THE WOULDBEGOODS

BEING THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS

By E. Nesbit

 TO My Dear Son Fabian Bland

CONTENTS

 1. The Jungle 2. The Wouldbegoods 3. Bill's Tombstone 4. The Tower of Mystery 5. The Waterworks 6. The Circus 7. Being Beavers; or, The Young Explorers (Arctic or Otherwise) 8. The High-Born Babe 9. Hunting the Fox 10. The Sale of Antiquities 11. The Benevolent Bar 12. The Canterbury Pilgrims 13. The Dragon's Teeth; or, Army Seed 14. Albert's Uncle's Grandmother; or, The Long-Lost

CHAPTER 1. THE JUNGLE

Children are like jam: all very well in the proper place, but you can'tstand them all over the shop--eh, what?'

These were the dreadful words of our Indian uncle. They made us feelvery young and angry; and yet we could not be comforted by calling himnames to ourselves, as you do when nasty grown-ups say nasty things, because he is not nasty, but quite the exact opposite when notirritated. And we could not think it ungentlemanly of him to say we werelike jam, because, as Alice says, jam is very nice indeed--only not onfurniture and improper places like that. My father said, 'Perhaps theyhad better go to boarding-school. ' And that was awful, because we knowFather disapproves of boarding-schools. And he looked at us and said, 'Iam ashamed of them, sir!'

Your lot is indeed a dark and terrible one when your father is ashamedof you. And we all knew this, so that we felt in our chests just as ifwe had swallowed a hard-boiled egg whole. At least, this is whatOswald felt, and Father said once that Oswald, as the eldest, was therepresentative of the family, so, of course, the others felt the same. 

And then everybody said nothing for a short time. At last Father said--

'You may go--but remember--'

The words that followed I am not going to tell you. It is no use tellingyou what you know before--as they do in schools. And you must all havehad such words said to you many times. We went away when it was over. The girls cried, and we boys got out books and began to read, so thatnobody should think we cared. But we felt it deeply in our interiorhearts, especially Oswald, who is the eldest and the representative ofthe family. 

We felt it all the more because we had not really meant to do anythingwrong. We only thought perhaps the grown-ups would not be quite pleasedif they knew, and that is quite different. Besides, we meant to put allthe things back in their proper places when we had done with them beforeanyone found out about it. But I must not anticipate (that means tellingthe end of the story before the beginning. I tell you this because it isso sickening to have words you don't know in a story, and to be told tolook it up in the dicker). 

We are the Bastables--Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Alice, Noel, and H. O. If youwant to know why we call our youngest brother H. O. You can jolly wellread The Treasure Seekers and find out. We were the Treasure Seekers, and we sought it high and low, and quite regularly, because weparticularly wanted to find it. And at last we did not find it, butwe were found by a good, kind Indian uncle, who helped Father with hisbusiness, so that Father was able to take us all to live in a jolly bigred house on Blackheath, instead of in the Lewisham Road, where we livedwhen we were only poor but honest Treasure Seekers. When we were poorbut honest we always used to think that if only Father had plenty ofbusiness, and we did not have to go short of pocket money and wearshabby clothes (I don't mind this myself, but the girls do), we shouldbe happy and very, very good. 

And when we were taken to the beautiful big Blackheath house wethought now all would be well, because it was a house with vineries andpineries, and gas and water, and shrubberies and stabling, and repletewith every modern convenience, like it says in Dyer & Hilton's listof Eligible House Property. I read all about it, and I have copied thewords quite right. 

It is a beautiful house, all the furniture solid and strong, no castersoff the chairs, and the tables not scratched, and the silver not dented;and lots of servants, and the most decent meals every day--and lots ofpocket-money. 

But it is wonderful how soon you get used to things, even the things youwant most. Our watches, for instance. We wanted them frightfully; butwhen I had mine a week or two, after the mainspring got broken and wasrepaired at Bennett's in the village, I hardly cared to look at theworks at all, and it did not make me feel happy in my heart any more, though, of course, I should have been very unhappy if it had been takenaway from me. And the same with new clothes and nice dinners and havingenough of everything. You soon get used to it all, and it does not makeyou extra happy, although, if you had it all taken away, you would bevery dejected. (That is a good word, and one I have never used before. )You get used to everything, as I said, and then you want something more. Father says this is what people mean by the deceitfulness of riches; butAlbert's uncle says it is the spirit of progress, and Mrs Leslie saidsome people called it 'divine discontent'. Oswald asked them all whatthey thought one Sunday at dinner. Uncle said it was rot, and what wewanted was bread and water and a licking; but he meant it for a joke. This was in the Easter holidays. 

We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays thegirls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to the Prop. (that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot rather duringterm; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of riches in the vac. , when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes and things. Then therewas the summer term, and we swotted more than ever; and it was boilinghot, and masters' tempers got short and sharp, and the girls used towish the exams came in cold weather. I can't think why they don't. ButI suppose schools don't think of sensible thinks like that. They teachbotany at girls' schools. 

Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again--but only for afew days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something, and did notknow what it was. We wanted something to happen--only we didn't exactlyknow what. So we were very pleased when Father said--

'I've asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two. Youknow--the kids who came at Christmas. You must be jolly to them, and seethat they have a good time, don't you know. '

We remembered them right enough--they were little pinky, frightenedthings, like white mice, with very bright eyes. They had not been to ourhouse since Christmas, because Denis, the boy, had been ill, and theyhad been with an aunt at Ramsgate. 

Alice and Dora would have liked to get the bedrooms ready for thehonoured guests, but a really good housemaid is sometimes more ready tosay 'Don't' than even a general. So the girls had to chuck it. Jane onlylet them put flowers in the pots on the visitors' mantelpieces, and thenthey had to ask the gardener which kind they might pick, because nothingworth gathering happened to be growing in our own gardens just then. 

Their train got in at 12. 27. We all went to meet them. Afterwards Ithought that was a mistake, because their aunt was with them, and shewore black with beady things and a tight bonnet, and she said, when wetook our hats off--'Who are you?' quite crossly. 

We said, 'We are the Bastables; we've come to meet Daisy and Denny. '

The aunt is a very rude lady, and it made us sorry for Daisy and Dennywhen she said to them--

'Are these the children? Do you remember them?' We weren't very tidy, perhaps, because we'd been playing brigands in the shrubbery; and weknew we should have to wash for dinner as soon as we got back, anyhow. But still--

Denny said he thought he remembered us. But Daisy said, 'Of course theyare, ' and then looked as if she was going to cry. 

So then the aunt called a cab, and told the man where to drive, and putDaisy and Denny in, and then she said--

'You two little girls may go too, if you like, but you little boys mustwalk. '

So the cab went off, and we were left. The aunt turned to us to say afew last words. We knew it would have been about brushing your hair andwearing gloves, so Oswald said, 'Good-bye', and turned haughtily away, before she could begin, and so did the others. No one but that kindof black beady tight lady would say 'little boys'. She is like MissMurdstone in David Copperfield. I should like to tell her so; but shewould not understand. I don't suppose she has ever read anything butMarkham's History and Mangnall's Questions--improving books like that. 

When we got home we found all four of those who had ridden in the cabsitting in our sitting-room--we don't call it nursery now--looking verythoroughly washed, and our girls were asking polite questions and theothers were saying 'Yes' and 'No', and 'I don't know'. We boys did notsay anything. We stood at the window and looked out till the gongwent for our dinner. We felt it was going to be awful--and it was. Thenewcomers would never have done for knight-errants, or to carry theCardinal's sealed message through the heart of France on a horse; theywould never have thought of anything to say to throw the enemy off thescent when they got into a tight place. 

They said 'Yes, please', and 'No, thank you'; and they ate very neatly, and always wiped their mouths before they drank, as well as after, andnever spoke with them full. 

And after dinner it got worse and worse. 

We got out all our books and they said 'Thank you', and didn't look atthem properly. And we got out all our toys, and they said 'Thank you, it's very nice' to everything. And it got less and less pleasant, andtowards teatime it came to nobody saying anything except Noel and H. O. --and they talked to each other about cricket. 

After tea Father came in, and he played 'Letters' with them and thegirls, and it was a little better; but while late dinner was going on--Ishall never forget it. Oswald felt like the hero of a book--'almostat the end of his resources'. I don't think I was ever glad of bedtimebefore, but that time I was. 

When they had gone to bed (Daisy had to have all her strings and buttonsundone for her, Dora told me, though she is nearly ten, and Denny saidhe couldn't sleep without the gas being left a little bit on) we helda council in the girls' room. We all sat on the bed--it is a mahoganyfourposter with green curtains very good for tents, only the housekeeperdoesn't allow it, and Oswald said--

'This is jolly nice, isn't it?'

'They'll be better to-morrow, ' Alice said, 'they're only shy. '

Dicky said shy was all very well, but you needn't behave like a perfectidiot. 

'They're frightened. You see we're all strange to them, ' Dora said. 

'We're not wild beasts or Indians; we shan't eat them. What have theygot to be frightened of?' Dicky said this. 

Noel told us he thought they were an enchanted prince and princess who'dbeen turned into white rabbits, and their bodies had got changed backbut not their insides. 

But Oswald told him to dry up. 

'It's no use making things up about them, ' he said. 'The thing is:what are we going to DO? We can't have our holidays spoiled by thesesnivelling kids. '

'No, ' Alice said, 'but they can't possibly go on snivelling for ever. Perhaps they've got into the habit of it with that Murdstone aunt. She'senough to make anyone snivel. '

'All the same, ' said Oswald, 'we jolly well aren't going to have anotherday like today. We must do something to rouse them from their snivellingleth--what's its name?--something sudden and--what is it?--decisive. '

'A booby trap, ' said H. O. , 'the first thing when they get up, and anapple-pie bed at night. '

But Dora would not hear of it, and I own she was right. 

'Suppose, ' she said, 'we could get up a good play--like we did when wewere Treasure Seekers. '

We said, well what? But she did not say. 

'It ought to be a good long thing--to last all day, ' Dicky said, 'and ifthey like they can play, and if they don't--'

'If they don't, I'll read to them, ' Alice said. 

But we all said 'No, you don't--if you begin that way you'll have to goon. '

And Dicky added, 'I wasn't going to say that at all. I was going to sayif they didn't like it they could jolly well do the other thing. '

We all agreed that we must think of something, but we none of us could, and at last the council broke up in confusion because Mrs Blake--she isthe housekeeper--came up and turned off the gas. 

But next morning when we were having breakfast, and the two strangerswere sitting there so pink and clean, Oswald suddenly said--

'I know; we'll have a jungle in the garden. '

And the others agreed, and we talked about it till brek was over. Thelittle strangers only said 'I don't know' whenever we said anything tothem. 

After brekker Oswald beckoned his brothers and sisters mysteriouslyapart and said--

'Do you agree to let me be captain today, because I thought of it?'

And they said they would. 

Then he said, 'We'll play Jungle Book, and I shall be Mowgli. The restof you can be what you like--Mowgli's father and mother, or any of thebeasts. '

'I don't suppose they know the book, ' said Noel. 'They don't look as ifthey read anything, except at lesson times. '

'Then they can go on being beasts all the time, ' Oswald said. 'Anyonecan be a beast. '

So it was settled. 

And now Oswald--Albert's uncle has sometimes said he is clever atarranging things--began to lay his plans for the jungle. The day wasindeed well chosen. Our Indian uncle was away; Father was away; MrsBlake was going away, and the housemaid had an afternoon off. Oswald'sfirst conscious act was to get rid of the white mice--I mean the littlegood visitors. He explained to them that there would be a play in theafternoon, and they could be what they liked, and gave them the JungleBook to read the stories he told them to--all the ones about Mowgli. He led the strangers to a secluded spot among the sea-kale pots in thekitchen garden and left them. Then he went back to the others, and wehad a jolly morning under the cedar talking about what we would do whenBlakie was gone. She went just after our dinner. 

When we asked Denny what he would like to be in the play, it turned outhe had not read the stories Oswald told him at all, but only the 'WhiteSeal' and 'Rikki Tikki'. 

We then agreed to make the jungle first and dress up for our partsafterwards. Oswald was a little uncomfortable about leaving thestrangers alone all the morning, so he said Denny should be hisaide-de-camp, and he was really quite useful. He is rather handy withhis fingers, and things that he does up do not come untied. Daisy mighthave come too, but she wanted to go on reading, so we let her, which isthe truest manners to a visitor. Of course the shrubbery was to be thejungle, and the lawn under the cedar a forest glade, and then we beganto collect the things. The cedar lawn is just nicely out of the way ofthe windows. It was a jolly hot day--the kind of day when the sunshineis white and the shadows are dark grey, not black like they are in theevening. 

We all thought of different things. Of course first we dressed uppillows in the skins of beasts and set them about on the grass to lookas natural as we could. And then we got Pincher, and rubbed him allover with powdered slate-pencil, to make him the right colour for GreyBrother. But he shook it all off, and it had taken an awful time to do. Then Alice said--

'Oh, I know!' and she ran off to Father's dressing-room, and came backwith the tube of creme d'amande pour la barbe et les mains, and wesqueezed it on Pincher and rubbed it in, and then the slate-pencil stuffstuck all right, and he rolled in the dust-bin of his own accord, whichmade him just the right colour. He is a very clever dog, but soon afterhe went off and we did not find him till quite late in the afternoon. Denny helped with Pincher, and with the wild-beast skins, and whenPincher was finished he said--

'Please, may I make some paper birds to put in the trees? I know how. '

And of course we said 'Yes', and he only had red ink and newspapers, andquickly he made quite a lot of large paper birds with red tails. Theydidn't look half bad on the edge of the shrubbery. 

While he was doing this he suddenly said, or rather screamed, 'Oh?'

And we looked, and it was a creature with great horns and a furrug--something like a bull and something like a minotaur--and I don'twonder Denny was frightened. It was Alice, and it was first-class. 

Up to now all was not yet lost beyond recall. It was the stuffed foxthat did the mischief--and I am sorry to own it was Oswald who thoughtof it. He is not ashamed of having THOUGHT of it. That was rather cleverof him. But he knows now that it is better not to take other people'sfoxes and things without asking, even if you live in the same house withthem. 

It was Oswald who undid the back of the glass case in the hall and gotout the fox with the green and grey duck in its mouth, and when theothers saw how awfully like life they looked on the lawn, they allrushed off to fetch the other stuffed things. Uncle has a tremendouslot of stuffed things. He shot most of them himself--but not the fox, ofcourse. There was another fox's mask, too, and we hung that in a bush tolook as if the fox was peeping out. And the stuffed birds we fastened onto the trees with string. The duck-bill--what's its name?--looked verywell sitting on his tail with the otter snarling at him. Then Dicky hadan idea; and though not nearly so much was said about it afterwards asthere was about the stuffed things, I think myself it was just as bad, though it was a good idea, too. He just got the hose and put the endover a branch of the cedar-tree. Then we got the steps they cleanwindows with, and let the hose rest on the top of the steps and run. Itwas to be a waterfall, but it ran between the steps and was only wet andmessy; so we got Father's mackintosh and uncle's and covered the stepswith them, so that the water ran down all right and was glorious, and itran away in a stream across the grass where we had dug a little channelfor it--and the otter and the duck-bill-thing were as if in their nativehaunts. I hope all this is not very dull to read about. I know it wasjolly good fun to do. Taking one thing with another, I don't know thatwe ever had a better time while it lasted. 

We got all the rabbits out of the hutches and put pink paper tails onto them, and hunted them with horns made out of The Times. They got awaysomehow, and before they were caught next day they had eaten a goodmany lettuces and other things. Oswald is very sorry for this. He ratherlikes the gardener. 

Denny wanted to put paper tails on the guinea-pigs, and it was no useour telling him there was nothing to tie the paper on to. He thought wewere kidding until we showed him, and then he said, 'Well, never mind', and got the girls to give him bits of the blue stuff left over fromtheir dressing-gowns. 

'I'll make them sashes to tie round their little middles, ' he said. Andhe did, and the bows stuck up on the tops of their backs. One of theguinea-pigs was never seen again, and the same with the tortoise when wehad done his shell with vermilion paint. He crawled away and returned nomore. Perhaps someone collected him and thought he was an expensive kindunknown in these cold latitudes. 

The lawn under the cedar was transformed into a dream of beauty, what with the stuffed creatures and the paper-tailed things and thewaterfall. And Alice said--

'I wish the tigers did not look so flat. ' For of course with pillows youcan only pretend it is a sleeping tiger getting ready to make a springout at you. It is difficult to prop up tiger-skins in a life-like mannerwhen there are no bones inside them, only pillows and sofa cushions. 

'What about the beer-stands?' I said. And we got two out of the cellar. With bolsters and string we fastened insides to the tigers--and theywere really fine. The legs of the beer-stands did for tigers' legs. Itwas indeed the finishing touch. 

Then we boys put on just our bathing drawers and vests--so as to be ableto play with the waterfall without hurting our clothes. I think this wasthoughtful. The girls only tucked up their frocks and took their shoesand stockings off. H. O. Painted his legs and his hands with Condy'sfluid--to make him brown, so that he might be Mowgli, although Oswaldwas captain and had plainly said he was going to be Mowgli himself. Ofcourse the others weren't going to stand that. So Oswald said--

'Very well. Nobody asked you to brown yourself like that. But now you'vedone it, you've simply got to go and be a beaver, and live in the damunder the waterfall till it washes off. '

He said he didn't want to be beavers. And Noel said--

'Don't make him. Let him be the bronze statue in the palace gardens thatthe fountain plays out of. '

So we let him have the hose and hold it up over his head. It made alovely fountain, only he remained brown. So then Dicky and Oswald andI did ourselves brown too, and dried H. O. As well as we could with ourhandkerchiefs, because he was just beginning to snivel. The brown didnot come off any of us for days. 

Oswald was to be Mowgli, and we were just beginning to arrange thedifferent parts. The rest of the hose that was on the ground was Kaa, the Rock Python, and Pincher was Grey Brother, only we couldn't findhim. And while most of us were talking, Dicky and Noel got messing aboutwith the beer-stand tigers. 

And then a really sad event instantly occurred, which was not really ourfault, and we did not mean to. 

That Daisy girl had been mooning indoors all the afternoon with theJungle Books, and now she came suddenly out, just as Dicky and Noel hadgot under the tigers and were shoving them along to fright each other. Of course, this is not in the Mowgli book at all: but they did lookjolly like real tigers, and I am very far from wishing to blame thegirl, though she little knew what would be the awful consequence of herrash act. But for her we might have got out of it all much better thanwe did. What happened was truly horrid. 

As soon as Daisy saw the tigers she stopped short, and uttering a shrieklike a railway whistle she fell flat on the ground. 

'Fear not, gentle Indian maid, ' Oswald cried, thinking with surprisethat perhaps after all she did know how to play, 'I myself will protectthee. ' And he sprang forward with the native bow and arrows out ofuncle's study. 

The gentle Indian maiden did not move. 

'Come hither, ' Dora said, 'let us take refuge in yonder covert whilethis good knight does battle for us. ' Dora might have remembered that wewere savages, but she did not. And that is Dora all over. And still theDaisy girl did not move. 

Then we were truly frightened. Dora and Alice lifted her up, and hermouth was a horrid violet-colour and her eyes half shut. She lookedhorrid. Not at all like fair fainting damsels, who are always of aninteresting pallor. She was green, like a cheap oyster on a stall. 

We did what we could, a prey to alarm as we were. We rubbed her handsand let the hose play gently but perseveringly on her unconscious brow. The girls loosened her dress, though it was only the kind that comesdown straight without a waist. And we were all doing what we could ashard as we could, when we heard the click of the front gate. There wasno mistake about it. 

'I hope whoever it is will go straight to the front door, ' said Alice. But whoever it was did not. There were feet on the gravel, and there wasthe uncle's voice, saying in his hearty manner--

'This way. This way. On such a day as this we shall find our youngbarbarians all at play somewhere about the grounds. '

And then, without further warning, the uncle, three other gentlemen andtwo ladies burst upon the scene. 

We had no clothes on to speak of--I mean us boys. We were all wetthrough. Daisy was in a faint or a fit, or dead, none of us then knewwhich. And all the stuffed animals were there staring the uncle in theface. Most of them had got a sprinkling, and the otter and the duck-billbrute were simply soaked. And three of us were dark brown. Concealment, as so often happens, was impossible. 

The quick brain of Oswald saw, in a flash, exactly how it would strikethe uncle, and his brave young blood ran cold in his veins. His heartstood still. 

'What's all this--eh, what?' said the tones of the wronged uncle. 

Oswald spoke up and said it was jungles we were playing, and he didn'tknow what was up with Daisy. He explained as well as anyone could, butwords were now in vain. 

The uncle had a Malacca cane in his hand, and we were but ill preparedto meet the sudden attack. Oswald and H. O. Caught it worst. The otherboys were under the tigers--and of course my uncle would not strike agirl. Denny was a visitor and so got off. 

But it was bread and water for us for the next three days, and our ownrooms. I will not tell you how we sought to vary the monotonousness ofimprisonment. Oswald thought of taming a mouse, but he could not findone. The reason of the wretched captives might have given way but forthe gutter that you can crawl along from our room to the girls'. ButI will not dwell on this because you might try it yourselves, and itreally is dangerous. When my father came home we got the talking to, and we said we were sorry--and we really were--especially about Daisy, though she had behaved with muffishness, and then it was settled thatwe were to go into the country and stay till we had grown into betterchildren. 

Albert's uncle was writing a book in the country; we were to go to hishouse. We were glad of this--Daisy and Denny too. This we bore nobly. Weknew we had deserved it. We were all very sorry for everything, and weresolved that for the future we WOULD be good. 

I am not sure whether we kept this resolution or not. Oswald thinks nowthat perhaps we made a mistake in trying so very hard to be good all atonce. You should do everything by degrees. 

P. S. --It turned out Daisy was not really dead at all. It was onlyfainting--so like a girl. 

N. B. --Pincher was found on the drawing-room sofa. 

Appendix. --I have not told you half the things we did for thejungle--for instance, about the elephants' tusks and the horse-hairsofa-cushions, and uncle's fishing-boots. 

CHAPTER 2. THE WOULDBEGOODS

When we were sent down into the country to learn to be good we feltit was rather good business, because we knew our being sent there wasreally only to get us out of the way for a little while, and we knewright enough that it wasn't a punishment, though Mrs Blake said it was, because we had been punished thoroughly for taking the stuffed animalsout and making a jungle on the lawn with them, and the garden hose. Andyou cannot be punished twice for the same offence. This is the Englishlaw; at least I think so. And at any rate no one would punish you threetimes, and we had had the Malacca cane and the solitary confinement; andthe uncle had kindly explained to us that all ill-feeling between himand us was wiped out entirely by the bread and water we had endured. Andwhat with the bread and water and being prisoners, and not being ableto tame any mice in our prisons, I quite feel that we had suffered it upthoroughly, and now we could start fair. 

I think myself that descriptions of places are generally dull, but Ihave sometimes thought that was because the authors do not tell you whatyou truly want to know. However, dull or not, here goes--because youwon't understand anything unless I tell you what the place was like. 

The Moat House was the one we went to stay at. There has been a housethere since Saxon times. It is a manor, and a manor goes on having ahouse on it whatever happens. The Moat House was burnt down once ortwice in ancient centuries--I don't remember which--but they alwaysbuilt a new one, and Cromwell's soldiers smashed it about, but it waspatched up again. It is a very odd house: the front door opens straightinto the dining-room, and there are red curtains and a black-and-whitemarble floor like a chess-board, and there is a secret staircase, onlyit is not secret now--only rather rickety. It is not very big, but thereis a watery moat all round it with a brick bridge that leads to thefront door. Then, on the other side of the moat there is the farm, withbarns and oast houses and stables, or things like that. And the otherway the garden lawn goes on till it comes to the churchyard. Thechurchyard is not divided from the garden at all except by a littlegrass bank. In the front of the house there is more garden, and the bigfruit garden is at the back. 

The man the house belongs to likes new houses, so he built a big onewith conservatories and a stable with a clock in a turret on the top, and he left the Moat House. And Albert's uncle took it, and my fatherwas to come down sometimes from Saturday to Monday, and Albert's unclewas to live with us all the time, and he would be writing a book, and wewere not to bother him, but he would give an eye to us. I hope all thisis plain. I have said it as short as I can. 

We got down rather late, but there was still light enough to see thebig bell hanging at the top of the house. The rope belonging to it wentright down the house, through our bedroom to the dining-room. H. O. Sawthe rope and pulled it while he was washing his hands for supper, andDicky and I let him, and the bell tolled solemnly. Father shouted to himnot to, and we went down to supper. 

But presently there were many feet trampling on the gravel, and Fatherwent out to see. When he came back he said--'The whole village, or halfof it, has come up to see why the bell rang. It's only rung for fire orburglars. Why can't you kids let things alone?'

Albert's uncle said--

'Bed follows supper as the fruit follows the flower. They'll do no moremischief to-night, sir. To-morrow I will point out a few of the thingsto be avoided in this bucolic retreat. '

So it was bed directly after supper, and that was why we did not seemuch that night. 

But in the morning we were all up rather early, and we seemed to haveawakened in a new world rich in surprises beyond the dreams of anybody, as it says in the quotation. 

We went everywhere we could in the time, but when it was breakfast-timewe felt we had not seen half or a quarter. The room we had breakfastin was exactly like in a story--black oak panels and china in cornercupboards with glass doors. These doors were locked. There were greencurtains, and honeycomb for breakfast. After brekker my father went backto town, and Albert's uncle went too, to see publishers. We saw them tothe station, and Father gave us a long list of what we weren't to do. Itbegan with 'Don't pull ropes unless you're quite sure what will happenat the other end, ' and it finished with 'For goodness sake, try to keepout of mischief till I come down on Saturday'. There were lots of otherthings in between. 

We all promised we would. And we saw them off and waved till the trainwas quite out of sight. Then we started to walk home. Daisy was tired soOswald carried her home on his back. When we got home she said--

'I do like you, Oswald. '

She is not a bad little kid; and Oswald felt it was his duty to be niceto her because she was a visitor. Then we looked all over everything. It was a glorious place. You did not know where to begin. We were alla little tired before we found the hayloft, but we pulled ourselvestogether to make a fort with the trusses of hay--great squarethings--and we were having a jolly good time, all of us, when suddenly atrap-door opened and a head bobbed up with a straw in its mouth. We knewnothing about the country then, and the head really did scare us rather, though, of course, we found out directly that the feet belonging to itwere standing on the bar of the loose-box underneath. The head said--

'Don't you let the governor catch you a-spoiling of that there hay, that's all. ' And it spoke thickly because of the straw. 

It is strange to think how ignorant you were in the past. We can hardlybelieve now that once we really did not know that it spoiled hay to messabout with it. Horses don't like to eat it afterwards. 

Always remember this. 

When the head had explained a little more it went away, and we turnedthe handle of the chaff-cutting machine, and nobody got hurt, though thehead HAD said we should cut our fingers off if we touched it. 

And then we sat down on the floor, which is dirty with the nice cleandirt that is more than half chopped hay, and those there was room forhung their legs down out of the top door, and we looked down at thefarmyard, which is very slushy when you get down into it, but mostinteresting. 

Then Alice said--

'Now we're all here, and the boys are tired enough to sit still for aminute, I want to have a council. '

We said what about? And she said, 'I'll tell you. ' H. O. , don't wriggleso; sit on my frock if the straws tickle your legs. '

You see he wears socks, and so he can never be quite as comfortable asanyone else. 

'Promise not to laugh' Alice said, getting very red, and looking atDora, who got red too. 

We did, and then she said:

'Dora and I have talked this over, and Daisy too, and we have written itdown because it is easier than saying it. Shall I read it? or will you, Dora?'

Dora said it didn't matter; Alice might. So Alice read it, and thoughshe gabbled a bit we all heard it. I copied it afterwards. This is whatshe read:

 NEW SOCIETY FOR BEING GOOD IN

'I, Dora Bastable, and Alice Bastable, my sister, being of sound mindand body, when we were shut up with bread and water on that jungle day, we thought a great deal about our naughty sins, and we made our minds upto be good for ever after. And we talked to Daisy about it, and she hadan idea. So we want to start a society for being good in. It is Daisy'sidea, but we think so too. '

'You know, ' Dora interrupted, 'when people want to do good things theyalways make a society. There are thousands--there's the MissionarySociety. '

'Yes, ' Alice said, 'and the Society for the Prevention of something orother, and the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society, and the S. P. G. '

'What's S. P. G. ?' Oswald asked. 

