by E. Nesbit
XI
KENNETH AND THE CARP
Kenneth's cousins had often stayed with him, but he had never till nowstayed with them. And you know how different everything is when you arein your own house. You are certain exactly what games the grown-upsdislike and what games they will not notice; also what sort of mischiefis looked over and what sort is not. And, being accustomed to your ownsort of grown-ups, you can always be pretty sure when you are likely tocatch it. Whereas strange houses are, in this matter of catching it,full of the most unpleasing surprises.
You know all this. But Kenneth did not. And still less did he know whatwere the sort of things which, in his cousins' house, led todisapproval, punishment, scoldings; in short, to catching it. So thatthat business of cousin Ethel's jewel-case, which is where this storyought to begin, was really not Kenneth's fault at all. Though for atime.... But I am getting on too fast.
Kenneth's cousins were four,--Conrad, Alison, George, and Ethel. Thethree first were natural sort of cousins somewhere near his own age, butEthel was hardly like a cousin at all, more like an aunt. Because shewas grown-up. She wore long dresses and all her hair on the top of herhead, a mass of combs and hairpins; in fact she had just had hertwenty-first birthday with iced cakes and a party and lots of presents,most of them jewelry. And that brings me again to that affair of thejewel-case, or would bring me if I were not determined to tell things intheir proper order, which is the first duty of a story-teller.
Kenneth's home was in Kent, a wooden house among cherry orchards, andthe nearest river five miles away. That was why he looked forward insuch a very extra and excited way to his visit to his cousins. Theirhouse was very old, red brick with ivy all over it. It had a secretstaircase, only the secret was not kept any longer, and the housemaidscarried pails and brooms up and down the staircase. And the house wassurrounded by a real deep moat, with clear water in it, and long weedsand water-lilies and fish--the gold and the silver and the everydaykinds.
Early next morning he tried to catch fish with severalpieces of string knotted together and a hairpin.]
The first evening of Kenneth's visit passed uneventfully. His bedroomwindow looked over the moat, and early next morning he tried to catchfish with several pieces of string knotted together and a hairpin kindlylent to him by the parlourmaid. He did not catch any fish, partlybecause he baited the hairpin with brown windsor soap, and it washedoff.
'Besides, fish hate soap,' Conrad told him, 'and that hook of yourswould do for a whale perhaps. Only we don't stock our moat with whales.But I'll ask father to lend you his rod, it's a spiffing one, muchjollier than ours. And I won't tell the kids because they'd never let itdown on you. Fishing with a hairpin!'
'Thank you very much,' said Kenneth, feeling that his cousin was a manand a brother. The kids were only two or three years younger than hewas, but that is a great deal when you are the elder; and besides, oneof the kids was a girl.
'Alison's a bit of a sneak,' Conrad used to say when anger overcomepoliteness and brotherly feeling. Afterwards, when the anger was goneand the other things left, he would say, 'You see she went to a beastlyschool for a bit, at Brighton, for her health. And father says they musthave bullied her. All girls are not like it, I believe.'
But her sneakish qualities, if they really existed, were generallyhidden, and she was very clever at thinking of new games, and very kindif you got into a row over anything.
George was eight and stout. He was not a sneak, but concealment wasforeign to his nature, so he never could keep a secret unless he forgotit. Which fortunately happened quite often.
The uncle very amiably lent Kenneth his fishing-rod, and provided realbait in the most thoughtful and generous manner. And the four childrenfished all the morning and all the afternoon. Conrad caught two roachand an eel. George caught nothing, and nothing was what the other twocaught. But it was glorious sport. And the next day there was to be apicnic. Life to Kenneth seemed full of new and delicious excitement.
In the evening the aunt and the uncle went out to dinner, and Ethel, inher grown-up way, went with them, very grand in a blue silk dress andturquoises. So the children were left to themselves.
