[Illustration: Front cover art]

[Frontispiece: "'Oh, Ruth, ' she said, 'The foreign gentleman hascome!'"]

_THE RED NURSERY SERIES_

THE GAP IN THE FENCE

BY

FREDERICA J. TURLE

Author of

"The Squire's Grandchildren, " "Jerry O'Shassenagh, " etc. , etc. 

_WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY WATSON CHARLTON_

LONDON:

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION

57 AND 59 LUDGATE HILL, E. C. 

1914

CONTENTS

CHAPTER. 

 I. --HAVER GRANGE II. --A QUEER VISITOR III. --THE LITTLE FOREIGN GIRL IV. --FAIRIES V. --HAPPY DAYS VI. --UNA ASKS A QUESTION VII. --SECRETS VIII. --THE GYPSIES ON THE COMMON IX. --UNA'S PET X. --WHAT THE YOUNG MAN SAID XI. --SAD DAYS XII. --HER FATHER'S SECRET

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Front cover art

"'OH, RUTH, ' SHE SAID, 'THE FOREIGN GENTLEMAN HAS COME!'" . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

"YOU MUSTN'T LAUGH, ANY OF YOU--PROMISE!"

SHE RAISED HER HEAD AND LOOKED AT NORAH GRAVELY. 

"'FAIRIES! FAIRIES!' SHE CRIED, CLAPPING HER HANDS. "

"THERE, IN THE OLD BRICK WALL, WAS A TINY OAK DOOR!"

"SHE WAS STILL BENDING OVER THE BASIN WHEN SHE HEARD A TAP, TAP, TAP. "

"SHE CAME ACROSS TOM SEATED ON THE GROUND. "

"'THERE THEY ARE!' TOM SAID SUDDENLY. "

"'OH, TOM, IT'S ALIVE!' CRIED UNA. "

"THE CHILDREN FOLLOWED HIM OUT INTO THE SUNSHINE. "

"UNA SAT BESIDE HIM, FANNING HIM. "

"'I WAS JUST WONDERING IF I SHOULD TELL YOU, ' SAID UNA. "

Back cover art

THE GAP IN THE FENCE. 

CHAPTER I. 

HAVER GRANGE. 

Think of the prettiest garden you have ever seen: a dear, old-fashioned, sunny garden, with masses of snapdragon and white liliesand carnations, and big yellow sunflowers; and damask roses, and whitecluster roses, and sweet-smelling pink cabbage roses, and tiny yellowScotch roses--in fact, every kind of rose you can think of, exceptmodern ones. Then you can imagine the Vicarage garden at Haversham. 

Not that all these flowers were out in August; indeed, the best of theroses and all the carnations were over by then, but the garden wasstill gay with lots of other kinds of flowers; and dear little twistingpaths led the way under shady nut-trees to the kitchen garden andorchard, where apricots and plums turned golden and red in thesunshine, and the apple-trees were so laden that it seemed quitewonderful to think the branches did not break with the weight of thefruit. 

The summer holidays were half over now, and already Mother had begun tolook over the boys' socks and shirts for the next term at school, andthe girls had begun to talk seriously of the holiday tasks, which hadbeen lightheartedly put on one side when they first came home fromschool with eight long weeks of idleness before them. 

They were all having tea under the big ash-tree on the lawn one veryhot afternoon, when Philip announced a rather important piece of news. 

"Haver Grange is let, " he said. 

"_Is_ it? Oh, Philip, how do you know? Who told you? Who has takenit, and when are they coming?" asked the others. 

For over twelve years now the old Grange had been empty--except for avery deaf old man and his wife who lived there as caretakers. Thepresent owner liked better to travel about the world than to livequietly in England, and his sons generally spent their holidays withhim abroad. 

But although the same old board had stood beside the big iron gateswith "This House to be Let Furnished" written upon it in large whiteletters, no one had come to live in it, and the children had grown tolook upon the Grange garden, with its moss-grown walks and weedy flowerbeds, as their especial property. 

"Mrs. Mills told me when I went to buy mother's stamps just now, " saidthe boy. "She said an Italian gentleman had taken it, or an Austrianor a Frenchman--she didn't know which, " and Philip laughed as he helpedhimself to a piece of cake. 

Just then the vicar turned in at the gate and crossed the lawn towardsthem. 

"Don't bother father with questions until he has had a cup of tea, "said Mrs. Carew, and six eager faces were turned towards the vicar as, with a sigh of relief, he seated himself under the shade of the tree. 

"I think to-day is the hottest day we have had this year, " he said, ashe took the cup Ruth handed him and began to stir his tea, while hechatted to his wife about the poor woman he had been to see. 

Ruth sighed. 

"Isn't your tea nice, father?" she asked. "You have hardly drunk anyof it yet. "

"Very nice, thank you, dear, " said her father. 

Norah got down from her seat and carried the big milk jug round to hisside. 

"Won't you have some more milk, father?" she said. "Perhaps your teais too hot, and you can't drink it quickly. "

"But I don't want to drink it quickly, " said her father. 

He looked in a puzzled way at his wife, and Mrs. Carew laughed. 

"I told the children to let you drink one cup of tea in peace beforethey bothered you with questions, " said she. 

"I think I know what the questions will be about, " said the vicar. 

He drank the rest of his tea and handed the cup to Philip. 

"Father! _Have_ you heard Haver Grange is let?" said the boy. 

"And whom it's let to?" asked Ruth. 

"And whether there are any children?" asked Norah. 

"One question at a time!" said their father, laughing. "Yes, I heardfrom Mr. Denny that the Grange had been let to a foreign gentleman, whois coming to live there very soon, I believe, as the caretakers haveorders to have the house in readiness before the end of this week; butwhere he comes from and whether he has any children I do not know. "

Dan had been opening and shutting his mouth for the last two minutes. 

"Father!" he burst out at last, "_Do_ you think he will have the gap inthe fence boarded up?"

"The gap in the fence? My dear Dan, what do you mean?" asked hisfather. 

"He means the gap where we used to get through and have picnics in theGrange grounds, " said Ruth, "but we haven't been there for a long timenow. Have you and Dan been lately, Norah?"

"Yes, " said Norah, "Dan and I often go and sit there. Shan't we everbe able to go any more?" And the little girl looked quite sad. 

"No, " said Mr. Carew; "certainly you must not go again. Littletrespassers! I had no idea you were in the habit of going there forpicnics or anything else. "

"What's trespassers?" asked Dan. 

"People who break through other people's fences and get taken up andput in prison, " said Philip, as Mr. And Mrs. Carew left the tea-tableand went towards the house. "Just fancy! You and Norah might havebeen quietly having a picnic in the glen one day when some fat oldpoliceman would come along and take you both off to prison. "

"Levick wouldn't, " said Norah stoutly. "Levick's a very nice man. Danand I often go to see him and his wife and baby. "

"Well, Levick isn't the only policeman in the world, " said Philipteasingly. "I saw a very fat, red-faced old policeman in Borsham theother day, and he had a little twinkle in his eye, which seemed to say:'Where are the little boy and girl who have been breaking through theGrange fence?'"

"Oh, Philip, don't be silly, " said Mary, seeing that her little brotherwas looking rather grave. "You know policemen wouldn't take up peopleand put them in prison unless they were doing anything really wrong. "

"But perhaps _some_ policemen would, Mary, " said Dan. "Perhaps _all_policemen are not nice, kind policemen like Levick, who live in dearlittle white cottages like Levick's cottage, and have dear littlebabies like Levick's baby, and lots of little pigs like Levick's pigs. "

The other children burst out laughing. 

"No, of course they are not all exactly like Levick, " said Philip, whowas a little ashamed of himself for having frightened his littlebrother; "but I was only joking when I said that about the policeman inBorsham, Dan. What a little duffer you are!"

"Tell us about Jack the Giant-killer, then, " said Dan coaxingly; andPhilip sat down good-naturedly and told his little brother and sisterstory after story, until it was bedtime. 

The next morning, when Philip went to the schoolroom to finish theLatin translation which he meant to have done the evening before, hefound Ruth seated at the table with pen, ink and paper before her, anda very blank look on her face. 

"What are you doing?" he asked in surprise; for Ruth was a very lazylittle girl as a rule, and was seldom seen either reading, writing orworking. 

"It's my holiday task, " she said dismally. "I can't think of anythingto say. "

"What have you got to write about?" asked Philip. 

"Alfred the Great, " said Ruth. "I know about him burning the cakes;but I can't think of anything else, and Mary has half done hers. MissLong has offered a prize for the one who does it best. "

"I wish old Jones would offer a prize for _my_ holiday task, " saidPhilip. "I can't get this stuff into my head!" and the boy turned tohis Latin with a sigh. 

"It's because we've had holidays, I think, " said Ruth. "My mind feelsquite empty, you know; and I think of all sorts of silly things insteadof my essay. "

"Perhaps that is why we have holiday tasks, " said Philip. 

Just then hasty footsteps sounded along the passage, and Norah burstinto the room like a whirlwind. 

"Oh, Ruth, " she said, quite out of breath with running so fast, "theforeign gentleman has come; and what do you think? He has gotchildren; at least, he has a little girl, and she's about my age, Mrs. Mills says; because Mrs. Brown's son has been doing some painting atthe Grange, and he saw a little girl one day, and Mrs. Brown told Mrs. Mills that he said she looked a 'regular caution. ' I wonder what thatmeans--not like little English girls, I expect. Oh, Ruth! don't you_wish_ we could see her?"

"Norah, you really do talk too much, " said Ruth, as her little sisterpaused for breath. "You bring out all your words in a rush together, and no one can hear half you say; and I'm sure mother wouldn't like youto chatter like that with Mrs. Mills. What have you been to the shopat all for, this morning?"

"To buy some string for Tom, " said Norah. She was generally ratherhurt when Ruth put on her elder-sisterly air, because she tried so hardto be "old" and sensible during the holidays, so that Ruth might talkto her sometimes and tell her secrets as she did to Mary, instead ofalways treating her as one of the little ones. But to-day she was tooexcited to pay much attention to Ruth's reproof, and turned to Philipfor sympathy. 

"Philip, isn't it lovely?" she said. "Perhaps we shall be greatfriends, the little girl and I, and go to tea with each other, and dothings like that. Oh, I should _love_ to have a little girl to befriends with!"

CHAPTER II. 

A QUEER VISITOR. 