'Society for the Propagation of the Jews, of course, ' said Noel, whocannot always spell. 

'No, it isn't; but do let me go on. '

Alice did go on. 

'We propose to get up a society, with a chairman and a treasurer andsecretary, and keep a journal-book saying what we've done. If thatdoesn't make us good it won't be my fault. 

'The aim of the society is nobleness and goodness, and great andunselfish deeds. We wish not to be such a nuisance to grown-up peopleand to perform prodigies of real goodness. We wish to spread ourwings'--here Alice read very fast. She told me afterwards Daisy hadhelped her with that part, and she thought when she came to the wingsthey sounded rather silly--'to spread our wings and rise above the kindof interesting things that you ought not to do, but to do kindnesses toall, however low and mean. '

Denny was listening carefully. Now he nodded three or four times. 

 'Little words of kindness' (he said), 'Little deeds of love, Make this earth an eagle Like the one above. '

This did not sound right, but we let it pass, because an eagle does havewings, and we wanted to hear the rest of what the girls had written. Butthere was no rest. 

'That's all, ' said Alice, and Daisy said--'Don't you think it's a goodidea?'

'That depends, ' Oswald answered, 'who is president and what you mean bybeing good. '

Oswald did not care very much for the idea himself, because beinggood is not the sort of thing he thinks it is proper to talk about, especially before strangers. But the girls and Denny seemed to likeit, so Oswald did not say exactly what he thought, especially as it wasDaisy's idea. This was true politeness. 

'I think it would be nice, ' Noel said, 'if we made it a sort of play. Let's do the Pilgrim's Progress. '

We talked about that for some time, but it did not come to anything, because we all wanted to be Mr Greatheart, except H. O. , who wanted tobe the lions, and you could not have lions in a Society for Goodness. 

Dicky said he did not wish to play if it meant reading books aboutchildren who die; he really felt just as Oswald did about it, he told meafterwards. But the girls were looking as if they were in Sunday school, and we did not wish to be unkind. 

At last Oswald said, 'Well, let's draw up the rules of the society, andchoose the president and settle the name. '

Dora said Oswald should be president, and he modestly consented. She wassecretary, and Denny treasurer if we ever had any money. 

Making the rules took us all the afternoon. They were these:

 RULES

1. Every member is to be as good as possible. 

2. There is to be no more jaw than necessary about being good. (Oswald and Dicky put that rule in. )

3. No day must pass without our doing some kind action to a sufferingfellow-creature. 

4. We are to meet every day, or as often as we like. 

5. We are to do good to people we don't like as often as we can. 

6. No one is to leave the Society without the consent of all therest of us. 

7. The Society is to be kept a profound secret from all the worldexcept us. 

8. The name of our Society is--

And when we got as far as that we all began to talk at once. Dora wantedit called the Society for Humane Improvement; Denny said the Society forReformed Outcast Children; but Dicky said, No, we really were not so badas all that. 

Then H. O. Said, 'Call it the Good Society. '

'Or the Society for Being Good In, ' said Daisy. 

'Or the Society of Goods, ' said Noel. 

'That's priggish, ' said Oswald; 'besides, we don't know whether we shallbe so very. '

'You see, ' Alice explained, 'we only said if we COULD we would be good. '

'Well, then, ' Dicky said, getting up and beginning to dust the choppedhay off himself, 'call it the Society of the Wouldbegoods and have donewith it. '

Oswald thinks Dicky was getting sick of it and wanted to make himselfa little disagreeable. If so, he was doomed to disappointment. Foreveryone else clapped hands and called out, 'That's the very thing!'Then the girls went off to write out the rules, and took H. O. Withthem, and Noel went to write some poetry to put in the minute book. That's what you call the book that a society's secretary writes what itdoes in. Denny went with him to help. He knows a lot of poetry. I thinkhe went to a lady's school where they taught nothing but that. He wasrather shy of us, but he took to Noel. I can't think why. Dicky andOswald walked round the garden and told each other what they thought ofthe new society. 

'I'm not sure we oughtn't to have put our foot down at the beginning, 'Dicky said. 'I don't see much in it, anyhow. '

'It pleases the girls, ' Oswald said, for he is a kind brother. 

'But we're not going to stand jaw, and "words in season", and "lovingsisterly warnings". I tell you what it is, Oswald, we'll have to runthis thing our way, or it'll be jolly beastly for everybody. '

Oswald saw this plainly. 

'We must do something, ' Dicky said; it's very very hard, though. Still, there must be SOME interesting things that are not wrong. '

'I suppose so, ' Oswald said, 'but being good is so much like being amuff, generally. Anyhow I'm not going to smooth the pillows of the sick, or read to the aged poor, or any rot out of Ministering Children. '

'No more am I, ' Dicky said. He was chewing a straw like the head hadin its mouth, 'but I suppose we must play the game fair. Let's begin bylooking out for something useful to do--something like mending things orcleaning them, not just showing off. '

'The boys in books chop kindling wood and save their pennies to buy teaand tracts. '

'Little beasts!' said Dick. 'I say, let's talk about somethingelse. ' And Oswald was glad to, for he was beginning to feel jollyuncomfortable. 

We were all rather quiet at tea, and afterwards Oswald played draughtswith Daisy and the others yawned. I don't know when we've had such agloomy evening. And everyone was horribly polite, and said 'Please' and'Thank you' far more than requisite. 

Albert's uncle came home after tea. He was jolly, and told us stories, but he noticed us being a little dull, and asked what blight had fallenon our young lives. Oswald could have answered and said, 'It is theSociety of the Wouldbegoods that is the blight, ' but of course he didn'tand Albert's uncle said no more, but he went up and kissed the girlswhen they were in bed, and asked them if there was anything wrong. Andthey told him no, on their honour. 

The next morning Oswald awoke early. The refreshing beams of the morningsun shone on his narrow white bed and on the sleeping forms of his dearlittle brothers and Denny, who had got the pillow on top of his head andwas snoring like a kettle when it sings. Oswald could not rememberat first what was the matter with him, and then he remembered theWouldbegoods, and wished he hadn't. He felt at first as if there wasnothing you could do, and even hesitated to buzz a pillow at Denny'shead. But he soon saw that this could not be. So he chucked his boot andcaught Denny right in the waistcoat part, and thus the day began morebrightly than he had expected. 

Oswald had not done anything out of the way good the night before, except that when no one was looking he polished the brass candlestick inthe girls' bedroom with one of his socks. And he might just as well havelet it alone, for the servants cleaned it again with the other things inthe morning, and he could never find the sock afterwards. There were twoservants. One of them had to be called Mrs Pettigrew instead of Jane andEliza like others. She was cook and managed things. 

After breakfast Albert's uncle said--

'I now seek the retirement of my study. At your peril violate myprivacy before 1. 30 sharp. Nothing short of bloodshed will warrant theintrusion, and nothing short of man--or rather boy--slaughter shallavenge it. '

So we knew he wanted to be quiet, and the girls decided that we ought toplay out of doors so as not to disturb him; we should have played out ofdoors anyhow on a jolly fine day like that. 

But as we were going out Dicky said to Oswald--

'I say, come along here a minute, will you?'

So Oswald came along, and Dicky took him into the other parlour and shutthe door, and Oswald said--

'Well, spit it out: what is it?' He knows that is vulgar, and he wouldnot have said it to anyone but his own brother. Dicky said--

'It's a pretty fair nuisance. I told you how it would be. ' And Oswaldwas patient with him, and said--

'What is? Don't be all day about it. '

Dicky fidgeted about a bit, and then he said--

'Well, I did as I said. I looked about for something useful to do. Andyou know that dairy window that wouldn't open--only a little bit likethat? Well, I mended the catch with wire and whip cord and it openedwide. '

'And I suppose they didn't want it mended, ' said Oswald. He knew but toowell that grown-up people sometimes like to keep things far differentfrom what we would, and you catch it if you try to do otherwise. 

'I shouldn't have minded THAT, ' Dicky said, 'because I could easily havetaken it all off again if they'd only said so. But the sillies went andpropped up a milk-pan against the window. They never took the trouble tonotice I had mended it. So the wretched thing pushed the window open allby itself directly they propped it up, and it tumbled through into themoat, and they are most awfully waxy. All the men are out in the fieldsand they haven't any spare milk-pans. If I were a farmer, I must sayI wouldn't stick at an extra milk-pan or two. Accidents must happensometimes. I call it mean. '

Dicky spoke in savage tones. But Oswald was not so unhappy, firstbecause it wasn't his fault, and next because he is a far-seeing boy. 

'Never mind, ' he said kindly. 'Keep your tail up. We'll get the beastlymilk-pan out all right. Come on. ' He rushed hastily to the garden andgave a low, signifying whistle, which the others know well enough tomean something extra being up. 

And when they were all gathered round him he spoke. 

'Fellow countrymen, ' he said, 'we're going to have a rousing good time. '

'It's nothing naughty, is it, ' Daisy asked, 'like the last time you hadthat was rousingly good?'

Alice said 'Shish', and Oswald pretended not to hear. 

'A precious treasure, ' he said, 'has inadvertently been laid low in themoat by one of us. '

'The rotten thing tumbled in by itself, ' Dicky said. 

Oswald waved his hand and said, 'Anyhow, it's there. It's our duty torestore it to its sorrowing owners. I say, look here--we're going todrag the moat. '

Everyone brightened up at this. It was our duty and it was interestingtoo. This is very uncommon. 

So we went out to where the orchard is, at the other side of the moat. There were gooseberries and things on the bushes, but we did not takeany till we had asked if we might. Alice went and asked. Mrs Pettigrewsaid, 'Law! I suppose so; you'd eat 'em anyhow, leave or no leave. '

She little knows the honourable nature of the house of Bastable. But shehas much to learn. 

The orchard slopes gently down to the dark waters of the moat. We satthere in the sun and talked about dragging the moat, till Denny said, 'How DO you drag moats?'

And we were speechless, because, though we had read many times about amoat being dragged for missing heirs and lost wills, we really had neverthought about exactly how it was done. 

'Grappling-irons are right, I believe, ' Denny said, 'but I don't supposethey'd have any at the farm. '

And we asked, and found they had never even heard of them. I thinkmyself he meant some other word, but he was quite positive. 

So then we got a sheet off Oswald's bed, and we all took our shoes andstockings off, and we tried to see if the sheet would drag the bottomof the moat, which is shallow at that end. But it would keep floatingon the top of the water, and when we tried sewing stones into one endof it, it stuck on something in the bottom, and when we got it up it wastorn. We were very sorry, and the sheet was in an awful mess; but thegirls said they were sure they could wash it in the basin in their room, and we thought as we had torn it anyway, we might as well go on. Thatwashing never came off. 

'No human being, ' Noel said, 'knows half the treasures hidden in thisdark tarn. '

And we decided we would drag a bit more at that end, and work graduallyround to under the dairy window where the milk-pan was. We could not seethat part very well, because of the bushes that grow between the cracksof the stones where the house goes down into the moat. And opposite thedairy window the barn goes straight down into the moat too. It is likepictures of Venice; but you cannot get opposite the dairy window anyhow. 

We got the sheet down again when we had tied the torn parts together ina bunch with string, and Oswald was just saying--

'Now then, my hearties, pull together, pull with a will! One, two, three, ' when suddenly Dora dropped her bit of the sheet with a piercingshriek and cried out--

'Oh! it's all wormy at the bottom. I felt them wriggle. ' And she was outof the water almost before the words were out of her mouth. 

The other girls all scuttled out too, and they let the sheet go in sucha hurry that we had no time to steady ourselves, and one of us wentright in, and the rest got wet up to our waistbands. The one who wentright in was only H. O. ; but Dora made an awful fuss and said it was ourfault. We told her what we thought, and it ended in the girls going inwith H. O. To change his things. We had some more gooseberries whilethey were gone. Dora was in an awful wax when she went away, but she isnot of a sullen disposition though sometimes hasty, and when they allcame back we saw it was all right, so we said--

'What shall we do now?'

Alice said, 'I don't think we need drag any more. It is wormy. I felt itwhen Dora did. And besides, the milk-pan is sticking a bit of itself outof the water. I saw it through the dairy window. '

'Couldn't we get it up with fish-hooks?' Noel said. But Alice explainedthat the dairy was now locked up and the key taken out. So then Oswaldsaid--

'Look here, we'll make a raft. We should have to do it some time, andwe might as well do it now. I saw an old door in that corner stable thatthey don't use. You know. The one where they chop the wood. '

We got the door. 

We had never made a raft, any of us, but the way to make rafts is betterdescribed in books, so we knew what to do. 

We found some nice little tubs stuck up on the fence of the farm garden, and nobody seemed to want them for anything just then, so we took them. Denny had a box of tools someone had given him for his last birthday;they were rather rotten little things, but the gimlet worked all right, so we managed to make holes in the edges of the tubs and fasten themwith string under the four corners of the old door. This took us a longtime. Albert's uncle asked us at dinner what we had been playing at, andwe said it was a secret, and it was nothing wrong. You see we wished toatone for Dicky's mistake before anything more was said. The house hasno windows in the side that faces the orchard. 

The rays of the afternoon sun were beaming along the orchard grass whenat last we launched the raft. She floated out beyond reach with the lastshove of the launching. But Oswald waded out and towed her back; he isnot afraid of worms. Yet if he had known of the other things that werein the bottom of that moat he would have kept his boots on. So would theothers, especially Dora, as you will see. 

At last the gallant craft rode upon the waves. We manned her, though notup to our full strength, because if more than four got on the water cameup too near our knees, and we feared she might founder if over-manned. 

Daisy and Denny did not want to go on the raft, white mice that theywere, so that was all right. And as H. O. Had been wet through once hewas not very keen. Alice promised Noel her best paint-brush if he'd giveup and not go, because we knew well that the voyage was fraught withdeep dangers, though the exact danger that lay in wait for us under thedairy window we never even thought of. 

So we four elder ones got on the raft very carefully; and even then, every time we moved the water swished up over the raft and hid our feet. But I must say it was a jolly decent raft. 

Dicky was captain, because it was his adventure. We had hop-poles fromthe hop-garden beyond the orchard to punt with. We made the girls standtogether in the middle and hold on to each other to keep steady. Thenwe christened our gallant vessel. We called it the Richard, after Dicky, and also after the splendid admiral who used to eat wine-glasses anddied after the Battle of the Revenge in Tennyson's poetry. 

Then those on shore waved a fond adieu as well as they could with thedampness of their handkerchiefs, which we had had to use to dry our legsand feet when we put on our stockings for dinner, and slowly and statelythe good ship moved away from shore, riding on the waves as though theywere her native element. 

We kept her going with the hop-poles, and we kept her steady in the sameway, but we could not always keep her steady enough, and we could notalways keep her in the wind's eye. That is to say, she went where we didnot want, and once she bumped her corner against the barn wall, andall the crew had to sit down suddenly to avoid falling overboard into awatery grave. Of course then the waves swept her decks, and when we gotup again we said that we should have to change completely before tea. 

But we pressed on undaunted, and at last our saucy craft came into port, under the dairy window and there was the milk-pan, for whose sake wehad endured such hardships and privations, standing up on its edge quitequietly. 

The girls did not wait for orders from the captain, as they ought tohave done; but they cried out, 'Oh, here it is!' and then both reachedout to get it. Anyone who has pursued a naval career will see that ofcourse the raft capsized. For a moment it felt like standing on the roofof the house, and the next moment the ship stood up on end and shot thewhole crew into the dark waters. 

We boys can swim all right. Oswald has swum three times across theLadywell Swimming Baths at the shallow end, and Dicky is nearly as good;but just then we did not think of this; though, of course, if the waterhad been deep we should have. 

As soon as Oswald could get the muddy water out of his eyes he openedthem on a horrid scene. 

Dicky was standing up to his shoulders in the inky waters; the raft hadrighted itself, and was drifting gently away towards the front of thehouse, where the bridge is, and Dora and Alice were rising from thedeep, with their hair all plastered over their faces--like Venus in theLatin verses. 

There was a great noise of splashing. And besides that a feminine voice, looking out of the dairy window and screaming--

'Lord love the children!'

It was Mrs Pettigrew. She disappeared at once, and we were sorry wewere in such a situation that she would be able to get at Albert's unclebefore we could. Afterwards we were not so sorry. 

Before a word could be spoken about our desperate position Dorastaggered a little in the water, and suddenly shrieked, 'Oh, my foot!oh, it's a shark! I know it is--or a crocodile!'

The others on the bank could hear her shrieking, but they could notsee us properly; they did not know what was happening. Noel told meafterwards he never could care for that paint-brush. 

Of course we knew it could not be a shark, but I thought of pike, whichare large and very angry always, and I caught hold of Dora. She screamedwithout stopping. I shoved her along to where there was a ledge ofbrickwork, and shoved her up, till she could sit on it, then she got herfoot out of the water, still screaming. 

It was indeed terrible. The thing she thought was a shark came up withher foot, and it was a horrid, jagged, old meat-tin, and she had puther foot right into it. Oswald got it off, and directly he did so bloodbegan to pour from the wounds. The tin edges had cut it in severalspots. It was very pale blood, because her foot was wet, of course. 

She stopped screaming, and turned green, and I thought she was going tofaint, like Daisy did on the jungle day. 

Oswald held her up as well as he could, but it really was one of theleast agreeable moments in his life. For the raft was gone, and shecouldn't have waded back anyway, and we didn't know how deep the moatmight be in other places. 

But Mrs Pettigrew had not been idle. She is not a bad sort really. 

Just as Oswald was wondering whether he could swim after the raft andget it back, a boat's nose shot out from under a dark archway a littlefurther up under the house. It was the boathouse, and Albert's uncle hadgot the punt and took us back in it. When we had regained the dark archwhere the boat lives we had to go up the cellar stairs. Dora had to becarried. 

There was but little said to us that day. We were sent to bed--those whohad not been on the raft the same as the others, for they owned up allright, and Albert's uncle is the soul of justice. 

Next day but one was Saturday. Father gave us a talking to--with otherthings. 

The worst was when Dora couldn't get her shoe on, so they sent for thedoctor, and Dora had to lie down for ever so long. It was indeed poorluck. 

When the doctor had gone Alice said to me--

'It IS hard lines, but Dora's very jolly about it. Daisy's been tellingher about how we should all go to her with our little joys and sorrowsand things, and about the sweet influence from a sick bed that can befelt all over the house, like in What Katy Did, and Dora said she hopedshe might prove a blessing to us all while she's laid up. '

Oswald said he hoped so, but he was not pleased. Because this sortof jaw was exactly the sort of thing he and Dicky didn't want to havehappen. 

The thing we got it hottest for was those little tubs off the gardenrailings. They turned out to be butter-tubs that had been put out there'to sweeten'. 

But as Denny said, 'After the mud in that moat not all the perfumes ofsomewhere or other could make them fit to use for butter again. '

I own this was rather a bad business. Yet we did not do it to pleaseourselves, but because it was our duty. But that made no difference toour punishment when Father came down. I have known this mistake occurbefore. 

CHAPTER 3. BILL'S TOMBSTONE

There were soldiers riding down the road, on horses two and two. Thatis the horses were two and two, and the men not. Because each man wasriding one horse and leading another. To exercise them. They came fromChatham Barracks. We all drew up in a line outside the churchyard wall, and saluted as they went by, though we had not read Toady Lion then. Wehave since. It is the only decent book I have ever read written by ToadyLion's author. The others are mere piffle. But many people like them. InSir Toady Lion the officer salutes the child. 

There was only a lieutenant with those soldiers, and he did not saluteme. He kissed his hand to the girls; and a lot of the soldiers behindkissed theirs too. We waved ours back. 

Next day we made a Union Jack out of pocket-handkerchiefs and part of ared flannel petticoat of the White Mouse's, which she did not want justthen, and some blue ribbon we got at the village shop. 

Then we watched for the soldiers, and after three days they went byagain, by twos and twos as before. It was A1. 

We waved our flag, and we shouted. We gave them three cheers. Oswald canshout loudest. So as soon as the first man was level with us (not theadvance guard, but the first of the battery)--he shouted--

'Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!' And then we waved theflag, and bellowed. Oswald stood on the wall to bellow better, and Dennywaved the flag because he was a visitor, and so politeness made us lethim enjoy the fat of whatever there was going. 

The soldiers did not cheer that day; they only grinned and kissed theirhands. 

The next day we all got up as much like soldiers as we could. H. O. AndNoel had tin swords, and we asked Albert's uncle to let us wear some ofthe real arms that are on the wall in the dining-room. 

And he said, 'Yes', if we would clean them up afterwards. But wejolly well cleaned them up first with Brooke's soap and brick dust andvinegar, and the knife polish (invented by the great and immortal Dukeof Wellington in his spare time when he was not conquering Napoleon. Three cheers for our Iron Duke!), and with emery paper and wash leatherand whitening. Oswald wore a cavalry sabre in its sheath. Alice and theMouse had pistols in their belts, large old flint-locks, with bitsof red flannel behind the flints. Denny had a naval cutlass, a verybeautiful blade, and old enough to have been at Trafalgar. I hopeit was. The others had French sword-bayonets that were used in theFranco-German war. They are very bright when you get them bright, butthe sheaths are hard to polish. Each sword-bayonet has the name on theblade of the warrior who once wielded it. I wonder where they are now. Perhaps some of them died in the war. Poor chaps! But it is a very longtime ago. 

I should like to be a soldier. It is better than going to the bestschools, and to Oxford afterwards, even if it is Balliol you go to. Oswald wanted to go to South Africa for a bugler, but father would notlet him. And it is true that Oswald does not yet know how to bugle, though he can play the infantry 'advance', and the 'charge' and the'halt' on a penny whistle. Alice taught them to him with the piano, outof the red book Father's cousin had when he was in the Fighting Fifth. Oswald cannot play the 'retire', and he would scorn to do so. But Isuppose a bugler has to play what he is told, no matter how galling tothe young boy's proud spirit. 

The next day, being thoroughly armed, we put on everything red, whiteand blue that we could think of--night-shirts are good for white, andyou don't know what you can do with red socks and blue jerseys till youtry--and we waited by the churchyard wall for the soldiers. When theadvance guard (or whatever you call it of artillery--it's that forinfantry, I know) came by, we got ready, and when the first man of thefirst battery was level with us Oswald played on his penny whistle the'advance' and the 'charge'--and then shouted--

'Three cheers for the Queen and the British Army!' This time they hadthe guns with them. And every man of the battery cheered too. It wasglorious. It made you tremble all over. The girls said it made themwant to cry--but no boy would own to this, even if it were true. It isbabyish to cry. But it was glorious, and Oswald felt differently to whathe ever did before. 

Then suddenly the officer in front said, 'Battery! Halt!' and all thesoldiers pulled their horses up, and the great guns stopped too. Thenthe officer said, 'Sit at ease, ' and something else, and the sergeantrepeated it, and some of the men got off their horses and lit theirpipes, and some sat down on the grass edge of the road, holding theirhorses' bridles. 

We could see all the arms and accoutrements as plain as plain. 

Then the officer came up to us. We were all standing on the wall thatday, except Dora, who had to sit, because her foot was bad, but we lether have the three-edged rapier to wear, and the blunderbuss to hold aswell--it has a brass mouth and is like in Mr Caldecott's pictures. 

He was a beautiful man the officer. Like a Viking. Very tall and fair, with moustaches very long, and bright blue eyes. He said--

'Good morning. '

So did we. 

Then he said--

'You seem to be a military lot. '

We said we wished we were. 

'And patriotic, ' said he. 

Alice said she should jolly well think so. 

Then he said he had noticed us there for several days, and he had haltedthe battery because he thought we might like to look at the guns. 

Alas! there are but too few grown-up people so far-seeing and thoughtfulas this brave and distinguished officer. 

We said, 'Oh, yes', and then we got off the wall, and that goodand noble man showed us the string that moves the detonator and thebreech-block (when you take it out and carry it away the gun is in vainto the enemy, even if he takes it); and he let us look down the gun tosee the rifling, all clean and shiny--and he showed us the ammunitionboxes, but there was nothing in them. He also told us how the gun wasunlimbered (this means separating the gun from the ammunition carriage), and how quick it could be done--but he did not make the men do thisthen, because they were resting. There were six guns. Each had paintedon the carriage, in white letters, 15 Pr. , which the captain told usmeant fifteen-pounder. 

'I should have thought the gun weighed more than fifteen pounds, ' Dorasaid. 'It would if it was beef, but I suppose wood and gun are lighter. '

And the officer explained to her very kindly and patiently that 15 Pr. Meant the gun could throw a SHELL weighing fifteen pounds. 

When we had told him how jolly it was to see the soldiers go by sooften, he said--

'You won't see us many more times. We're ordered to the front; and wesail on Tuesday week; and the guns will be painted mud-colour, and themen will wear mud-colour too, and so shall I. '

The men looked very nice, though they were not wearing their busbies, but only Tommy caps, put on all sorts of ways. 

We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, looked with envy on those who would soon be allowed--being grown up, andno nonsense about your education--to go and fight for their Queen andcountry. 

Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said--

'All right; but tell him yourself. '

So Alice said to the captain--

'Will you stop next time you pass?'

He said, 'I'm afraid I can't promise that. '

Alice said, 'You might; there's a particular reason. '

He said, 'What?' which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is withchildren. Alice said--

'We want to give the soldiers a keepsake and will write to ask myfather. He is very well off just now. Look here--if we're not on thewall when you come by, don't stop; but if we are, please, PLEASE do!'

The officer pulled his moustache and looked as if he did not know;but at last he said 'Yes', and we were very glad, though but Alice andOswald knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting in theiryouthful nuts. 

The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said--

'I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should like tosee your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished silver. '

The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But Oswaldsaid hurriedly--

'Don't. Not yet. We shan't ever have a chance like this. If you'd onlyshow us the pursuing practice! Albert's uncle knows it; but he only doesit on an armchair, because he hasn't a horse. '

And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his horseright into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the cuts, thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was splendid. Themorning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his good steed stood withall its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. 

Then we opened the paddock gate, and he did it again, while the horsegalloped as if upon the bloody battlefield among the fierce foes of hisnative land, and this was far more ripping still. 

Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men withhim. And the guns of course. 

Then we wrote to my father, and he said 'Yes', as we knew he would, andnext time the soldiers came by--but they had no guns this time, onlythe captive Arabs of the desert--we had the keepsakes ready in awheelbarrow, and we were on the churchyard wall. 

And the bold captain called an immediate halt. 

Then the girls had the splendid honour and pleasure of giving a pipe andfour whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier. 

Then we shook hands with the captain, and the sergeant and thecorporals, and the girls kissed the captain--I can't think why girlswill kiss everybody--and we all cheered for the Queen. It was grand. AndI wish my father had been there to see how much you can do with L12 ifyou order the things from the Stores. 

We have never seen those brave soldiers again. 

I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about soldiers, and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the white cottage inher desolate and oppressedness. 

Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the churchyard, on the other side from our house. On the different military occasionswhich I have remarked upon this widow woman stood at her garden gate andlooked on. And after the cheering she rubbed her eyes with her apron. Alice noticed this slight but signifying action. 

We feel quite sure Mrs Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt friendlyto her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. She told us togo along with us, do, and not bother her. And Oswald, with his usualdelicacy and good breeding, made the others do as she said. 

But we were not to be thus repulsed with impunity. We made complete butcautious inquiries, and found out that the reason she cried when she sawsoldiers was that she had only one son, a boy. He was twenty-two, and hehad gone to the War last April. So that she thought of him when she sawthe soldiers, and that was why she cried. Because when your son is atthe wars you always think he is being killed. I don't know why. A greatmany of them are not. If I had a son at the wars I should never thinkhe was dead till I heard he was, and perhaps not then, consideringeverything. After we had found this out we held a council. 

Dora said, 'We must do something for the soldier's widowed mother. '

We all agreed, but added 'What?'

Alice said, 'The gift of money might be deemed an insult by that proud, patriotic spirit. Besides, we haven't more than eighteenpence among us. '

We had put what we had to father's L12 to buy the baccy and pipes. 