You know the empty hush which settles down on a house when the grown-upshave gone out to dinner and you have the whole evening to do what youlike in. The children stood in the hall a moment after the carriagewheels had died away with the scrunching swish that the carriage wheelsalways made as they turned the corner by the lodge, where the gravel wasextra thick and soft owing to the droppings from the trees. From thekitchen came the voices of the servants, laughing and talking.
'It's two hours at least to bedtime,' said Alison. 'What shall we do?'Alison always began by saying 'What shall we do?' and always ended bydeciding what should be done. 'You all say what you think,' she wenton, 'and then we'll vote about it. You first, Ken, because you're thevisitor.'
'Fishing,' said Kenneth, because it was the only thing he could thinkof.
'Make toffee,' said Conrad.
'Build a great big house with all the bricks,' said George.
'We can't make toffee,' Alison explained gently but firmly, 'because youknow what the pan was like last time, and cook said, "never again, notmuch." And it's no good building houses, Georgie, when you could be outof doors. And fishing's simply rotten when we've been at it all day.I've thought of something.'
So of course all the others said, 'What?'
'We'll have a pageant, a river pageant, on the moat. We'll all dress upand hang Chinese lanterns in the trees. I'll be the Sunflower lady thatthe Troubadour came all across the sea, because he loved her so, for,and one of you can be the Troubadour, and the others can be sailors oranything you like.'
'I shall be the Troubadour,' said Conrad with decision.
'I think you ought to let Kenneth because he's the visitor,' saidGeorge, who would have liked to be it immensely himself, or anyhow didnot see why Conrad should be a troubadour if _he_ couldn't.
Conrad said what manners required, which was:
'Oh! all right, I don't care about being the beastly Troubadour.'
'You might be the Princess's brother,' Alison suggested.
'Not me,' said Conrad scornfully, 'I'll be the captain of the ship.'
'In a turban the brother would be, with the Benares cloak, and thePersian dagger out of the cabinet in the drawing-room,' Alison went onunmoved.
'I'll be that,' said George.
'No, you won't, I shall, so there,' said Conrad. 'You can be the captainof the ship.'
(But in the end both boys were captains, because that meant being on theboat, whereas being the Princess's brother, however turbanned, onlymeant standing on the bank. And there is no rule to prevent captainswearing turbans and Persian daggers, except in the Navy where, ofcourse, it is not done.)
So then they all tore up to the attic where the dressing-up trunk was,and pulled out all the dressing-up things on to the floor. And all thetime they were dressing, Alison was telling the others what they were tosay and do. The Princess wore a white satin skirt and a red flannelblouse and a veil formed of several motor scarves of various colours.Also a wreath of pink roses off one of Ethel's old hats, and a pair ofpink satin slippers with sparkly buckles.
Kenneth wore a blue silk dressing-jacket and a yellow sash, a lacecollar, and a towel turban. And the others divided between them aneastern dressing-gown, once the property of their grandfather, a blackspangled scarf, very holey, a pair of red and white football stockings,a Chinese coat, and two old muslin curtains, which, rolled up, madeturbans of enormous size and fierceness.
On the landing outside cousin Ethel's open door Alison paused and said,'I say!'
'Oh! come on,' said Conrad, 'we haven't fixed the Chinese lanterns yet,and it's getting dark.'
'You go on,' said Alison, 'I've just thought of something.'
The children were allowed to play in the boat so long as they didn'tloose it from its moorings. The painter was extremely long, and quitethe effect of coming
home from a long voyage was produced when the threeboys pushed the boat out as far as it would go among the boughs of thebeech-tree which overhung the water, and then reappeared in the circleof red and yellow light thrown by the Chinese lanterns.
'What ho! ashore there!' shouted the captain.
'What ho!' said a voice from the shore which, Alison explained, wasdisguised.
'We be three poor mariners,' said Conrad by a happy effort of memory,'just newly come to shore. We seek news of the Princess of Tripoli.'
'She's in her palace,' said the disguised voice, 'wait a minute, andI'll tell her you're here. But what do you want her for? ("A poorminstrel of France") go on, Con.'
