and give them tea and games in the paddock. They wouldthink it so nice and good of us."
But Dicky showed her that this would not be _our_ good act, butfather's, because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had alreadystood us the keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump upheavily over the coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generouswhen some one else is paying for it all the time, even if it happens tobe your father. Then three others had ideas at the same time and beganto explain what they were.
We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of arow. Anyhow, Oswald, for one, does not blame Albert's uncle for openinghis door and saying:
"I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much. Butif you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriek orhowl--anything to vary the monotony of your well-sustainedconversation."
Oswald said, kindly, "We're awfully sorry. Are you busy?"
"Busy?" said Albert's uncle. "My heroine is now hesitating on the vergeof an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequentcareer. You wouldn't like her to decide in the middle of such a row thatshe can't hear herself think?"
We said, "No, we wouldn't."
Then he said, "If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to youthis bright midsummer day--"
So we all went out.
Then Daisy whispered to Dora--they always hang together. Daisy is notnearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fearthe deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said:
"Daisy's idea is a game that'll take us all day. She thinks keeping outof the way when he's making his heroine decide right would be a nobleact, and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well beplaying something at the same time."
We all said "Yes, but what?"
There was a silent interval.
"Speak up, Daisy, my child," Oswald said; "fear not to lay bare theutmost thoughts of that faithful heart."
Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle; they laugh right out or holdtheir tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisysaid:
"If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once reada story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had togo how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. Therewas a tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs,and a kitten."
This proposal left us cold, as Albert's uncle says, because we knewthere could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you maybe ever ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if there'sgoing to be a prize there must _be_ a prize and there's an end of it.
Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, "Let's go intothe barn and make a fort."
So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about withlike it does hay.
The down-stairs--I mean down-ladder--part of the barn was fun too,especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you couldwish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running kindlybeside the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. This is thenoble bull-dog's gentle and affectionate nature coming out. We allenjoyed the ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, in the girlscrying because of the poor rats. Girls cannot help this; we must not bewaxy with them on account of it, they have their nature, same asbull-dogs have, and it is this that makes them so useful in smoothingthe pillows of the sick-bed and tending wounded heroes.
However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having to bethumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till dinner. Therewas roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly pudding.
Albert's uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually,which means we hadn't bothered.
So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told us hisheroine was by no means out of the wood yet.
And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling and youdo not at first care if you never play any runabout game ever any more.But after a while the torpor begins to pass away. Oswald was the firstto recover from his.
He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he turnedover on his back and kicked his legs up, and said:
"I say, look here; let's do something."[A]
[Footnote A: See page 137 for short story.]
Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of grass,but I could see she was still thinking about that animal race. So Iexplained to her that it would be very poor fun without a tortoise and apeacock, and she saw this, though not willingly.
It was H. O. who said:
"Doing anything with animals is prime! if they only will. Let's have acircus!"
At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald's memoryand he stretched himself, sat up, and said:
"Bully for H. O. Let's!"
The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up andsaid "Let's!" too.
Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of animals atour command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even all the bright,glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented Jungle, paled intoinsignificance before the number of live things on the farm.
(I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. Iknow they are the right words. And Albert's uncle says your style isalways altered a bit by what you read. And I have been reading theVicomte de Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come out of those.)
"The worst of a circus is" Dora said, "that you've got to teach theanimals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn't learnedperforming would be a bit silly. Let's give up a week to teaching themand then have the circus."
Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of thosewho do not understand that when you want to do a thing you _do_ want to,and not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, a week later.
Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals.
"Then perhaps," he said, "we may find that they have hidden talentshitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters."
So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required.
This is it:
LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE
1 Bull for bull-fight.
1 Horse for ditto (if possible).
1 Goat to do Alpine feats of daring.
1 Donkey to play see-saw.
2 White pigs--one to be Learned, and the other to play with the clown.
Turkeys--as many as possible, because they can make a noise that sounds like an audience applauding.
The dogs--for any odd parts.
1 large black pig--to be the Elephant in the procession.
Calves (several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs.
Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but shelet Oswald be, bec
ause she is of a retiring character. Oswald said:
"The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock atthe side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good allround. When we've got the performers all there we'll make a programme,and then dress for our parts. It's a pity there won't be any audiencebut the turkeys."
We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny's list. Thebull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cow-house withthe other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away.Oswald and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bullby, and a whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind.
The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone.
Oswald, as usual, was full of bright ideas.
"I dare say," he said, "the bull will be shy at first, and he'll have tobe goaded into the arena."
"But goads hurt," Alice said.
"They don't hurt the bull," Oswald said; "his powerful hide is toothick."