The Mouse then said, 'Couldn't we make her a flannel petticoat and leaveit without a word upon her doorstep?'

But everyone said, 'Flannel petticoats in this weather?' so that was nogo. 

Noel said he would write her a poem, but Oswald had a deep, inwardfeeling that Mrs Simpkins would not understand poetry. Many people donot. 

H. O. Said, 'Why not sing "Rule Britannia" under her window after shehad gone to bed, like waits, ' but no one else thought so. 

Denny thought we might get up a subscription for her among the wealthyand affluent, but we said again that we knew money would be no balm tothe haughty mother of a brave British soldier. 

'What we want, ' Alice said, 'is something that will be a good deal oftrouble to us and some good to her. '

'A little help is worth a deal of poetry, ' said Denny. 

I should not have said that myself. Noel did look sick. 

'What DOES she do that we can help in?' Dora asked. 'Besides, she won'tlet us help. '

H. O. Said, 'She does nothing but work in the garden. At least if shedoes anything inside you can't see it, because she keeps the door shut. '

Then at once we saw. And we agreed to get up the very next day, ereyet the rosy dawn had flushed the east, and have a go at Mrs Simpkins'sgarden. 

We got up. We really did. But too often when you mean to, overnight, it seems so silly to do it when you come to waking in the dewy morn. Wecrept downstairs with our boots in our hands. Denny is rather unlucky, though a most careful boy. It was he who dropped his boot, and it wentblundering down the stairs, echoing like thunderbolts, and waking upAlbert's uncle. But when we explained to him that we were going to dosome gardening he let us, and went back to bed. 

Everything is very pretty and different in the early morning, beforepeople are up. I have been told this is because the shadows go adifferent way from what they do in the awake part of the day. But Idon't know. Noel says the fairies have just finished tidying up then. Anyhow it all feels quite otherwise. 

We put on our boots in the porch, and we got our gardening tools and wewent down to the white cottage. It is a nice cottage, with a thatchedroof, like in the drawing copies you get at girls' schools, and youdo the thatch--if you can--with a B. B. Pencil. If you cannot, you justleave it. It looks just as well, somehow, when it is mounted and framed. 

We looked at the garden. It was very neat. Only one patch was coming upthick with weeds. I could see groundsel and chickweed, and others that Idid not know. We set to work with a will. We used all our tools--spades, forks, hoes, and rakes--and Dora worked with the trowel, sitting down, because her foot was hurt. We cleared the weedy patch beautifully, scraping off all the nasty weeds and leaving the nice clean brown dirt. We worked as hard as ever we could. And we were happy, because it wasunselfish toil, and no one thought then of putting it in the Book ofGolden Deeds, where we had agreed to write down our virtuous actions andthe good doings of each other, when we happen to notice them. 

We had just done, and we were looking at the beautiful production ofour honest labour, when the cottage door burst open, and the soldier'swidowed mother came out like a wild tornado, and her eyes looked likeupas trees--death to the beholder. 

'You wicked, meddlesome, nasty children!' she said, ain't you got enoughof your own good ground to runch up and spoil, but you must come into MYlittle lot?'

Some of us were deeply alarmed, but we stood firm. 

'We have only been weeding your garden, ' Dora said; 'we wanted to dosomething to help you. '

'Dratted little busybodies, ' she said. It was indeed hard, but everyonein Kent says 'dratted' when they are cross. 'It's my turnips, ' she wenton, 'you've hoed up, and my cabbages. My turnips that my boy sowedafore he went. There, get along with you do, afore I come at you with mybroom-handle. '

She did come at us with her broom-handle as she spoke, and even theboldest turned and fled. Oswald was even the boldest. 'They looked likeweeds right enough, ' he said. 

And Dicky said, 'It all comes of trying to do golden deeds. ' This waswhen we were out in the road. 

As we went along, in a silence full of gloomy remorse, we met thepostman. He said--

'Here's the letters for the Moat, ' and passed on hastily. He was a bitlate. 

When we came to look through the letters, which were nearly all forAlbert's uncle, we found there was a postcard that had got stuck in amagazine wrapper. Alice pulled it out. It was addressed to Mrs Simpkins. We honourably only looked at the address, although it is allowed by therules of honourableness to read postcards that come to your house if youlike, even if they are not for you. 

After a heated discussion, Alice and Oswald said they were not afraid, whoever was, and they retraced their steps, Alice holding the postcardright way up, so that we should not look at the lettery part of it, butonly the address. 

With quickly-beating heart, but outwardly unmoved, they walked up to thewhite cottage door. 

It opened with a bang when we knocked. 

'Well?' Mrs Simpkins said, and I think she said it what people in bookscall 'sourly'. 

Oswald said, 'We are very, very sorry we spoiled your turnips, and wewill ask my father to try and make it up to you some other way. '

She muttered something about not wanting to be beholden to anybody. 

'We came back, ' Oswald went on, with his always unruffled politeness, 'because the postman gave us a postcard in mistake with our letters, andit is addressed to you. '

'We haven't read it, ' Alice said quickly. I think she needn't have saidthat. Of course we hadn't. But perhaps girls know better than we do whatwomen are likely to think you capable of. 

The soldier's mother took the postcard (she snatched it really, but'took' is a kinder word, considering everything) and she looked at theaddress a long time. Then she turned it over and read what was on theback. Then she drew her breath in as far as it would go, and caught holdof the door-post. Her face got awful. It was like the wax face of a deadking I saw once at Madame Tussaud's. 

Alice understood. She caught hold of the soldier's mother's hand andsaid--

'Oh, NO--it's NOT your boy Bill!'

And the woman said nothing, but shoved the postcard into Alice's hand, and we both read it--and it WAS her boy Bill. 

Alice gave her back the card. She had held on to the woman's hand allthe time, and now she squeezed the hand, and held it against her face. But she could not say a word because she was crying so. The soldier'smother took the card again and she pushed Alice away, but it was not anunkind push, and she went in and shut the door; and as Alice and Oswaldwent down the road Oswald looked back, and one of the windows of thecottage had a white blind. Afterwards the other windows had too. Therewere no blinds really to the cottage. It was aprons and things she hadpinned up. 

Alice cried most of the morning, and so did the other girls. We wantedto do something for the soldier's mother, but you can do nothing whenpeople's sons are shot. It is the most dreadful thing to want to dosomething for people who are unhappy, and not to know what to do. 

It was Noel who thought of what we COIULD do at last. 

He said, 'I suppose they don't put up tombstones to soldiers when theydie in war. But there--I mean Oswald said, 'Of course not. '

Noel said, 'I daresay you'll think it's silly, but I don't care. Don'tyou think she'd like it, if we put one up to HIM? Not in the churchyard, of course, because we shouldn't be let, but in our garden, just where itjoins on to the churchyard?'

And we all thought it was a first-rate idea. 

This is what we meant to put on the tombstone:

 'Here lies

 BILL SIMPKINS

 Who died fighting for Queen

 and Country. '

 'A faithful son, A son so dear, A soldier brave Lies buried here. '

Then we remembered that poor brave Bill was really buried far away inthe Southern hemisphere, if at all. So we altered it to--

 'A soldier brave We weep for here. '

Then we looked out a nice flagstone in the stable-yard, and we got acold chisel out of the Dentist's toolbox, and began. 

But stone-cutting is difficult and dangerous work. 

Oswald went at it a bit, but he chipped his thumb, and it bled so he hadto chuck it. Then Dicky tried, and then Denny, but Dicky hammered hisfinger, and Denny took all day over every stroke, so that by tea-timewe had only done the H, and about half the E--and the E was awfullycrooked. Oswald chipped his thumb over the H. 

We looked at it the next morning, and even the most sanguinary of us sawthat it was a hopeless task. 

Then Denny said, 'Why not wood and paint?' and he showed us how. Wegot a board and two stumps from the carpenter's in the village, and wepainted it all white, and when that was dry Denny did the words on it. 

It was something like this:

 'IN MEMORY OF BILL SIMPKINS

 DEAD FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY. 

 HONOUR TO HIS NAME AND ALL

 OTHER BRAVE SOLDIERS. '

We could not get in what we meant to at first, so we had to give up thepoetry. 

We fixed it up when it was dry. We had to dig jolly deep to get theposts to stand up, but the gardener helped us. 

Then the girls made wreaths of white flowers, roses and Canterburybells, and lilies and pinks, and sweet-peas and daisies, and put themover the posts. And I think if Bill Simpkins had known how sorry wewere, he would have been glad. Oswald only hopes if he falls on the wildbattlefield, which is his highest ambition, that somebody will be assorry about him as he was about Bill, that's all!

When all was done, and what flowers there were over from the wreathsscattered under the tombstone between the posts, we wrote a letter toMrs Simpkins, and said--

DEAR MRS SIMPKINS--

We are very, very sorry about the turnips and things, and we beg yourpardon humbly. We have put up a tombstone to your brave son. 

And we signed our names. Alice took the letter. 

The soldier's mother read it, and said something about our oughting toknow better than to make fun of people's troubles with our tombstonesand tomfoolery. 

Alice told me she could not help crying. 

She said--

'It's not! it's NOT! Dear, DEAR Mrs Simpkins, do come with me and see!You don't know how sorry we are about Bill. Do come and see. 

We can go through the churchyard, and the others have all gone in, so asto leave it quiet for you. Do come. '

And Mrs Simpkins did. And when she read what we had put up, and Alicetold her the verse we had not had room for, she leant against the wallby the grave--I mean the tombstone--and Alice hugged her, and they bothcried bitterly. The poor soldier's mother was very, very pleased, andshe forgave us about the turnips, and we were friends after that, butshe always liked Alice the best. A great many people do, somehow. 

After that we used to put fresh flowers every day on Bill's tombstone, and I do believe his mother was pleased, though she got us to move itaway from the churchyard edge and put it in a corner of our garden undera laburnum, where people could not see it from the church. But you couldfrom the road, though I think she thought you couldn't. She came everyday to look at the new wreaths. When the white flowers gave out we putcoloured, and she liked it just as well. 

About a fortnight after the erecting of the tombstone the girls wereputting fresh wreaths on it when a soldier in a red coat came down theroad, and he stopped and looked at us. He walked with a stick, and hehad a bundle in a blue cotton handkerchief, and one arm in a sling. 

And he looked again, and he came nearer, and he leaned on the wall, sothat he could read the black printing on the white paint. 

And he grinned all over his face, and he said--

'Well, I AM blessed!'

And he read it all out in a sort of half whisper, and when he came tothe end, where it says, 'and all such brave soldiers', he said--

'Well, I really AM!' I suppose he meant he really was blessed. Oswaldthought it was like the soldier's cheek, so he said--

'I daresay you aren't so very blessed as you think. What's it to do withyou, anyway, eh, Tommy?'

Of course Oswald knew from Kipling that an infantry soldier is calledthat. The soldier said--

'Tommy yourself, young man. That's ME!' and he pointed to the tombstone. 

We stood rooted to the spot. Alice spoke first. 

'Then you're Bill, and you're not dead, ' she said. 'Oh, Bill, I am soglad! Do let ME tell your mother. '

She started running, and so did we all. Bill had to go slowly because ofhis leg, but I tell you he went as fast as ever he could. 

We all hammered at the soldier's mother's door, and shouted--

'Come out! come out!' and when she opened the door we were going tospeak, but she pushed us away, and went tearing down the garden pathlike winking. I never saw a grown-up woman run like it, because she sawBill coming. 

She met him at the gate, running right into him, and caught hold of him, and she cried much more than when she thought he was dead. 

And we all shook his hand and said how glad we were. 

The soldier's mother kept hold of him with both hands, and I couldn'thelp looking at her face. It was like wax that had been painted on bothpink cheeks, and the eyes shining like candles. And when we had all saidhow glad we were, she said--

'Thank the dear Lord for His mercies, ' and she took her boy Bill intothe cottage and shut the door. 

We went home and chopped up the tombstone with the wood-axe and had ablazing big bonfire, and cheered till we could hardly speak. 

The postcard was a mistake; he was only missing. There was a pipe anda whole pound of tobacco left over from our keepsake to the othersoldiers. We gave it to Bill. Father is going to have him forunder-gardener when his wounds get well. He'll always be a bit lame, sohe cannot fight any more. 

CHAPTER 4. THE TOWER OF MYSTERY

It was very rough on Dora having her foot bad, but we took it in turnsto stay in with her, and she was very decent about it. Daisy was mostwith her. I do not dislike Daisy, but I wish she had been taught how toplay. Because Dora is rather like that naturally, and sometimes I havethought that Daisy makes her worse. 

I talked to Albert's uncle about it one day, when the others had gone tochurch, and I did not go because of ear-ache, and he said it camefrom reading the wrong sort of books partly--she has read MinisteringChildren, and Anna Ross, or The Orphan of Waterloo, and Ready Work forWilling Hands, and Elsie, or Like a Little Candle, and even a horridlittle blue book about the something or other of Little Sins. After thisconversation Oswald took care she had plenty of the right sort of booksto read, and he was surprised and pleased when she got up early onemorning to finish Monte Cristo. Oswald felt that he was really beinguseful to a suffering fellow-creature when he gave Daisy books that werenot all about being good. 

A few days after Dora was laid up, Alice called a council of theWouldbegoods, and Oswald and Dicky attended with darkly-clouded brows. Alice had the minute-book, which was an exercise-book that had not muchwritten in it. She had begun at the other end. I hate doing that myself, because there is so little room at the top compared with right way up. 

Dora and a sofa had been carried out on to the lawn, and we were on thegrass. It was very hot and dry. We had sherbet. Alice read:

'"Society of the Wouldbegoods. 

'"We have not done much. Dicky mended a window, and we got the milk-panout of the moat that dropped through where he mended it. Dora, Oswald, Dicky and me got upset in the moat. This was not goodness. Dora's footwas hurt. We hope to do better next time. "'

Then came Noel's poem:

 'We are the Wouldbegoods Society, We are not good yet, but we mean to try, And if we try, and if we don't succeed, It must mean we are very bad indeed. '

This sounded so much righter than Noel's poetry generally does, thatOswald said so, and Noel explained that Denny had helped him. 

'He seems to know the right length for lines of poetry. I suppose itcomes of learning so much at school, ' Noel said. 

Then Oswald proposed that anybody should be allowed to write in thebook if they found out anything good that anyone else had done, but notthings that were public acts; and nobody was to write about themselves, or anything other people told them, only what they found out. 

After a brief jaw the others agreed, and Oswald felt, not for the firsttime in his young life, that he would have made a good diplomatic heroto carry despatches and outwit the other side. For now he had put itout of the minute-book's power to be the kind of thing readers ofMinistering Children would have wished. 

'And if anyone tells other people any good thing he's done he is to goto Coventry for the rest of the day. '

And Denny remarked, 'We shall do good by stealth, and blush to find itshame. '

After that nothing was written in the book for some time. I lookedabout, and so did the others, but I never caught anyone in the act ofdoing anything extra; though several of the others have told me since ofthings they did at this time, and really wondered nobody had noticed. 

I think I said before that when you tell a story you cannot telleverything. It would be silly to do it. Because ordinary kinds of playare dull to read about; and the only other thing is meals, and to dwellon what you eat is greedy and not like a hero at all. A hero is alwayscontented with a venison pasty and a horn of sack. All the same, themeals were very interesting; with things you do not get at home--Lentpies with custard and currants in them, sausage rolls and fiede cakes, and raisin cakes and apple turnovers, and honeycomb and syllabubs, besides as much new milk as you cared about, and cream now and then, and cheese always on the table for tea. Father told Mrs Pettigrew to getwhat meals she liked, and she got these strange but attractive foods. 

In a story about Wouldbegoods it is not proper to tell of times whenonly some of us were naughty, so I will pass lightly over the time whenNoel got up the kitchen chimney and brought three bricks and an oldstarling's nest and about a ton of soot down with him when he fell. Theynever use the big chimney in the summer, but cook in the wash-house. Nordo I wish to dwell on what H. O. Did when he went into the dairy. I donot know what his motive was. But Mrs Pettigrew said SHE knew; and shelocked him in, and said if it was cream he wanted he should have enough, and she wouldn't let him out till tea-time. The cat had also got intothe dairy for some reason of her own, and when H. O. Was tired ofwhatever he went in for he poured all the milk into the churn and triedto teach the cat to swim in it. He must have been desperate. The cat didnot even try to learn, and H. O. Had the scars on his hands for weeks. I do not wish to tell tales of H. O. , for he is very young, and whateverhe does he always catches it for; but I will just allude to our beingtold not to eat the greengages in the garden. And we did not. Andwhatever H. O. Did was Noel's fault--for Noel told H. O. That greengageswould grow again all right if you did not bite as far as the stone, justas wounds are not mortal except when you are pierced through the heart. So the two of them bit bites out of every greengage they could reach. And of course the pieces did not grow again. 

Oswald did not do things like these, but then he is older than hisbrothers. The only thing he did just about then was making a booby-trapfor Mrs Pettigrew when she had locked H. O. Up in the dairy, andunfortunately it was the day she was going out in her best things, andpart of the trap was a can of water. Oswald was not willingly vicious;it was but a light and thoughtless act which he had every reason tobe sorry for afterwards. And he is sorry even without those reasons, because he knows it is ungentlemanly to play tricks on women. 

I remember Mother telling Dora and me when we were little that you oughtto be very kind and polite to servants, because they have to work veryhard, and do not have so many good times as we do. I used to think aboutMother more at the Moat House than I did at Blackheath, especially inthe garden. She was very fond of flowers, and she used to tell us aboutthe big garden where she used to live; and I remember Dora and I helpedher to plant seeds. But it is no use wishing. She would have liked thatgarden, though. 

The girls and the white mice did not do anything boldly wicked--thoughof course they used to borrow Mrs Pettigrew's needles, which made hervery nasty. Needles that are borrowed might just as well be stolen. ButI say no more. 

I have only told you these things to show the kind of events whichoccurred on the days I don't tell you about. On the whole, we had anexcellent time. 

It was on the day we had the pillow-fight that we went for the longwalk. Not the Pilgrimage--that is another story. We did not mean to havea pillow-fight. It is not usual to have them after breakfast, but Oswaldhad come up to get his knife out of the pocket of his Etons, to cut somewire we were making rabbit snares of. It is a very good knife, with afile in it, as well as a corkscrew and other things--and he did not comedown at once, because he was detained by having to make an apple-pie bedfor Dicky. Dicky came up after him to see what he was up to, and when hedid see he buzzed a pillow at Oswald, and the fight began. The others, hearing the noise of battle from afar, hastened to the field of action, all except Dora, who couldn't because of being laid up with her foot, and Daisy, because she is a little afraid of us still, when we areall together. She thinks we are rough. This comes of having only onebrother. 

Well, the fight was a very fine one. Alice backed me up, and Noel andH. O. Backed Dicky, and Denny heaved a pillow or two; but he cannot shystraight, so I don't know which side he was on. 

And just as the battle raged most fiercely, Mrs Pettigrew came in andsnatched the pillows away, and shook those of the warriors who weresmall enough for it. SHE was rough if you like. She also used language Ishould have thought she would be above. She said, Drat you!' and'Drabbit you!' The last is a thing I have never heard said before. She said--

'There's no peace of your life with you children. Drat your antics! Andthat poor, dear, patient gentleman right underneath, with his headacheand his handwriting: and you rampaging about over his head like youngbull-calves. I wonder you haven't more sense, a great girl like you. '

She said this to Alice, and Alice answered gently, as we are told todo--

'I really am awfully sorry; we forgot about the headache. Don't becross, Mrs Pettigrew; we didn't mean to; we didn't think. '

'You never do, ' she said, and her voice, though grumpy, was no longerviolent. 'Why on earth you can't take yourselves off for the day I don'tknow. '

We all said, 'But may we?'

She said, 'Of course you may. Now put on your boots and go for a goodlong walk. And I'll tell you what--I'll put you up a snack, and you canhave an egg to your tea to make up for missing your dinner. Now don't goclattering about the stairs and passages, there's good children. See ifyou can't be quiet this once, and give the good gentleman a chance withhis copying. '

She went off. Her bark is worse than her bite. She does not understandanything about writing books, though. She thinks Albert's uncle copiesthings out of printed books, when he is really writing new ones. Iwonder how she thinks printed books get made first of all. Many servantsare like this. 

She gave us the 'snack' in a basket, and sixpence to buy milk with. Shesaid any of the farms would let us have it, only most likely it would beskim. We thanked her politely, and she hurried us out of the front dooras if we'd been chickens on a pansy bed. 

(I did not know till after I had left the farm gate open, and the henshad got into the garden, that these feathered bipeds display a greatpartiality for the young buds of plants of the genus viola, to whichthey are extremely destructive. I was told that by the gardener. Ilooked it up in the gardening book afterwards to be sure he was right. You do learn a lot of things in the country. )

We went through the garden as far as the church, and then we resteda bit in the porch, and just looked into the basket to see what the'snack' was. It proved to be sausage rolls and queen cakes, and a Lentpie in a round tin dish, and some hard-boiled eggs, and some apples. Weall ate the apples at once, so as not to have to carry them about withus. The churchyard smells awfully good. It is the wild thyme that growson the graves. This is another thing we did not know before we came intothe country. 

Then the door of the church tower was ajar, and we all went up; it hadalways been locked before when we had tried it. 

We saw the ringers' loft where the ends of the bellropes hang down withlong, furry handles to them like great caterpillars, some red, and someblue and white, but we did not pull them. And then we went up to wherethe bells are, very big and dusty among large dirty beams; and fourwindows with no glass, only shutters like Venetian blinds, but theywon't pull up. There were heaps of straws and sticks on the windowledges. We think they were owls' nests, but we did not see any owls. 

Then the tower stairs got very narrow and dark, and we went on up, andwe came to a door and opened it suddenly, and it was like being hit inthe face, the light was so sudden. And there we were on the top ofthe tower, which is flat, and people have cut their names on it, and aturret at one corner, and a low wall all round, up and down, like castlebattlements. And we looked down and saw the roof of the church, and theleads, and the churchyard, and our garden, and the Moat House, and thefarm, and Mrs Simpkins's cottage, looking very small, and other farmslooking like toy things out of boxes, and we saw corn-fields and meadowsand pastures. A pasture is not the same thing as a meadow, whatever youmay think. And we saw the tops of trees and hedges, looking like the mapof the United States, and villages, and a tower that did not look veryfar away standing by itself on the top of a hill. Alice pointed to it, and said--

'What's that?'

'It's not a church, ' said Noel, 'because there's no churchyard. Perhapsit's a tower of mystery that covers the entrance to a subterranean vaultwith treasure in it. '

Dicky said, 'Subterranean fiddlestick!' and 'A waterworks, more likely. '

Alice thought perhaps it was a ruined castle, and the rest of itscrumbling walls were concealed by ivy, the growth of years. 

Oswald could not make his mind up what it was, so he said, 'Let's go andsee! We may as well go there as anywhere. '

So we got down out of the church tower and dusted ourselves, and setout. 

The Tower of Mystery showed quite plainly from the road, now that weknew where to look for it, because it was on the top of a hill. We beganto walk. But the tower did not seem to get any nearer. And it was veryhot. 

So we sat down in a meadow where there was a stream in the ditch and atethe 'snack'. We drank the pure water from the brook out of our hands, because there was no farm to get milk at just there, and it was too muchfag to look for one--and, besides, we thought we might as well save thesixpence. 

Then we started again, and still the tower looked as far off as ever. Denny began to drag his feet, though he had brought a walking-stickwhich none of the rest of us had, and said--

'I wish a cart would come along. We might get a lift. '

He knew all about getting lifts, of course, from having been in thecountry before. He is not quite the white mouse we took him for atfirst. Of course when you live in Lewisham or Blackheath you learn otherthings. If you asked for a lift in Lewisham, High Street, your onlyreply would be jeers. We sat down on a heap of stones, and decided thatwe would ask for a lift from the next cart, whichever way it was going. It was while we were waiting that Oswald found out about plantain seedsbeing good to eat. 

When the sound of wheels came we remarked with joy that the cart wasgoing towards the Tower of Mystery. It was a cart a man was going tofetch a pig home in. Denny said--

'I say, you might give us a lift. Will you?'

The man who was going for the pig said--

'What, all that little lot?' but he winked at Alice, and we saw thathe meant to aid us on our way. So we climbed up, and he whipped up thehorse and asked us where we were going. He was a kindly old man, witha face like a walnut shell, and white hair and beard like ajack-in-the-box. 

'We want to get to the tower, ' Alice said. 'Is it a ruin, or not?'

'It ain't no ruin, ' the man said; 'no fear of that! The man wot built ithe left so much a year to be spent on repairing of it! Money that mighthave put bread in honest folks' mouths. '

We asked was it a church then, or not. 

'Church?' he said. 'Not it. It's more of a tombstone, from all I canmake out. They do say there was a curse on him that built it, and hewasn't to rest in earth or sea. So he's buried half-way up the tower--ifyou can call it buried. '

'Can you go up it?' Oswald asked. 

'Lord love you! yes; a fine view from the top they say. I've neverbeen up myself, though I've lived in sight of it, boy and man, thesesixty-three years come harvest. '

Alice asked whether you had to go past the dead and buried person to getto the top of the tower, and could you see the coffin. 

'No, no, ' the man said; 'that's all hid away behind a slab of stone, that is, with reading on it. You've no call to be afraid, missy. It'sdaylight all the way up. But I wouldn't go there after dark, so Iwouldn't. It's always open, day and night, and they say tramps sleepthere now and again. Anyone who likes can sleep there, but it wouldn'tbe me. '

We thought that it would not be us either, but we wanted to go more thanever, especially when the man said--

'My own great-uncle of the mother's side, he was one of the masons thatset up the stone slab. Before then it was thick glass, and you couldsee the dead man lying inside, as he'd left it in his will. He was lyingthere in a glass coffin with his best clothes--blue satin and silver, myuncle said, such as was all the go in his day, with his wig on, and hissword beside him, what he used to wear. My uncle said his hair had grownout from under his wig, and his beard was down to the toes of him. Myuncle he always upheld that that dead man was no deader than you and me, but was in a sort of fit, a transit, I think they call it, and lookedfor him to waken into life again some day. But the doctor said not. Itwas only something done to him like Pharaoh in the Bible afore he wasburied. '

Alice whispered to Oswald that we should be late for tea, and wouldn'tit be better to go back now directly. But he said--

'If you're afraid, say so; and you needn't come in anyway--but I'm goingon. '

The man who was going for the pig put us down at a gate quite near thetower--at least it looked so until we began to walk again. We thankedhim, and he said--

'Quite welcome, ' and drove off. 

We were rather quiet going through the wood. What we had heard made usvery anxious to see the tower--all except Alice, who would keep talkingabout tea, though not a greedy girl by nature. None of the othersencouraged her, but Oswald thought himself that we had better be homebefore dark. 

As we went up the path through the wood we saw a poor wayfarer withdusty bare feet sitting on the bank. 

He stopped us and said he was a sailor, and asked for a trifle to helphim to get back to his ship. 

I did not like the look of him much myself, but Alice said, 'Oh, thepoor man, do let's help him, Oswald. ' So we held a hurried council, anddecided to give him the milk sixpence. Oswald had it in his purse, andhe had to empty the purse into his hand to find the sixpence, for thatwas not all the money he had, by any means. Noel said afterwards thathe saw the wayfarer's eyes fastened greedily upon the shining pieces asOswald returned them to his purse. Oswald has to own that he purposelylet the man see that he had more money, so that the man might not feelshy about accepting so large a sum as sixpence. 

The man blessed our kind hearts and we went on. 

The sun was shining very brightly, and the Tower of Mystery did not lookat all like a tomb when we got to it. The bottom Storey was on arches, all open, and ferns and things grew underneath. There was a round stonestair going up in the middle. Alice began to gather ferns while we wentup, but when we had called out to her that it was as the pig-man hadsaid, and daylight all the way up, she said--

'All right. I'm not afraid. I'm only afraid of being late home, ' andcame up after us. And perhaps, though not downright manly truthfulness, this was as much as you could expect from a girl. 

There were holes in the little tower of the staircase to let light in. At the top of it was a thick door with iron bolts. We shot these back, and it was not fear but caution that made Oswald push open the door sovery slowly and carefully. 