'A poor minstrel of France,' said Conrad, '(all right! I remember,) whohas heard of the Princess's beauty has come to lay, to lay----'
'His heart,' said Alison.
A radiant vision stepped into the circle of light.]
'All right, I know. His heart at her something or other feet.'
'Pretty feet,' said Alison. 'I go to tell the Princess.'
Next moment from the shadows on the bank a radiant vision stepped intothe circle of light, crying--
'Oh! Rudel, is it indeed thou? Thou art come at last. O welcome to thearms of the Princess!'
'What do I do now?' whispered Rudel (who was Kenneth) in the boat, andat the same moment Conrad and George said, as with one voice--
'My hat! Alison, won't you catch it!'
For at the end of the Princess's speech she had thrown back her veilsand revealed a blaze of splendour. She wore several necklaces, one ofseed pearls, one of topazes, and one of Australian shells, besides astring of amber and one of coral. And the front of the red flannelblouse was studded with brooches, in one at least of which diamondsgleamed. Each arm had one or two bracelets and on her clenched handsglittered as many rings as any Princess could wish to wear.
So her brothers had some excuse for saying, 'You'll catch it.'
'No, I sha'n't. It's my look out, anyhow. Do shut up,' said thePrincess, stamping her foot. 'Now then, Ken, go ahead. Ken, you say, "OhLady, I faint with rapture!"'
'I faint with rapture,' said Kenneth stolidly. 'Now I land, don't I?'
He landed and stared at the jewelled hand the Princess held out.
'At last, at last,' she said, 'but you ought to say that, Ken. I say, Ithink I'd better be an eloping Princess, and then I can come in theboat. Rudel dies really, but that's so dull. Lead me to your ship, ohnoble stranger! for you have won the Princess, and with you I will liveand die. Give me your hand, can't you, silly, and do mind my train.'
So Kenneth led her to the boat, and with some difficulty, for the satintrain got between her feet, she managed to flounder into the punt.
'Now you stand and bow,' she said. 'Fair Rudel, with this ring I theewed,' she pressed a large amethyst ring into his hand, 'remember thatthe Princess of Tripoli is yours for ever. Now let's sing _IntegerVitae_ because it's Latin.'
So they sat in the boat and sang. And presently the servants came out tolisten and admire, and at the sound of the servants' approach thePrincess veiled her shining splendour.
'It's prettier than wot the Coventry pageant was, so it is,' said thecook, 'but it's long past your bed times. So come on out of that theredangerous boat, there's dears.'
So then the children went to bed. And when the house was quiet again,Alison slipped down and put back Ethel's jewelry, fitting the thingsinto their cases and boxes as correctly as she could. 'Ethel won'tnotice,' she thought, but of course Ethel did.
So that next day each child was asked separately by Ethel's mother whohad been playing with Ethel's jewelry. And Conrad and George said theywould rather not say. This was a form they always used in that familywhen that sort of question was asked, and it meant, 'It wasn't me, and Idon't want to sneak.'
And when it came to Alison's turn, she found to her surprise and horrorthat instead of saying, 'I played with them,' she had said, 'I wouldrather not say.'
Of course the mother thought that it was Kenneth who had had the jewelsto play with. So when it came to his turn he was not asked the samequestion as the others, but his aunt said:
'Kenneth, you are a very naughty little boy to take your cousin Ethel'sjewelry to play with.'
'I didn't,' said Kenneth.
'Hush! hush!' said the aunt, 'do not make your fault worse byuntruthfulness. And what have you done with the amethyst ring?'
Kenneth was just going to say that he had given it back to Alison, whenhe saw that this would be sneakish. So he said, getting hot to the ears,'You don't suppose I've stolen your beastly ring, do you, Auntie?'
'Don't you dare to speak to me like that,' the aunt very naturallyreplied. 'No, Kenneth, I do not think you would steal, but the ring ismissing and it must be found.'
Kenneth was furious and frightened. He stood looking down and kickingthe leg of the chair.