For some days nothing more was heard of the new tenants at HaverGrange, and when Sunday came the children were quite excited at theidea of seeing the foreign gentleman and his little girl in church. 

When Stephen said that perhaps they would not come to church this firstSunday, the others scouted the idea with scorn, and the eyes of all theCarews were turned towards the Grange pew as they went in. 

It was a big, old-fashioned, high-walled pew, and no one had ever satin it as long as the children could remember; though Mrs. Jinks; theverger's wife, dusted it well and beat up the cushions with greatenergy every Thursday when she cleaned the church. 

The pew was empty this morning; but it was early yet, and the childrensat in eager expectation until the last clang of the bell sounded andthe vicar entered. 

"Such a pity to be late the first morning, " thought Norah, as she roseto her feet with the others; but as the minutes passed, and stillneither the foreign gentleman nor his little girl appeared, she beganto think that perhaps Stephen was right after all. 

"Oh, mother, _when_ do you think we shall see her?" said Norah, ontheir way home from church that morning. "They've been here ever sinceTuesday, and we haven't seen anything of them yet. Don't you thinkthey will ever come to church here, mother--the little foreign girl andher father?"

"I don't know, dear, " said her mother. "Perhaps they will later on;but father is going to call on Monsieur Gen (I think that is theforeign gentleman's name) in a few days, and perhaps, afterwards, hewill be able to tell you something about the little girl. "

But when the vicar called at the Grange a few days later, the strange, foreign-looking servant who opened the door told him that his masterdid not receive visitors; and as Mr. Carew walked down the drive hewondered what reason the foreign gentleman could have for coming tolive at Haversham. 

The last few days of the holidays went by very quickly; and it was justtwo days before the elder children went back to school that they sawtheir new little neighbour for the first time. 

"If you want to see the little Spanish girl, come quick!" cried Tom, throwing open the schoolroom door; and in a moment the others had flungdown their books and work and had followed him downstairs and out intothe garden. 

"Hurry!" cried Tom, panting as he rushed across the lawn; and theyreached the gate just as a stout, elderly woman and a pale-faced littlegirl, dressed in a quaintly-frilled black frock, paused for one momentbefore it. 

The child gazed solemnly at the group of rosy-faced, happy-lookingchildren on the other side of the gate; then she said something in astrange language to the nurse, and they moved on slowly. 

"What a _queer_ little girl!" said Ruth, as soon as the woman and thechild were out of hearing. "Hadn't she a comical little skirt?--alltiny frills; and her hair looked so funny in those tight littlepig-tails. "

"I think she must be French, " said Mary. "Little French girls alwaysdo their hair like that, in pictures--in two plaits tied with big bows. And the nurse was dressed like a French _bonne_, with those longstreamers in her cap. "

"She looks _so_ sad, " said Norah. "Poor little girl! Did you see howsad her eyes were when she looked at us, Mary? I don't expect she hasanyone to play with her all day long. "

"And the nurse looked a grim old thing, " said Stephen. "You'd betteroffer to go and play with her, Norah; you are always wanting a friendof your own age to play with, and here's one all ready and waiting. "

"She doesn't look as if she _could_ play, " said Philip. "Come on, Tom, I want to let the rabbits out for a run after I've given these mulberryleaves to the silk-worms. "

The children had planned to have tea in Weedon Woods that afternoon, but before dinner-time the sky became so cloudy and angry-looking thattheir mother feared a storm, and said that it would be wiser to put offtheir picnic until another day. 

And at one o'clock the rain began--down it came in torrents, then hail, then rain again; and the children stood at the windows and watched it, feeling glad that they had not started for the picnic. 

"We shouldn't have liked the wood today, " said Dan, pressing up ratherclosely to Mary as a loud rumble of thunder sounded very near to them. 

"No, " said Mary, "I'm glad mother wouldn't let us go; we should havebeen soaked through by this time. "

Just then Ellen, the housemaid, put her head in at the door. 

"If you please, Miss Mary, " she said, looking very much inclined tolaugh, "there's a strange gentleman in the drawing-room asking to seeyou. "

"To see me, Ellen? Are you sure?" asked Mary in surprise. "Didn't heask to see father or mother?"

"The master and mistress are both out, Miss, " said Ellen; "and he askedif you were in"; and then she hurried away in answer to a ring at theback-door bell. 

"Oh, Ruth, supposing it's the foreign gentleman!" said Norah. 

"Nonsense, Norah, " said Ruth; "you never think of anything else. "

When Mary opened the drawing-room door, however, she began to thinkthat perhaps Norah was right after all, and the queer-looking oldgentleman on the sofa was really the foreign gentleman who had come tolive at the Grange. 

He wore a pair of very large, blue spectacles, and had a long, whitebeard and bushy, white eyebrows which almost met over his nose; and hehad a tight, little black silk cap on his head, and was dressed in along, loose black coat, which showed glimpses of a crimson silkwaistcoat underneath. 

He was quite a short, old gentleman, Mary saw, as he rose to his feetand made her a very low bow; and he was very fat, the little girlthought to herself--almost as broad as he was long. 

She held out her hand very politely, however, and said "How do you do?"and the little, old gentleman bowed three times, and then sat downagain on the sofa. 

"I cannot speak your language very well, " he said, in a high, squeakyvoice. "But I want to make your acquaintance, and the acquaintance ofyour brothers and your sisters. Where are they, if you please?"

"I'll go and fetch them, " said Mary; and she went out into the hall, and called the other children, who were all sitting in a row at thefoot of the staircase. 

They jumped up when they saw Mary, and followed her across the hall ingreat glee when they heard that the foreign gentleman wanted to seethem also. 

"He is a _very_ queer old gentleman, " she whispered: "but you mustn'tlaugh, any of you, or look at each other--promise!"

[Illustration: "You mustn't laugh, any of you--promise!"]

"We promise, " cried the children; and they pressed eagerly into theroom, with Snap, the fox-terrier, bringing up the rear. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE LITTLE FOREIGN GIRL. 

Before the children had time to shake hands with the old gentleman, Snap darted forward and sprang upon him eagerly--not barking orsniffing round his feet and ankles, as he usually did to strangers, making them feel as if he were looking out for a nice place for a bite, but jumping up and throwing himself upon him with little yelps ofdelight, behaving, indeed, just as he always did if he thought anyonewas going to take him for a walk. 

And what do you think the old gentleman said? He said: "Down Snap, down Snap!" rather crossly and in a voice that the children knew quitewell; and almost before they had time to think how funny it was that heshould know their dog's name, or, indeed, to wonder about anything atall, Snap made another frantic leap, and seizing hold of the oldgentleman's white beard, dragged it off his chin, and darted off roundthe table with it in his mouth, shaking it as if it were a rabbit or arat!

"Philip! Oh, Philip!" cried the children. 

And Philip it was; naughty Philip, who had dressed himself up that wetafternoon to pretend that he was the foreign gentleman from the Grange;and, indeed, he had taken them all in finely. 

"Oh, Philip! Philip! Why didn't I guess who you were?" cried Mary, asher brother leant back laughing against the sofa-cushions. "And fancymy not knowing my own sash!" pointing to the crimson waistcoat, which--now that her brother had thrown off his coat--she saw was herown best silk sash wound round and round him. 

"And father's great coat!" said Ruth. 

"And the white horsehair stuff out of the fireplace, " said Philip, pointing to the empty grate. "It made a good beard, didn't it?"

"And the cap, Philip? Where did you get the cap from?" asked Mary. 

"It's the lining out of my old straw hat, " said Philip laughing. "Oh, _didn't_ I take you all in!"

The next day the three elder children went back to school, and wouldvery likely have forgotten all about the new people at the Grange ifTom and Norah had not written long letters from home telling them someof the strange tales which were being told in the village about theGrange tenants. 

The foreign gentleman--Monsieur Gen as he was called--only left thegrounds once a week, when he drove to the station in a closed carriage, and no information could be got out of the two old men-servants, whowere the only other people in the house besides the little girl and herelderly nurse. 

"Queer kind of folk too, them servants be, " Giles, the baker, said oneday to Rose, the little maid who usually took the children for walkswhen their mother was too busy to go with them. "There's one of themjabbers double-Dutch, and the other talks Dutch-double--except the fewEnglish words he's picked up since he's been here; and the names of allthe foods--he knows them right enough!" And Giles laughed aloud at hisown joke. 

The children listened eagerly. They were always interested in hearinganything about the people at the Grange, and Norah often lay awake atnight weaving strange fancies about the little girl who looked so sadand who must lead such a lonely life. 

October was nearly at an end, however, before they saw the littleforeign girl once more. 

It was a bright, sunny afternoon; and Norah and Dan had gone to lookfor chestnuts in the wood. 

They often went out alone, these two, when Tom was doing lessons withhis father and Rose busy about the house; for, although rather aharum-scarum little damsel as a rule, Norah was always careful of Dan;and Mrs. Carew knew that so long as they kept away from the main road, with its never-ending whir of motorcars, Norah could be trusted withDan anywhere; and the little girl felt very proud and happy as shepushed Dan's invalid chair down the drive, and knew that her littlebrother was in her charge for the afternoon. 

Dan had fallen out of his perambulator when quite a tiny baby, and hadtwisted his back in some way, so that he would never be tall and stronglike Stephen and Philip, or sturdy and straight like Tom; but he was avery happy little boy all the same, after a strange, quiet fashion ofhis own, and he liked best of all to be alone with Norah in the woodsor by the river, when they would make up all sorts of fancies aboutqueer little elves and fairies who, they said, lived in the trees orbushes, and in the sticklebacks' nests in the river. 

It was so warm in the wood, this afternoon, that it felt almost likesummer as the children hunted for chestnuts among the leaves, Danleaning out of his chair and poking about with a walking stick, andNorah bringing the burrs to him as she found them, so that he mightbreak them open and thread the nuts on to a piece of string he hadbrought with him. 

"Dan, " said Norah suddenly, when they had found quite a lot ofchestnuts and were beginning to be rather tired of looking for them, "shall we go and see if the gap in the fence is still there? It'squite early still, and it's not so very far away. "

"Oh, yes, " said Dan. "It's such a long time since we've been there. Do you think, if it's not filled up, we might go in just for a minute?"

Norah shook here head. 

"No, I don't think we can, " she said. "You know father said we hadbeen trespassing when we went there before, and nobody lived therethen, so I suppose it would be _more_ trespassing still if we went now;that's why we've never been to look at it all this time, because I knewif we did we should want to go in. "

Dan sighed. 