"Then why does he attend to it," Alice asked, "if it doesn't hurt?"
"Properly brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought," Oswaldsaid. "I think I shall ride the bull," the brave boy went on. "Abull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing itsjoys and sorrows. It would be something quite new."
"You can't ride bulls," Alice said; "at least, not if their backs aresharp like cows."
But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood andprickly furze-bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climbon the roof of his house at all comfortably.
When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, andhe was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was avery hot day.
"You'll see," Alice said, "he won't want a goad. He'll be so glad to getout for a walk he'll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, andfollow me lovingly all the way."
Oswald called to him. He said, "Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!" because we didnot know the animal's real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswaldpicked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just tomake it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing's worth ofit. So then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull's yard and justflicked the bull with the whip lash. And then the bull _did_ payattention. He started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he facedround, uttering a roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, andputting his head down close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gatewhere we were standing.
Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoythe bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the fieldso as not to keep the others waiting.
As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that perhapsthe bull had rooted up the gate with one paralyzing blow, and was nowtearing across the field after him and Alice, with the broken gatebalanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly and looked back; thebull was still on the right side of the gate.
Oswald said, "I think we'll do without the bull. He did not seem to wantto come. We must be kind to dumb animals."
Alice said, between laughing and crying:
"Oh, Oswald, how can you!" But we did do without the bull, and we didnot tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just said, "Thebull didn't seem to care about coming."
The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the cart-horse,but she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not to use her in thebull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The Elephant's is a nice,quiet part, and she was quite big enough for a young one. Then the blackpig could be Learned, and the other two could be something else. Theyhad also got the goat; he was tethered to a young tree.
The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter.
The dogs were there, of course--they always are.
So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause, and the calvesand pigs.
The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. Therewere five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got them out afterlong and patient toil, and persuaded them that they wanted to go intothe paddock, where the circus was to be. This is done by pretending todrive them the other way. A pig only knows two ways--the way you wanthim to go and the other. But the turkeys knew thousands of differentways, and tried them all. They made such an awful row we had to drop allideas of ever hearing applause from their lips, so we came away and leftthem.
"Never mind," H. O. said, "they'll be sorry enough afterwards, nasty,unobliging things, because now they won't see the circus. I hope theother animals will tell them about it."
While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky hadfound three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, so we letthem.
Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circusperformers to make friends with each other while we dressed.
Oswald and H. O. were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert'suncle's pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they dothe brick-floors with.
Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair andround her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white muslin stuffoff the dressing-table in the girls' room fastened with pins and tiedround the waist with a small bath towel. She was to be the DauntlessEquestrienne, and to give her enhancing act of bare-backed daring,riding either a pig or a sheep, whichever we found was freshest and mostskittish. Dora was dressed for the _Haute Ecole_, which means ariding-habit and a high hat. She took Dick's topper that he wears withhis Etons, and a skirt of Mrs. Pettigrew's. Daisy dressed the same asAlice, taking the muslin from Mrs. Pettigrew's dressing-table withoutsaying anything beforehand. None of us would have advised this, andindeed we were thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel,who were wishing to look like highwaymen, with brown paper top-boots andslouch hats and Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing andgazed out of the window.
"Krikey!" said Dick; "come on, Oswald!" and he bounded like an antelopefrom the room.
Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the window.Noel had got brown paper boots too, and a Turkish towel cloak. H. O.had been waiting for Dora to dress him up for the other clown. He hadonly his shirt and knickerbockers and his braces on. He came down as hewas--as indeed we all did. And no wonder, for in the paddock, where thecircus was to be, a blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs werechasing the sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country toknow the fell nature of our dogs' improper conduct.
We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, andLady. Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up dog--Oswaldtrained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is awfully deaf, but shedid not matter so much, because the sheep could walk away from hereasily. She has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. She isused to pursuing that fleet and antlered pride of the forest--thestag--and she can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distantregion of the paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight.I am sure if ever anybody's eyes did start out of their heads withhorror, like in narratives of adventure, ours did then.
There was a moment's pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Ladypull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, tosay nothing of its own personal feelings.
Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to run swiftlyas the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamasbelonging to a grown-up person--as I was--but even so I beat Dicky. Hesaid afterwards it was because his brown paper boots came undone andtripped him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-tablemuslin and ran jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all wasvery nearly up with the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and lookedround. She must have heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she cametowards us, prancing with happiness, but we said, "Down!" and "Bad dog!"and ran sternly on.
When we came to the brook which forms
the northern boundary of thepaddock we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep,and I believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth,if it had liked, but it would not try.