'You had better look for it. You will have plenty of time, because Ishall not allow you to go to the picnic with the others. The mere takingof the jewelry was wrong, but if you had owned your fault and askedEthel's pardon, I should have overlooked it. But you have told me anuntruth and you have lost the ring. You are a very wicked child, and itwill make your dear mother very unhappy when she hears of it. That herboy should be a liar. It is worse than being a thief!'
At this Kenneth's fortitude gave way, and he lost his head. 'Oh, don't,'he said, 'I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. Oh! don't tell mother I'm athief and a liar. Oh! Aunt Effie, please, _please_ don't.' And with thathe began to cry.
Any doubts Aunt Effie might have had were settled by this outbreak. Itwas now quite plain to her that Kenneth had really intended to keep thering.
'You will remain in your room till the picnic party has started,' theaunt went on, 'and then you must find the ring. Remember I expect it tobe found when I return. And I hope you will be in a better frame of mindand really sorry for having been so wicked.'
'Mayn't I see Alison?' was all he found to say.
And the answer was, 'Certainly not. I cannot allow you to associate withyour cousins. You are not fit to be with honest, truthful children.'
So they all went to the picnic, and Kenneth was left alone. When theyhad gone he crept down and wandered furtively through the empty rooms,ashamed to face the servants, and feeling almost as wicked as though hehad really done something wrong. He thought about it all, over and overagain, and the more he thought the more certain he was that he _had_handed back the ring to Alison last night when the voices of theservants were first heard from the dark lawn.
But what was the use of saying so? No one would believe him, and itwould be sneaking anyhow. Besides, perhaps he _hadn't_ handed it back toher. Or rather, perhaps he had handed it and she hadn't taken it.Perhaps it had slipped into the boat. He would go and see.
But he did not find it in the boat, though he turned up the carpet andeven took up the boards to look. And then an extremely miserable littleboy began to search for an amethyst ring in all sorts of impossibleplaces, indoors and out. You know the hopeless way in which you look forthings that you know perfectly well you will never find, the borrowedpenknife that you dropped in the woods, for instance, or the week'spocket-money which slipped through that hole in your pocket as you wentto the village to spend it.
The servants gave him his meals and told him to cheer up. But cheeringup and Kenneth were, for the time, strangers. People in books never caneat when they are in trouble, but I have noticed myself that if thetrouble has gone on for some hours, eating is really rather a comfort.You don't enjoy eating so much as usual, perhaps, but at any rate it issomething to do, and takes the edge off your sorrow for a short time.And cook was sorry for Kenneth and sent him up a very nice dinner and avery nice tea. Roast chicken and gooseberry pie the dinner was, and fortea there was cake with almond icing on it.
The sun was very low when he went back wearily to have one more look inthe boat for that detestable amethyst ring. Of course it was not there.And the picnic pa
rty would be home soon. And he really did not know whathis aunt would do to him.
'Shut me up in a dark cupboard, perhaps,' he thought gloomily, 'or putme to bed all day to-morrow. Or give me lines to write out, thousands,and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, of them.'
The boat, set in motion by his stepping into it, swung out to the fulllength of its rope. The sun was shining almost level across the water.It was a very still evening, and the reflections of the trees and of thehouse were as distinct as the house and the trees themselves. And thewater was unusually clear. He could see the fish swimming about, and thesand and pebbles at the bottom of the moat. How clear and quiet itlooked down there, and what fun the fishes seemed to be having.
'I wish I was a fish,' said Kenneth. 'Nobody punishes _them_ for takingrings they _didn't_ take.'
And then suddenly he saw the ring itself, lying calm, and quiet, andround, and shining, on the smooth sand at the bottom of the moat.
He reached for the boat-hook and leaned over the edge of the boat tryingto get up the ring on the boat-hook's point. Then there was a splash.
'Good gracious! I wonder what that is?' said cook in the kitchen, anddropped the saucepan with the welsh rabbit in it which she had just madefor kitchen supper.
Kenneth had leaned out too far over the edge of the boat, the boat hadsuddenly decided to go the other way, and Kenneth had fallen into thewater.