"And however much we want, this afternoon, we mustn't go in, " he said. "I almost wish the people hadn't come to the Grange, Norah; it used tobe so nice when we used to go and sit on our own little bank there, andnobody else ever came. "

"But we couldn't go now, even if it was empty, " said Norah, "becausefather said---- Oh, Dan!" she exclaimed, breaking off suddenly, "thegap is still there! Do you think I might peep through?"

"Yes, " said Dan. "_That's_ not trespassing. People often stop andlook in at our gate, and we don't mind a bit. Do go and look in, Norah; you can leave me here in the chair, and if it looks _very_ niceyou must come and help me down the bank just to peep through once more. "

Norah crept through the bushes cautiously, and popped her head in atthe gap. Then she gave a little gasp of surprise. 

There on Norah's own particular seat--a mossy stone shaped very like astumpy armchair--sat the foreign little girl reading a book. 

She raised her head and looked at Norah gravely. 

[Illustration: She raised her head and looked at Norah gravely. ]

They were a strange contrast--the pale, delicate-looking, littledark-eyed foreigner, and fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked Norah. For a few moments they looked at each other in silence, then theforeign child spoke. 

"You are the little girl I saw on the other side of the gate, " shesaid, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if she wanted to be quite sureof saying the English words in the right way. "And all the other boysand girls--are they also with you?"

"No, " said Norah, "only Dan. "

For the first time in her short life she felt shy and awkward. Thelittle girl spoke so precisely and had such dignified manners, "almostlike a grown-up princess, " as Norah said afterwards when telling hermother all about it; but if she had only known, the little girl wasreally a great deal shyer than she was, and had never before spoken toanother little girl. 

"And Dan--is he there?" she asked. "I don't think I do very much likeboys. "

"Oh, you would like Dan, " said Norah quickly. "Everyone likes Dan. He_will_ be surprised when I tell him that you were sitting in our ownglen. We always call it 'our glen, ' because nobody else knows aboutit, and it looks quite the kind of place for fairies to come and playin, doesn't it?"

"I don't think I know what you mean, " said the little girl in a puzzledkind of way. "What are fairies?"

CHAPTER IV. 

FAIRIES. 

"Don't know what fairies are? Oh, how funny!" said Norah. "You mustget Dan to tell you about them; he knows ever so much more about themthan I do. That is my seat you're sitting on now, and that is Dan'sseat over there, " pointing to a mossy corner, and quite forgetting thatthe glen belonged to the little foreign girl now, and that she and Danhad no longer any right to it. 

The little foreign girl rose to her feet quickly. 

"Won't you come and sit here now?" she said. "Please do! And won'tDan come and sit on his seat too?" glancing towards the corner Norahhad pointed out. 

Norah felt that she had been rather rude, and hastened to make amends. 

"No, I don't think we can come to-day, " she said, "though thank youvery much for asking us; and it was very rude of me to have said theseats belonged to us, " added the little girl, getting rather red. "Ofcourse, the glen is yours now, and the seats too. "

"Oh, but do come and sit in it sometimes, " said the other childeagerly. "I am always, always alone all day, except for old Marie; andit would be so nice to have someone, not quite big, to talk to. "

"We will come to-morrow, " said Norah, --she felt very sorry for thelittle girl when she spoke so sadly of being alone all day--"but I mustgo now. I can hear Dan calling, and it is getting late. "

"Good-bye, " said the little girl. "Won't you tell me your name, please?"

"Norah--Norah Carew. "

"And mine is Una. Good-bye, Norah. Please do come to-morrow. "

"Yes, I promise we will come, unless it rains; and then, of course, youwouldn't be out either, " said Norah. "Good-bye. "

"Norah!" said Dan severely, as his sister pushed her way up through thebushes to the top of the bank, "you have been a _very_ long time downin the glen, and I have called you lots and lots of times and youwouldn't answer. I think you must have heard!"

"Dan, dear, really I didn't hear, " said Norah. "I was talking to thelittle foreign girl. Didn't you hear us? She was sitting in our glen, and her name is Una, and she is a _very_ nice little girl; and shewants us to come and see her to-morrow, and I said we would if it wasfine. Aren't you pleased, Dan?"

"Yes, " said Dan, "very! I heard you talking to someone, and that iswhy I wanted to come down too. That's what made me cross, Norah; but Ithink the crossness has all gone away now, and I do want to hear aboutthe little foreign girl, please, " and Dan leant back comfortably in hischair as his sister began to wheel him over the mossy ground. 

"Poor Dan!" said Norah; "it was horrid of me not to have heard youcalling. "

"I thought perhaps you were talking to a fairy, " said Dan. 

Norah laughed. 

"I wish it had been a fairy, " she said. "I would have wished for everso many things. Oh dear, Dan, look at the sun! it's quite low, andmother will be wondering where we are. "

"Here's Tom, " said Dan. "Mother must have sent him to look for us. "

Long before Tom reached them, however, he had begun to cry aloud hisnews. 

"Mother's gone away! Aunt Edna's ill, and they sent a telegram formother. Father's gone too, but he is coming back to-morrow. "

"Oh, Tom!" said Norah. 

And, "Oh, Tom!" echoed Dan blankly. It seemed so terrible to think ofgoing home and finding no mother or father there. 

"Who's going to look after us, and everything?" asked Dan. 

"Kate is going to look after the house, and I'm to look afteryou--mother said so, " said Tom importantly. 

But the next morning Master Tom forgot his charge, and went off on someexpedition of his own; and Norah and Dan were left on their own devicesonce more. 

"I am glad father is coming back this evening, " said Norah, as shepushed Dan's wheelchair through the wood on their way to see Una. 

"So am I, " said Dan; "but I do wish mother was coming too. "

A low laugh sounded from somewhere close at hand, and Norah stoppedwheeling the chair and looked about her. 

"Norah, do you think it's fairies?" whispered Dan. 

He had hardly said the words when a little girl sprang suddenly intothe path in front of them. She was dressed in some soft, thick, whitematerial, and had a long gauzy white shawl thrown over her head andshoulders. 

"It's Una!" said Norah, and her little brother gave a sigh ofdisappointment. He had really almost thought that the little girlmight be a fairy as she danced lightly on the path before them. 

"I thought I would come and meet you to-day, " said Una, "so I camethrough the--what do you call it?--the gap; and then when I heard youcoming, I hid. I thought it might be someone I did not know, and Mariedoes not like me to be out alone. "

"Is Marie your nurse?" asked Norah. 

"Yes, " said the little girl; "my very good nurse from the country ofFrance. "

"Are you a little French girl, then?" asked Dan. 

Una looked at him gravely. 

"No, " she said. "I am cos--cos--it is such a very long word that Ialways forget it--cos-mo-pol-i-tan, " she said slowly. 

"Oh, " said Norah, "that is a long word. And is that the name of thecountry where you come from?"

"I don't know, " said Una. "Papa told me to tell anyone who asked methat I was cosmo--, you know, the long word again; and I think it meansbelonging to lots of different countries. Papa said it meant somethinglike that when I asked him once; and we have lived in so many countriesthat I can't remember all the names. "

"How nice to have lived in lots of different countries, " said Dan. "When I'm a man I mean to be an explorer and go to every country in theworld. "

Norah looked a little unhappy. She always felt sad when Dan talkedabout all he meant to do when he was grown up, for she knew that hewould never be strong enough to travel about the world as he wished. 

"Why don't you be an author, Dan, and write books?" she said, "or agreat painter, or a clergyman, like father?"

"I might be a clergyman, " said Dan, "but if I was I should be amissionary, and go and preach to black people. Oh, Una!" he said, breaking off suddenly, "do you know, twice now I have thought you werea fairy--once when you were talking to Norah yesterday, and againto-day. And do you know what I was going to ask you if you had been afairy? To give me and Norah a carpet so that we could go wherever weliked. Mother read us a tale about a fairy carpet last winter. "

Again the puzzled look which Norah had noticed the day before came intoUna's face. 

"I don't know what you do mean, " she said. "What are fairies? Arethey people, or just little children?"

"Why, " said Dan, "fairies are dear little people who live in a lovelycountry called Fairyland, and nobody knows where that country is--onlythere are lots and lots of doors to fairyland if only we knew where tofind them. 

"Norah and I have looked for a fairy door everywhere, " he went on, "butwe have never found one yet. And we have never found a fairy either, though we know _exactly_ what we should ask her for if we did see one;and fairies do come out of fairyland sometimes; it says so in nearlyall the fairy-tale books. Let's all wish now!" he cried suddenly. "Out loud, you know, so that if there _should_ be a fairy hidingsomewhere around she'll hear what we are asking for, and perhaps giveit us!"

"Oh, but Dan----, " Norah was beginning, when Una sprang to her feet andmade a queer sort of little dance in front of them. 

"Fairies! fairies!" she cried, clapping her hands as though she were alittle fairy queen herself, calling all her little people together. "Iwant father to be quite happy, please, and not to have to work so hardin that nasty dark study, and I want some little boys and girls to playwith and do lessons with, just as if they were my very own brothers andsisters; and I want a puppy-dog for my very own, please, fairies, and----"

[Illustration: "'Fairies! fairies!' she cried, clapping her hands. "]

"Oh, Una, Una! stop!" cried Norah. "You are spoiling all your wishessaying them out loud like that. Fairies never grant people's wishes ifthey call them out loud for everyone to hear. "

But whether there were any fairies hiding in the wood that afternoon ornot, at any rate one of little Una's wishes came true, as we shall see. 

CHAPTER V. 

HAPPY DAYS. 

Nearly every day, after that first meeting, the children played withUna in the wood and joined her in the glen. 

"The glen's nicer now it's Una's than when it was ours, " said Dan oneday, as he sat munching one of the nice little sugar cakes which Mariehad made for them that morning. 

"It wasn't ever ours really, " said Norah. 

"Well, anyway, it's Una's now, and it's much nicer, " said Dan, lookinggravely into the basket Una held out to him, and choosing a round, pinkcake with a cherry in the middle. 

Then one day something still nicer came to pass. The foreign gentlemancame to call on Mr. Carew, to ask if he would allow his children tocome every day and have lessons with his little girl. 

The children were delighted when they heard of this. They had met theforeign gentleman in the lane as they were coming home from a walk withRose, and they had wondered whether he had been to see their father. 