Because, of course, a stray dog or cat might have got shut up there byaccident, and it would have startled Alice very much if it had jumpedout on us. 

When the door was opened we saw that there was no such thing. It was aroom with eight sides. Denny says it is the shape called octogenarian;because a man named Octagius invented it. There were eight large archedwindows with no glass, only stone-work, like in churches. The room wasfull of sunshine, and you could see the blue sky through the windows, but nothing else, because they were so high up. It was so bright webegan to think the pig-man had been kidding us. Under one of the windowswas a door. We went through, and there was a little passage and then aturret-twisting stair, like in the church, but quite light with windows. When we had gone some way up this, we came to a sort of landing, andthere was a block of stone let into the wall--polished--Denny said itwas Aberdeen graphite, with gold letters cut in it. It said--

 'Here lies the body of Mr Richard Ravenal Born 1720. Died 1779. '

and a verse of poetry:

 'Here lie I, between earth and sky, Think upon me, dear passers-by, And you who do my tombstone see Be kind to say a prayer for me. '

'How horrid!' Alice said. 'Do let's get home. '

'We may as well go to the top, ' Dicky said, 'just to say we've been. '

And Alice is no funk--so she agreed; though I could see she did not likeit. 

Up at the top it was like the top of the church tower, only octogenarianin shape, instead of square. 

Alice got all right there; because you cannot think much about ghostsand nonsense when the sun is shining bang down on you at four o'clock inthe afternoon, and you can see red farm-roofs between the trees, and thesafe white roads, with people in carts like black ants crawling. 

It was very jolly, but we felt we ought to be getting back, because teais at five, and we could not hope to find lifts both ways. 

So we started to go down. Dicky went first, then Oswald, then Alice--andH. O. Had just stumbled over the top step and saved himself by Alice'sback, which nearly upset Oswald and Dicky, when the hearts of all stoodstill, and then went on by leaps and bounds, like the good work inmissionary magazines. 

For, down below us, in the tower where the man whose beard grew down tohis toes after he was dead was buried, there was a noise--a loud noise. And it was like a door being banged and bolts fastened. We tumbled overeach other to get back into the open sunshine on the top of the tower, and Alice's hand got jammed between the edge of the doorway and H. O. 'sboot; it was bruised black and blue, and another part bled, but she didnot notice it till long after. 

We looked at each other, and Oswald said in a firm voice (at least, Ihope it was)--

'What was that?'

'He HAS waked up, ' Alice said. 'Oh, I know he has. Of course there is adoor for him to get out by when he wakes. He'll come up here. I know hewill. '

Dicky said, and his voice was not at all firm (I noticed that at thetime), 'It doesn't matter, if he's ALIVE. '

'Unless he's come to life a raving lunatic, ' Noel said, and we all stoodwith our eyes on the doorway of the turret--and held our breath to hear. 

But there was no more noise. 

Then Oswald said--and nobody ever put it in the Golden Deed book, thoughthey own that it was brave and noble of him--he said--

'Perhaps it was only the wind blowing one of the doors to. I'll go downand see, if you will, Dick. '

Dicky only said--

'The wind doesn't shoot bolts. '

'A bolt from the blue, ' said Denny to himself, looking up at the sky. His father is a sub-editor. He had gone very red, and he was holding onto Alice's hand. Suddenly he stood up quite straight and said--

'I'm not afraid. I'll go and see. '

THIS was afterwards put in the Golden Deed book. It ended in Oswaldand Dicky and Denny going. Denny went first because he said he wouldrather--and Oswald understood this and let him. If Oswald had pushedfirst it would have been like Sir Lancelot refusing to let a youngknight win his spurs. Oswald took good care to go second himself, though. The others never understood this. You don't expect it fromgirls; but I did think father would have understood without Oswaldtelling him, which of course he never could. 

We all went slowly. 

At the bottom of the turret stairs we stopped short. Because the doorthere was bolted fast and would not yield to shoves, however desperateand united. 

Only now somehow we felt that Mr Richard Ravenal was all right andquiet, but that some one had done it for a lark, or perhaps not knownabout anyone being up there. So we rushed up, and Oswald told the othersin a few hasty but well-chosen words, and we all leaned over between thebattlements, and shouted, 'Hi! you there!'

Then from under the arches of the quite-downstairs part of the tower afigure came forth--and it was the sailor who had had our milk sixpence. He looked up and he spoke to us. He did not speak loud, but he spokeloud enough for us to hear every word quite plainly. He said--

'Drop that. '

Oswald said, 'Drop what?'

He said, 'That row. '

Oswald said, 'Why?'

He said, 'Because if you don't I'll come up and make you, and prettyquick too, so I tell you. '

Dicky said, 'Did you bolt the door?'

The man said, 'I did so, my young cock. '

Alice said--and Oswald wished to goodness she had held her tongue, because he saw right enough the man was not friendly--'Oh, do come andlet us out--do, please. '

While she was saying it Oswald suddenly saw that he did not want theman to come up. So he scurried down the stairs because he thought he hadseen something on the door on the top side, and sure enough there weretwo bolts, and he shot them into their sockets. This bold act was notput in the Golden Deed book, because when Alice wanted to, the otherssaid it was not GOOD of Oswald to think of this, but only CLEVER. Ithink sometimes, in moments of danger and disaster, it is as good tobe clever as it is to be good. But Oswald would never demean himself toargue about this. 

When he got back the man was still standing staring up. Alice said--

'Oh, Oswald, he says he won't let us out unless we give him all ourmoney. And we might be here for days and days and all night as well. Noone knows where we are to come and look for us. Oh, do let's give it himALL. '

She thought the lion of the English nation, which does not know whenit is beaten, would be ramping in her brother's breast. But Oswald keptcalm. He said--

'All right, ' and he made the others turn out their pockets. Denny had abad shilling, with a head on both sides, and three halfpence. H. O. Hada halfpenny. Noel had a French penny, which is only good for chocolatemachines at railway stations. Dicky had tenpence-halfpenny, and Oswaldhad a two-shilling piece of his own that he was saving up to buy a gunwith. Oswald tied the whole lot up in his handkerchief, and looking overthe battlements, he said--

'You are an ungrateful beast. We gave you sixpence freely of our ownwill. '

The man did look a little bit ashamed, but he mumbled something abouthaving his living to get. Then Oswald said--

'Here you are. Catch!' and he flung down the handkerchief with the moneyin it. 

The man muffed the catch--butter-fingered idiot!--but he picked upthe handkerchief and undid it, and when he saw what was in it he sworedreadfully. The cad!

'Look here, ' he called out, 'this won't do, young shaver. I want thosethere shiners I see in your pus! Chuck 'em along!'

Then Oswald laughed. He said--

'I shall know you again anywhere, and you'll be put in prison for this. Here are the SHINERS. ' And he was so angry he chucked down purse andall. The shiners were not real ones, but only card-counters that lookedlike sovereigns on one side. Oswald used to carry them in his purse soas to look affluent. He does not do this now. 

When the man had seen what was in the purse he disappeared under thetower, and Oswald was glad of what he had done about the bolts--and hehoped they were as strong as the ones on the other side of the door. 

They were. 

We heard the man kicking and pounding at the door, and I am not ashamedto say that we were all holding on to each other very tight. I am proud, however, to relate that nobody screamed or cried. 

After what appeared to be long years, the banging stopped, and presentlywe saw the brute going away among the trees. Then Alice did cry, and Ido not blame her. Then Oswald said--

'It's no use. Even if he's undone the door, he may be in ambush. We musthold on here till somebody comes. '

Then Alice said, speaking chokily because she had not quite donecrying--

'Let's wave a flag. '

By the most fortunate accident she had on one of her Sunday petticoats, though it was Monday. This petticoat is white. She tore it out at thegathers, and we tied it to Denny's stick, and took turns to wave it. Wehad laughed at his carrying a stick before, but we were very sorry nowthat we had done so. 

And the tin dish the Lent pie was baked in we polished with ourhandkerchiefs, and moved it about in the sun so that the sun mightstrike on it and signal our distress to some of the outlying farms. 

This was perhaps the most dreadful adventure that had then ever happenedto us. Even Alice had now stopped thinking of Mr Richard Ravenal, andthought only of the lurker in ambush. 

We all felt our desperate situation keenly. I must say Denny behavedlike anything but a white mouse. When it was the others' turn to wave, he sat on the leads of the tower and held Alice's and Noel's hands, andsaid poetry to them--yards and yards of it. By some strange fatality itseemed to comfort them. It wouldn't have me. 

He said 'The Battle of the Baltic', and 'Gray's Elegy', right through, though I think he got wrong in places, and the 'Revenge', and Macaulay'sthing about Lars Porsena and the Nine Gods. And when it was his turn hewaved like a man. 

I will try not to call him a white mouse any more. He was a brick thatday, and no mouse. 

The sun was low in the heavens, and we were sick of waving and veryhungry, when we saw a cart in the road below. We waved like mad, andshouted, and Denny screamed exactly like a railway whistle, a thing noneof us had known before that he could do. 

And the cart stopped. And presently we saw a figure with a white beardamong the trees. It was our Pig-man. 

We bellowed the awful truth to him, and when he had taken it in--hethought at first we were kidding--he came up and let us out. 

He had got the pig; luckily it was a very small one--and we were notparticular. Denny and Alice sat on the front of the cart with thePig-man, and the rest of us got in with the pig, and the man drove usright home. You may think we talked it over on the way. Not us. We wentto sleep, among the pig, and before long the Pig-man stopped and got usto make room for Alice and Denny. There was a net over the cart. I neverwas so sleepy in my life, though it was not more than bedtime. 

Generally, after anything exciting, you are punished--but this could notbe, because we had only gone for a walk, exactly as we were told. 

There was a new rule made, though. No walks except on the high-roads, and we were always to take Pincher and either Lady, the deer-hound, orMartha, the bulldog. We generally hate rules, but we did not mind thisone. 

Father gave Denny a gold pencil-case because he was first to go downinto the tower. Oswald does not grudge Denny this, though some mightthink he deserved at least a silver one. But Oswald is above such paltryjealousies. 

CHAPTER 5. THE WATERWORKS

This is the story of one of the most far-reaching and influentiallynaughty things we ever did in our lives. We did not mean to do sucha deed. And yet we did do it. These things will happen with thebest-regulated consciences. 

The story of this rash and fatal act is intimately involved--which meansall mixed up anyhow--with a private affair of Oswald's, and the onecannot be revealed without the other. Oswald does not particularly wanthis story to be remembered, but he wishes to tell the truth, and perhapsit is what father calls a wholesome discipline to lay bare the awfulfacts. 

It was like this. 

On Alice's and Noel's birthday we went on the river for a picnic. Beforethat we had not known that there was a river so near us. Afterwardsfather said he wished we had been allowed to remain on our pristineignorance, whatever that is. And perhaps the dark hour did dawn when wewished so too. But a truce to vain regrets. 

It was rather a fine thing in birthdays. The uncle sent a box of toysand sweets, things that were like a vision from another and a brighterworld. Besides that Alice had a knife, a pair of shut-up scissors, asilk handkerchief, a book--it was The Golden Age and is Ai except whereit gets mixed with grown-up nonsense. Also a work-case lined with pinkplush, a boot-bag, which no one in their senses would use because ithad flowers in wool all over it. And she had a box of chocolates and amusical box that played 'The Man who broke' and two other tunes, and twopairs of kid gloves for church, and a box of writing-paper--pink--with'Alice' on it in gold writing, and an egg coloured red that said 'A. Bastable' in ink on one side. These gifts were the offerings of Oswald, Dora, Dicky, Albert's uncle, Daisy, Mr Foulkes (our own robber), Noel, H. O. , father and Denny. Mrs Pettigrew gave the egg. It was a kindlyhousekeeper's friendly token. 

I shall not tell you about the picnic on the river because the happiesttimes form but dull reading when they are written down. I will merelystate that it was prime. Though happy, the day was uneventful. The onlything exciting enough to write about was in one of the locks, wherethere was a snake--a viper. It was asleep in a warm sunny corner of thelock gate, and when the gate was shut it fell off into the water. 

Alice and Dora screamed hideously. So did Daisy, but her screams werethinner. 

The snake swam round and round all the time our boat was in the lock. It swam with four inches of itself--the head end--reared up out of thewater, exactly like Kaa in the Jungle Book--so we know Kipling is a trueauthor and no rotter. We were careful to keep our hands well inside theboat. A snake's eyes strike terror into the boldest breast. 

When the lock was full father killed the viper with a boat-hook. I wassorry for it myself. It was indeed a venomous serpent. But it was thefirst we had ever seen, except at the Zoo. And it did swim most awfullywell. 

Directly the snake had been killed H. O. Reached out for its corpse, and the next moment the body of our little brother was seen wrigglingconclusively on the boat's edge. This exciting spectacle was not ofa lasting nature. He went right in. Father clawed him out. He is veryunlucky with water. 

Being a birthday, but little was said. H. O. Was wrapped in everybody'scoats, and did not take any cold at all. 

This glorious birthday ended with an iced cake and ginger wine, anddrinking healths. Then we played whatever we liked. There had beenrounders during the afternoon. It was a day to be for ever marked bymemory's brightest what's-its-name. 

I should not have said anything about the picnic but for one thing. Itwas the thin edge of the wedge. It was the all-powerful lever that movedbut too many events. You see, WE WERE NO LONGER STRANGERS TO THE RIVER. 

And we went there whenever we could. Only we had to take the dogs, andto promise no bathing without grown-ups. But paddling in back waters wasallowed. I say no more. 

I have not numerated Noel's birthday presents because I wish to leavesomething to the imagination of my young readers. (The best authorsalways do this. ) If you will take the large, red catalogue of the Armyand Navy Stores, and just make a list of about fifteen of the things youwould like best--prices from 2s. To 25s. --you will get a very good ideaof Noel's presents, and it will help you to make up your mind in caseyou are asked just before your next birthday what you really NEED. 

One of Noel's birthday presents was a cricket ball. He cannot bowl fornuts, and it was a first-rate ball. So some days after the birthdayOswald offered him to exchange it for a coconut he had won at the fair, and two pencils (new), and a brand-new note-book. Oswald thought, andhe still thinks, that this was a fair exchange, and so did Noel at thetime, and he agreed to it, and was quite pleased till the girls said itwasn't fair, and Oswald had the best of it. And then that young beggarNoel wanted the ball back, but Oswald, though not angry, was firm. 

'You said it was a bargain, and you shook hands on it, ' he said, and hesaid it quite kindly and calmly. 

Noel said he didn't care. He wanted his cricket ball back. And the girlssaid it was a horrid shame. 

If they had not said that, Oswald might yet have consented to let Noelhave the beastly ball, but now, of course, he was not going to. Hesaid--

'Oh, yes, I daresay. And then you would be wanting the coconut andthings again the next minute. '

'No, I shouldn't, ' Noel said. It turned out afterwards he and H. O. Had eaten the coconut, which only made it worse. And it made them worsetoo--which is what the book calls poetic justice. 

Dora said, 'I don't think it was fair, ' and even Alice said--

'Do let him have it back, Oswald. '

I wish to be just to Alice. She did not know then about the coconuthaving been secretly wolfed up. 

We were in the garden. Oswald felt all the feelings of the hero whenthe opposing forces gathered about him are opposing as hard as ever theycan. He knew he was not unfair, and he did not like to be jawed at justbecause Noel had eaten the coconut and wanted the ball back. ThoughOswald did not know then about the eating of the coconut, but he feltthe injustice in his soul all the same. 

Noel said afterwards he meant to offer Oswald something else to make upfor the coconut, but he said nothing about this at the time. 

'Give it me, I say, ' Noel said. 

And Oswald said, 'Shan't!'

Then Noel called Oswald names, and Oswald did not answer back butjust kept smiling pleasantly, and carelessly throwing up the ball andcatching it again with an air of studied indifference. 

It was Martha's fault that what happened happened. She is the bull-dog, and very stout and heavy. She had just been let loose and she camebounding along in her clumsy way, and jumped up on Oswald, who isbeloved by all dumb animals. (You know how sagacious they are. ) Well, Martha knocked the ball out of Oswald's hands, and it fell on the grass, and Noel pounced on it like a hooded falcon on its prey. Oswald wouldscorn to deny that he was not going to stand this, and the next momentthe two were rolling over on the grass, and very soon Noel was made tobite the dust. And serve him right. He is old enough to know his ownmind. 

Then Oswald walked slowly away with the ball, and the others picked Noelup, and consoled the beaten, but Dicky would not take either side. 

And Oswald went up into his own room and lay on his bed, and reflectedgloomy reflections about unfairness. 

Presently he thought he would like to see what the others were doingwithout their knowing he cared. So he went into the linen-room andlooked out of its window, and he saw they were playing Kings andQueens--and Noel had the biggest paper crown and the longest sticksceptre. 

Oswald turned away without a word, for it really was sickening. 

Then suddenly his weary eyes fell upon something they had not beforebeheld. It was a square trap-door in the ceiling of the linen-room. 

Oswald never hesitated. He crammed the cricket ball into his pocket andclimbed up the shelves and unbolted the trap-door, and shoved it up, and pulled himself up through it. Though above all was dark and smeltof spiders, Oswald fearlessly shut the trap-door down again before hestruck a match. He always carries matches. He is a boy fertile in everysubtle expedient. Then he saw he was in the wonderful, mysterious placebetween the ceiling and the roof of the house. The roof is beamsand tiles. Slits of light show through the tiles here and there. Theceiling, on its other and top side, is made of rough plaster and beams. If you walk on the beams it is all right--if you walk on the plaster yougo through with your feet. Oswald found this out later, but some fineinstinct now taught the young explorer where he ought to tread and wherenot. It was splendid. He was still very angry with the others and he wasglad he had found out a secret they jolly well didn't know. 

He walked along a dark, narrow passage. Every now and then cross-beamsbarred his way, and he had to creep under them. At last a small doorloomed before him with cracks of light under and over. He drew back therusty bolts and opened it. It opened straight on to the leads, a flatplace between two steep red roofs, with a parapet two feet high back andfront, so that no one could see you. It was a place no one could haveinvented better than, if they had tried, for hiding in. 

Oswald spent the whole afternoon there. He happened to have a volume ofPercy's Anecdotes in his pocket, the one about lawyers, as well as afew apples. While he read he fingered the cricket ball, and presently itrolled away, and he thought he would get it by-and-by. 

When the tea-bell rang he forgot the ball and went hurriedly down, forapples do not keep the inside from the pangs of hunger. 

Noel met him on the landing, got red in the face, and said--

'It wasn't QUITE fair about the ball, because H. O. And I had eaten thecoconut. YOU can have it. '

'I don't want your beastly ball, ' Oswald said, 'only I hate unfairness. However, I don't know where it is just now. When I find it you shallhave it to bowl with as often as you want. '

'Then you're not waxy?'

And Oswald said 'No' and they went in to tea together. So that was allright. There were raisin cakes for tea. 

Next day we happened to want to go down to the river quite early. Idon't know why; this is called Fate, or Destiny. We dropped in at the'Rose and Crown' for some ginger-beer on our way. The landlady is afriend of ours and lets us drink it in her back parlour, instead of inthe bar, which would be improper for girls. 

We found her awfully busy, making pies and jellies, and her two sisterswere hurrying about with great hams, and pairs of chickens, and roundsof cold beef and lettuces, and pickled salmon and trays of crockery andglasses. 

'It's for the angling competition, ' she said. 

We said, 'What's that?'

'Why, ' she said, slicing cucumber like beautiful machinery while shesaid it, 'a lot of anglers come down some particular day and fish oneparticular bit of the river. And the one that catches most fish gets theprize. They're fishing the pen above Stoneham Lock. And they all comehere to dinner. So I've got my hands full and a trifle over. '

We said, 'Couldn't we help?'

But she said, 'Oh, no, thank you. Indeed not, please. I really am so Idon't know which way to turn. Do run along, like dears. '

So we ran along like these timid but graceful animals. 

Need I tell the intellectual reader that we went straight off to the penabove Stoneham Lock to see the anglers competing? Angling is the samething as fishing. 

I am not going to try and explain locks to you. If you've never seena lock you could never understand even if I wrote it in words of onesyllable and pages and pages long. And if you have, you'll understandwithout my telling you. It is harder than Euclid if you don't knowbeforehand. But you might get a grown-up person to explain it to youwith books or wooden bricks. 

I will tell you what a pen is because that is easy. It is the bit ofriver between one lock and the next. In some rivers 'pens' are called'reaches', but pen is the proper word. 

We went along the towing-path; it is shady with willows, aspens, alders, elders, oaks and other trees. On the banks are flowers--yarrow, meadow-sweet, willow herb, loosestrife, and lady's bed-straw. Oswaldlearned the names of all these trees and plants on the day of thepicnic. The others didn't remember them, but Oswald did. He is a boy ofwhat they call relenting memory. 

The anglers were sitting here and there on the shady bank among thegrass and the different flowers I have named. Some had dogs with them, and some umbrellas, and some had only their wives and families. 

We should have liked to talk to them and ask how they liked their lot, and what kinds of fish there were, and whether they were nice to eat, but we did not like to. 

Denny had seen anglers before and he knew they liked to be talked to, but though he spoke to them quite like to equals he did not ask thethings we wanted to know. He just asked whether they'd had any luck, andwhat bait they used. 

And they answered him back politely. I am glad I am not an angler. 

It is an immovable amusement, and, as often as not, no fish to speak ofafter all. 

Daisy and Dora had stayed at home: Dora's foot was nearly well but theyseem really to like sitting still. I think Dora likes to have a littlegirl to order about. Alice never would stand it. When we got to StonehamLock Denny said he should go home and fetch his fishing-rod. H. O. Wentwith him. This left four of us--Oswald, Alice, Dicky, and Noel. We wenton down the towing-path. The lock shuts up (that sounds as if it waslike the lock on a door, but it is very otherwise) between one pen ofthe river and the next; the pen where the anglers were was full rightup over the roots of the grass and flowers. But the pen below was nearlyempty. 

'You can see the poor river's bones, ' Noel said. 

And so you could. 

Stones and mud and dried branches, and here and there an old kettle or atin pail with no bottom to it, that some bargee had chucked in. 

From walking so much along the river we knew many of the bargees. Bargees are the captains and crews of the big barges that are pulled upand down the river by slow horses. The horses do not swim. They walkon the towing-path, with a rope tied to them, and the other end to thebarge. So it gets pulled along. The bargees we knew were a good friendlysort, and used to let us go all over the barges when they were in a goodtemper. They were not at all the sort of bullying, cowardly fiendsin human form that the young hero at Oxford fights a crowd of, single-handed, in books. 

The river does not smell nice when its bones are showing. But we wentalong down, because Oswald wanted to get some cobbler's wax in Faldingvillage for a bird-net he was making. 

But just above Falding Lock, where the river is narrow and straight, wesaw a sad and gloomy sight--a big barge sitting flat on the mud becausethere was not water enough to float her. 

There was no one on board, but we knew by a red flannel waistcoat thatwas spread out to dry on top that the barge belonged to friends of ours. 

Then Alice said, 'They have gone to find the man who turns on the waterto fill the pen. I daresay they won't find him. He's gone to his dinner, I shouldn't wonder. What a lovely surprise it would be if they came backto find their barge floating high and dry on a lot of water! DO let'sdo it. It's a long time since any of us did a kind action deserving ofbeing put in the Book of Golden Deeds. '

We had given that name to the minute-book of that beastly 'Society ofthe Wouldbegoods'. Then you could think of the book if you wanted towithout remembering the Society. I always tried to forget both of them. 

Oswald said, 'But how? YOU don't know how. And if you did we haven't gota crowbar. '

I cannot help telling you that locks are opened with crowbars. You pushand push till a thing goes up and the water runs through. It is ratherlike the little sliding door in the big door of a hen-house. 

'I know where the crowbar is, ' Alice said. 'Dicky and I were down hereyesterday when you were su--' She was going to say sulking, I know, butshe remembered manners ere too late so Oswald bears her no malice. Shewent on: 'Yesterday, when you were upstairs. And we saw the water-tenderopen the lock and the weir sluices. It's quite easy, isn't it, Dicky?'

'As easy as kiss your hand, ' said Dicky; 'and what's more, I know wherehe keeps the other thing he opens the sluices with. I votes we do. '

'Do let's, if we can, ' Noel said, 'and the bargees will bless the namesof their unknown benefactors. They might make a song about us, and singit on winter nights as they pass round the wassail bowl in front of thecabin fire. '

Noel wanted to very much; but I don't think it was altogether forgenerousness, but because he wanted to see how the sluices opened. Yetperhaps I do but wrong the boy. 

We sat and looked at the barge a bit longer, and then Oswald said, well, he didn't mind going back to the lock and having a look at the crowbars. You see Oswald did not propose this; he did not even care very muchabout it when Alice suggested it. 

But when we got to Stoneham Lock, and Dicky dragged the two heavycrowbars from among the elder bushes behind a fallen tree, and began topound away at the sluice of the lock, Oswald felt it would not be manlyto stand idly apart. So he took his turn. 

It was very hard work but we opened the lock sluices, and we did notdrop the crowbar into the lock either, as I have heard of being done byolder and sillier people. 

The water poured through the sluices all green and solid, as if it hadbeen cut with a knife, and where it fell on the water underneath thewhite foam spread like a moving counterpane. When we had finished thelock we did the weir--which is wheels and chains--and the water poursthrough over the stones in a magnificent waterfall and sweeps out allround the weir-pool. 

The sight of the foaming waterfalls was quite enough reward for ourheavy labours, even without the thought of the unspeakable gratitudethat the bargees would feel to us when they got back to their barge andfound her no longer a stick-in-the-mud, but bounding on the free bosomof the river. 

When we had opened all the sluices we gazed awhile on the beauties ofNature, and then went home, because we thought it would be more trulynoble and good not to wait to be thanked for our kind and devotedaction--and besides, it was nearly dinner-time and Oswald thought it wasgoing to rain. 

On the way home we agreed not to tell the others, because it would belike boasting of our good acts. 

'They will know all about it, ' Noel said, 'when they hear us beingblessed by the grateful bargees, and the tale of the Unknown Helpers isbeing told by every village fireside. And then they can write it in theGolden Deed book. '

So we went home. Denny and H. O. Had thought better of it, and they werefishing in the moat. They did not catch anything. 

Oswald is very weather-wise--at least, so I have heard it said, and hehad thought there would be rain. There was. It came on while we wereat dinner--a great, strong, thundering rain, coming down in sheets--thefirst rain we had had since we came to the Moat House. 

We went to bed as usual. No presentiment of the coming awfulness cloudedour young mirth. I remember Dicky and Oswald had a wrestling match, andOswald won. 

In the middle of the night Oswald was awakened by a hand on his face. It was a wet hand and very cold. Oswald hit out, of course, but a voicesaid, in a hoarse, hollow whisper--

'Don't be a young ass! Have you got any matches? My bed's full of water;it's pouring down from the ceiling. '

Oswald's first thoughts was that perhaps by opening those sluices wehad flooded some secret passage which communicated with the top of MoatHouse, but when he was properly awake he saw that this could not be, onaccount of the river being so low. 

He had matches. He is, as I said before, a boy full of resources. Hestruck one and lit a candle, and Dicky, for it was indeed he, gazed withOswald at the amazing spectacle. 

Our bedroom floor was all wet in patches. Dicky's bed stood in a pond, and from the ceiling water was dripping in rich profusion at a dozendifferent places. There was a great wet patch in the ceiling, and thatwas blue, instead of white like the dry part, and the water dripped fromdifferent parts of it. 

In a moment Oswald was quite unmanned. 

'Krikey!' he said, in a heart-broken tone, and remained an instantplunged in thought. 

'What on earth are we to do?' Dicky said. 

And really for a short time even Oswald did not know. It was ablood-curdling event, a regular facer. Albert's uncle had gone to Londonthat day to stay till the next. Yet something must be done. 

The first thing was to rouse the unconscious others from their deepsleep, because the water was beginning to drip on to their beds, andthough as yet they knew it not, there was quite a pool on Noel's bed, just in the hollow behind where his knees were doubled up, and one ofH. O. 's boots was full of water, that surged wildly out when Oswaldhappened to kick it over. 

We woke them--a difficult task, but we did not shrink from it. 