The first thing he felt was delicious coolness, the second that hisclothes had gone, and the next thing he noticed was that he was swimmingquite easily and comfortably under water, and that he had no troublewith his breathing, such as people who tell you not to fall into waterseem to expect you to have. Also he could see quite well, which he hadnever been able to do under water before.
'I can't think,' he said to himself, 'why people make so much fuss aboutyour falling into the water. I sha'n't be in a hurry to get out. I'llswim right round the moat while I'm about it.'
There was a splash.]
It was a very much longer swim than he expected, and as he swam henoticed one or two things that struck him as rather odd. One was that hecouldn't see his hands. And another was that he couldn't feel his feet.And he met some enormous fishes, like great cod or halibut, they seemed.He had had no idea that there were fresh-water fish of that size.
They towered above him more like men-o'-war than fish, and he wasrather glad to get past them. There were numbers of smaller fishes, someabout his own size, he thought. They seemed to be enjoying themselvesextremely, and he admired the clever quickness with which they dartedout of the way of the great hulking fish.
And then suddenly he ran into something hard and very solid, and a voiceabove him said crossly:
'Now then, who are you a-shoving of? Can't you keep your eyes open, andkeep your nose out of gentlemen's shirt fronts?'
'I beg your pardon,' said Kenneth, trying to rub his nose, and not beingable to. 'I didn't know people could talk under water,' he added verymuch astonished to find that talking under water was as easy to him asswimming there.
'Fish can talk under water, of course,' said the voice, 'if they didn't,they'd never talk at all: they certainly can't talk _out_ of it.'
'But I'm not a fish,' said Kenneth, and felt himself grin at the absurdidea.
'Yes, you are,' said the voice, 'of course you're a fish,' and Kenneth,with a shiver of certainty, felt that the voice spoke the truth. He_was_ a fish. He must have become a fish at the very moment when he fellinto the water. That accounted for his not being able to see his handsor feel his feet. Because of course his hands were fins and his feetwere a tail.
'Who are you?' he asked the voice, and his own voice trembled.
'I'm the Doyen Carp,' said the voice. 'You must be a very new fishindeed or you'd know that. Come up, and let's have a look at you.'
Kenneth came up and found himself face to face with an enormous fish whohad round staring eyes and a mouth that opened and shut continually. Itopened square like a kit-bag, and it shut with an extremely sour andsevere expression like that of an offended rhinoceros.
'Yes,' said the Carp, 'you _are_ a new fish. Who put you in?'
'I fell in,' said Kenneth, 'out of the boat, but I'm not a fish at all,really I'm not. I'm a boy, but I don't suppose you'll believe me.'
'Why shouldn't I believe you?' asked the Carp wagging a slow fin.'Nobody tells untruths under water.'
And if you come to think of it, no one ever does.
'Tell me your true story,' said the Carp very lazily. And Kenneth toldit.
'Ah! these humans!' said the Carp when he had done. 'Always in such ahurry to think the worst of everybody!' He opened his mouth squarely andshut it contemptuously. 'You're jolly lucky, you are. Not one boy in amillion turns into a fish, let me tell you.'
'Do you mean that I've got to _go on_ being a fish?' Kenneth asked.
'Of course you'll go on being a fish as long as you stop in the water.You couldn't live here, you know, if you weren't.'
'I might if I was an eel,' said Kenneth, and thought himself veryclever.
'Well, _be_ an eel then,' said the Carp, and swam away sneering andstately. Kenneth had to swim his hardest to catch up.
'Then if I get out of the water, shall I be a boy again?' he askedpanting.
'Of course, silly,' said the Carp, 'only you can't get out.'