"I hope he has not been to say we mustn't go and play with Una in theglen any more, " Dan had said; but they had no idea what the foreigngentleman's visit had really been about until their father told themthe next morning, after breakfast. 

Mr. And Mrs. Carew had needed a little time in which to think about andtalk over Monsieur Gen's proposal, and they did not want the childrento know anything about it until all was settled. 

For the last year--ever since Mary and Ruth had gone to school, andsince Miss Rice, the governess who had been with them for over sixyears, had got married--the younger children had only had lessons whentheir mother or father could find time to teach them. 

The school fees of the four elder children came to so large a sum ofmoney that the vicar could not afford to have a governess at home forNorah and Tom and Dan; and as both Mr. And Mrs. Carew led very busylives, lessons had sometimes to be put on one side altogether, and thechildren were beginning to forget a great deal which they had learned ayear ago with Miss Rice. 

The foreign gentleman's offer, therefore, had been a great relief toMr. And Mrs. Carew, and the children were delighted at the idea ofgoing to the Grange every day to do their lessons with Una. 

"And we shall be able to tell Una more about the Bible now, shan't we, father?" said Norah. "She wants to know such a lot more. Nobody hasever told her about Christmas before--that it is Jesus Christ'sbirthday, I mean; and that that is why everyone is so happy then andtries to make everyone else happy, just like He used to do. And shedidn't know God made the world, or that He takes care of us, oranything. "

"Poor little girl!" said Mrs. Carew. 

"Poor child, indeed!" said the vicar. "I wonder why Monsieur Gen----, "and then he stopped suddenly, thinking, no doubt, that the childrenwere quite curious enough already about their foreign neighbours. "After all, it is not for us to pry into other people's affairs, " hesaid, with a smile. "Teach little Una all you can about the Bible andGod's love, Norah; but do not worry her with questions about her fatherand his doings. "

A week later the children went to the Grange for their first morning'slessons with Una. 

"I feel just as if we were going into a magic palace, " whispered Norah, as they waited for the door to be opened. 

"And as if we should be turned into snakes and wolves and all sorts ofhorrid animals, before we came out again, " said Tom. 

"Or into one of those marble statues, " whispered Dan, as they followedthe servant across the hall to the foot of the staircase, where anotherservant met them and led the way upstairs. At the end of a longpassage he paused and flung open a door, standing aside for thechildren to pass. 

"Here lives the wizard!" murmured Tom under his breath; but it was onlylittle Una who advanced to meet them across the big, bare room, bowingprimly to each of the three in turn, then turning to introduce theEnglish governess who was seated at a table near the window. 

"Miss Berrill, my good English _gouvernante_, " she said; and MissBerrill smiled at the child's introduction, and told her to go with herlittle friends to take off their hats and coats, and that then shewould try to find out how much they all knew. 

The children thoroughly enjoyed those morning lessons and the hour ofplay afterwards. Week after week glided by until the Christmasholidays drew near, and pale, silent, little Una seemed turned into adifferent child. 

In vain had the children begged for her to spend Christmas Day withthem at the vicarage. 

"My daughter does not visit, " Monsieur Gen had replied; and thechildren felt that there was nothing more to be said. 

They still stood very much in awe of Una's tall grave father, wholooked in upon them now and again while they were at lessons or play, but never stopped to chat or romp with his little girl; and merely benthis head in acknowledgment of the stiff little curtsey with which Unaalways greeted him in obedience to Marie's directions. 

On the afternoon of Christmas Day the children carried a small parcelof home-made gifts and almond toffee to Una; then stayed with her tosing some Christmas hymns and carols, and to tell her over again thatwonderful old story of the first Christmas morning so many years ago. 

With eager face and hungry eyes Una drank in Norah's words, turning toTom every now and then for the explanation of some difficult word, orto Dan for a description of that Eastern stable; and long after thechildren had gone back to the merry home circle where "Peace" and"Goodwill, " welcome angels, hovered around, the little foreigner satgazing at the simple print, in its plain oak frame, of the Magiworshipping the Infant Christ, --a gift from the vicar to his children'sfriend. 

January, February, March, April passed by, and one sunny morning in MayUna awoke with the feeling that something very wonderful had happenedthe day before. 

For a few moments she could not think what it was, as she lay listeningdreamily to the songs of the birds outside; then all at once sheremembered. 

The day before she had been for a long walk with old Marie through thewood. Neither of them had ever been so far before; but Una had coaxedher old Nurse first up one winding path, then down another--begging herto walk just as far as the bluebells they could see in the distance, orto the tall fir-trees where they could listen to the wood-pigeonscooing overhead, or "just a little further, " on the chance of catchinga glimpse of the cuckoo they had heard calling all the afternoon--untilold Marie had sat down on the stump of a tree, fanning herself with ahandkerchief, and declaring that she could walk no more. 

"Just a little further--only a little way more, Marie, _please_, " Unabegged. "I only want to see if the white flowers over there are thedog-daisies Tom told me about. Such a funny name, isn't it? Daisieswhich belong to the dogs!" And the little girl laughed merrily. 

"No more, no more, Miss Una, " the old Frenchwoman said. "You may runon by yourself for a little way, like a good child, if you keep withincall. " And Marie closed her eyes drowsily--quite overcome with thelong walk and the warm afternoon--while Una hunted for birds' nestsamong the bushes, and added more blossoms to the already large bunch offlowers she had picked as she came along. 

She had wandered further away from old Marie than she knew, when shecame suddenly to a high, ivy-covered wall, and was able to go nofurther. 

On either side it stretched away from her. The little girl was notable to see where the wall began or where it ended, and she thoughtthat this must be the end of the wood at last, for the wall was so highthat she could not see if trees grew on the other side of it. 

Presently she began to hunt for birds' nests among the ivy--Tom hadtold her once that wrens and robins often built in ivy-coveredwalls--and then it was that she had made the wonderful discovery. 

There, in the old brick wall, half hidden by the ivy, was a tiny oakdoor. 

[Illustration: "There, in the old brick wall, was a tiny oak door!"]

"The door to fairyland!" Una said to herself. 

Then old Marie had called to her through the trees, and Una dropped thecurtain of ivy and turned to meet her nurse with flushed cheeks andshining eyes, for had not Norah and Dan told her that only those whofound the door to fairyland could enter in? They must not show it toothers. 

"I'll come by myself to-morrow, " the little girl had thought toherself; and she sat up in bed the next morning with a little happylaugh of remembrance. 

"I'll be in fairyland to-day, " she whispered softly. 

CHAPTER VI. 

UNA ASKS A QUESTION. 

That afternoon, as soon as dinner was over and Marie had settledherself for her afternoon nap, Una slipped through the gap in thefence--how well she knew it now!--and started off by herself to try andfind again the door into Fairyland. 

On she ran, until she came to a place where three paths met, and wasuncertain which to take. 

A yellow butterfly, dancing gaily along one of the paths, decided her, and Una followed it gleefully. 

"Perhaps it's a fairy sent to meet me, " she thought. 

At last she came to the stump of a tree where Marie had rested, andfrom there she soon found her way to the old wall in which was thesecret door. 

It took her longer to find the door than the little girl had expected. The ivy grew so thickly over the wall that she had to walk quite a longway--pushing aside the branches and peering between the leaves--beforeshe found the little door once more. 

Then she pulled away the twisted branches of the ivy which had grownacross the door, and turned the handle timidly. 

For a moment she thought the door was locked; then she heard a queersort of grating sound and something fell on the other side of the wall. Una pulled once more, and the door opened slowly towards her. 

What the little girl saw on the other side of the wall was so lovelythat she gave a gasp of delight, and then stood, quite still, lookingthrough the small doorway. 

As far as she could see was a long bower of lovely pink and whiteflowers. Hundreds of bees hummed amongst the blossoms; but to Una thebuzzing sounded like hundreds of tiny voices, and she thought she heardthe fairies talking. 

"Fairies! Fairies!" she called softly. But no one answered, and verysoon the little girl stepped through the doorway and walked down theapple-blossom path, looking from side to side to see if there were anyfairies hiding near. 

On she went, until the pink and white bower turned into a wide walkwith masses of gay May flowers on either side, and this in turn endedin a big square garden with stone walks and bright flower-beds, and afountain sparkling in the midst. 

In the stone basin of the fountain were pretty gold and silver fish. 

"Fairy fishes!" Una thought, for she had never seen goldfish before, and she was still bending over the basin when she heard a tap, tap, tapon the stone pathway, and, turning quickly, saw a very small, very oldlady coming towards her. 

[Illustration: "She was still bending over the basin when she heard atap, tap, tap. "]

"A fairy godmother, " thought Una. "I didn't know they lived inFairyland. "

Then she went to meet the old lady, giving a quaint little curtsey andwaiting for her to speak. 

"Well, little girl, " said the old lady kindly, "and who are you?"

"I'm Una, " said the child gravely. 

Then she gave a sudden jump in the air. 

"Oh, fairy-godmother, how kind of you--there's my puppy dog!" shecried, as a fat retriever puppy gambolled down the path and flungitself playfully upon her. 

The old lady looked amused. 

"A fairy godmother, am I?" she said, smiling. "What can I do for you, then?"

"Oh, such a lot of things!" said Una. Then a surprised look came intoher face: "Why, here's an old gentleman!" she said. "I didn't knowthere were fairy godfathers too. Do you live in Fairyland together?"

The old lady laughed outright. 

"Dear child, do you think this is Fairyland?" she asked. 

"_Isn't it_ Fairyland?" said Una. "Oh, dear, I thought it must be whenI came through the little door. "

"The little door?" said the old lady. "Where is that?"

"The door in the wall, " said Una. "I found it yesterday when I was inthe wood, and I thought it was one of the doors to Fairyland. "

"Ah! the little door at the end of the apple walk, " said the old lady"I had almost forgotten it, it is so long since it has been used--and Ithought it was locked, too, " she added, half to herself. "Edward, " shesaid, raising her voice a little as she spoke to the old gentleman, "here is a little girl who has found her way into our garden thinkingit was Fairyland. "

"And a very nice kind of Fairyland too, " said the old gentleman, "especially when this kind of little fairy comes to visit us, " and heheld out his hand to Una kindly. 

"You are the little girl from the Grange, are you not?" asked the oldlady; then, remembering some rather queer tales she had heard of thenew people at the Grange, she asked no more questions, but said thattea would soon be ready, and invited Una to stay and have it with them. 