It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into thewater, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheepup by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on thebank. It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kick atlast, that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy,panting, silly donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog;and Dicky got his shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly tokeep it from flumping off into the water again, while the others fetchedthe shepherd.
When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, andthen he said:
"Good thing master didn't come along. He would ha' called you some tidynames."
He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calvestoo. He did not seem to care about the other performing animals.
Alice, Oswald, and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, sowe sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of thecircus. This was it:
PROGRAMME
1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing sheep. Realwater, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O., A., and D. Bastable.(We thought we might as well put that in, though it was over and hadhappened accidentally.)
2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, Eliza. A.Bastable.
3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, and theother white pig. H. O. and O. Bastable.
4. The See-saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. said we had only one donkey, soDicky said H. O. could be the other. When peace was restored we went onto 5.)
5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. _Haute Ecole_, on Clover, theincomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela.
6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, thewell-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes out ofhurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always happens.(This is the unexpected. (This is a saying father told me--but I see Iam three deep in brackets, so I will close them before I get into anymore.).).).
7. The Black but Learned Pig. ("I dare say he knows something," Alicesaid, "if we can only find out what." We _did_ find out all too soon.)
We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly dry--allexcept Dick's brown paper top-boots, which were mingled with thegurgling waters of the brook.
We went back to the seat of action--which was the iron trough where thesheep have their salt put--and began to dress up the creatures. We hadjust tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy's flannel petticoat andcetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round the waist of theBlack and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from the back part of thehouse; and suddenly we saw that Billy, the acrobatic goat, had got loosefrom the tree we had tied him to. (He had eaten all the parts of itsbark that he could get at, but we did not notice it until next day, whenled to the spot by a grown-up.)
The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge thatgoes over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily proceededin the direction of the screams, and, guided by the sound, threaded ourway into the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever fertile in melancholyideas, said he wondered whether Mrs. Pettigrew was being robbed, oronly murdered.
In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was neither. Mrs.Pettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a broom, occupied theforeground. In the distance the maid was shrieking in a hoarse andmonotonous way, and trying to shut herself up inside a clothes-horse onwhich washing was being aired. On the dresser--which he had ascended bya chair--was Billy, the acrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. Hehad found out his Andes for himself, and even as we gazed he turned andtossed his head in a way that showed us some mysterious purpose washidden beneath his calm exterior. The next moment he put his off-hornneatly behind the end plate of the next to the bottom row, and ran italong against the wall. The plates fell crashing on to the soup tureenand vegetable dishes which adorned the lower range of the Andes.
Mrs. Pettigrew's screams were almost drowned in the discording crash andcrackle of the falling avalanche of crockery.
Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved themost dauntless coolness.
Disregarding the mop which Mrs. Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat ina timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his trustyfollowers, "Stand by to catch him!"
But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry outhis long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught the goat'slegs and tripped it up. The goat fell against another row of plates,righted itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the soup tureen and thesauce-boats, and then fell again, this time towards Dicky. The two fellheavily on the ground together. The trusty followers had been so struckby the daring of Dicky and his lion-hearted brother that they had notstood by to catch anything. The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had asprained thumb and a lump on his head like a black marble door-knob. Hehad to go to bed.
I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs. Pettigrew said. AlsoAlbert's uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her screams. Fewwords escaped our lips. There are times when it is not wise to argue;however, little what has occurred is really our fault.
When they had said what they deemed enough, and we were let go, we allwent out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she vainlystrove to render firm:
"Let's give up the circus. Let's put the toys back in the boxes--no, Idon't mean that--the creatures in their places--and drop the wholething. I want to go and read to Dicky."
Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to bebeaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and we wentout to collect the performing troop and sort it out into its properplaces.
Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether Mrs.Pettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not we had left bothgates open again. The old horse--I mean the trained elephant fromVenezuela--was there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten and tiedup after the first act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, as it says inthe programme. The two white pigs were there, but the donkey was gone.We heard his hoofs down the road, growing fainter and fainter, in thedirection of the "Rose and Crown." And just round the gate-post we saw aflash of red and white and blue and black that told us, with dumbsignification, that the pig was off in exactly the opposite direction.Why couldn't they have gone the same way? But no, one was a pig and theother was a donkey, as Denny said afterwards.
Daisy and H. O. started after the donkey; the rest of us, with oneaccord, pursued the pig--I don't know why. It trotted quietly down theroad; it looked very black against the white road, and the ends on thetop, where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it trotted. Atfirst we thought it would be easy to catch up to it. This was an error.