'Oh! can't I?' said Kenneth the fish, whisked his tail and swam off. Hewent straight back to the amethyst ring, picked it up in his mouth, andswam into the shallows at the edge of the moat. Then he tried to climbup the slanting mud and on to the grassy bank, but the grass hurt hisfins horribly, and when he put his nose out of the water, the airstifled him, and he was glad to slip back again. Then he tried to jumpout of the water, but he could only jump straight up into the air, so ofcourse he fell straight down again into the water. He began to beafraid, and the thought that perhaps he was doomed to remain for ever afish was indeed a terrible one. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldnot come out of his eyes. Perhaps there was no room for any more waterin the moat.
The smaller fishes called to him in a friendly jolly way to come andplay with them--they were having a quite exciting game offollow-my-leader among some enormous water-lily stalks that looked liketrunks of great trees. But Kenneth had no heart for games just then.
He swam miserably round the moat looking for the old Carp, his onlyacquaintance in this strange wet world. And at last, pushing through athick tangle of water weeds he found the great fish.
'Now then,' said the Carp testily, 'haven't you any better manners thanto come tearing a gentleman's bed-curtains like that?'
'I beg your pardon,' said Kenneth Fish, 'but I know how clever you are.Do please help me.'
'What do you want now?' said the Carp, and spoke a little less crossly.
'I want to get out. I want to go and be a boy again.'
'But you must have said you wanted to be a fish.'
'I didn't mean it, if I did.'
'You shouldn't say what you don't mean.'
'I'll try not to again,' said Kenneth humbly, 'but how can I get out?'
'There's only one way,' said the Carp rolling his vast body over in hiswatery bed, 'and a jolly unpleasant way it is. Far better stay here andbe a good little fish. On the honour of a gentleman that's the bestthing you can do.'
'I want to get out,' said Kenneth again.
'Well then, the only way is ... you know we always teach the young fishto look out for hooks so that they may avoid them. _You_ must look outfor a hook and _take it_. Let them catch you. On a hook.'
The Carp shuddered and went on solemnly, 'Have you strength? Have youpatience? Have you high courage and determination? You will want themall. Have you all these?'
'I don't know what I've got,' said poor Kenneth, 'except that I've got atail and fins, and I don't know a hook when I see it. Won't you comewith me? Oh! dear Mr. Doyen Carp, _do_ come and show me a hook.'
'It will hurt you,' said the Carp, 'very much i
ndeed. You take agentleman's word for it.'
'I know,' said Kenneth, 'you needn't rub it in.'
The Carp rolled heavily out of his bed.
'Come on then,' he said, 'I don't admire your taste, but if you _want_ ahook, well, the gardener's boy is fishing in the cool of the evening.Come on.'
He led the way with a steady stately movement.
'I want to take the ring with me,' said Kenneth, 'but I can't get holdof it. Do you think you could put it on my fin with your snout?'
'My what!' shouted the old Carp indignantly and stopped dead.
'Your nose, I meant,' said Kenneth. 'Oh! please don't be angry. It wouldbe so kind of you if you would. Shove the ring on, I mean.'
'That will hurt too,' said the Carp, and Kenneth thought he seemed notaltogether sorry that it should.
It did hurt very much indeed. The ring was hard and heavy, and somehowKenneth's fin would not fold up small enough for the ring to slip overit, and the Carp's big mouth was rather clumsy at the work. But at lastit was done. And then they set out in search of a hook for Kenneth to becaught with.
'I wish we could find one! I wish we could!' Kenneth Fish kept saying.
'You're just looking for trouble,' said the Carp. 'Well, here you are!'
Above them in the clear water hung a delicious-looking worm. Kenneth Boydid not like worms any better than you do, but to Kenneth Fish that wormlooked most tempting and delightful.
'Just wait a sec.,' he said, 'till I get that worm.'
'You little silly,' said the Carp, '_that's the hook_. Take it.'
'Wait a sec.,' said Kenneth again.
His courage was beginning to ooze out of his fin tips, and a shiver randown him from gills to tail.
'If you once begin to think about a hook you never take it,' said theCarp.