After all it was almost as nice as being in Fairyland, Una thought, asthey sat under a large cherry tree covered with snowy blossoms, anddrank tea out of the thinnest of china cups, each one shaped like adifferent flower, with a beetle or a bird or a butterfly for thehandle. The clearest of honeycomb was on the table, which the oldgentleman had sent for especially for Una; and the black puppy sat ather side all tea-time, opening his wet, black mouth for tastes of breadand butter, and rubbing his head against her knee if she forgot to givehim any. 

When tea was over Una looked at the sun. 

"Oh, dear, " she said, "the sun is getting quite low, and Marie willthink I am lost. "

"Dear, dear! We ought to have thought of that, " said the old lady. "Will not your father be anxious also?"

"Papa is away from home for a few days, " said Una. 

Then she made a little curtsey. 

"May I go now, please?" she asked; and the old lady walked with her asfar as the little door. 

"Come another afternoon to Fairyland, " she said, as she stooped to kissthe little girl. 

Una promised readily, and only remembered when she was half way throughthe wood that her father did not like her to visit at strange houses. 

"I'll tell him where I've been directly he comes home to-morrow, " shethought. 

But when she pushed her way through the bushes in the Grange garden shesaw her father coming quickly across the lawn towards her, with ashort, stout gentleman beside him. 

"My little girl, where have you been?" he said. "Marie came to me ingreat distress just now and told me that Mademoiselle Una was lost, andwe have been looking for you everywhere. "

"Father, dear father, don't be angry, please, " said Una coaxingly; "butI've been to tea this afternoon with a dear old lady and gentleman, andthey live in the loveliest garden in the world--at least I think itmust be. And they want me to come again; and I do want to go verymuch, please, father. So don't say 'no, ' as you do when I want to goto tea with Norah and Dan. Please, _please_, father, say 'yes. '"

Monsieur Gen hesitated and glanced towards his friend. But the littlestout gentleman was frowning, and Una thought what a disagreeable manhe was, and wished that he had not come home with her father, when theymight have had such a nice evening together, just he and she alone. 

"It is not wise to let the child go anywhere she likes among strangers. You know what children's tongues are like, and how easily stories getafloat, " the stranger said in French. 

But Una understood French as well as she understood English, and shefelt very angry with the stranger for trying to persuade her father notto let her go and see the dear old lady and gentleman again. 

"No, dear. You must learn to stay quietly here in the garden, " saidher father; and Una said no more then, but walked slowly across thelawn into the house and upstairs to the nursery, where she was scoldedby old Marie for having run away by herself that afternoon. 

And it was not until some hours later--after she had watched thestrange gentleman driving away to the station--that she ran downstairsto the library and asked the question which had been puzzling herlittle brain for the last few weeks. 

"Father, " she said, "I want to know _why_ I mayn't go and see otherlittle boys and girls, and go to church, and go to see the people inthe cottages, as Norah and Tom and Ruth do. "

CHAPTER VII. 

SECRETS. 

"What makes you ask that question, Una?" said her father. "When wehave lived in other countries you have never asked to have little boysand girls to play with, or worried about why you may not go and seepeople and go to church; and here you have Norah and Tom and Dan toplay with. Surely that is enough?"

"But I didn't know before that little boys and girls _did_ play witheach other, " said Una--"at least, when I saw other little boys andgirls playing with each other I thought they were brothers and sisters, or cousins, and, of course, I haven't got any brothers or sisters orcousins of my very own; but now that I know what little boys and girlsdo, I _do_ want to go to church and go to tea with them in theirhouses, and do things like them. _Please_, father, let me!" And Unaclasped her hands coaxingly as she thought of the dear old lady andgentleman she had been to tea with, that afternoon. 

The flower-filled garden, the yellow honeycomb, the gold-fish and theblack puppy--and the cockatoo the old gentleman had promised to showher the next time she came--all floated through her brain as she waitedfor her father's answer. But Monsieur Gen shook his head. 

"No, dear, " he said. 

To himself he was thinking that perhaps he had been foolish to allowUna to be friends with the vicar's children at all; he might have knownthat it would make her restless, and dissatisfied with the quiet lifeshe had been quite content to live before. 

Then he roused himself and looked down kindly at his little girl. 

"Are you very disappointed? Poor little Una!" he said, putting his armround her and drawing her to his side. "Don't look so sad, and I willtry and explain to you why it is that you have never had little friendsand companions of your own age. "

Una looked at him, still gravely, but with the light of a growinginterest in her eyes. Then she fetched a little stool and sat down ather father's feet. 

"You must know, Una dear, " said her father, smiling rather sadly, as helooked down at her, "that each one of us has some kind of work to do inthe world. We may do it badly or we may do it well, or we may not eventry to do it at all, but each one of us _ought_ to try to do somethingto help our fellow-men. Do you understand, little one?"

Una nodded. 

"Yes, father; I quite understand, " she said. 

It was not often that her father talked in this way--it was rather likelistening to the vicar's sermon the only Sunday she had ever been tochurch, she thought, as she leant her head against her father's knee;and Monsieur Gen went on speaking:

"Well, dear, sometimes people can help each other to do their bits ofwork in the world, and sometimes, too, they can spoil other people'swork; and there are some people who are trying very hard to spoil thework which I am doing. "

Una sprang to her feet. 

"Father! How dare they?" she said indignantly. "Horrid people, . . . I hate them!"

Her father reached out his hand and drew her to him. 

"But as long as they cannot find out exactly what I _am_ doing, " hesaid, "or how I am doing it, they cannot really spoil my work; and thatis why I have never made friends with people in any of the differentplaces where we have stayed, in case the people who want to spoil mywork should try and find out through these new friends who I am, andwhat I am doing. And that is why I want you, my little Una, to help meto keep my work as secret as possible. "

"Oh, father, I will, I will!" cried Una. "Only--only I don't quite seehow I can let out a secret if I don't exactly know what it is. "

"I cannot tell you all the secret, little Una, " said her father--"atleast not until you are older and can understand more about it. But ifI were to let you make friends and go about wherever you like peoplewould begin to wonder where you came from, and who you were, and to askyou questions about me and what I did; and although not really knowingmy secret, you might let out little bits of it, until people began towonder and talk about you and me. One can never be too careful, " headded, half to himself. 

"Yes, I understand, father, " said Una gravely; and she sat at herfather's feet, looking into the fire and not talking much, until thelittle clock on the mantelpiece struck seven, and Marie came to tellher that it was bedtime. 

"I wonder whether I was wise in telling her so much, " Monsieur Genthought to himself, when his little daughter had gone. "But it seemedthe only thing to be done, and she is prudent beyond her years, poorlittle, lonely girl. I do not think she will chatter about anything Ihave told her. "

For some time after this Una was rather quiet and sad, more like whatshe had been when Norah and Dan first got to know her, and not nearlyso ready to laugh and play as she had been of late. 

The secret her father had told her weighed heavily on the little girl'smind--she was so afraid that she might have let out to her littlefriends, though unknowingly, something about her father's work, and shewas careful now not to say anything which might lead them to askquestions about him. 

One afternoon she was walking by herself in the wood, when she cameacross Tom seated on the ground with a number of paper bags andpackages strewn around him. 

[Illustration: "She came across Tom seated on the ground. "]

"Hullo, Una, what are you doing?" he said, glancing rather guiltily atthe parcels, as if he hoped Una would not ask what was in them. 

"I came to see if I could find any flowers, " answered the little girl. "Marie has a headache this afternoon, and she said I might go in thewood just a little way by myself, because I am so tired of being in thegarden. "

"I'll show you where you can get some honeysuckle in a minute, " saidTom; "it's just out now, and I know where there are some wildforget-me-nots growing all round a pool, a little way from here. "

He got up and began to collect some of the paper packages into hisarms; then he looked at Una. 

"I say, I wonder if you'd help me to carry some of these?" he said. "Ikept dropping them coming along, and the marmalade jar has gotcracked--it's all dripping through the paper; and the apples keeprolling all over the place, " making a sudden dive after a large redapple as he spoke, and dropping half the other parcels in his effortsto catch it. 

"I will, if it's not farther than the wood, " said Una. "I mayn't go inthe road by myself, you know. "

"You wouldn't be by yourself, you'd have me, " said Tom. "But, anyway, I'm not going outside the wood--at least, only just on to the common, and you needn't come so far as that. I say, Una, shall I tell you asecret?"

Una threw out her hands in the funny little foreign way which wasnatural to her, and which always made the little Carews laugh. 

"Oh, no, no!" she cried. "Not a secret! _Please_, Tom, don't tell meone. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE GIPSIES ON THE COMMON. 

Tom stared at Una in surprise. 

"Well, you are a funny girl, " he said, rather gruffly. "I thoughtyou'd be pleased; it's not often you catch me telling a _girl_ asecret. "

Una bent down and began to pick up some of the fallen parcels. She wassorry that she had offended Tom, for it was not often that hecondescended to play with or talk to her, and she had felt rather proudwhen he had asked her to help him that afternoon. 

"I thought _all_ girls liked secrets, " went on the boy. "You're not abit like Norah. Why, she'd give anything to know my secret thisafternoon. "

"Would she? How funny!" said Una, genuinely surprised. "I thinksecrets are horrid. "

"Secrets horrid? Why, they're lovely!" said Tom. "When Barnes--he'sour gardener, you know--says he has got a secret to tell me, I knowthat Bruno has puppies, or that the peaches are ripe and he's going togive me a basketful to take to mother; or he's found a wild bees' nestin the wood and he wants me to help him to dig the honeycomb out;or--or--oh, I can't think of any more now, but secrets are alwaysjolly. "

"No, they are not--not quite always, " said Una gravely. "But is yoursa jolly one, Tom?"

"Yes, " said Tom, "awfully!"

"Oh, then, I _do_ want to hear it, " said Una eagerly. "Please, Tom, tell me. "

"Well, " said Tom, "it's just like this: there are some gipsies campingon the common now, and they've got four tiny children, and one's only ababy; and the father broke his leg, some weeks ago, and he's in ahospital at Lawton--the woman told mother all about it when she came tosell chairs and things this morning. She makes dear little chairs, Una, out of oak-apples and chestnuts and things like that; and littlepicture-frames with grey lichen and acorns and bits of twigs stuck allround; and mother bought a chair for Norah's doll, because, she says, it's much better for them to try and make things like that and try tosell them than just to come round begging, as so many of them do. "

Una nodded, as Tom paused for breath. 