Then we said, 'Get up, there is a flood! Wake up, or you will be drownedin your beds! And it's half past two by Oswald's watch. '

They awoke slowly and very stupidly. H. O. Was the slowest andstupidest. 

The water poured faster and faster from the ceiling. 

We looked at each other and turned pale, and Noel said--

'Hadn't we better call Mrs Pettigrew?'

But Oswald simply couldn't consent to this. He could not get rid of thefeeling that this was our fault somehow for meddling with the river, though of course the clear star of reason told him it could not possiblybe the case. 

We all devoted ourselves, heart and soul, to the work before us. Weput the bath under the worst and wettest place, and the jugs and basinsunder lesser streams, and we moved the beds away to the dry end of theroom. Ours is a long attic that runs right across the house. 

But the water kept coming in worse and worse. Our nightshirts werewet through, so we got into our other shirts and knickerbockers, butpreserved bareness in our feet. And the floor kept on being half an inchdeep in water, however much we mopped it up. 

We emptied the basins out of the window as fast as they filled, and webaled the bath with a jug without pausing to complain how hard thework was. All the same, it was more exciting than you can think. But inOswald's dauntless breast he began to see that they would HAVE to callMrs Pettigrew. 

A new waterfall broke out between the fire-grate and the mantelpiece, and spread in devastating floods. Oswald is full of ingenious devices. I think I have said this before, but it is quite true; and perhaps eventruer this time than it was last time I said it. 

He got a board out of the box-room next door, and rested one end in thechink between the fireplace and the mantelpiece, and laid the other endon the back of a chair, then we stuffed the rest of the chink with ournightgowns, and laid a towel along the plank, and behold, a noble streampoured over the end of the board right into the bath we put there ready. It was like Niagara, only not so round in shape. The first lot of waterthat came down the chimney was very dirty. The wind whistled outside. Noel said, 'If it's pipes burst, and not the rain, it will be nice forthe water-rates. ' Perhaps it was only natural after this for Denny tobegin with his everlasting poetry. He stopped mopping up the water tosay:

 'By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-rats were shrieking, And in the howl of Heaven each face Grew black as they were speaking. '

Our faces were black, and our hands too, but we did not take any notice;we only told him not to gas but to go on mopping. And he did. And we alldid. 

But more and more water came pouring down. You would not believe so muchcould come off one roof. 

When at last it was agreed that Mrs Pettigrew must be awakened at allhazards, we went and woke Alice to do the fatal errand. 

When she came back, with Mrs Pettigrew in a nightcap and red flannelpetticoat, we held our breath. 

But Mrs Pettigrew did not even say, 'What on earth have you childrenbeen up to NOW?' as Oswald had feared. 

She simply sat down on my bed and said--

'Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!' ever so many times. 

Then Denny said, 'I once saw holes in a cottage roof. The man told meit was done when the water came through the thatch. He said if the waterlies all about on the top of the ceiling, it breaks it down, but if youmake holes the water will only come through the holes and you can putpails under the holes to catch it. '

So we made nine holes in the ceiling with the poker, and put pails, baths and tubs under, and now there was not so much water on the floor. But we had to keep on working like niggers, and Mrs Pettigrew and Aliceworked the same. 

About five in the morning the rain stopped; about seven the water didnot come in so fast, and presently it only dripped slowly. Our task wasdone. 

This is the only time I was ever up all night. I wish it happenedoftener. We did not go back to bed then, but dressed and went down. Weall went to sleep in the afternoon, though. Quite without meaning to. 

Oswald went up on the roof, before breakfast, to see if he could findthe hole where the rain had come in. He did not find any hole, buthe found the cricket ball jammed in the top of a gutter pipe which heafterwards knew ran down inside the wall of the house and ran into themoat below. It seems a silly dodge, but so it was. 

When the men went up after breakfast to see what had caused the floodthey said there must have been a good half-foot of water on the leadsthe night before for it to have risen high enough to go above the edgeof the lead, and of course when it got above the lead there was nothingto stop it running down under it, and soaking through the ceiling. Theparapet and the roofs kept it from tumbling off down the sides ofthe house in the natural way. They said there must have been someobstruction in the pipe which ran down into the house, but whatever itwas the water had washed it away, for they put wires down, and the pipewas quite clear. 

While we were being told this Oswald's trembling fingers felt at the wetcricket ball in his pocket. And he KNEW, but he COULD not tell. He heardthem wondering what the obstruction could have been, and all the time hehad the obstruction in his pocket, and never said a single word. 

I do not seek to defend him. But it really was an awful thing to havebeen the cause of; and Mrs Pettigrew is but harsh and hasty. But this, as Oswald knows too well, is no excuse for his silent conduct. 

That night at tea Albert's uncle was rather silent too. At last helooked upon us with a glance full of intelligence, and said--

'There was a queer thing happened yesterday. You know there was anangling competition. The pen was kept full on purpose. Some mischievousbusybody went and opened the sluices and let all the water out. Theanglers' holiday was spoiled. No, the rain wouldn't have spoiled itanyhow, Alice; anglers LIKEe rain. The 'Rose and Crown' dinner was halfof it wasted because the anglers were so furious that a lot of them tookthe next train to town. And this is the worst of all--a barge, that wason the mud in the pen below, was lifted and jammed across the river andthe water tilted her over, and her cargo is on the river bottom. It wascoals. '

During this speech there were four of us who knew not where to turn ouragitated glances. Some of us tried bread-and-butter, but it seemed dryand difficult, and those who tried tea choked and spluttered and weresorry they had not let it alone. When the speech stopped Alice said, 'Itwas us. '

And with deepest feelings she and the rest of us told all about it. 

Oswald did not say much. He was turning the obstruction round and roundin his pocket, and wishing with all his sentiments that he had ownedup like a man when Albert's uncle asked him before tea to tell him allabout what had happened during the night. 

When they had told all, Albert's uncle told us four still more plainly, and exactly, what we had done, and how much pleasure we had spoiled, andhow much of my father's money we had wasted--because he would have topay for the coals being got up from the bottom of the river, if theycould be, and if not, for the price of the coals. And we saw it ALL. 

And when he had done Alice burst out crying over her plate and said--

'It's no use! We HAVE tried to be good since we've been down here. 

You don't know how we've tried! And it's all no use. I believe we arethe wickedest children in the whole world, and I wish we were all dead!'

This was a dreadful thing to say, and of course the rest of us were allvery shocked. But Oswald could not help looking at Albert's uncle to seehow he would take it. 

He said very gravely, 'My dear kiddie, you ought to be sorry, and I wishyou to be sorry for what you've done. And you will be punished for it. '(We were; our pocket-money was stopped and we were forbidden to go nearthe river, besides impositions miles long. ) 'But, ' he went on, 'youmustn't give up trying to be good. You are extremely naughty andtiresome, as you know very well. '

Alice, Dicky, and Noel began to cry at about this time. 

'But you are not the wickedest children in the world by any means. '

Then he stood up and straightened his collar, and put his hands in hispockets. 

'You're very unhappy now, ' he said, 'and you deserve to be. But I willsay one thing to you. '

Then he said a thing which Oswald at least will never forget (though butlittle he deserved it, with the obstruction in his pocket, unowned up toall the time). 

He said, 'I have known you all for four years--and you know as well asI do how many scrapes I've seen you in and out of--but I've never knownone of you tell a lie, and I've never known one of you do a mean ordishonourable action. And when you have done wrong you are always sorry. Now this is something to stand firm on. You'll learn to be good in theother ways some day. '

He took his hands out of his pockets, and his face looked different, sothat three of the four guilty creatures knew he was no longer adamant, and they threw themselves into his arms. Dora, Denny, Daisy, and H. O. , of course, were not in it, and I think they thanked their stars. 

Oswald did not embrace Albert's uncle. He stood there and made up hismind he would go for a soldier. He gave the wet ball one last squeeze, and took his hand out of his pocket, and said a few words before goingto enlist. He said--

'The others may deserve what you say. I hope they do, I'm sure. But Idon't, because it was my rotten cricket ball that stopped up the pipeand caused the midnight flood in our bedroom. And I knew it quite earlythis morning. And I didn't own up. '

Oswald stood there covered with shame, and he could feel the hatefulcricket ball heavy and cold against the top of his leg, through thepocket. 

Albert's uncle said--and his voice made Oswald hot all over, but notwith shame--he said--

I shall not tell you what he said. It is no one's business but Oswald's;only I will own it made Oswald not quite so anxious to run away for asoldier as he had been before. 

That owning up was the hardest thing I ever did. They did put that inthe Book of Golden Deeds, though it was not a kind or generous act, anddid no good to anyone or anything except Oswald's own inside feelings. I must say I think they might have let it alone. Oswald would ratherforget it. Especially as Dicky wrote it in and put this:

'Oswald acted a lie, which, he knows, is as bad as telling one. But heowned up when he needn't have, and this condones his sin. We think hewas a thorough brick to do it. '

Alice scratched this out afterwards and wrote the record of the incidentin more flattering terms. But Dicky had used Father's ink, and she usedMrs Pettigrew's, so anyone can read his underneath the scratching outs. 

The others were awfully friendly to Oswald, to show they agreed withAlbert's uncle in thinking I deserved as much share as anyone in anypraise there might be going. 

It was Dora who said it all came from my quarrelling with Noel aboutthat rotten cricket ball; but Alice, gently yet firmly, made her shutup. 

I let Noel have the ball. It had been thoroughly soaked, but it driedall right. But it could never be the same to me after what it had doneand what I had done. 

I hope you will try to agree with Albert's uncle and not think foulscorn of Oswald because of this story. Perhaps you have done thingsnearly as bad yourself sometimes. If you have, you will know how 'owningup' soothes the savage breast and alleviates the gnawings of remorse. 

If you have never done naughty acts I expect it is only because younever had the sense to think of anything. 

CHAPTER 6. THE CIRCUS

The ones of us who had started the Society of the Wouldbegoods began, atabout this time, to bother. 

They said we had not done anything really noble--not worth speakingof, that is--for over a week, and that it was high time to beginagain--'with earnest endeavour', Daisy said. So then Oswald said--

'All right; but there ought to be an end to everything. Let's each of usthink of one really noble and unselfish act, and the others shall helpto work it out, like we did when we were Treasure Seekers. Then wheneverybody's had their go-in we'll write every single thing down in theGolden Deed book, and we'll draw two lines in red ink at the bottom, like Father does at the end of an account. And after that, if anyonewants to be good they can jolly well be good on our own, if at all. '

The ones who had made the Society did not welcome this wise idea, butDicky and Oswald were firm. 

So they had to agree. When Oswald is really firm, opposingness andobstinacy have to give way. 

Dora said, 'It would be a noble action to have all the school-childrenfrom the village and give them tea and games in the paddock. They wouldthink it so nice and good of us. '

But Dicky showed her that this would not be OUR good act, but Father's, because he would have to pay for the tea, and he had already stood usthe keepsakes for the soldiers, as well as having to stump up heavilyover the coal barge. And it is in vain being noble and generous whensomeone else is paying for it all the time, even if it happens to beyour father. Then three others had ideas at the same time and began toexplain what they were. 

We were all in the dining-room, and perhaps we were making a bit of arow. Anyhow, Oswald for one, does not blame Albert's uncle for openinghis door and saying--

'I suppose I must not ask for complete silence. That were too much. But if you could whistle, or stamp with your feet, or shriekor howl--anything to vary the monotony of your well-sustainedconversation. '

Oswald said kindly, 'We're awfully sorry. Are you busy?'

'Busy?' said Albert's uncle. 'My heroine is now hesitating on the vergeof an act which, for good or ill, must influence her whole subsequentcareer. You wouldn't like her to decide in the middle of such a row thatshe can't hear herself think?'

We said, 'No, we wouldn't. '

Then he said, 'If any outdoor amusement should commend itself to youthis bright mid-summer day. ' So we all went out. 

Then Daisy whispered to Dora--they always hang together. Daisy is notnearly so white-micey as she was at first, but she still seems to fearthe deadly ordeal of public speaking. Dora said--

'Daisy's idea is a game that'll take us all day. She thinks keeping outof the way when he's making his heroine decide right would be a nobleact, and fit to write in the Golden Book; and we might as well beplaying something at the same time. '

We all said 'Yes, but what?'

There was a silent interval. 

'Speak up, Daisy, my child. ' Oswald said; 'fear not to lay bare theutmost thoughts of that faithful heart. '

Daisy giggled. Our own girls never giggle--they laugh right out or holdtheir tongues. Their kind brothers have taught them this. Then Daisysaid--

'If we could have a sort of play to keep us out of the way. I once reada story about an animal race. Everybody had an animal, and they had togo how they liked, and the one that got in first got the prize. Therewas a tortoise in it, and a rabbit, and a peacock, and sheep, and dogs, and a kitten. '

This proposal left us cold, as Albert's uncle says, because we knewthere could not be any prize worth bothering about. And though you maybe ever ready and willing to do anything for nothing, yet if there'sgoing to be a prize there must BE a prize and there's an end of it. 

Thus the idea was not followed up. Dicky yawned and said, 'Let's go intothe barn and make a fort. '

So we did, with straw. It does not hurt straw to be messed about withlike it does hay. 

The downstairs--I mean down-ladder--part of the barn was fun too, especially for Pincher. There was as good ratting there as you couldwish to see. Martha tried it, but she could not help running kindlybeside the rat, as if she was in double harness with it. This is thenoble bull-dog's gentle and affectionate nature coming out. We allenjoyed the ratting that day, but it ended, as usual, in the girlscrying because of the poor rats. Girls cannot help this; we must notbe waxy with them on account of it, they have their nature, the same asbull-dogs have, and it is this that makes them so useful in smoothingthe pillows of the sick-bed and tending wounded heroes. 

However, the forts, and Pincher, and the girls crying, and having to bethumped on the back, passed the time very agreeably till dinner. Therewas roast mutton with onion sauce, and a roly-poly pudding. 

Albert's uncle said we had certainly effaced ourselves effectually, which means we hadn't bothered. 

So we determined to do the same during the afternoon, for he told us hisheroine was by no means out of the wood yet. 

And at first it was easy. Jam roly gives you a peaceful feeling and youdo not at first care if you never play any runabout game ever any more. But after a while the torpor begins to pass away. Oswald was the firstto recover from his. 

He had been lying on his front part in the orchard, but now he turnedover on his back and kicked his legs up, and said--

'I say, look here; let's do something. '

Daisy looked thoughtful. She was chewing the soft yellow parts of grass, but I could see she was still thinking about that animal race. So Iexplained to her that it would be very poor fun without a tortoise and apeacock, and she saw this, though not willingly. 

It was H. O. Who said--

'Doing anything with animals is prime, if they only will. Let's have acircus!'

At the word the last thought of the pudding faded from Oswald's memory, and he stretched himself, sat up, and said--

'Bully for H. O. Let's!'

The others also threw off the heavy weight of memory, and sat up andsaid 'Let's!' too. 

Never, never in all our lives had we had such a gay galaxy of animals atour command. The rabbits and the guinea-pigs, and even all the bright, glass-eyed, stuffed denizens of our late-lamented jungle paled intoinsignificance before the number of live things on the farm. 

(I hope you do not think that the words I use are getting too long. Iknow they are the right words. And Albert's uncle says your style isalways altered a bit by what you read. And I have been reading theVicomte de Bragelonne. Nearly all my new words come out of those. )

'The worst of a circus is, ' Dora said, 'that you've got to teach theanimals things. A circus where the performing creatures hadn't learnedperforming would be a bit silly. Let's give up a week to teaching themand then have the circus. '

Some people have no idea of the value of time. And Dora is one of thosewho do not understand that when you want to do a thing you do want to, and not to do something else, and perhaps your own thing, a week later. 

Oswald said the first thing was to collect the performing animals. 

'Then perhaps, ' he said, 'we may find that they have hidden talentshitherto unsuspected by their harsh masters. '

So Denny took a pencil and wrote a list of the animals required. This isit:

 LIST OF ANIMALS REQUISITE FOR THE CIRCUS WE ARE GOING TO HAVE

1 Bull for bull-fight. 1 Horse for ditto (if possible). 1 Goat to doAlpine feats of daring. 1 Donkey to play see-saw. 2 White pigs--one tobe Learned, and the other to play with the clown. Turkeys, as many aspossible, because they can make a noise that The dogs, for any oddparts. 1 Large black pig--to be the Elephant in the procession. Calves(several) to be camels, and to stand on tubs. 

Daisy ought to have been captain because it was partly her idea, but shelet Oswald be, because she is of a retiring character. Oswald said--

'The first thing is to get all the creatures together; the paddock atthe side of the orchard is the very place, because the hedge is good allround. When we've got the performers all there we'll make a programme, and then dress for our parts. It's a pity there won't be any audiencebut the turkeys. '

We took the animals in their right order, according to Denny's list. Thebull was the first. He is black. He does not live in the cowhouse withthe other horned people; he has a house all to himself two fields away. Oswald and Alice went to fetch him. They took a halter to lead the bullby, and a whip, not to hurt the bull with, but just to make him mind. 

The others were to try to get one of the horses while we were gone. 

Oswald as usual was full of bright ideas. 

'I daresay, ' he said, 'the bull will be shy at first, and he'll have tobe goaded into the arena. '

'But goads hurt, ' Alice said. 

'They don't hurt the bull, ' Oswald said; 'his powerful hide is toothick. '

'Then why does he attend to it, ' Alice asked, 'if it doesn't hurt?'

'Properly-brought-up bulls attend because they know they ought, 'Oswald said. 'I think I shall ride the bull, ' the brave boy went on. 'A bull-fight, where an intrepid rider appears on the bull, sharing itsjoys and sorrows. It would be something quite new. '

'You can't ride bulls, ' Alice said; 'at least, not if their backs aresharp like cows. '

But Oswald thought he could. The bull lives in a house made of wood andprickly furze bushes, and he has a yard to his house. You cannot climbon the roof of his house at all comfortably. 

When we got there he was half in his house and half out in his yard, andhe was swinging his tail because of the flies which bothered. It was avery hot day. 

'You'll see, ' Alice said, 'he won't want a goad. He'll be so glad toget out for a walk he'll drop his head in my hand like a tame fawn, andfollow me lovingly all the way. '

Oswald called to him. He said, 'Bull! Bull! Bull! Bull!' because we didnot know the animal's real name. The bull took no notice; then Oswaldpicked up a stone and threw it at the bull, not angrily, but just tomake it pay attention. But the bull did not pay a farthing's worth ofit. So then Oswald leaned over the iron gate of the bull's yard and justflicked the bull with the whiplash. And then the bull DID pay attention. He started when the lash struck him, then suddenly he faced round, uttering a roar like that of the wounded King of Beasts, and putting hishead down close to his feet he ran straight at the iron gate where wewere standing. 

Alice and Oswald mechanically turned away; they did not wish to annoythe bull any more, and they ran as fast as they could across the fieldso as not to keep the others waiting. 

As they ran across the field Oswald had a dream-like fancy that perhapsthe bull had rooted up the gate with one paralysing blow, and was nowtearing across the field after him and Alice, with the broken gatebalanced on its horns. We climbed the stile quickly and looked back; thebull was still on the right side of the gate. 

Oswald said, 'I think we'll do without the bull. He did not seem to wantto come. We must be kind to dumb animals. '

Alice said, between laughing and crying--

'Oh, Oswald, how can you!' But we did do without the bull, and we didnot tell the others how we had hurried to get back. We just said, 'Thebull didn't seem to care about coming. '

The others had not been idle. They had got old Clover, the cart-horse, but she would do nothing but graze, so we decided not to use her in thebull-fight, but to let her be the Elephant. The Elephant's is a nicequiet part, and she was quite big enough for a young one. Then the blackpig could be Learned, and the other two could be something else. Theyhad also got the goat; he was tethered to a young tree. 

The donkey was there. Denny was leading him in the halter. The dogs werethere, of course--they always are. 

So now we only had to get the turkeys for the applause and the calvesand pigs. 

The calves were easy to get, because they were in their own house. Therewere five. And the pigs were in their houses too. We got them out afterlong and patient toil, and persuaded them that they wanted to go intothe paddock, where the circus was to be. This is done by pretending todrive them the other way. A pig only knows two ways--the way you wanthim to go, and the other. But the turkeys knew thousands of differentways, and tried them all. They made such an awful row, we had to dropall ideas of ever hearing applause from their lips, so we came away andleft them. 

'Never mind, ' H. O. Said, 'they'll be sorry enough afterwards, nasty, unobliging things, because now they won't see the circus. I hope theother animals will tell them about it. '

While the turkeys were engaged in baffling the rest of us, Dicky hadfound three sheep who seemed to wish to join the glad throng, so we letthem. 

Then we shut the gate of the paddock, and left the dumb circusperformers to make friends with each other while we dressed. 

Oswald and H. O. Were to be clowns. It is quite easy with Albert'suncle's pyjamas, and flour on your hair and face, and the red they dothe brick-floors with. 

Alice had very short pink and white skirts, and roses in her hair andround her dress. Her dress was the pink calico and white muslin stuffoff the dressing-table in the girls' room fastened with pins and tiedround the waist with a small bath towel. She was to be the DauntlessEquestrienne, and to give her enhancing act a barebacked daring, ridingeither a pig or a sheep, whichever we found was freshest and mostskittish. Dora was dressed for the Haute ecole, which means ariding-habit and a high hat. She took Dick's topper that he wears withhis Etons, and a skirt of Mrs Pettigrew's. Daisy, dressed the same asAlice, taking the muslin from Mrs Pettigrew's dressing-table with-outsaying anything beforehand. None of us would have advised this, andindeed we were thinking of trying to put it back, when Denny and Noel, who were wishing to look like highwaymen, with brown-paper top-bootsand slouch hats and Turkish towel cloaks, suddenly stopped dressing andgazed out of the window. 

'Krikey!' said Dick, 'come on, Oswald!' and he bounded like an antelopefrom the room. 

Oswald and the rest followed, casting a hasty glance through the window. Noel had got brown-paper boots too, and a Turkish towel cloak. H. O. Hadbeen waiting for Dora to dress him up for the other clown. He had onlyhis shirt and knickerbockers and his braces on. He came down as hewas--as indeed we all did. And no wonder, for in the paddock, where thecircus was to be, a blood-thrilling thing had transpired. The dogs werechasing the sheep. And we had now lived long enough in the country toknow the fell nature of our dogs' improper conduct. 

We all rushed into the paddock, calling to Pincher, and Martha, andLady. Pincher came almost at once. He is a well-brought-up dog--Oswaldtrained him. Martha did not seem to hear. She is awfully deaf, butshe did not matter so much, because the sheep could walk away from hereasily. She has no pace and no wind. But Lady is a deer-hound. Sheis used to pursuing that fleet and antlered pride of the forest--thestag--and she can go like billyo. She was now far away in a distantregion of the paddock, with a fat sheep just before her in full flight. I am sure if ever anybody's eyes did start out of their heads withhorror, like in narratives of adventure, ours did then. 

There was a moment's pause of speechless horror. We expected to see Ladypull down her quarry, and we know what a lot of money a sheep costs, tosay nothing of its own personal feelings. 

Then we started to run for all we were worth. It is hard to runswiftly as the arrow from the bow when you happen to be wearing pyjamasbelonging to a grown-up person--as I was--but even so I beat Dicky. Hesaid afterwards it was because his brown-paper boots came undone andtripped him up. Alice came in third. She held on the dressing-tablemuslin and ran jolly well. But ere we reached the fatal spot all wasvery nearly up with the sheep. We heard a plop; Lady stopped and lookedround. She must have heard us bellowing to her as we ran. Then she cametowards us, prancing with happiness, but we said 'Down!' and 'Bad dog!'and ran sternly on. 

When we came to the brook which forms the northern boundary of thepaddock we saw the sheep struggling in the water. It is not very deep, and I believe the sheep could have stood up, and been well in its depth, if it had liked, but it would not try. 

It was a steepish bank. Alice and I got down and stuck our legs into thewater, and then Dicky came down, and the three of us hauled that sheepup by its shoulders till it could rest on Alice and me as we sat on thebank. It kicked all the time we were hauling. It gave one extra kickat last, that raised it up, and I tell you that sopping wet, heavy, panting, silly donkey of a sheep sat there on our laps like a pet dog;and Dicky got his shoulder under it at the back and heaved constantly tokeep it from flumping off into the water again, while the others fetchedthe shepherd. 

When the shepherd came he called us every name you can think of, andthen he said--

'Good thing master didn't come along. He would ha' called you some tidynames. '

He got the sheep out, and took it and the others away. And the calvestoo. He did not seem to care about the other performing animals. 

Alice, Oswald and Dick had had almost enough circus for just then, sowe sat in the sun and dried ourselves and wrote the programme of thecircus. This was it:

 PROGRAMME

1. Startling leap from the lofty precipice by the performing sheep. Realwater, and real precipice. The gallant rescue. O. A. And D. Bastable. (We thought we might as well put that in though it was over and hadhappened accidentally. )

2. Graceful bare-backed equestrienne act on the trained pig, Eliza. A. Bastable. 3. Amusing clown interlude, introducing trained dog, Pincher, and the other white pig. H. O. And O. Bastable. 

4. The See-Saw. Trained donkeys. (H. O. Said we had only one donkey, soDicky said H. O. Could be the other. When peace was restored we went onto 5. )

5. Elegant equestrian act by D. Bastable. Haute ecole, on Clover, theincomparative trained elephant from the plains of Venezuela. 

6. Alpine feat of daring. The climbing of the Andes, by Billy, thewell-known acrobatic goat. (We thought we could make the Andes out ofhurdles and things, and so we could have but for what always happens. (This is the unexpected. (This is a saying Father told me--but I seeI am three deep in brackets so I will close them before I get into anymore). ). ). 

7. The Black but Learned Pig. ('I daresay he knows something, ' Alicesaid, 'if we can only find out what. ' We DID find out all too soon. )

We could not think of anything else, and our things were nearly dry--allexcept Dick's brown-paper top-boots, which were mingled with thegurgling waters of the brook. 

We went back to the seat of action--which was the iron trough where thesheep have their salt put--and began to dress up the creatures. 

We had just tied the Union Jack we made out of Daisy's flannel petticoatand cetera, when we gave the soldiers the baccy, round the waist of theBlack and Learned Pig, when we heard screams from the back part of thehouse, and suddenly we saw that Billy, the acrobatic goat, had got loosefrom the tree we had tied him to. (He had eaten all the parts of itsbark that he could get at, but we did not notice it until next day, whenled to the spot by a grown-up. )

The gate of the paddock was open. The gate leading to the bridge thatgoes over the moat to the back door was open too. We hastily proceededin the direction of the screams, and, guided by the sound, threadedour way into the kitchen. As we went, Noel, ever fertile in melancholyideas, said he wondered whether Mrs Pettigrew was being robbed, or onlymurdered. 

In the kitchen we saw that Noel was wrong as usual. It was neither. MrsPettigrew, screaming like a steam-siren and waving a broom, occupiedthe foreground. In the distance the maid was shrieking in a hoarse andmonotonous way, and trying to shut herself up inside a clothes-horse onwhich washing was being aired. 

On the dresser--which he had ascended by a chair--was Billy, theacrobatic goat, doing his Alpine daring act. He had found out his Andesfor himself, and even as we gazed he turned and tossed his head in away that showed us some mysterious purpose was hidden beneath his calmexterior. The next moment he put his off-horn neatly behind the endplate of the next to the bottom row, and ran it along against the wall. The plates fell crashing on to the soup tureen and vegetable disheswhich adorned the lower range of the Andes. 

Mrs Pettigrew's screams were almost drowned in the discarding crash andcrackle of the falling avalanche of crockery. 

Oswald, though stricken with horror and polite regret, preserved themost dauntless coolness. 

Disregarding the mop which Mrs Pettigrew kept on poking at the goat ina timid yet cross way, he sprang forward, crying out to his trustyfollowers, 'Stand by to catch him!'

But Dick had thought of the same thing, and ere Oswald could carry outhis long-cherished and general-like design, Dicky had caught the goat'slegs and tripped it up. The goat fell against another row of plates, righted itself hastily in the gloomy ruins of the soup tureen and thesauce-boats, and then fell again, this time towards Dicky. The two fellheavily on the ground together. The trusty followers had been so struckby the daring of Dicky and his lion-hearted brother, that they had notstood by to catch anything. 