When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and lookedround at us, and nodded. (I dare say you won't swallow this, but you maysafely. It's as true as true, and so's all that about the goat. I giveyou my sacred word of honor.) I tell you the pig nodded as much as tosay:
"HE SAT DOWN IN THE HEDGE TO LAUGH PROPERLY"]
"Oh yes. You think you will, but you won't!" and then as soon as wemoved again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o'er miles and milesof strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. When we metpeople, which wasn't often, we called out to them to help us, but theyonly waved their arms and roared with laughter. One chap on a bicyclealmost tumbled off his machine, and then he got off it and propped itagainst a gate and sat down in the hedge to laugh properly. You rememberAlice was still dressed up as the gay equestrienne in the dressing-tablepink and white, with rosy garlands, now very droopy, and she had nostockings on, only white sand-shoes, because she thought they would beeasier t
han boots for balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backedact.
Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. Itis really _impossible_ to run speedfully in another man's pyjamas, soOswald had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockersbelonging to his Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck tocarry them easily. He was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as Alicesuggested, because he did not know the roads, and for aught he reckedthey might have been infested with footpads. If it had been his ownpyjamas, it would have been different. (I'm going to ask for pyjamasnext winter, they are so useful in many ways.)
Noel was a highwayman in brown paper gaiters and bath towels and acocked hat of newspaper. I don't know how he kept it on. And the pigwas encircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the same, Ithink if I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter distressabout a pig I should have tried to lend a helping hand and not satroaring in the hedge, no matter how the travellers and the pig mighthave been dressed.
It was hotter than any one would believe who has never had occasion tohunt the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got out ofOswald's hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet with whatthe village blacksmith's was wet with, and not his fair brow alone. Itran down his face and washed the red off in streaks, and when he rubbedhis eyes he only made it worse. Alice had to run holding theequestrienne skirts on with both hands, and I think the brown paperboots bothered Noel from the first. Dora had her skirt over her arm andcarried the topper in her hand. It was no use to tell ourselves it was awild boar hunt--we were long past that.
At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted man. Ithink, perhaps, he had a pig of his own--or, perhaps, children. Honor tohis name!
He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pigright-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up thedrive. We followed. What else were we to do I should like to know?
The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to theright and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn.
"Now, all together!" cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to givethe word of command. "Surround him!--cut off his retreat!"
We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house.
"Now we've got him!" cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got onto a bedof yellow pansies close against the red house wall.
All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank frommeeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig pass him,and the next moment, with a squeak that said "There now!" as plain aswords, the pig bolted into a French window. The pursuers halted not.This was no time for trivial ceremony. In another moment the pig was acaptive. Alice and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of atable that had had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their preystood the startled members of a parish society for making clothes forthe poor heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. Theywere reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarry toearth under their table. Even as he crossed the threshold I heardsomething about "black brothers being already white to the harvest." Allthe ladies had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while thecurate read aloud to them. You think they screamed when they saw the Pigand Us? You are right.
On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved badly.Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig's doing, and asked pardonquite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and Alice said howsorry we were, but really it was _not_ our fault this time. The curatelooked a bit nasty, but the presence of ladies made him keep his hotblood to himself.
When we had explained, we said, "Might we go?"
The curate said, "The sooner the better." But the Lady of the Houseasked for our names and addresses, and said she should write to ourfather. (She did, and we heard of it too.) They did not do anything tous, as Oswald at one time believed to be the curate's idea. They let usgo.
And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig by.
"In case it should come back into your nice room," Alice said. "And thatwould be such a pity, wouldn't it?"
A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as soonas the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came away. Thescene in the drawing-room had not been long.
The pig went slowly,
"Like the meandering brook,"
Denny said. Just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened and thelittle girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake.
"Here," she said. "You must be hungry if you've come all that way. Ithink they might have given you some tea after all the trouble you'vehad."
We took the cake with correct thanks.
"I wish _I_ could play at circuses," she said. "Tell me about it."
We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said perhapsit was better to hear about than do, especially the goat's part andDicky's.
"But I do wish auntie had given you tea," she said.
We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to makeallowances for grown-up people.
When we parted she said she would never forget us, and Oswald gave herhis pocket button-hook and corkscrew combined for a keepsake.
* * * * *
Dicky's act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only thingout of that day that was put in the Golden Deed Book, and he put that inhimself while we were hunting the pig.
Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to writeour own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us all away; andyou must pity the dull, and not blame them.
* * * * *
I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how thedonkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). Nor will Itell you a word of all that was said and done to the intrepid hunters ofthe Black and Learned. I have told you all the interesting part. Seeknot to know the rest. It is better buried in obliquity.