"Yes, Tom, " she said; "go on. "

"Well, " said the boy, "mother sent Barnes round this morning to see ifit was all true; and it is true, quite true, Barnes says. And somother said I might take them some bread and a pot of marmalade, andbutter, and a packet of tea, and sixpence to buy milk with, and thenjust as I was starting father gave me the six-pence he said he wouldfor weeding the big bed beside the lawn; and so I spent it on biscuitsand sugar for the children, because tea is horrid without sugar, isn'tit? And that's the secret, Una, " said Tom, getting rather red in theface, "and I haven't told anyone but you, because, because, oh--I don'tknow! But I don't want anybody to know, so you won't tell, will you?"

"No, I promise I won't tell, " said Una. "And I think it is an awfullynice secret, Tom dear, and thank you very much for telling me. "

"You see, " went on Tom, feeling that Una was rather a nice little girlto tell things to, "you know what father said in his sermon last Sundayabout not letting your right hand know what your left hand does? Oh, no; I forgot you weren't there. Well, it means if you go and doanything for anyone, or give anything away, or anything like that, don't go and tell everyone what you're doing, just for them to say whata jolly good sort you are. "

"Oh, yes, I see!" said Una; "that _would_ be a horrid way of givingthings, wouldn't it, Tom? Yours is an ever so much nicer kind of way. "

Tom grunted, feeling all of a sudden rather bashful; for it was notoften that he talked about himself or his own doings. He was ratherthe odd one of the family--Norah and Dan being such very great friends, and having so many little plays and fancies together in which he had noshare; and Philip and the elder girls being rather inclined to classhim with Norah and Dan--as one of the "little ones"--when they camehome for the holidays. 

"There they are!" he said suddenly. "Look, Una, you can see theirwigwam through the trees--that funny sort of hut-place with a roundedroof. "

[Illustration: "'There they are!' he said suddenly. "]

"The gipsies?" said Una. "Oh, Tom, do they live in that funny littlehouse?"

"Yes, " said Tom, "and when they want to go somewhere else they justpack up their hut--it all comes to piece somehow--and then go off inthat cart. It must be awfully jolly to live like that. "

"Yes, in the summer, " Una agreed, "but not in the winter, Tom. Oh, no!--not in the cold, cold winter, when the snow is on the ground, " andUna gave a little shiver at the thought. 

"No, " said Tom, "not in the winter, perhaps, and not when they haven'tenough to eat, like these now. The woman said she'd only had half aloaf of bread to give her children all yesterday, and that is whymother sent them a great can of soup by Barnes this morning, and I'mtaking them these things now, because they're going on to-morrowtowards the hospital where the children's father is. Now, what are yougoing to do, Una? Are you coming too, or going to stay here?"

"I'll stay here, " said Una, "if you can carry all the parcels. "

"Yes, I can, " said Tom. "I carried them all the way from the shop towhere I met you in the wood. "

Una piled the parcels carefully one on the top of the other in Tom'sarms, then sat down on the mossy root of a tree, and watched him as hecrossed the common towards the little brown hut among the gorse bushes. 

A thin wreath of smoke curled upwards from a small fire in front of thehut; and as Tom drew nearer two children began to throw twigs andbranches on the fire, making it crackle and blaze while they dancedwildly round the flames, giving little squeals of delight and hittingat each other with the sticks they held in their hands. 

It was all fun, however. Una could tell that by the peals of laughterwhich reached her ears, and she laughed, too, when a little thin blackdog sprang out of the hut, joining madly in the dance, and barkingfuriously when he caught sight of Tom coming towards them. 

The children stopped dancing and looked at Tom gravely; then theydisappeared inside the hut, calling to someone within, and the nextmoment a woman came out with a baby in her arms, and another little oneclinging to her skirts. 

She bobbed a curtsey to Tom, and presently began to take the parcelsone by one out of his arms, bobbing lots of little curtseys as she didso; but Una was too far off to hear what Tom and the woman were sayingto each other, and she was disappointed when they all went behind thehut and she could not see them any more. 

She could still see the parcels where the woman had laid them in alittle white heap beside the fire; and by-and-by one of the childrencame round from the back of the hut and began to open each of thepackages in turn, giving little hops and skips of joy as he saw thenice things inside. 

Then the other children appeared again, followed by Tom and thegipsy-woman; and they all bobbed curtseys to Tom once more before heleft them and came across the heather towards Una, carrying somethingvery carefully in a red pocket-handkerchief. 

Una went to meet him through the trees. 

"What have you got there, Tom?" she asked. 

"Another secret!" he cried, waving the handkerchief to and fro beforeher eyes. 

CHAPTER IX. 

UNA'S PET. 

"Another secret? Oh, Tom!" said Una. 

"It's a nice one, too, " said Tom. "Guess what I've got here, Una. "

Una looked hard at the handkerchief for some moments; then she slowlyshook her head. 

"I can't, Tom, " she said, wondering if Norah would have been able toguess, and fearing that Tom must think her a very stupid little girlindeed. 

But Tom only laughed gleefully. 

"I knew you couldn't, " he said; "and I don't expect you'll know what tocall it, even when you've seen it. "

He knelt down on the moss and opened the handkerchief, exhibiting afunny-looking, spiky ball. 

"Oh, Tom, what is it?" asked Una. "A ball made of pine-needles?"'

"_Pine-needles!_" laughed Tom. "You touch the point of one, and see!"

Una pressed one of the spikes gently with her finger, and gave a littlecry as the ball moved slightly and became half unrolled; then curleditself up as before. 

"Oh, Tom, it's alive!" she cried. 

[Illustration: "'Oh, Tom, it's alive!' cried Una. "]

"Yes, it's alive, " said Tom. "It's a hedge-hog, Una. The littlegipsy-boy found it this morning under a gorse-bush, among some leaves. Hedgehogs go to sleep all the winter, rolled up like this in a ball;and they store up a lot of food somewhere near in case they wake up andget hungry during the winter; and when the spring comes they wake quiteup, and begin to move about. That is why this one is really awake now, only he has rolled himself up, and pretends to be asleep, because he'sfrightened. "

"Oh, the funny little thing!" said Una, bending down to see if shecould catch a glimpse of the hedgehog's bright little eyes. 

"What do you think I'm going to do with it?" asked Tom. 

"Keep it?" suggested Una. 

"No, " said the boy, "I'm going to give it to you. "

"Oh, Tom--what for?" asked the little girl, trying to look very pleasedand grateful, but wondering whatever she was to do with such a pricklypresent. 

"What for? Why, for you to have as a pet, " said Tom. "You're not halfsuch a silly girl as I thought you were; and, of course, you can't helpnot being English, " he added magnanimously. "And, you know, I do thinkit is awfully dull for you, shut up in that big garden, when we're notthere to play with you: and now you'll have the hedgehog to play with. "

"So I shall, " said Una. "What--what shall I do with it, Tom?"

"Why, feed it, " said the boy, "and teach it to know you and to comewhen you call. You'll have to name it, Una, and teach it tricks andall sorts of things, " and poor Tom gave one big sigh as he thought howhe would have liked to keep that hedgehog for himself instead of givingit to Una. 

Una was too polite, however, to say she did not want the little animal. She knew that it was very kind of Tom to have given it to her, thoughshe had no idea how much he wanted it himself; and she asked him tocome home with her that afternoon and make a house for it in thegarden, so that it should not run away and get lost in the woods. 

After all, Tom's present turned out a great success. It was the firsttime Una had ever had a pet in her life, and she became so fond of thelittle creature that she would spend hours playing with it in thegarden, tickling its little head with the tip of her finger, andfeeding it with dandelion flowers, which it loved. 

It was through the hedgehog that rather a queer thing happened one dayin the garden. 

I think I told you that Una's father went away somewhere by train oncea week, and usually came back either the next day or two or three dayslater, but I don't think I told you that sometimes he brought backgentlemen to stay with him; and occasionally these gentlemen stayeduntil Monsieur Gen went away again the next week, though morefrequently they remained only one night at the Grange and went awayagain the next day. Now and then, however, they stayed much longerthan that--for weeks together indeed; and Una noticed that the ones whostayed longest always looked very pale and thin, and very, very sad, asif they had had much trouble. 

But she did not see very much of any of her father's visitors--onlycoming across one or another of them sometimes on the stairs or in thegarden; and the little Carews had never seen any of them, for when theywere playing there with Una the strange gentlemen did not come into thegarden. 

Una used to wonder sometimes what made all the gentlemen who came toher father's house look so sad. All men did not look sad, she knew, for the baker's man who came to the house looked quite jolly, and had around, red face which seemed always laughing; and Mr. Carew, her littlefriends' father, looked quite cheerful, too, quite different from herown grave father. 

Poor little girl! It was sad for her, this mystery which hung abouther life; and I think she would have grown into a very quiet, gravelittle maiden in those days if she had not had the little Carews toplay and be merry with. 

One day the children had been having a game on the terrace in the frontof the house. It was a new game which Tom had made up, and which theyall liked very much. One of them stood, blindfolded, in front of aheap of little sticks at one end of the terrace, and the others all hadto hop on one leg and try to get the sticks, one by one, without theblindfolded one catching them; the fun of the game being that it wasvery difficult not to make a noise hopping on the gravel, and the"blind man" usually pretended not to hear, and then made a dash at thehopping thief just as he or she was carrying off a stick. 

They had been playing so long at this game that they had madethemselves quite tired and hot, and had sat down on the lawn to rest;and then it was that Una remembered that she had forgotten to shut up"Snoozy, " as she had named the hedgehog, after she had given him hisbreakfast that morning, and now she could not think what had become ofhim. 

The hedgehog had got so tame now that he would follow his littlemistress about the garden, and come when she called or whistled; andUna generally let him have a run in the garden every morning, and thenshut him up again when she went in to lessons. 

To-day, however, although she called and whistled, and looked in allthe little animal's usual haunts, she could not find him, and they hadalmost begun to think that he must have run away into the wood, whenTom thought of the drooping ash-tree at the end of the lawn, andwondered whether "Snoozy" might have hidden himself in there. 

"How silly of us, " cried Norah. "Why, of course, he must be there. Fancy not thinking of looking there before!"

"I don't know, " said Una, "he has never hidden there before; but we cango and look, " and they all raced across the lawn, and pushed their waythrough the drooping branches of the tree. 