The goat was not hurt, but Dicky had a sprained thumb and a lump on hishead like a black marble door-knob. He had to go to bed. 

I will draw a veil and asterisks over what Mrs Pettigrew said. AlsoAlbert's uncle, who was brought to the scene of ruin by her screams. Fewwords escaped our lips. There are times when it is not wise to argue;however, little what has occurred is really our fault. 

When they had said what they deemed enough and we were let go, we allwent out. Then Alice said distractedly, in a voice which she vainlystrove to render firm--

'Let's give up the circus. Let's put the toys back in the boxes--no, I don't mean that--the creatures in their places--and drop the wholething. I want to go and read to Dicky. '

Oswald has a spirit that no reverses can depreciate. He hates to bebeaten. But he gave in to Alice, as the others said so too, and we wentout to collect the performing troop and sort it out into its properplaces. 

Alas! we came too late. In the interest we had felt about whether MrsPettigrew was the abject victim of burglars or not, we had left bothgates open again. The old horse--I mean the trained elephant fromVenezuela--was there all right enough. The dogs we had beaten and tiedup after the first act, when the intrepid sheep bounded, as it says inthe programme. The two white pigs were there, but the donkey was gone. We heard his hoofs down the road, growing fainter and fainter, in thedirection of the 'Rose and Crown'. And just round the gatepost we sawa flash of red and white and blue and black that told us, with dumbsignification, that the pig was off in exactly the opposite direction. Why couldn't they have gone the same way? But no, one was a pig and theother was a donkey, as Denny said afterwards. 

Daisy and H. O. Started after the donkey; the rest of us, with oneaccord, pursued the pig--I don't know why. It trotted quietly down theroad; it looked very black against the white road, and the ends on thetop, where the Union Jack was tied, bobbed brightly as it trotted. Atfirst we thought it would be easy to catch up to it. This was an error. 

When we ran faster it ran faster; when we stopped it stopped and lookedround at us, and nodded. (I daresay you won't swallow this, but you maysafely. It's as true as true, and so's all that about the goat. I giveyou my sacred word of honour. ) I tell you the pig nodded as much as tosay--

'Oh, yes. You think you will, but you won't!' and then as soon as wemoved again off it went. That pig led us on and on, o'er miles and milesof strange country. One thing, it did keep to the roads. When we metpeople, which wasn't often, we called out to them to help us, but theyonly waved their arms and roared with laughter. One chap on a bicyclealmost tumbled off his machine, and then he got off it and propped itagainst a gate and sat down in the hedge to laugh properly. You rememberAlice was still dressed up as the gay equestrienne in the dressing-tablepink and white, with rosy garlands, now very droopy, and she had nostockings on, only white sand-shoes, because she thought they would beeasier than boots for balancing on the pig in the graceful bare-backedact. 

Oswald was attired in red paint and flour and pyjamas, for a clown. It is really IMPOSSIBLE to run speedfully in another man's pyjamas, so Oswald had taken them off, and wore his own brown knickerbockersbelonging to his Norfolks. He had tied the pyjamas round his neck, tocarry them easily. He was afraid to leave them in a ditch, as Alicesuggested, because he did not know the roads, and for aught he reckedthey might have been infested with footpads. If it had been his ownpyjamas it would have been different. (I'm going to ask for pyjamas nextwinter, they are so useful in many ways. )

Noel was a highwayman in brown-paper gaiters and bath towels and acocked hat of newspaper. I don't know how he kept it on. And the pig wasencircled by the dauntless banner of our country. All the same, I thinkif I had seen a band of youthful travellers in bitter distress about apig I should have tried to lend a helping hand and not sat roaring inthe hedge, no matter how the travellers and the pig might have beendressed. 

It was hotter than anyone would believe who has never had occasion tohunt the pig when dressed for quite another part. The flour got out ofOswald's hair into his eyes and his mouth. His brow was wet with whatthe village blacksmith's was wet with, and not his fair brow alone. Itran down his face and washed the red off in streaks, and when herubbed his eyes he only made it worse. Alice had to run holding theequestrienne skirts on with both hands, and I think the brown-paperboots bothered Noel from the first. Dora had her skirt over her arm andcarried the topper in her hand. It was no use to tell ourselves it was awild boar hunt--we were long past that. 

At last we met a man who took pity on us. He was a kind-hearted man. Ithink, perhaps, he had a pig of his own--or, perhaps, children. Honourto his name!

He stood in the middle of the road and waved his arms. The pigright-wheeled through a gate into a private garden and cantered up thedrive. We followed. What else were we to do, I should like to know?

The Learned Black Pig seemed to know its way. It turned first to theright and then to the left, and emerged on a lawn. 

'Now, all together!' cried Oswald, mustering his failing voice to givethe word of command. 'Surround him!--cut off his retreat!'

We almost surrounded him. He edged off towards the house. 

'Now we've got him!' cried the crafty Oswald, as the pig got on to a bedof yellow pansies close against the red house wall. 

All would even then have been well, but Denny, at the last, shrank frommeeting the pig face to face in a manly way. He let the pig pass him, and the next moment, with a squeak that said 'There now!' as plain aswords, the pig bolted into a French window. The pursuers halted not. This was no time for trivial ceremony. In another moment the pig was acaptive. Alice and Oswald had their arms round him under the ruins of atable that had had teacups on it, and around the hunters and their preystood the startled members of a parish society for making clothes forthe poor heathen, that that pig had led us into the very midst of. Theywere reading a missionary report or something when we ran our quarryto earth under their table. Even as he crossed the threshold I heardsomething about 'black brothers being already white to the harvest'. Allthe ladies had been sewing flannel things for the poor blacks while thecurate read aloud to them. You think they screamed when they saw the Pigand Us? You are right. 

On the whole, I cannot say that the missionary people behaved badly. Oswald explained that it was entirely the pig's doing, and asked pardonquite properly for any alarm the ladies had felt; and Alice said howsorry we were but really it was NOT our fault this time. The curatelooked a bit nasty, but the presence of ladies made him keep his hotblood to himself. 

When we had explained, we said, 'Might we go?' The curate said, 'Thesooner the better. ' But the Lady of the House asked for our names andaddresses, and said she should write to our Father. (She did, and weheard of it too. ) They did not do anything to us, as Oswald at one timebelieved to be the curate's idea. They let us go. 

And we went, after we had asked for a piece of rope to lead the pig by. 

'In case it should come back into your nice room, ' Alice said. 'And thatwould be such a pity, wouldn't it?'

A little girl in a starched pinafore was sent for the rope. And as soonas the pig had agreed to let us tie it round his neck we came away. Thescene in the drawing-room had not been long. The pig went slowly, 'Like the meandering brook, '

Denny said. Just by the gate the shrubs rustled and opened, and thelittle girl came out. Her pinafore was full of cake. 

'Here, ' she said. 'You must be hungry if you've come all that way. 

I think they might have given you some tea after all the trouble you'vehad. ' We took the cake with correct thanks. 

'I wish I could play at circuses, ' she said. 'Tell me about it. '

We told her while we ate the cake; and when we had done she said perhapsit was better to hear about than do, especially the goat's part andDicky's. 

'But I do wish auntie had given you tea, ' she said. 

We told her not to be too hard on her aunt, because you have to makeallowances for grown-up people. When we parted she said she would neverforget us, and Oswald gave her his pocket button-hook and corkscrewcombined for a keepsake. 

Dicky's act with the goat (which is true, and no kid) was the only thingout of that day that was put in the Golden Deed book, and he put that inhimself while we were hunting the pig. 

Alice and me capturing the pig was never put in. We would scorn to writeour own good actions, but I suppose Dicky was dull with us all away; andyou must pity the dull, and not blame them. 

I will not seek to unfold to you how we got the pig home, or how thedonkey was caught (that was poor sport compared to the pig). Nor will Itell you a word of all that was said and done to the intrepid huntersof the Black and Learned. I have told you all the interesting part. Seeknot to know the rest. It is better buried in obliquity. 

CHAPTER 7. BEING BEAVERS; OR, THE YOUNG EXPLORERS (ARCTIC OR OTHERWISE)

You read in books about the pleasures of London, and about how peoplewho live in the country long for the gay whirl of fashion in townbecause the country is so dull. I do not agree with this at all. InLondon, or at any rate Lewisham, nothing happens unless you make ithappen; or if it happens it doesn't happen to you, and you don't knowthe people it does happen to. But in the country the most interestingevents occur quite freely, and they seem to happen to you as much as toanyone else. Very often quite without your doing anything to help. 

The natural and right ways of earning your living in the country aremuch jollier than town ones, too; sowing and reaping, and doing thingswith animals, are much better sport than fishmongering or bakering oroil-shopping, and those sort of things, except, of course, a plumber'sand gasfitter's, and he is the same in town or country--most interestingand like an engineer. 

I remember what a nice man it was that came to cut the gas off onceat our old house in Lewisham, when my father's business was feelingso poorly. He was a true gentleman, and gave Oswald and Dicky overtwo yards and a quarter of good lead piping, and a brass tap that onlywanted a washer, and a whole handful of screws to do what we liked with. We screwed the back door up with the screws, I remember, one night whenEliza was out without leave. There was an awful row. We did not meanto get her into trouble. We only thought it would be amusing for her tofind the door screwed up when she came down to take in the milk in themorning. But I must not say any more about the Lewisham house. It isonly the pleasures of memory, and nothing to do with being beavers, orany sort of exploring. 

I think Dora and Daisy are the kind of girls who will grow up very good, and perhaps marry missionaries. I am glad Oswald's destiny looks atpresent as if it might be different. 

We made two expeditions to discover the source of the Nile (or the NorthPole), and owing to their habit of sticking together and doing dull andpraiseable things, like sewing, and helping with the cooking, and takinginvalid delicacies to the poor and indignant, Daisy and Dora were whollyout of it both times, though Dora's foot was now quite well enough tohave gone to the North Pole or the Equator either. They said they didnot mind the first time, because they like to keep themselves clean; itis another of their queer ways. And they said they had had a better timethan us. (It was only a clergyman and his wife who called, and hot cakesfor tea. ) The second time they said they were lucky not to have been init. And perhaps they were right. But let me to my narrating. I hope youwill like it. I am going to try to write it a different way, like thebooks they give you for a prize at a girls' school--I mean a 'youngladies' school', of course--not a high school. High schools are notnearly so silly as some other kinds. Here goes:

'"Ah, me!" sighed a slender maiden of twelve summers, removing herelegant hat and passing her tapery fingers lightly through her fairtresses, "how sad it is--is it not?--to see able-bodied youths and youngladies wasting the precious summer hours in idleness and luxury. "

'The maiden frowned reproachingly, but yet with earnest gentleness, atthe group of youths and maidens who sat beneath an umbragipeaous beechtree and ate black currants. 

'"Dear brothers and sisters, " the blushing girl went on, "could we not, even now, at the eleventh hour, turn to account these wasted lives ofours, and seek some occupation at once improving and agreeable?"

'"I do not quite follow your meaning, dear sister, " replied thecleverest of her brothers, on whose brow--'

It's no use. I can't write like these books. I wonder how the books'authors can keep it up. 

What really happened was that we were all eating black currants in theorchard, out of a cabbage leaf, and Alice said--

'I say, look here, let's do something. It's simply silly to waste a daylike this. It's just on eleven. Come on!'

And Oswald said, 'Where to?'

This was the beginning of it. 

The moat that is all round our house is fed by streams. One of them isa sort of open overflow pipe from a good-sized stream that flows at theother side of the orchard. 

It was this stream that Alice meant when she said--

'Why not go and discover the source of the Nile?'

Of course Oswald knows quite well that the source of the real liveEgyptian Nile is no longer buried in that mysteriousness where it lurkedundisturbed for such a long time. But he was not going to say so. It isa great thing to know when not to say things. 

'Why not have it an Arctic expedition?' said Dicky; 'then we could takean ice-axe, and live on blubber and things. Besides, it sounds cooler. '

'Vote! vote!' cried Oswald. So we did. Oswald, Alice, Noel, and Dennyvoted for the river of the ibis and the crocodile. Dicky, H. O. , and theother girls for the region of perennial winter and rich blubber. 

So Alice said, 'We can decide as we go. Let's start anyway. '

The question of supplies had now to be gone into. Everybody wanted totake something different, and nobody thought the other people's thingswould be the slightest use. It is sometimes thus even with grown-upexpeditions. So then Oswald, who is equal to the hardest emergency thatever emerged yet, said--

'Let's each get what we like. The secret storehouse can be the shed inthe corner of the stableyard where we got the door for the raft. Thenthe captain can decide who's to take what. '

This was done. You may think it but the work of a moment to fit out anexpedition, but this is not so, especially when you know not whetheryour exploring party is speeding to Central Africa or merely to theworld of icebergs and the Polar bear. 

Dicky wished to take the wood-axe, the coal hammer, a blanket, and amackintosh. 

H. O. Brought a large faggot in case we had to light fires, and a pairof old skates he had happened to notice in the box-room, in case theexpedition turned out icy. 

Noel had nicked a dozen boxes of matches, a spade, and a trowel, and hadalso obtained--I know not by what means--a jar of pickled onions. 

Denny had a walking-stick--we can't break him of walking with it--a bookto read in case he got tired of being a discoverer, a butterfly net anda box with a cork in it, a tennis ball, if we happened to want to playrounders in the pauses of exploring, two towels and an umbrella in theevent of camping or if the river got big enough to bathe in or to befallen into. 

Alice had a comforter for Noel in case we got late, a pair of scissorsand needle and cotton, two whole candles in case of caves. 

And she had thoughtfully brought the tablecloth off the small table inthe dining-room, so that we could make all the things up into one bundleand take it in turns to carry it. 

Oswald had fastened his master mind entirely on grub. Nor had the othersneglected this. 

All the stores for the expedition were put down on the tablecloth andthe corners tied up. Then it was more than even Oswald's muscley armscould raise from the ground, so we decided not to take it, but only thebest-selected grub. The rest we hid in the straw loft, for there aremany ups and downs in life, and grub is grub at any time, and so arestores of all kinds. The pickled onions we had to leave, but not forever. 

Then Dora and Daisy came along with their arms round each other's necksas usual, like a picture on a grocer's almanac, and said they weren'tcoming. 

It was, as I have said, a blazing hot day, and there were differences ofopinion among the explorers about what eatables we ought to have taken, and H. O. Had lost one of his garters and wouldn't let Alice tie it upwith her handkerchief, which the gentle sister was quite willing to do. So it was a rather gloomy expedition that set off that bright sunny dayto seek the source of the river where Cleopatra sailed in Shakespeare(or the frozen plains Mr Nansen wrote that big book about). 

But the balmy calm of peaceful Nature soon made the others lesscross--Oswald had not been cross exactly but only disinclined to doanything the others wanted--and by the time we had followed the streama little way, and had seen a water-rat and shied a stone or two at him, harmony was restored. We did not hit the rat. 

You will understand that we were not the sort of people to have lived solong near a stream without plumbing its depths. Indeed it was the samestream the sheep took its daring jump into the day we had the circus. And of course we had often paddled in it--in the shallower parts. Butnow our hearts were set on exploring. At least they ought to havebeen, but when we got to the place where the stream goes under a woodensheep-bridge, Dicky cried, 'A camp! a camp!' and we were all glad to sitdown at once. Not at all like real explorers, who know no rest, day ornight, till they have got there (whether it's the North Pole, or thecentral point of the part marked 'Desert of Sahara' on old-fashionedmaps). 

The food supplies obtained by various members were good and plentyof it. Cake, hard eggs, sausage-rolls, currants, lemon cheese-cakes, raisins, and cold apple dumplings. It was all very decent, but Oswaldcould not help feeling that the source of the Nile (or North Pole) was along way off, and perhaps nothing much when you got there. 

So he was not wholly displeased when Denny said, as he lay kicking intothe bank when the things to eat were all gone--

'I believe this is clay: did you ever make huge platters and bowls outof clay and dry them in the sun? Some people did in a book called FoulPlay, and I believe they baked turtles, or oysters, or something, at thesame time. '

He took up a bit of clay and began to mess it about, like you do puttywhen you get hold of a bit. And at once the heavy gloom that had hungover the explorers became expelled, and we all got under the shadow ofthe bridge and messed about with clay. 

'It will be jolly!' Alice said, 'and we can give the huge platters topoor cottagers who are short of the usual sorts of crockery. That wouldreally be a very golden deed. '

It is harder than you would think when you read about it, to make hugeplatters with clay. It flops about as soon as you get it any size, unless you keep it much too thick, and then when you turn up the edgesthey crack. Yet we did not mind the trouble. And we had all got ourshoes and stockings off. It is impossible to go on being cross when yourfeet are in cold water; and there is something in the smooth messinessof clay, and not minding how dirty you get, that would soothe thesavagest breast that ever beat. 

After a bit, though, we gave up the idea of the huge platter and triedlittle things. We made some platters--they were like flower-pot saucers;and Alice made a bowl by doubling up her fists and getting Noel to slabthe clay on outside. Then they smoothed the thing inside and out withwet fingers, and it was a bowl--at least they said it was. When we'dmade a lot of things we set them in the sun to dry, and then it seemeda pity not to do the thing thoroughly. So we made a bonfire, and when ithad burnt down we put our pots on the soft, white, hot ashes among thelittle red sparks, and kicked the ashes over them and heaped more fuelover the top. It was a fine fire. 

Then tea-time seemed as if it ought to be near, and we decided to comeback next day and get our pots. 

As we went home across the fields Dicky looked back and said--

'The bonfire's going pretty strong. '

We looked. It was. Great flames were rising to heaven against theevening sky. And we had left it, a smouldering flat heap. 

'The clay must have caught alight, ' H. O. Said. 'Perhaps it's the kindthat burns. I know I've heard of fireclay. And there's another sort youcan eat. '

'Oh, shut up!' Dicky said with anxious scorn. 

With one accord we turned back. We all felt THE feeling--the one thatmeans something fatal being up and it being your fault. 

'Perhaps, Alice said, 'a beautiful young lady in a muslin dress waspassing by, and a spark flew on to her, and now she is rolling in agonyenveloped in flames. '

We could not see the fire now, because of the corner of the wood, but wehoped Alice was mistaken. 

But when we got in sight of the scene of our pottering industry we sawit was as bad nearly as Alice's wild dream. For the wooden fence leadingup to the bridge had caught fire, and it was burning like billy oh. 

Oswald started to run; so did the others. As he ran he said to himself, 'This is no time to think about your clothes. Oswald, be bold!'

And he was. 

Arrived at the site of the conflagration, he saw that caps or straw hatsfull of water, however quickly and perseveringly given, would never putthe bridge out, and his eventful past life made him know exactly thesort of wigging you get for an accident like this. 

So he said, 'Dicky, soak your jacket and mine in the stream and chuckthem along. Alice, stand clear, or your silly girl's clothes'll catch assure as fate. '

Dicky and Oswald tore off their jackets, so did Denny, but we would notlet him and H. O. Wet theirs. Then the brave Oswald advanced warily tothe end of the burning rails and put his wet jacket over the end bit, like a linseed poultice on the throat of a suffering invalid who hasgot bronchitis. The burning wood hissed and smouldered, and Oswald fellback, almost choked with the smoke. But at once he caught up the otherwet jacket and put it on another place, and of course it did the trickas he had known it would do. But it was a long job, and the smoke in hiseyes made the young hero obliged to let Dicky and Denny take a turnas they had bothered to do from the first. At last all was safe; thedevouring element was conquered. We covered up the beastly bonfire withclay to keep it from getting into mischief again, and then Alice said--

'Now we must go and tell. '

'Of course, ' Oswald said shortly. He had meant to tell all the time. 

So we went to the farmer who has the Moat House Farm, and we went atonce, because if you have any news like that to tell it only makes itworse if you wait about. When we had told him he said--

'You little ---. ' I shall not say what he said besides that, becauseI am sure he must have been sorry for it next Sunday when he went tochurch, if not before. 

We did not take any notice of what he said, but just kept on saying howsorry we were; and he did not take our apology like a man, but onlysaid he daresayed, just like a woman does. Then he went to look at hisbridge, and we went in to our tea. The jackets were never quite the sameagain. 

Really great explorers would never be discouraged by the daresaying ofa farmer, still less by his calling them names he ought not to. Albert'suncle was away so we got no double slating; and next day we startedagain to discover the source of the river of cataracts (or the region ofmountain-like icebergs). 

We set out, heavily provisioned with a large cake Daisy and Dora hadmade themselves, and six bottles of ginger-beer. I think real explorersmost likely have their ginger-beer in something lighter to carry thanstone bottles. Perhaps they have it by the cask, which would comecheaper; and you could make the girls carry it on their back, like inpictures of the daughters of regiments. 

We passed the scene of the devouring conflagration, and the thoughtof the fire made us so thirsty we decided to drink the ginger-beer andleave the bottles in a place of concealment. Then we went on, determinedto reach our destination, Tropic or Polar, that day. 

Denny and H. O. Wanted to stop and try to make a fashionablewatering-place at that part where the stream spreads out like asmall-sized sea, but Noel said, 'No. ' We did not like fashionableness. 

'YOU ought to, at any rate, ' Denny said. 'A Mr Collins wrote an Ode tothe Fashions, and he was a great poet. '

'The poet Milton wrote a long book about Satan, ' Noel said, 'but I'm notbound to like HIM. ' I think it was smart of Noel. 

'People aren't obliged to like everything they write about even, letalone read, ' Alice said. 'Look at "Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!"and all the pieces of poetry about war, and tyrants, and slaughteredsaints--and the one you made yourself about the black beetle, Noel. '

By this time we had got by the pondy place and the danger of delay waspast; but the others went on talking about poetry for quite a field anda half, as we walked along by the banks of the stream. The stream wasbroad and shallow at this part, and you could see the stones andgravel at the bottom, and millions of baby fishes, and a sort ofskating-spiders walking about on the top of the water. Denny said thewater must be ice for them to be able to walk on it, and this showed wewere getting near the North Pole. But Oswald had seen a kingfisher bythe wood, and he said it was an ibis, so this was even. 

When Oswald had had as much poetry as he could bear he said, 'Let's bebeavers and make a dam. ' And everybody was so hot they agreed joyously, and soon our clothes were tucked up as far as they could go and our legslooked green through the water, though they were pink out of it. 

Making a dam is jolly good fun, though laborious, as books about beaverstake care to let you know. 

Dicky said it must be Canada if we were beavers, and so it was on theway to the Polar system, but Oswald pointed to his heated brow, andDicky owned it was warm for Polar regions. He had brought the ice-axe(it is called the wood chopper sometimes), and Oswald, ever ready andable to command, set him and Denny to cut turfs from the bank while weheaped stones across the stream. It was clayey here, or of course dammaking would have been vain, even for the best-trained beaver. 

When we had made a ridge of stones we laid turfs against them--nearlyacross the stream, leaving about two feet for the water to gothrough--then more stones, and then lumps of clay stamped down as hardas we could. The industrious beavers spent hours over it, with only oneeasy to eat cake in. And at last the dam rose to the level of the bank. Then the beavers collected a great heap of clay, and four of them liftedit and dumped it down in the opening where the water was running. It didsplash a little, but a true-hearted beaver knows better than to mind abit of a wetting, as Oswald told Alice at the time. Then with more claythe work was completed. We must have used tons of clay; there was quitea big long hole in the bank above the dam where we had taken it out. 

When our beaver task was performed we went on, and Dicky was so hot hehad to take his jacket off and shut up about icebergs. 

I cannot tell you about all the windings of the stream; it went throughfields and woods and meadows, and at last the banks got steeper andhigher, and the trees overhead darkly arched their mysterious branches, and we felt like the princes in a fairy tale who go out to seek theirfortunes. 

And then we saw a thing that was well worth coming all that way for; thestream suddenly disappeared under a dark stone archway, and however muchyou stood in the water and stuck your head down between your knees youcould not see any light at the other end. 

The stream was much smaller than where we had been beavers. 

Gentle reader, you will guess in a moment who it was that said--

'Alice, you've got a candle. Let's explore. ' This gallant proposal metbut a cold response. The others said they didn't care much about it, andwhat about tea?

I often think the way people try to hide their cowardliness behind theirteas is simply beastly. 

Oswald took no notice. He just said, with that dignified manner, not atall like sulking, which he knows so well how to put on--

'All right. I'M going. If you funk it you'd better cut along home andask your nurses to put you to bed. ' So then, of course, they agreedto go. Oswald went first with the candle. It was not comfortable; thearchitect of that dark subterranean passage had not imagined anyonewould ever be brave enough to lead a band of beavers into its inkyrecesses, or he would have built it high enough to stand upright in. Asit was, we were bent almost at a right angle, and this is very awkwardif for long. 

But the leader pressed dauntlessly on, and paid no attention to thegroans of his faithful followers, nor to what they said about theirbacks. 

It really was a very long tunnel, though, and even Oswald was not sorryto say, 'I see daylight. ' The followers cheered as well as they could asthey splashed after him. The floor was stone as well as the roof, so itwas easy to walk on. I think the followers would have turned back if ithad been sharp stones or gravel. 

And now the spot of daylight at the end of the tunnel grew larger andlarger, and presently the intrepid leader found himself blinking in thefull sun, and the candle he carried looked simply silly. He emerged, and the others too, and they stretched their backs and the word 'krikey'fell from more than one lip. It had indeed been a cramping adventure. Bushes grew close to the mouth of the tunnel, so we could not see muchlandscape, and when we had stretched our backs we went on upstream andnobody said they'd had jolly well enough of it, though in more than oneyoung heart this was thought. 

It was jolly to be in the sunshine again. I never knew before how coldit was underground. The stream was getting smaller and smaller. 

Dicky said, 'This can't be the way. I expect there was a turning tothe North Pole inside the tunnel, only we missed it. It was cold enoughthere. '

But here a twist in the stream brought us out from the bushes, andOswald said--

'Here is strange, wild, tropical vegetation in the richest profusion. Such blossoms as these never opened in a frigid what's-its-name. '

It was indeed true. We had come out into a sort of marshy, swampy placelike I think, a jungle is, that the stream ran through, and it wassimply crammed with queer plants, and flowers we never saw before orsince. And the stream was quite thin. It was torridly hot, and softishto walk on. There were rushes and reeds and small willows, and it wasall tangled over with different sorts of grasses--and pools here andthere. We saw no wild beasts, but there were more different kinds ofwild flies and beetles than you could believe anybody could bear, anddragon-flies and gnats. The girls picked a lot of flowers. I know thenames of some of them, but I will not tell you them because this isnot meant to be instructing. So I will only name meadow-sweet, yarrow, loose-strife, lady's bed-straw and willow herb--both the larger and thelesser. 

Everyone now wished to go home. It was much hotter there than in naturalfields. It made you want to tear all your clothes off and play atsavages, instead of keeping respectable in your boots. 

But we had to bear the boots because it was so brambly. 

It was Oswald who showed the others how flat it would be to go home thesame way we came; and he pointed out the telegraph wires in the distanceand said--

'There must be a road there, let's make for it, ' which was quite asimple and ordinary thing to say, and he does not ask for any credit forit. So we sloshed along, scratching our legs with the brambles, and thewater squelched in our boots, and Alice's blue muslin frock was torn allover in those crisscross tears which are considered so hard to darn. 

We did not follow the stream any more. It was only a trickle now, so weknew we had tracked it to its source. And we got hotter and hotter andhotter, and the dews of agony stood in beads on our brows and rolleddown our noses and off our chins. And the flies buzzed, and the gnatsstung, and Oswald bravely sought to keep up Dicky's courage, when hetripped on a snag and came down on a bramble bush, by saying--

'You see it IS the source of the Nile we've discovered. What price NorthPoles now?'

Alice said, 'Ah, but think of ices! I expect Oswald wishes it HAD beenthe Pole, anyway. '

Oswald is naturally the leader, especially when following up what ishis own idea, but he knows that leaders have other duties besides justleading. One is to assist weak or wounded members of the expedition, whether Polar or Equatorish. 

So the others had got a bit ahead through Oswald lending the totteringDenny a hand over the rough places. Denny's feet hurt him, because whenhe was a beaver his stockings had dropped out of his pocket, and bootswithout stockings are not a bed of luxuriousness. And he is oftenunlucky with his feet. 