'_Never?_' said Kenneth 'Then ... oh! good-bye!' he cried desperately,and snapped at the worm. A sharp pain ran through his head and he felthimself drawn up into the air, that stifling, choking, husky, thickstuff in which fish cannot breathe. And as he swung in the air thedreadful thought came to him, 'Suppose I don't turn into a boy again?Suppose I keep being a fish?' And then he wished he hadn't. But it wastoo late to wish that.
Everything grew quite dark, only inside his head there seemed to be alight. There was a wild, rushing, buzzing noise, then something in hishead seemed to break and he knew no more.
* * * * *
When presently he knew things again, he was lying on something hard. Washe Kenneth Fish lying on a stone at the bottom of the moat, or KennethBoy lying somewhere out of the water? His breathing was all right, so hewasn't a fish out of water or a boy under it.
'He's coming to,' said a voice. The Carp's he thought it was. But nextmoment he knew it to be the voice of his aunt, and he moved his hand andfelt grass in it. He opened his eyes and saw above him the soft gray ofthe evening sky with a star or two.
'Here's the ring, Aunt,' he said.
* * * * *
'Oh, good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped at theworm.]
The cook had heard a splash and had run out just as the picnic partyarrived at the front door. They had all rushed to the moat, and theuncle had pulled Kenneth out with the boat-hook. He had not been in thewater more than three minutes, they said. But Kenneth knew better.
They carried him in, very wet he was, and laid him on the breakfast-roomsofa, where the aunt with hurried thoughtfulness had spread out theuncle's mackintosh.
'Get some rough towels, Jane,' said the aunt. 'Make haste, do.'
'I got the ring,' said Kenneth.
'Never mind about the ring, dear,' said the aunt, taking his boots off.
'But you said I was a thief and a liar,' Kenneth said feebly, 'and itwas in the moat all the time.'
'_Mother!_' it was Alison who shrieked. 'You didn't say that to him?'
'Of course I didn't,' said the aunt impatiently. She thought she hadn't,but then Kenneth thought she had.
'It was _me_ took the ring,' said Alison, 'and I dropped it. I didn'tsay I hadn't. I only said I'd rather not say. Oh Mother! poor Kenneth!'
The aunt, without a word, carried Kenneth up to the bath-room and turnedon the hot-water tap. The uncle and Ethel followed.
'Why didn't you own up, you sneak?' said Conrad to his sister withwithering scorn.
'Sneak,' echoed the stout George.
'I meant to. I was only getting steam up,' sobbed Alison. 'I didn'tknow. Mother only told us she wasn't pleased with Ken, and so he wasn'tto go to the picnic. Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?'
'Sneak!' said her brothers in chorus, and left her to her tears of shameand remorse.
It was Kenneth who next day begged every one to forgive and forget. Andas it was _his_ day--rather like a birthday, you know--when no one couldrefuse him anything, all agreed that the whole affair should be buriedin oblivion. Every one was tremendously kind, the aunt more so than anyone. But Alison's eyes were still red when in the afternoon they allwent fishing once more. And before Kenneth's hook had been two minutesin the water there was a bite, a very big fish, the uncle had to becalled from his study to land it.
'Here's a magnificent fellow,' said the uncle. 'Not an ounce less thantwo pounds, Ken. I'll have it stuffed for you.'
And he held out the fish and Kenneth found himself face to face with theDoyen Carp. There was no mistaking that mouth that opened like akit-bag, and shut in a sneer like a rhinoceros's. Its eye was mostreproachful.
'Oh! no,' cried Kenneth, 'you helped me back and I'll help you back,'and he caught the Carp from the hands of the uncle and flung it out inthe moat.
'Your head's not quite right yet, my boy,' said the uncle kindly.'Hadn't you better go in and lie down a bit?'
But Alison understood, for he had told her the whole story. He had toldher that morning before breakfast while she was still in deep disgrace;to cheer her up, he said. And, most disappointingly, it made her crymore than ever.
'Your poor little fins,' she had said, 'and having your feet tied up inyour tail. And it was all my fault.'
'I liked it,' Kenneth had said with earnest politeness, 'it was a mostawful lark.' And he quite meant what he said.