Yes, there was the hedgehog, curled up into a little ball against thetrunk of the tree--thinking, no doubt, that evening had come roundagain; for the branches and leaves were so thick that it was quite darkunder the ash-tree--and beside the hedgehog, leaning carelessly againstthe trunk of the tree, with folded arms and a scowl upon his face, wasa tall, pale-faced, black-haired young man. 

CHAPTER X. 

WHAT THE YOUNG MAN SAID. 

For some moments the children stared at the young man without saying aword--they were so surprised at finding him there; and he scowled backat them fiercely, as though he thought they had no right to have comeunder the ash-tree at all. 

"We came to look for my hedgehog, " said Una at last, making just thesuspicion of a curtsey as she spoke, for this young man was so muchyounger than most of her father's visitors that she was not quite surewhether her old nurse would have told her to curtsey to him or not. 

The young man looked at her, then muttered something to himself in astrange language, and shook his head. 

Then Una spoke in French. 

"We came to look for the little animal there, " she said, pointing tothe hedgehog; and the young man smiled as he pushed it gently with hisfoot and rolled it towards her. 

He looked so much nicer when he smiled that the children began to feelmore at ease with him, and to think that he was not such an ugly youngman after all; but very soon the gloomy look came back to his face, andhe pushed his way out through the branches, as if anxious to get awayfrom the shade of tree and his own thoughts at the same time. 

The children followed him out into the sunshine, and the young manlooked down at them with a queer sort of expression in his black eyes;then he said something quickly in the strange language in which he hadspoken before, and looked at Una as if he thought she would understand;but the little girl stared blankly back at him, and he saw that she didnot know what he had said. 

[Illustration: "The children followed him out into the sunshine. "]

It was not the first time Una had heard that language, however. Herfather had sometimes talked to her like that in soft caressing tones asshe sat on his knee before the fire, or when they walked together inthe garden; but he had always laughed when Una had asked him what hewas saying, and had told her that she would understand some day. Theonly other people whom she had heard speak in that tongue were thestrange gentlemen who sometimes came to stay in the house. 

Then the young man began to speak in French--a little slowly at first, as if he were not at all sure that his listeners would understand; butwhen he saw that Una understood quite well, he brightened up and beganto speak quickly, pouring out such a torrent of words that Tom andNorah and Dan had not the least idea what he was talking about, andwondered how it was possible for Una to understand what he said. 

That Una did understand was quite certain, for her little face paledand flushed at the young man's words; her dark eyes grew big with fear, then filled with tears, and by-and-by a little sob broke from herthroat, and the children saw that she was crying bitterly--not loudly, but very, very sadly, as if she could not help it and really hardlyknew that she was crying at all. 

When the young man saw Una's tears he suddenly stopped talking, andlooked uncomfortable; then he softly stroked the little girl's fairhair, and whispered something to her so gently and kindly that Unasmiled at him through her tears, and the children felt that they likedhim a little bit after all; though just before, Tom had been wishingvery much that he were quite big, so that he could knock the strangeman down for making Una cry. 

Then the young man turned to go, but came back to ask Una a question;and the little girl answered him eagerly in French, repeating somethingseveral times over, and nodding her head firmly as if she were making apromise. The young man smiled at her once more, and then went awayinto the house. 

"Well!" Tom burst out as soon as the stranger was out of hearing, "Ishould like to know what all that gibberish was about, Una. "

"And me, too, " said Norah. "Please tell us, Una. I couldn'tunderstand one word he said. "

"Nor anyone else, " said Tom; "at least--I forgot--Una did. I supposethat's because you gabble such a lot of French to Marie, isn't it, Una?Marie talks as fast as seven cats all rolled into one. "

"Cats don't talk!" said Una, smiling; then she grew very grave. "OhTom, " she said, "I don't feel a bit like laughing, really. He told mesuch sad, sad things, that man. He said there is a country, a long wayoff, where the little children are quite miserable--not happy andlaughing like us. He said that it was seeing us all playing andlaughing just now made him feel quite cross and angry with us, becauseit made him think of his little brothers and sisters--at least, I amnot quite sure if he did say his little brothers and sisters, or someother little children he knows. 

"They have been turned out of their home and have to live in a nasty, cold, snowy country with no friends, except their mother; yes, she isthere; but their father has to work in a horrid sort of prison, and hehasn't done anything wrong--_that_ isn't why he's being punished. Andhe says--the man I mean--that there are lots of little children likethat in that country, and they are all sad and cold and hungry andmiserable. 

"He told me the name of that country, too, " the little girl went on;"but I mustn't tell you, because it is a secret and I promised not to. Oh, dear! I hope it is not naughty of me to have told you all this, "cried Una, suddenly bursting into tears. "I do hope I'm not lettingout any of father's secret; but it made me feel so sad all that the mantold me, and I wanted to talk to someone about it, and--and I neverthought of it being anything to do with--Oh, dear! oh, dear! now I'mletting out more and making it worse!"

"Never mind, Una! Don't cry. We won't tell, anyone, we promisefaithfully we won't, " cried the children, much distressed at Una'stears; and soon the little girl dried her eyes and was at lastsatisfied by their promise not to tell anyone about the poor littleunhappy children she had told them of. She bade her little friendsgood-bye then, and carried "Snoozy" away rather sadly to his home inthe kitchen garden--a disused cucumber frame, where he was generallyput for safety when his little mistress was not with him in the garden. 

Una met the black-haired young man several times after that in thehouse and garden, but he did not talk to her again about the littleboys and girls who lived in that other country, which was so differentfrom kind, peaceful old England. After a time he went away, and nomore strange gentlemen came to the house. And then, one day, Una'sfather went away also. 

This was not one of Monsieur Gen's usual visits to London, when hestayed sometimes one night, sometimes two, or even came back the verysame day to Haversham. This time he would be away for some weeks, perhaps a month, perhaps longer, he said, as he kissed his little girlone sunny June morning; and now August had come, and Una's father hadnot come back again, and the little girl felt very lonely as shewandered among the weedy flower-beds in the rose-garden. 

There were not many roses out that morning, and the few that stillbloomed on the bushes were poor specimens compared with the beautiesthat used to scent the air in that old garden. For years the Grangeroses had been noted for miles around; but it was long since pruningshears had touched those branches, or since care of any sort had beenshown to the Grange grounds, and it was only the children who thoughtthe flower-beds beautiful and the garden itself a play-ground of bliss. 

It was indeed a pleasant place to them, that overgrown old garden; forno gardener looked askance when they dug holes in the gravel paths, orturned the rockery into a grotto large enough to get into themselvesand play at elves and witches and mermaids and other delightful games;and no one said them nay when they built a hut upon the lawn--withwillow branches and rushes from beside the pond--where they "campedout" many a long summer afternoon, pretending to be gipsies, orsoldiers, or Ancient Britons, whichever their fancy pleased. 

CHAPTER XI. 

SAD DAYS. 

The days did not pass quite so happily, just now, for Una. Philip andStephen Carew had brought home a boy friend with them from school, andTom liked to play cricket with the elder boys in the vicarage meadow, while Mary and Ruth and Norah were generally asked to field, and Danlooked on and clapped encouragement from the bank where he usually satto watch the players. 

The little foreign girl was therefore left rather to herself, for atime, and used to listen to the sounds of merriment which sometimesreached her from the vicarage garden, as she wandered by herself in thewood, with rather a wistful look on her little pale face. 

If only she had brothers and sisters of her own, Una thought toherself, how happy she would be! And then she would go back to thegarden to play with "Snoozy, " and to wonder how long it would be beforeher father came home again. 

Then one day he came. 

Una heard the sound of wheels as she sat by herself in the little huton the lawn, and she ran across the grass and peeped through the laurelhedge to see who was in the carriage; and when she caught sight of herfather's sad, tired face, and deep-set eyes looking out through theopen window, she gave a great shout of joy and pushed her way throughthe hedge, quite forgetting her usual little formal curtsey as shescrambled into the carriage and up on to her father's knee, as soon asthe coachman had pulled up the horses and Monsieur Gen had opened thedoor. 

"Why, my little girl, how glad you are to see me again!" he said, kissing her as she threw her arms round his neck and rubbed her cheekfondly against his. 

"Oh, so glad; so very, very glad!" Una sighed, leaning her head againsthis shoulder. 

Then she sprang out into the porch, clapping her hands with delightthat she had really got her father back again!

But there was something the matter with her father, Una thought, as shefollowed him across the hall to the library. He walked so slowly, andstopped every now and then as if in pain; and when he sat down in thebig writing-chair by the table he looked so tired and sad--paler eventhan usual, the little girl thought, as she looked anxiously into hisface with the big eyes so like her father's own. 

"Are you ill, father?" she asked gently. 

"Yes, dear, I am afraid I am. I have been worried, Una, very worried, "he said; as he leant his head rather wearily on his hand; and presentlyUna stole away and came back by-and-by, followed by old Marie carryinga little tray, with nicely scented tea, freshly cut slices of lemon andcrisp dry toast, just as her father liked it to be served. 

Monsieur Gen smiled, and tried to eat; but he soon gave up the attemptand said that he would go and lie down for a time. 

Then followed sad, dark days for little Una--days when all the sunshineseemed gone out of her life; and Marie moved about the house with slow, silent steps, and her stern old face puckered up into a hundredwrinkles with worry and anxious thought. 

Monsieur Gen refused to have a doctor to see him; he wanted no strangefaces about the place, he said. And all through those hot August dayshe lay quite still in his bedroom, with the blinds down to keep out theglare of the sun; while Una sat beside him fanning him with a palm-leaffan, or bathing his forehead with Eau de Cologne and moistening hislips with ice, which Marie obtained from the town. 

[Illustration: "Una sat beside him, fanning him. "]

Then one evening, just as it was getting dark, her father opened hiseyes and looked at her with a smile. 

There had been a slight thunderstorm during the afternoon, and the rainwas still falling; and Una thought that perhaps the cooler weather hadmade her father feel better. 

"Are you better, father?" she whispered. 

"Darling, I want you to do something for me, " he said. "Go to Mr. Carew, and ask him to come and see me this evening. "

Una slipped from her chair at once. She had wanted so often to fetchthe Vicar to see her father, but had not liked to do so withoutpermission; and now here was her father asking her to go. With a gladheart the little girl hurried downstairs and passed out through thefront door. 