Presently we came to a pond, and Denny said--

'Let's paddle. '

Oswald likes Denny to have ideas; he knows it is healthy for the boy, and generally he backs him up, but just now it was getting late and theothers were ahead, so he said--

'Oh, rot! come on. '

Generally the Dentist would have; but even worms will turn if they arehot enough, and if their feet are hurting them. 'I don't care, I shall!'he said. 

Oswald overlooked the mutiny and did not say who was leader. He justsaid--

'Well don't be all day about it, ' for he is a kind-hearted boy and canmake allowances. So Denny took off his boots and went into the pool. 'Oh, it's ripping!' he said. 'You ought to come in. '

'It looks beastly muddy, ' said his tolerating leader. 

'It is a bit, ' Denny said, 'but the mud's just as cool as the water, andso soft, it squeezes between your toes quite different to boots. '

And so he splashed about, and kept asking Oswald to come along in. 

But some unseen influence prevented Oswald doing this; or it may havebeen because both his bootlaces were in hard knots. 

Oswald had cause to bless the unseen influence, or the bootlaces, orwhatever it was. 

Denny had got to the middle of the pool, and he was splashing about, and getting his clothes very wet indeed, and altogether you would havethought his was a most envious and happy state. But alas! the brightestcloud had a waterproof lining. He was just saying--

'You are a silly, Oswald. You'd much better--' when he gave ablood-piercing scream, and began to kick about. 

'What's up?' cried the ready Oswald; he feared the worst from the wayDenny screamed, but he knew it could not be an old meat tin in thisquiet and jungular spot, like it was in the moat when the shark bitDora. 

'I don't know, it's biting me. Oh, it's biting me all over my legs! Oh, what shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh! oh! oh!' remarked Denny, amonghis screams, and he splashed towards the bank. Oswald went into thewater and caught hold of him and helped him out. It is true that Oswaldhad his boots on, but I trust he would not have funked the unknownterrors of the deep, even without his boots, I am almost sure he wouldnot have. 

When Denny had scrambled and been hauled ashore, we saw with horror andamaze that his legs were stuck all over with large black, slug-lookingthings. Denny turned green in the face--and even Oswald felt a bitqueer, for he knew in a moment what the black dreadfulnesses were. Hehad read about them in a book called Magnet Stories, where there was agirl called Theodosia, and she could play brilliant trebles on the pianoin duets, but the other girl knew all about leeches which is much moreuseful and golden deedy. Oswald tried to pull the leeches off, but theywouldn't, and Denny howled so he had to stop trying. He remembered fromthe Magnet Stories how to make the leeches begin biting--the girl did itwith cream--but he could not remember how to stop them, and they had notwanted any showing how to begin. 

'Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? Oh, it does hurt! Oh, oh!' Dennyobserved, and Oswald said--

'Be a man! Buck up! If you won't let me take them off you'll just haveto walk home in them. '

At this thought the unfortunate youth's tears fell fast. But Oswald gavehim an arm, and carried his boots for him, and he consented to buckup, and the two struggled on towards the others, who were coming back, attracted by Denny's yells. He did not stop howling for a moment, exceptto breathe. No one ought to blame him till they have had eleven leecheson their right leg and six on their left, making seventeen in all, asDicky said, at once. 

It was lucky he did yell, as it turned out, because a man on theroad--where the telegraph wires were--was interested by his howls, andcame across the marsh to us as hard as he could. When he saw Denny'slegs he said--

'Blest if I didn't think so, ' and he picked Denny up and carried himunder one arm, where Denny went on saying 'Oh!' and 'It does hurt' ashard as ever. 

Our rescuer, who proved to be a fine big young man in the bloom ofyouth, and a farm-labourer by trade, in corduroys, carried the wretchedsufferer to the cottage where he lived with his aged mother; and thenOswald found that what he had forgotten about the leeches was SALT. Theyoung man in the bloom of youth's mother put salt on the leeches, andthey squirmed off, and fell with sickening, slug-like flops on the brickfloor. 

Then the young man in corduroys and the bloom, etc. , carried Denny homeon his back, after his legs had been bandaged up, so that he looked like'wounded warriors returning'. 

It was not far by the road, though such a long distance by the way theyoung explorers had come. 

He was a good young man, and though, of course, acts of goodness aretheir own reward, still I was glad he had the two half-crowns Albert'suncle gave him, as well as his own good act. But I am not sure Aliceought to have put him in the Golden Deed book which was supposed to bereserved for Us. 

Perhaps you will think this was the end of the source of the Nile (orNorth Pole). If you do, it only shows how mistaken the gentlest readermay be. 

The wounded explorer was lying with his wounds and bandages on the sofa, and we were all having our tea, with raspberries and white currants, which we richly needed after our torrid adventures, when Mrs Pettigrew, the housekeeper, put her head in at the door and said--

'Please could I speak to you half a moment, sir?' to Albert's uncle. And her voice was the kind that makes you look at each other when thegrown-up has gone out, and you are silent, with your bread-and-butterhalfway to the next bite, or your teacup in mid flight to your lips. 

It was as we suppose. Albert's uncle did not come back for a long while. We did not keep the bread-and-butter on the wing all that time, ofcourse, and we thought we might as well finish the raspberries and whitecurrants. We kept some for Albert's uncle, of course, and they were thebest ones too but when he came back he did not notice our thoughtfulunselfishness. 

He came in, and his face wore the look that means bed, and very likelyno supper. 

He spoke, and it was the calmness of white-hot iron, which is somethinglike the calmness of despair. He said--

'You have done it again. What on earth possessed you to make a dam?'

'We were being beavers, ' said H. O. , in proud tones. He did not see aswe did where Albert's uncle's tone pointed to. 

'No doubt, ' said Albert's uncle, rubbing his hands through his hair. 'Nodoubt! no doubt! Well, my beavers, you may go and build dams with yourbolsters. Your dam stopped the stream; the clay you took for it lefta channel through which it has run down and ruined about seven pounds'worth of freshly-reaped barley. Luckily the farmer found it out in timeor you might have spoiled seventy pounds' worth. And you burned a bridgeyesterday. '

We said we were sorry. There was nothing else to say, only Alice added, 'We didn't MEAN to be naughty. '

'Of course not, ' said Albert's uncle, 'you never do. Oh, yes, I'll kissyou--but it's bed and it's two hundred lines to-morrow, and the lineis--"Beware of Being Beavers and Burning Bridges. Dread Dams. " It willbe a capital exercise in capital B's and D's. '

We knew by that that, though annoyed, he was not furious; we went tobed. 

I got jolly sick of capital B's and D's before sunset on the morrow. That night, just as the others were falling asleep, Oswald said--

'I say. '

'Well, ' retorted his brother. 

'There is one thing about it, ' Oswald went on, 'it does show it was arattling good dam anyhow. '

And filled with this agreeable thought, the weary beavers (or explorers, Polar or otherwise) fell asleep. 

CHAPTER 8. THE HIGH-BORN BABE

It really was not such a bad baby--for a baby. Its face was round andquite clean, which babies' faces are not always, as I daresay you knowby your own youthful relatives; and Dora said its cape was trimmed withreal lace, whatever that may be--I don't see myself how one kind oflace can be realler than another. It was in a very swagger sort ofperambulator when we saw it; and the perambulator was standing quite byitself in the lane that leads to the mill. 

'I wonder whose baby it is, ' Dora said. 'Isn't it a darling, Alice?'

Alice agreed to its being one, and said she thought it was most likelythe child of noble parents stolen by gipsies. 

'These two, as likely as not, ' Noel said. 'Can't you see somethingcrime-like in the very way they're lying?'

They were two tramps, and they were lying on the grass at the edge ofthe lane on the shady side fast asleep, only a very little further onthan where the Baby was. They were very ragged, and their snores didhave a sinister sound. 

'I expect they stole the titled heir at dead of night, and they've beentravelling hot-foot ever since, so now they're sleeping the sleepof exhaustedness, ' Alice said. 'What a heart-rending scene when thepatrician mother wakes in the morning and finds the infant aristocratisn't in bed with his mamma. '

The Baby was fast asleep or else the girls would have kissed it. Theyare strangely fond of kissing. The author never could see anything in ithimself. 

'If the gipsies DID steal it, ' Dora said 'perhaps they'd sell it to us. I wonder what they'd take for it. '

'What could you do with it if you'd got it?' H. O. Asked. 

'Why, adopt it, of course, ' Dora said. 'I've often thought I shouldenjoy adopting a baby. It would be a golden deed, too. We've hardly gotany in the book yet. '

'I should have thought there were enough of us, ' Dicky said. 

'Ah, but you're none of you babies, ' said Dora. 

'Unless you count H. O. As a baby: he behaves jolly like one sometimes. '

This was because of what had happened that morning when Dicky foundH. O. Going fishing with a box of worms, and the box was the one Dickykeeps his silver studs in, and the medal he got at school, and what isleft of his watch and chain. The box is lined with red velvet and it wasnot nice afterwards. And then H. O. Said Dicky had hurt him, and he wasa beastly bully, and he cried. We thought all this had been made up, andwere sorry to see it threaten to break out again. So Oswald said--

'Oh, bother the Baby! Come along, do!'

And the others came. 

We were going to the miller's with a message about some flour thathadn't come, and about a sack of sharps for the pigs. 

After you go down the lane you come to a clover-field, and then acornfield, and then another lane, and then it is the mill. It is ajolly fine mill: in fact it is two--water and wind ones--one of eachkind--with a house and farm buildings as well. I never saw a mill likeit, and I don't believe you have either. 

If we had been in a story-book the miller's wife would have taken usinto the neat sanded kitchen where the old oak settle was blackwith time and rubbing, and dusted chairs for us--old brown Windsorchairs--and given us each a glass of sweet-scented cowslip wine anda thick slice of rich home-made cake. And there would have been freshroses in an old china bowl on the table. As it was, she asked us allinto the parlour and gave us Eiffel Tower lemonade and Marie biscuits. The chairs in her parlour were 'bent wood', and no flowers, except somewax ones under a glass shade, but she was very kind, and we were verymuch obliged to her. We got out to the miller, though, as soon as wecould; only Dora and Daisy stayed with her, and she talked to them abouther lodgers and about her relations in London. 

The miller is a MAN. He showed us all over the mills--both kinds--andlet us go right up into the very top of the wind-mill, and showed ushow the top moved round so that the sails could catch the wind, andthe great heaps of corn, some red and some yellow (the red is Englishwheat), and the heaps slice down a little bit at a time into a squarehole and go down to the mill-stones. The corn makes a rustling softnoise that is very jolly--something like the noise of the sea--and youcan hear it through all the other mill noises. 

Then the miller let us go all over the water-mill. It is fairy palacesinside a mill. Everything is powdered over white, like sugar on pancakeswhen you are allowed to help yourself. And he opened a door and showedus the great water-wheel working on slow and sure, like some great, round, dripping giant, Noel said, and then he asked us if we fished. 

'Yes, ' was our immediate reply. 

'Then why not try the mill-pool?' he said, and we replied politely; andwhen he was gone to tell his man something we owned to each other thathe was a trump. 

He did the thing thoroughly. He took us out and cut us ash saplings forrods; he found us in lines and hooks, and several different sorts ofbait, including a handsome handful of meal-worms, which Oswald put loosein his pocket. 

When it came to bait, Alice said she was going home with Dora and Daisy. Girls are strange, mysterious, silly things. Alice always enjoys a rathunt until the rat is caught, but she hates fishing from beginning toend. We boys have got to like it. We don't feel now as we did whenwe turned off the water and stopped the competition of the competinganglers. We had a grand day's fishing that day. I can't think what madethe miller so kind to us. Perhaps he felt a thrill of fellow-feeling inhis manly breast for his fellow-sportsmen, for he was a noble fishermanhimself. 

We had glorious sport--eight roach, six dace, three eels, seven perch, and a young pike, but he was so very young the miller asked us to puthim back, and of course we did. 'He'll live to bite another day, ' saidthe miller. 

The miller's wife gave us bread and cheese and more Eiffel Towerlemonade, and we went home at last, a little damp, but full ofsuccessful ambition, with our fish on a string. 

It had been a strikingly good time--one of those times that happen inthe country quite by themselves. Country people are much more friendlythan town people. I suppose they don't have to spread their friendlyfeelings out over so many persons, so it's thicker, like a pound ofbutter on one loaf is thicker than on a dozen. Friendliness in thecountry is not scrape, like it is in London. Even Dicky and H. O. Forgotthe affair of honour that had taken place in the morning. H. O. Changedrods with Dicky because H. O. 's was the best rod, and Dicky baited H. O. 's hook for him, just like loving, unselfish brothers in Sunday Schoolmagazines. 

We were talking fishlikely as we went along down the lane and throughthe cornfield and the cloverfield, and then we came to the other lanewhere we had seen the Baby. The tramps were gone, and the perambulatorwas gone, and, of course, the Baby was gone too. 

'I wonder if those gipsies HAD stolen the Baby?' Noel said dreamily. Hehad not fished much, but he had made a piece of poetry. It was this:

 'How I wish I was a fish. I would not look At your hook, But lie still and be cool At the bottom of the pool And when you went to look At your cruel hook, You would not find me there, So there!'

'If they did steal the Baby, ' Noel went on, 'they will be tracked by thelordly perambulator. You can disguise a baby in rags and walnut juice, but there isn't any disguise dark enough to conceal a perambulator'sperson. '

'You might disguise it as a wheel-barrow, ' said Dicky. 

'Or cover it with leaves, ' said H. O. , 'like the robins. '

We told him to shut up and not gibber, but afterwards we had to own thateven a young brother may sometimes talk sense by accident. 

For we took the short cut home from the lane--it begins with a large gapin the hedge and the grass and weeds trodden down by the hasty feet ofpersons who were late for church and in too great a hurry to go roundby the road. Our house is next to the church, as I think I have saidbefore, some time. 

The short cut leads to a stile at the edge of a bit of wood (theParson's Shave, they call it, because it belongs to him). The wood hasnot been shaved for some time, and it has grown out beyond the stile andhere, among the hazels and chestnuts and young dogwood bushes, we sawsomething white. We felt it was our duty to investigate, even if thewhite was only the under side of the tail of a dead rabbit caught in atrap. 

It was not--it was part of the perambulator. I forget whether I saidthat the perambulator was enamelled white--not the kind of enamellingyou do at home with Aspinall's and the hairs of the brush come out andit is gritty-looking, but smooth, like the handles of ladies very bestlace parasols. And whoever had abandoned the helpless perambulator inthat lonely spot had done exactly as H. O. Said, and covered it withleaves, only they were green and some of them had dropped off. 

The others were wild with excitement. Now or never, they thought, was achance to be real detectives. Oswald alone retained a calm exterior. Itwas he who would not go straight to the police station. 

He said: 'Let's try and ferret out something for ourselves before wetell the police. They always have a clue directly they hear about thefinding of the body. And besides, we might as well let Alice be inanything there is going. And besides, we haven't had our dinners yet. '

This argument of Oswald's was so strong and powerful--his arguments areoften that, as I daresay you have noticed--that the others agreed. It was Oswald, too, who showed his artless brothers why they had muchbetter not take the deserted perambulator home with them. 

'The dead body, or whatever the clue is, is always left exactly as it isfound, ' he said, 'till the police have seen it, and the coroner, and theinquest, and the doctor, and the sorrowing relations. Besides, supposesomeone saw us with the beastly thing, and thought we had stolen it;then they would say, "What have you done with the Baby?" and then whereshould we be?' Oswald's brothers could not answer this question, butonce more Oswald's native eloquence and far-seeing discerningnessconquered. 

'Anyway, ' Dicky said, 'let's shove the derelict a little further undercover. '

So we did. 

Then we went on home. Dinner was ready and so were Alice and Daisy, butDora was not there. 

'She's got a--well, she's not coming to dinner anyway, ' Alice said whenwe asked. 'She can tell you herself afterwards what it is she's got. '

Oswald thought it was headache, or pain in the temper, or in thepinafore, so he said no more, but as soon as Mrs Pettigrew had helpedus and left the room he began the thrilling tale of the forsakenperambulator. He told it with the greatest thrillingness anyone couldhave, but Daisy and Alice seemed almost unmoved. Alice said--

'Yes, very strange, ' and things like that, but both the girls seemedto be thinking of something else. They kept looking at each other andtrying not to laugh, so Oswald saw they had got some silly secret and hesaid--

'Oh, all right! I don't care about telling you. I only thought you'dlike to be in it. It's going to be a really big thing, with policemen init, and perhaps a judge. '

'In what?' H. O. Said; 'the perambulator?'

Daisy choked and then tried to drink, and spluttered and got purple, andhad to be thumped on the back. But Oswald was not appeased. When Alicesaid, 'Do go on, Oswald. I'm sure we all like it very much, ' he said--

'Oh, no, thank you, ' very politely. 'As it happens, ' he went on, 'I'djust as soon go through with this thing without having any girls in it. '

'In the perambulator?' said H. O. Again. 

'It's a man's job, ' Oswald went on, without taking any notice of H. O. 

'Do you really think so, ' said Alice, 'when there's a baby in it?'

'But there isn't, ' said H. O. , 'if you mean in the perambulator. '

'Blow you and your perambulator, ' said Oswald, with gloomy forbearance. 

Alice kicked Oswald under the table and said--

'Don't be waxy, Oswald. Really and truly Daisy and I HAVE got a secret, only it's Dora's secret, and she wants to tell you herself. If it wasmine or Daisy's we'd tell you this minute, wouldn't we, Mouse?'

'This very second, ' said the White Mouse. 

And Oswald consented to take their apologies. 

Then the pudding came in, and no more was said except asking for thingsto be passed--sugar and water, and bread and things. 

Then when the pudding was all gone, Alice said--

'Come on. '

And we came on. We did not want to be disagreeable, though really wewere keen on being detectives and sifting that perambulator to thevery dregs. But boys have to try to take an interest in their sisters'secrets, however silly. This is part of being a good brother. 

Alice led us across the field where the sheep once fell into the brook, and across the brook by the plank. At the other end of the next fieldthere was a sort of wooden house on wheels, that the shepherd sleeps inat the time of year when lambs are being born, so that he can see thatthey are not stolen by gipsies before the owners have counted them. 

To this hut Alice now led her kind brothers and Daisy's kind brother. 'Dora is inside, ' she said, 'with the Secret. We were afraid to have itin the house in case it made a noise. '

The next moment the Secret was a secret no longer, for we all beheldDora, sitting on a sack on the floor of the hut, with the Secret in herlap. 

It was the High-born Babe!

Oswald was so overcome that he sat down suddenly, just like BetsyTrotwood did in David Copperfield, which just shows what a true authorDickens is. 

'You've done it this time, ' he said. 'I suppose you know you're ababy-stealer?'

'I'm not, ' Dora said. 'I've adopted him. '

'Then it was you, ' Dicky said, 'who scuttled the perambulator in thewood?'

'Yes, ' Alice said; 'we couldn't get it over the stile unless Dora putdown the Baby, and we were afraid of the nettles for his legs. His nameis to be Lord Edward. '

'But, Dora--really, don't you think--'

'If you'd been there you'd have done the same, ' said Dora firmly. 'Thegipsies had gone. Of course something had frightened them and they fledfrom justice. And the little darling was awake and held out his arms tome. No, he hasn't cried a bit, and I know all about babies; I've oftennursed Mrs Simpkins's daughter's baby when she brings it up on Sundays. They have bread and milk to eat. You take him, Alice, and I'll go andget some bread and milk for him. '

Alice took the noble brat. It was horribly lively, and squirmed about inher arms, and wanted to crawl on the floor. She could only keep it quietby saying things to it a boy would be ashamed even to think of saying, such as 'Goo goo', and 'Did ums was', and 'Ickle ducksums, then'. 

When Alice used these expressions the Baby laughed and chuckled andreplied--

'Daddadda', 'Bababa', or 'Glueglue'. 

But if Alice stopped her remarks for an instant the thing screwed itsface up as if it was going to cry, but she never gave it time to begin. 

It was a rummy little animal. 

Then Dora came back with the bread and milk, and they fed the nobleinfant. It was greedy and slobbery, but all three girls seemed unable tokeep their eyes and hands off it. They looked at it exactly as if it waspretty. 

We boys stayed watching them. There was no amusement left for usnow, for Oswald saw that Dora's Secret knocked the bottom out of theperambulator. 

When the infant aristocrat had eaten a hearty meal it sat on Alice's lapand played with the amber heart she wears that Albert's uncle broughther from Hastings after the business of the bad sixpence and thenobleness of Oswald. 

'Now, ' said Dora, 'this is a council, so I want to be business-like. TheDuckums Darling has been stolen away; its wicked stealers have desertedthe Precious. We've got it. Perhaps its ancestral halls are miles andmiles away. I vote we keep the little Lovey Duck till it's advertisedfor. '

'If Albert's uncle lets you, ' said Dicky darkly. 

'Oh, don't say "you" like that, ' Dora said; 'I want it to be all of ourbaby. It will have five fathers and three mothers, and a grandfather anda great Albert's uncle, and a great grand-uncle. I'm sure Albert's unclewill let us keep it--at any rate till it's advertised for. '

'And suppose it never is, ' Noel said. 

'Then so much the better, ' said Dora, 'the little Duckyux. '

She began kissing the baby again. Oswald, ever thoughtful, said--'Well, what about your dinner?'

'Bother dinner!' Dora said--so like a girl. 'Will you all agree to behis fathers and mothers?'

'Anything for a quiet life, ' said Dicky, and Oswald said--

'Oh, yes, if you like. But you'll see we shan't be allowed to keep it. '

'You talk as if he was rabbits or white rats, ' said Dora, 'and he'snot--he's a little man, he is. '

'All right, he's no rabbit, but a man. Come on and get some grub, Dora, 'rejoined the kind-hearted Oswald, and Dora did, with Oswald and theother boys. Only Noel stayed with Alice. He really seemed to like thebaby. When I looked back he was standing on his head to amuse it, butthe baby did not seem to like him any better whichever end of him wasup. 

Dora went back to the shepherd's house on wheels directly she had hadher dinner. Mrs Pettigrew was very cross about her not being in to it, but she had kept her some mutton hot all the same. She is a decent sort. And there were stewed prunes. We had some to keep Dora company. Then weboys went fishing again in the moat, but we caught nothing. 

Just before tea-time we all went back to the hut, and before we got halfacross the last field we could hear the howling of the Secret. 

'Poor little beggar, ' said Oswald, with manly tenderness. 'They must besticking pins in it. '

We found the girls and Noel looking quite pale and breathless. Daisy waswalking up and down with the Secret in her arms. It looked like Alice inWonderland nursing the baby that turned into a pig. Oswald said so, andadded that its screams were like it too. 

'What on earth is the matter with it?' he said. 

'_I_ don't know, ' said Alice. 'Daisy's tired, and Dora and I are quiteworn out. He's been crying for hours and hours. YOU take him a bit. '

'Not me, ' replied Oswald, firmly, withdrawing a pace from the Secret. 

Dora was fumbling with her waistband in the furthest corner of the hut. 

'I think he's cold, ' she said. 'I thought I'd take off my flannelettepetticoat, only the horrid strings got into a hard knot. Here, Oswald, let's have your knife. '

With the word she plunged her hand into Oswald's jacket pocket, and nextmoment she was rubbing her hand like mad on her dress, and screamingalmost as loud as the Baby. Then she began to laugh and to cry at thesame time. This is called hysterics. 

Oswald was sorry, but he was annoyed too. He had forgotten that hispocket was half full of the meal-worms the miller had kindly given him. And, anyway, Dora ought to have known that a man always carries hisknife in his trousers pocket and not in his jacket one. 

Alice and Daisy rushed to Dora. She had thrown herself down on the pileof sacks in the corner. The titled infant delayed its screams for amoment to listen to Dora's, but almost at once it went on again. 

'Oh, get some water!' said Alice. 'Daisy, run!'

The White Mouse, ever docile and obedient, shoved the baby into thearms of the nearest person, who had to take it or it would have fallen awreck to the ground. This nearest person was Oswald. He tried to passit on to the others, but they wouldn't. Noel would have, but he was busykissing Dora and begging her not to. So our hero, for such I may perhapsterm him, found himself the degraded nursemaid of a small but furiouskid. 

He was afraid to lay it down, for fear in its rage it should beatits brains out against the hard earth, and he did not wish, howeverinnocently, to be the cause of its hurting itself at all. So he walkedearnestly up and down with it, thumping it unceasingly on the back, while the others attended to Dora, who presently ceased to yell. 

Suddenly it struck Oswald that the High-born also had ceased to yell. Helooked at it, and could hardly believe the glad tidings of his faithfuleyes. With bated breath he hastened back to the sheep-house. 

The others turned on him, full of reproaches about the meal-worms andDora, but he answered without anger. 

'Shut up, ' he said in a whisper of imperial command. 'Can't you see it'sGONE TO SLEEP?'

As exhausted as if they had all taken part in all the events of a verylong Athletic Sports, the youthful Bastables and their friends draggedtheir weary limbs back across the fields. Oswald was compelled to goon holding the titled infant, for fear it should wake up if it changedhands, and begin to yell again. Dora's flannelette petticoat had beengot off somehow--how I do not seek to inquire--and the Secret wascovered with it. The others surrounded Oswald as much as possible, witha view to concealment if we met Mrs Pettigrew. But the coast was clear. Oswald took the Secret up into his bedroom. Mrs Pettigrew doesn't comethere much, it's too many stairs. 

With breathless precaution Oswald laid it down on his bed. It sighed, but did not wake. Then we took it in turns to sit by it and see that itdid not get up and fling itself out of bed, which, in one of its furiousfits, it would just as soon have done as not. 

We expected Albert's uncle every minute. 

At last we heard the gate, but he did not come in, so we looked out andsaw that there he was talking to a distracted-looking man on a piebaldhorse--one of the miller's horses. 

A shiver of doubt coursed through our veins. We could not rememberhaving done anything wrong at the miller's. But you never know. And itseemed strange his sending a man up on his own horse. But when we hadlooked a bit longer our fears went down and our curiosity got up. For wesaw that the distracted one was a gentleman. 

Presently he rode off, and Albert's uncle came in. A deputation met himat the door--all the boys and Dora, because the baby was her idea. 

'We've found something, ' Dora said, 'and we want to know whether we maykeep it. '

The rest of us said nothing. We were not so very extra anxious to keepit after we had heard how much and how long it could howl. Even Noel hadsaid he had no idea a baby could yell like it. Dora said it only criedbecause it was sleepy, but we reflected that it would certainly besleepy once a day, if not oftener. 

'What is it?' said Albert's uncle. 'Let's see this treasure-trove. Is ita wild beast?'

'Come and see, ' said Dora, and we led him to our room. 

Alice turned down the pink flannelette petticoat with silly pride, andshowed the youthful heir fatly and pinkly sleeping. 

'A baby!' said Albert's uncle. 'THE Baby! Oh, my cat's alive!'

That is an expression which he uses to express despair unmixed withanger. 

'Where did you?--but that doesn't matter. We'll talk of this later. '

He rushed from the room, and in a moment or two we saw him mount hisbicycle and ride off. 

Quite shortly he returned with the distracted horse-man. 

It was HIS baby, and not titled at all. The horseman and his wife werethe lodgers at the mill. The nursemaid was a girl from the village. 

She SAID she only left the Baby five minutes while she went to speak toher sweetheart who was gardener at the Red House. But we knew she leftit over an hour, and nearly two. 

I never saw anyone so pleased as the distracted horseman. 

When we were asked we explained about having thought the Baby was theprey of gipsies, and the distracted horseman stood hugging the Baby, andactually thanked us. 

But when he had gone we had a brief lecture on minding our own business. But Dora still thinks she was right. As for Oswald and most of theothers, they agreed that they would rather mind their own business alltheir lives than mind a baby for a single hour. 

If you have never had to do with a baby in the frenzied throes ofsleepiness you can have no idea what its screams are like. 

If you have been through such a scene you will understand how we managedto bear up under having no baby to adopt. Oswald insisted on having thewhole thing written in the Golden Deed book. Of course his share couldnot be put in without telling about Dora's generous adopting of theforlorn infant outcast, and Oswald could not and cannot forget that hewas the one who did get that baby to sleep. 