She knew the way to the vicarage quite well, for she had once or twicebeen along the road with Marie, since the day she had first seen thelittle Carews through the gate, and had often watched from the Grangegarden while the vicarage children ran along the little lane. But thelane looked strangely unfamiliar tonight, with the dark clouds scuddingacross the face of the moon overhead. 

Presently rain began to fall heavily once more, and Una, who had notwaited to put on hat or coat, was drenched to the skin before shereached the vicarage. 

Mr. Carew was sitting writing at his study table when he heard a quicktap on the window. For a moment he raised his eyes, then, thinking itwas only the branch of a tree tapping against the glass, he went onwriting. 

The quick "tap, tap, tap, " began again, however; and going to thewindow he saw a pale, frightened little face gazing at him from theother side of the glass. 

In a moment he had opened the window and taken poor, wet little Una inhis arms. 

"I saw your light burning, and I tapped; and father wants you, " shesaid, all in one breath; and although Mr. Carew wanted her to stay andchange into dry clothes, nothing would induce her to wait, and he hadto content himself with wrapping her in a warm shawl and carrying herback in his arms through the rain. 

Then he handed her over to Marie's care, telling her that the littlegirl had better have a hot bath and something nice and hot to drink assoon as possible, while he went straight to Monsieur Gen's room. 

An hour later, while Una lay in bed listening for the slightest soundfrom her father's room, the Vicar fetched her to say good-night to him. 

"Good-bye, darling, " said her father. "God bless you, little one. "

"Good-night, father--dear father!" said the child, crying softly, sheknew not why; and then Mr. Carew carried her back to bed, and she sleptsoundly until awakened the next morning by the sunshine pouring throughthe window on to her bed. 

But, although the sun shone brightly out of doors and birds sang gailyin the trees, it was a sad, sad day within the house, for Monsieur Genhad died during the night, and little Una was an orphan. 

Oh, how slowly the hours of that day dragged by for Una! No one hadmuch time to spare for the little girl, and she walked drearily fromroom to room, feeling that it was cruel of the sun to shine and thebirds to sing so merrily when her father was dead and she would never, on earth, hear him speak again. 

She fell asleep at last--curled up in one of the large studychairs--worn out with crying and want of sleep; for often during thelast fortnight she had kept herself awake in case her father shouldwant anything and call for her in the night. 

There, some hours later, Mr. Carew found her--fast asleep, and with herarms tightly folded round one of her father's coats. 

Very gently he lifted the little girl in his arms and carried her downthe lane to the vicarage; and when Una awoke she found herself inNorah's little bed, with Mrs. Carew bending over her with loving looksand tender words of sympathy. 

She was to live with them always now, Mrs. Carew told the little girl, and she must try and be as happy as she could among them, and look uponNorah and Dan and Mary and Ruth and Tom and Philip and Stephen as herown brothers and sisters. 

In a few days' time, as soon as the little girl was well enough for thejourney, she was sent with old Marie to stay at a little seaside placecalled Bembies. Dan went with them also, partly because Mrs. Carew hadthought that it would be good for Una to have a child's company, andpartly because the little boy really needed a change. 

And at Bembies Una told Dan her father's secret. 

What it was must be kept for a new chapter. 

CHAPTER XII. 

HER FATHER'S SECRET. 

At the top of a high six-barred gate sat Tom, swinging his legs andwhistling softly in a thoughtful kind of way, while he watched Una andDan, who were seated below him on the grass, making a wreath of redberries, hops and nuts. 

The Harvest Thanksgiving was to be held at the little church thefollowing evening, and Ruth--like her namesake of long ago--wasgathering the few stray ears of corn left among the stubble. She washelping to make a sickle to hang in front of the pulpit. 

"Una, " began Tom hesitatingly, "you said once--before you wentaway--that when you came back again you'd tell us about your father'ssecret. Will you?"

"Oh, will you, Una?" asked Norah, who had just joined the others with afresh supply of berries and hops from the hedge. 

Dan said nothing; for had not Una talked to him often about her fatherwhen they had sat on the bench at Bembies, or side by side in the deepwindow-seat overlooking the quaint little western bay? The little boyremembered all that she had told him, and often thought to himself thathe too would try and do some good in the world, even though he wouldnever be able to run so fast as Tom, or to play football or cricketlike Stephen and Philip. 

Una looked up from the wreath with a sad little smile on her face. 

"It is funny you should ask me just now, " she said; "I was justthinking about it, and wondering if I should tell you. "

[Illustration: "'I was just wondering if I should tell you, ' said Una. "]

"Will you tell us, then?" said Tom, as he swung himself off the gateand sat down on the grass by Una's side. 

"Father used to tell me about it when he was so ill, " said the littlegirl. "I used to sit in his room, you know, in case he wantedanything; and sometimes I thought he was asleep, and then he would openhis eyes all at once and begin to talk to me; and he told me lots andlots of things he had never told me before--about things he had done, Imean, and about my mamma--and----"

A big tear rolled down Una's cheek and splashed on to the bunch ofcrimson berries she was holding. 

"Don't tell us, Una, if you would rather not, " said Norah softly. 

"Oh, yes, " said Una, "I do want to tell you--only I thought of papathen, and just how he used to look. His face looked always so tired, Norah, so very tired; and his voice used to get tired too, and then hewould shut his eyes and go to sleep again. But he told me so manythings, I don't know where to begin. "

The little girl was silent for some moments. 

"I know! I will begin about the man in the garden!" she said suddenly. "You remember the black-haired young man whom we found under theash-tree, the day 'Snoozy' was lost?"

"Yes, I remember, " said Tom. 

"Oh, yes, Una!" chimed in Norah. "Can you tell us now what he toldyou? It was a secret then, you know. "

"Yes, " said Una. "I couldn't tell you then, because it was part ofpapa's secret, you know. But now it doesn't matter, it isn't a secretany more--not papa's, I mean. 

"Isn't it? Are you sure, Una?" asked Norah. 

"Quite sure. I said to papa: 'Is it a secret?' And he said: 'Not whenI'm gone, little one. ' So you see I may tell you now, " said Una sadly. 

"Will you tell us who the man was, then, Una?" asked Tom after a littlepause. 

"He was a Russian, " said Una. "So was papa; and that sad country, along, long way off, which he told me about, was Russia. Do youremember?"

"Yes, the country where the little children are sometimes quite sad andmiserable because their fathers are taken away from them, and theirhomes are taken away from them too, " said Norah. 

"Yes, " said Una. "Well, that man had done all he could to try and makethe people who look after the country be kinder to the poor people, andit would have been all right if he could have gone to the Kinghimself--no, I don't mean the King, I mean the----"

"I know, " exclaimed Dan. "You mean the Czar. It's the 'Czar' ofRussia, and the 'King' of England, and the 'Emperor' of Germany, and----"

"Don't, Dan! Let Una go on, " said Tom impatiently. "Why didn't theman go to the Czar himself, Una?"

"Because there are a lot of men--noblemen, and people like that--who dothe Czar's business for him, only they don't do it well at all; many ofthem are bad, wicked men, really, and they only think about what theycan do for themselves, and don't mind a bit about the poor people beingin trouble and being treated badly--and when they found that this manwas trying to do things for the poor people they were angry, and theymade up a lot of stories about him and had him put in prison. "

"Oh, Una, how wicked of them!" cried Norah. 

"And then, " said Una, sitting up very straight, with sparkling eyes andflushed cheeks: "papa got him out of prison again. That was papa'ssecret! When people were put in prison, in Russia, when they hadn'treally done anything wrong, papa used to help them to get free again, and he used to write letters to the Czar and tell him how his poorpeople were being treated, and he used to write books too--bigbooks--to send all over the world, so that everyone should know whatsad, sad lives many of the people in Russia led, and should try andhelp them if they could. "

"And the yellow country at the top of Russia, Una? You haven't toldabout that, " said Dan. 

"The yellow country? What do you mean?" said Tom. 

"He means Siberia; it's yellow on the map I showed to him, " said Una. "Yes, very often people are sent to live in that cold country--notbecause they have done anything wrong, but because there are lots ofsalt mines there and they can't get people to go and live there andwork in the mines. And so they send men to live there who don't wantto go at all, and they have to leave their wives and children and goand live in that cold country, and work in the mines without gettingany money for doing it. "

"But, Una, couldn't the wives and children go and live in that countrytoo?" asked Norah. 

"Oh, yes, " said Una; "very often they do go and live there, but it ishundreds and hundreds of miles away from their homes, and they have towalk all the way; no one pays for their journey or gives them homeswhen they get there. "

"Oh, Una, it's dreadful!" said Norah. "And did your father help theman to get away from prison, and from that horrid, cold country? Buthow could he, when he was in England?"

"Papa used to help them to get away when he lived in other countriesnearer Russia, " said Una. "And he used to let them come and live inhis house until they were well again, because they often got quite illin that country, with having only poor food to eat and being treated sobadly; and then papa used to fetch their wives and families out ofRussia and give them enough money to begin to earn their own livingagain in another country. 

"But often the cruel people I told you about used to find out wherepapa was living and prevent him helping the poor people to escape, andthen we used to have to go and live in another country until he wasfound out again; and then at last he got ill and came to live inEngland, and could only write books and have the poor prisoners to stayhere and get strong and well again; and other people had to help themto get away from Siberia and from prison. "

"It sounds like a story out of a book, " said Tom. 

"What a rich man your father must have been, " said Norah. "It must bevery nice to have lots of money, and be able to help people. "

"It wasn't all papa's own money, " said Una. "Papa belonged to what hecalled a society, and that society used to give him money to give tothe poor people. Someone in that society has found homes for Ivan andPeter, our old servants, you know, who used to live here. It is verynice that Marie is going to live with me always, " added the little girl. 

Norah drew a long breath. 

"So that was your father's secret, Una?" she said. "It's a very niceone. "

"Papa would have helped the poor Russian people somehow, " said Una, with a wise little nod of her head, "even if he hadn't had any money. Papa said once that everybody ought to try and help other peoplesomehow. "

The children walked back across the fields and through the woods--nottalking much, but thinking of all that Una had told them--until theycame to the gap in the fence and saw that it had been boarded up. 

"Oh, Una, look!" cried Tom. 

"We shan't have any more picnics, " said Norah dolefully. 

Dan leant out of his small carriage and put his hand into Una's with ahappy little laugh. 

"I don't mind a bit about the gap, " he said. "We've got Una on thisside of it now. "

THE END. 

[Illustration: Back cover art]