What a time Mr and Mrs Distracted Horseman must have of it, though--especially now they've sacked the nursemaid. 

If Oswald is ever married--I suppose he must be some day--he will haveten nurses to each baby. Eight is not enough. We know that because wetried, and the whole eight of us were not enough for the needs of thatdeserted infant who was not so extra high-born after all. 

CHAPTER 9. HUNTING THE FOX

It is idle to expect everyone to know everything in the world withoutbeing told. If we had been brought up in the country we should haveknown that it is not done--to hunt the fox in August. But in theLewisham Road the most observing boy does not notice the dates when itis proper to hunt foxes. 

And there are some things you cannot bear to think that anybody wouldthink you would do; that is why I wish to say plainly at the verybeginning that none of us would have shot a fox on purpose even to saveour skins. Of course, if a man were at bay in a cave, and had to defendgirls from the simultaneous attack of a herd of savage foxes it would bedifferent. A man is bound to protect girls and take care of them--theycan jolly well take care of themselves really it seems to me--still, this is what Albert's uncle calls one of the 'rules of the game', so weare bound to defend them and fight for them to the death, if needful. Denny knows a quotation which says--

 'What dire offence from harmless causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trefoil things. '

He says this means that all great events come from threethings--threefold, like the clover or trefoil, and the causes are alwaysharmless. Trefoil is short for threefold. 

There were certainly three things that led up to the adventure which isnow going to be told you. The first was our Indian uncle coming down tothe country to see us. The second was Denny's tooth. The third was onlyour wanting to go hunting; but if you count it in it makes the thingabout the trefoil come right. And all these causes were harmless. 

It is a flattering thing to say, and it was not Oswald who said it, butDora. She said she was certain our uncle missed us, and that he felt hecould no longer live without seeing his dear ones (that was us). 

Anyway, he came down, without warning, which is one of the few badhabits that excellent Indian man has, and this habit has ended inunpleasantness more than once, as when we played jungles. 

However, this time it was all right. He came on rather a dull kind ofday, when no one had thought of anything particularly amusing to do. Sothat, as it happened to be dinner-time and we had just washed our handsand faces, we were all spotlessly clean (com-pared with what we aresometimes, I mean, of course). 

We were just sitting down to dinner, and Albert's uncle was justplunging the knife into the hot heart of the steak pudding, when therewas the rumble of wheels, and the station fly stopped at the gardengate. And in the fly, sitting very upright, with his hands on his knees, was our Indian relative so much beloved. He looked very smart, with arose in his buttonhole. How different from what he looked in other dayswhen he helped us to pretend that our currant pudding was a wild boarwe were killing with our forks. Yet, though tidier, his heart still beatkind and true. You should not judge people harshly because their clothesare tidy. He had dinner with us, and then we showed him round the place, and told him everything we thought he would like to hear, and about theTower of Mystery, and he said--

'It makes my blood boil to think of it. '

Noel said he was sorry for that, because everyone else we had told it tohad owned, when we asked them, that it froze their blood. 

'Ah, ' said the Uncle, 'but in India we learn how to freeze our blood andboil it at the same time. '

In those hot longitudes, perhaps, the blood is always nearboiling-point, which accounts for Indian tempers, though not for thecurry and pepper they eat. But I must not wander; there is no curry atall in this story. About temper I will not say. 

Then Uncle let us all go with him to the station when the fly came backfor him; and when we said good-bye he tipped us all half a quid, withoutany insidious distinctions about age or considering whether you were aboy or a girl. Our Indian uncle is a true-born Briton, with no nonsenseabout him. 

We cheered him like one man as the train went off, and then we offeredthe fly-driver a shilling to take us back to the four cross-roads, andthe grateful creature did it for nothing because, he said, the gent hadtipped him something like. How scarce is true gratitude! So we cheeredthe driver too for this rare virtue, and then went home to talk aboutwhat we should do with our money. I cannot tell you all that we did withit, because money melts away 'like snow-wreaths in thaw-jean', as Dennysays, and somehow the more you have the more quickly it melts. Weall went into Maidstone, and came back with the most beautiful lot ofbrown-paper parcels, with things inside that supplied long-felt wants. But none of them belongs to this narration, except what Oswald and Dennyclubbed to buy. 

This was a pistol, and it took all the money they both had, but whenOswald felt the uncomfortable inside sensation that reminds you who itis and his money that are soon parted he said to himself--

'I don't care. We ought to have a pistol in the house, and one thatwill go off, too--not those rotten flintlocks. Suppose there should beburglars and us totally unarmed?'

We took it in turns to have the pistol, and we decided always topractise with it far from the house, so as not to frighten thegrown-ups, who are always much nervouser about firearms than we are. 

It was Denny's idea getting it; and Oswald owns it surprised him, butthe boy was much changed in his character. We got it while the otherswere grubbing at the pastry-cook's in the High Street, and we saidnothing till after tea, though it was hard not to fire at the birds onthe telegraph wires as we came home in the train. 

After tea we called a council in the straw-loft, and Oswald said--

'Denny and I have got a secret. '

'I know what it is, ' Dicky said contemptibly. 'You've found out thatshop in Maidstone where peppermint rock is four ounces a penny. H. O. And I found it out before you did. '

Oswald said, 'You shut-up. If you don't want to hear the secret you'dbetter bunk. I'm going to administer the secret oath. '

This is a very solemn oath, and only used about real things, and neverfor pretending ones, so Dicky said--

'Oh, all right; go ahead! I thought you were only rotting. '

So they all took the secret oath. Noel made it up long before, when hehad found the first thrush's nest we ever saw in the Blackheath garden:

 'I will not tell, I will not reveal, I will not touch, or try to steal; And may I be called a beastly sneak, If this great secret I ever repeat. '

It is a little wrong about the poetry, but it is a very binding promise. They all repeated it, down to H. O. 

'Now then, ' Dicky said, 'what's up?'

Oswald, in proud silence, drew the pistol from his breast and held itout, and there was a murmur of awful amazement and respect from everyone of the council. The pistol was not loaded, so we let even the girlshave it to look at. And then Dicky said, 'Let's go hunting. '

And we decided that we would. H. O. Wanted to go down to the village andget penny horns at the shop for the huntsmen to wind, like in the song, but we thought it would be more modest not to wind horns or anythingnoisy, at any rate not until we had run down our prey. But his talkingof the song made us decide that it was the fox we wanted to hunt. We hadnot been particular which animal we hunted before that. 

Oswald let Denny have first go with the pistol, and when we went to bedhe slept with it under his pillow, but not loaded, for fear he shouldhave a nightmare and draw his fell weapon before he was properly awake. 

Oswald let Denny have it, because Denny had toothache, and a pistol isconsoling though it does not actually stop the pain of the tooth. Thetoothache got worse, and Albert's uncle looked at it, and said it wasvery loose, and Denny owned he had tried to crack a peach-stone with it. Which accounts. He had creosote and camphor, and went to bed early, withhis tooth tied up in red flannel. 

Oswald knows it is right to be very kind when people are ill, and heforbore to wake the sufferer next morning by buzzing a pillow at him, ashe generally does. He got up and went over to shake the invalid, butthe bird had flown and the nest was cold. The pistol was not in the nesteither, but Oswald found it afterwards under the looking-glass on thedressing-table. He had just awakened the others (with a hair-brushbecause they had not got anything the matter with their teeth), when heheard wheels, and, looking out, beheld Denny and Albert's uncle beingdriven from the door in the farmer's high cart with the red wheels. 

We dressed extra quick, so as to get downstairs to the bottom of themystery. And we found a note from Albert's uncle. It was addressed toDora, and said--

'Denny's toothache got him up in the small hours. He's off to thedentist to have it out with him, man to man. Home to dinner. '

Dora said, 'Denny's gone to the dentist. '

'I expect it's a relation, ' H. O. Said. 'Denny must be short forDentist. '

I suppose he was trying to be funny--he really does try very hard. Hewants to be a clown when he grows up. The others laughed. 

'I wonder, ' said Dicky, 'whether he'll get a shilling or half-a-crownfor it. '

Oswald had been meditating in gloomy silence, now he cheered up andsaid--

'Of course! I'd forgotten that. He'll get his tooth money, and the drivetoo. So it's quite fair for us to have the fox-hunt while he's gone. Iwas thinking we should have to put it off. '

The others agreed that it would not be unfair. 

'We can have another one another time if he wants to, ' Oswald said. 

We know foxes are hunted in red coats and on horseback--but we couldnot do this--but H. O. Had the old red football jersey that was Albert'suncle's when he was at Loretto. He was pleased. 

'But I do wish we'd had horns, ' he said grievingly. 'I should have likedto wind the horn. '

'We can pretend horns, ' Dora said; but he answered, 'I didn't want topretend. I wanted to wind something. '

'Wind your watch, ' Dicky said. And that was unkind, because we all knowH. O. 's watch is broken, and when you wind it, it only rattles insidewithout going in the least. 

We did not bother to dress up much for the hunting expedition--justcocked hats and lath swords; and we tied a card on to H. O. 's chest with'Moat House Fox-Hunters' on it; and we tied red flannel round all thedogs' necks to show they were fox-hounds. Yet it did not seem to show itplainly; somehow it made them look as if they were not fox-hounds, buttheir own natural breeds--only with sore throats. 

Oswald slipped the pistol and a few cartridges into his pocket. He knew, of course, that foxes are not shot; but as he said--

'Who knows whether we may not meet a bear or a crocodile. '

We set off gaily. Across the orchard and through two cornfields, andalong the hedge of another field, and so we got into the wood, througha gap we had happened to make a day or two before, playing 'follow myleader'. 

The wood was very quiet and green; the dogs were happy and most busy. Once Pincher started a rabbit. We said, 'View Halloo!' and immediatelystarted in pursuit; but the rabbit went and hid, so that even Pinchercould not find him, and we went on. But we saw no foxes. So at last wemade Dicky be a fox, and chased him down the green rides. A wide walkin a wood is called a ride, even if people never do anything but walk init. 

We had only three hounds--Lady, Pincher and Martha--so we joined theglad throng and were being hounds as hard as we could, when we suddenlycame barking round a corner in full chase and stopped short, for wesaw that our fox had stayed his hasty flight. The fox was stooping oversomething reddish that lay beside the path, and he cried--

'I say, look here!' in tones that thrilled us throughout. 

Our fox--whom we must now call Dicky, so as not to muddle thenarration--pointed to the reddy thing that the dogs were sniffing at. 

'It's a real live fox, ' he said. And so it was. At least it wasreal--only it was quite dead--and when Oswald lifted it up its headwas bleeding. It had evidently been shot through the brain and expiredinstantly. Oswald explained this to the girls when they began to cry atthe sight of the poor beast; I do not say he did not feel a bit sorryhimself. 

The fox was cold, but its fur was so pretty, and its tail and its littlefeet. Dicky strung the dogs on the leash; they were so much interestedwe thought it was better. 

'It does seem horrid to think it'll never see again out of its poorlittle eyes, ' Dora said, blowing her nose. 

'And never run about through the wood again, lend me your hanky, Dora'said Alice. 

'And never be hunted or get into a hen-roost or a trap or anythingexciting, poor little thing, ' said Dicky. 

The girls began to pick green chestnut leaves to cover up the poor fox'sfatal wound, and Noel began to walk up and down making faces, the wayhe always does when he's making poetry. He cannot make one without theother. It works both ways, which is a comfort. 

'What are we going to do now?' H. O. Said; 'the huntsman ought to cutoff its tail, I'm quite certain. Only, I've broken the big blade of myknife, and the other never was any good. '

The girls gave H. O. A shove, and even Oswald said, 'Shut up', forsomehow we all felt we did not want to play fox-hunting any more thatday. When his deadly wound was covered the fox hardly looked dead atall. 

'Oh, I wish it wasn't true!' Alice said. 

Daisy had been crying all the time, and now she said, 'I should like topray God to make it not true. '

But Dora kissed her, and told her that was no good--only she might prayGod to take care of the fox's poor little babies, if it had had any, which I believe she has done ever since. 

'If only we could wake up and find it was a horrid dream, ' Alice said. 

It seems silly that we should have cared so much when we had really setout to hunt foxes with dogs, but it is true. The fox's feet looked sohelpless. And there was a dusty mark on its side that I know would nothave been there if it had been alive and able to wash itself. 

Noel now said, 'This is the piece of poetry':

 'Here lies poor Reynard who is slain, He will not come to life again. I never will the huntsman's horn Wind since the day that I was born Until the day I die-- For I don't like hunting, and this is why. '

'Let's have a funeral, ' said H. O. This pleased everybody, and we gotDora to take off her petticoat to wrap the fox in, so that we couldcarry it to our garden and bury it without bloodying our jackets. Girls'clothes are silly in one way, but I think they are useful too. A boycannot take off more than his jacket and waistcoat in any emergency, or he is at once entirely undressed. But I have known Dora take offtwo petticoats for useful purposes and look just the same outsideafterwards. 

We boys took it in turns to carry the fox. It was very heavy. When wegot near the edge of the wood Noel said--

'It would be better to bury it here, where the leaves can talk funeralsongs over its grave for ever, and the other foxes can come and cry ifthey want to. ' He dumped the fox down on the moss under a young oak treeas he spoke. 

'If Dicky fetched the spade and fork we could bury it here, and then hecould tie up the dogs at the same time. '

'You're sick of carrying it, ' Dicky remarked, 'that's what it is. ' Buthe went on condition the rest of us boys went too. 

While we were gone the girls dragged the fox to the edge of the wood;it was a different edge to the one we went in by--close to a lane--andwhile they waited for the digging or fatigue party to come back, theycollected a lot of moss and green things to make the fox's long homesoft for it to lie in. There are no flowers in the woods in August, which is a pity. 

When we got back with the spade and fork we dug a hole to bury the foxin. We did not bring the dogs back, because they were too interested inthe funeral to behave with real, respectable calmness. 

The ground was loose and soft and easy to dig when we had scraped awaythe broken bits of sticks and the dead leaves and the wild honeysuckle;Oswald used the fork and Dicky had the spade. Noel made faces andpoetry--he was struck so that morning--and the girls sat stroking theclean parts of the fox's fur till the grave was deep enough. At last itwas; then Daisy threw in the leaves and grass, and Alice and Dora tookthe poor dead fox by his two ends and we helped to put him in thegrave. We could not lower him slowly--he was dropped in, really. Then wecovered the furry body with leaves, and Noel said the Burial Ode he hadmade up. He says this was it, but it sounds better now than it did then, so I think he must have done something to it since:

 THE FOX'S BURIAL ODE

'Dear Fox, sleep here, and do not wake, We picked these leaves for yoursake You must not try to rise or move, We give you this with our love. Close by the wood where once you grew Your mourning friends have buriedyou. If you had lived you'd not have been (Been proper friends with us, I mean), But now you're laid upon the shelf, Poor fox, you cannot helpyourself, So, as I say, we are your loving friends--And here your BurialOde, dear Foxy, ends. P. S. --When in the moonlight bright The foxeswander of a night, They'll pass your grave and fondly think of you, Exactly like we mean to always do. So now, dear fox, adieu! Your friendsare few But true To you. Adieu!'

When this had been said we filled in the grave and covered the top ofit with dry leaves and sticks to make it look like the rest of the wood. People might think it was a treasure, and dig it up, if they thoughtthere was anything buried there, and we wished the poor fox to sleepsound and not to be disturbed. 

The interring was over. We folded up Dora's bloodstained pink cottonpetticoat, and turned to leave the sad spot. 

We had not gone a dozen yards down the lane when we heard footsteps anda whistle behind us, and a scrabbling and whining, and a gentleman withtwo fox-terriers had called a halt just by the place where we had laidlow the 'little red rover'. 

The gentleman stood in the lane, but the dogs were digging--we could seetheir tails wagging and see the dust fly. And we SAW WHERE. We ran back. 

'Oh, please, do stop your dogs digging there!' Alice said. 

The gentleman said 'Why?'

'Because we've just had a funeral, and that's the grave. '

The gentleman whistled, but the fox-terriers were not trained likePincher, who was brought up by Oswald. The gentleman took a stridethrough the hedge gap. 

'What have you been burying--pet dicky bird, eh?' said the gentleman, kindly. He had riding breeches and white whiskers. 

We did not answer, because now, for the first time, it came over all ofus, in a rush of blushes and uncomfortableness, that burying a fox is asuspicious act. I don't know why we felt this, but we did. 

Noel said dreamily--

'We found his murdered body in the wood, And dug a grave by which themourners stood. '

But no one heard him except Oswald, because Alice and Dora and Daisywere all jumping about with the jumps of unrestrained anguish, andsaying, 'Oh, call them off! Do! do!--oh, don't, don't! Don't let themdig. '

Alas! Oswald was, as usual, right. The ground of the grave had not beentrampled down hard enough, and he had said so plainly at the time, but his prudent counsels had been overruled. Now these busy-bodying, meddling, mischief-making fox-terriers (how different from Pincher, whominds his own business unless told otherwise) had scratched away theearth and laid bare the reddish tip of the poor corpse's tail. 

We all turned to go without a word, it seemed to be no use staying anylonger. 

But in a moment the gentleman with the whiskers had got Noel and Dickyeach by an ear--they were nearest him. H. O. Hid in the hedge. Oswald, to whose noble breast sneakishness is, I am thankful to say, a stranger, would have scorned to escape, but he ordered his sisters to bunk in atone of command which made refusal impossible. 

'And bunk sharp, too' he added sternly. 'Cut along home. '

So they cut. The white-whiskered gentleman now encouraged his angryfox-terriers, by every means at his command, to continue their vile anddegrading occupation; holding on all the time to the ears of Dicky andNoel, who scorned to ask for mercy. Dicky got purple and Noel got white. It was Oswald who said--

'Don't hang on to them, sir. We won't cut. I give you my word ofhonour. '

'YOUR word of honour, ' said the gentleman, in tones for which, inhappier days, when people drew their bright blades and fought duels, Iwould have had his heart's dearest blood. But now Oswald remained calmand polite as ever. 

'Yes, on my honour, ' he said, and the gentleman dropped the ears ofOswald's brothers at the sound of his firm, unswerving tones. He droppedthe ears and pulled out the body of the fox and held it up. 

The dogs jumped up and yelled. 

'Now, ' he said, 'you talk very big about words of honour. Can you speakthe truth?'

Dickie said, 'If you think we shot it, you're wrong. We know better thanthat. '

The white-whiskered one turned suddenly to H. O. And pulled him out ofthe hedge. 

'And what does that mean?' he said, and he was pink with fury to theends of his large ears, as he pointed to the card on H. O. 's breast, which said, 'Moat House Fox-Hunters'. 

Then Oswald said, 'We WERE playing at fox-hunting, but we couldn't findanything but a rabbit that hid, so my brother was being the fox; andthen we found the fox shot dead, and I don't know who did it; and wewere sorry for it and we buried it--and that's all. '

'Not quite, ' said the riding-breeches gentleman, with what I think youcall a bitter smile, 'not quite. This is my land and I'll have you upfor trespass and damage. Come along now, no nonsense! I'm a magistrateand I'm Master of the Hounds. A vixen, too! What did you shoot herwith? You're too young to have a gun. Sneaked your Father's revolver, Isuppose?'

Oswald thought it was better to be goldenly silent. But it was vain. The Master of the Hounds made him empty his pockets, and there was thepistol and the cartridges. 

The magistrate laughed a harsh laugh of successful disagreeableness. 

'All right, ' said he, 'where's your licence? You come with me. A week ortwo in prison. '

I don't believe now he could have done it, but we all thought then hecould and would, what's more. 

So H. O. Began to cry, but Noel spoke up. His teeth were chattering yethe spoke up like a man. 

He said, 'You don't know us. You've no right not to believe us tillyou've found us out in a lie. We don't tell lies. You ask Albert's uncleif we do. '

'Hold your tongue, ' said the White-Whiskered. But Noel's blood was up. 

'If you do put us in prison without being sure, ' he said, trembling moreand more, 'you are a horrible tyrant like Caligula, and Herod, or Nero, and the Spanish Inquisition, and I will write a poem about it in prison, and people will curse you for ever. '

'Upon my word, ' said White Whiskers. 'We'll see about that, ' and heturned up the lane with the fox hanging from one hand and Noel's earonce more reposing in the other. 

I thought Noel would cry or faint. But he bore up nobly--exactly like anearly Christian martyr. 

The rest of us came along too. I carried the spade and Dicky had thefork. H. O. Had the card, and Noel had the magistrate. At the end ofthe lane there was Alice. She had bunked home, obeying the orders of herthoughtful brother, but she had bottled back again like a shot, so asnot to be out of the scrape. She is almost worthy to be a boy for somethings. 

She spoke to Mr Magistrate and said--

'Where are you taking him?'

The outraged majesty of the magistrate said, 'To prison, you naughtylittle girl. '

Alice said, 'Noel will faint. Somebody once tried to take him to prisonbefore--about a dog. Do please come to our house and see our uncle--atleast he's not--but it's the same thing. We didn't kill the fox, ifthat's what you think--indeed we didn't. Oh, dear, I do wish you'd thinkof your own little boys and girls if you've got any, or else about whenyou were little. You wouldn't be so horrid if you did. '

I don't know which, if either, of these objects the fox-hound masterthought of, but he said--

'Well, lead on, ' and he let go Noel's ear and Alice snuggled up to Noeland put her arm round him. 

It was a frightened procession, whose cheeks were pale withalarm--except those between white whiskers, and they were red--thatwound in at our gate and into the hall among the old oak furniture, andblack and white marble floor and things. 

Dora and Daisy were at the door. The pink petticoat lay on the table, all stained with the gore of the departed. Dora looked at us all, andshe saw that it was serious. She pulled out the big oak chair and said, 'Won't you sit down?' very kindly to the white-whiskered magistrate. 

He grunted, but did as she said. 

Then he looked about him in a silence that was not comforting, and sodid we. At last he said--

'Come, you didn't try to bolt. Speak the truth, and I'll say no more. '

We said we had. 

Then he laid the fox on the table, spreading out the petticoat under it, and he took out a knife and the girls hid their faces. Even Oswald didnot care to look. Wounds in battle are all very well, but it's differentto see a dead fox cut into with a knife. 

Next moment the magistrate wiped something on his handkerchief and thenlaid it on the table, and put one of my cartridges beside it. It was thebullet that had killed the fox. 

'Look here!' he said. And it was too true. The bullets were the same. 

A thrill of despair ran through Oswald. He knows now how a hero feelswhen he is innocently accused of a crime and the judge is putting on theblack cap, and the evidence is convulsive and all human aid is despairedof. 

'I can't help it, ' he said, 'we didn't kill it, and that's all there isto it. '

The white-whiskered magistrate may have been master of the fox-hounds, but he was not master of his temper, which is more important, I shouldthink, than a lot of beastly dogs. 

He said several words which Oswald would never repeat, much less inhis own conversing, and besides that he called us 'obstinate littlebeggars'. 

Then suddenly Albert's uncle entered in the midst of a silence freightedwith despairing reflections. The M. F. H. Got up and told his tale: it wasmainly lies, or, to be more polite, it was hardly any of it true, thoughI supposed he believed it. 

'I am very sorry, sir' said Albert's uncle, looking at the bullets. 

'You'll excuse my asking for the children's version?'

'Oh, certainly, sir, certainly, ' fuming, the fox-hound magistratereplied. 

Then Albert's uncle said, 'Now Oswald, I know I can trust you to speakthe exact truth. '

So Oswald did. 

Then the white-whiskered fox-master laid the bullets before Albert'suncle, and I felt this would be a trial to his faith far worse than therack or the thumb-screw in the days of the Armada. 

And then Denny came in. He looked at the fox on the table. 

'You found it, then?' he said. 

The M. F. H. Would have spoken but Albert's uncle said, 'One moment, Denny; you've seen this fox before?'

'Rather, ' said Denny; 'I--'

But Albert's uncle said, 'Take time. Think before you speak and saythe exact truth. No, don't whisper to Oswald. This boy, ' he said tothe injured fox-master, 'has been with me since seven this morning. Histale, whatever it is, will be independent evidence. '

But Denny would not speak, though again and again Albert's uncle toldhim to. 

'I can't till I've asked Oswald something, ' he said at last. WhiteWhiskers said, 'That looks bad--eh?'

But Oswald said, 'Don't whisper, old chap. Ask me whatever you like, butspeak up. '

So Denny said, 'I can't without breaking the secret oath. '

So then Oswald began to see, and he said, 'Break away for all you'reworth, it's all right. '

And Denny said, drawing relief's deepest breath, 'Well then, Oswaldand I have got a pistol--shares--and I had it last night. And when Icouldn't sleep last night because of the toothache I got up and went outearly this morning. And I took the pistol. And I loaded it just for fun. And down in the wood I heard a whining like a dog, and I went, and therewas the poor fox caught in an iron trap with teeth. And I went to let itout and it bit me--look, here's the place--and the pistol went off andthe fox died, and I am so sorry. '

'But why didn't you tell the others?'

'They weren't awake when I went to the dentist's. '

'But why didn't you tell your uncle if you've been with him all themorning?'

'It was the oath, ' H. O. Said--

 'May I be called a beastly sneak If this great secret I ever repeat. '

White Whiskers actually grinned. 

'Well, ' he said, 'I see it was an accident, my boy. ' Then he turned tous and said--

'I owe you an apology for doubting your word--all of you. I hope it'saccepted. '

We said it was all right and he was to never mind. 

But all the same we hated him for it. He tried to make up for hisunbelievingness afterwards by asking Albert's uncle to shoot rabbits;but we did not really forgive him till the day when he sent the fox'sbrush to Alice, mounted in silver with a note about her plucky conductin standing by her brothers. 

We got a lecture about not playing with firearms, but no punishment, because our conduct had not been exactly sinful, Albert's uncle said, but merely silly. 

The pistol and the cartridges were confiscated. 

I hope the house will never be attacked by burglars. When it is, Albert's uncle will only have himself to thank if we are rapidlyoverpowered, because it will be his fault that we shall have to meetthem totally unarmed, and be their almost unresisting prey. 

CHAPTER 10. THE SALE OF ANTIQUITIES

It began one morning at breakfast. It was the fifteenth of August--thebirthday of Napoleon the Great, Oswald Bastable, and another very nicewriter. Oswald was to keep his birthday on the Saturday, so that hisFather could be there. A birthday when there are only many happy returnsis a little like Sunday or Christmas Eve. Oswald had a birthday-card ortwo--that was all; but he did not repine, because he knew they alwaysmake it up to you for putting off keeping your birthday, and he lookedforward to Saturday. 

Albert's uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently hetossed one over to Dora, and said, 'What do you say, little lady? Shallwe let them come?'

But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and Noelboth had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place where thebacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake of bacon fatwas slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the marmalade, andthen H. O. Got it, and Dora said--

'I don't want the nasty thing now--all grease and stickiness. ' So H. O. Read it aloud--

MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES AND FIELD CLUB Aug. 14, 1900

'DEAR SIR, --At a meeting of the--'

H. O. Stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like aspider that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the paperwithout stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald tookthe letter. He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began toread. It ran thus:

'It's not Antiquities, you little silly, ' he said; 'it's Antiquaries. '

'The other's a very good word, ' said Albert's uncle, 'and I nevercall names at breakfast myself--it upsets the digestion, my egregiousOswald. '

'That's a name though, ' said Alice, 'and you got it out of "Stalky", too. Go on, Oswald. '

So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted:

'MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF "ANTIQUARIES" AND FIELD CLUB

Aug. 14, 1900. 

'DEAR SIR, --At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was agreedthat a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the Society proposes tovisit the interesting church of Ivybridge and also the Roman remainsin the vicinity. Our president, Mr Longchamps, F. R. S. , has obtainedpermission to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We venture toask whether you would allow the members of the Society to walk throughyour grounds and to inspect--from without, of course--your beautifulhouse, which is, as you are doubtless aware, of great historic interest, having been for some years the residence of the celebrated Sir ThomasWyatt. --I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully, 'EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec. ). '

'Just so, ' said Albert's uncle; 'well, shall we permit the eye of theMaidstone Antiquities to profane these sacred solitudes, and the foot ofthe Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel?'

'Our gravel is all grass, ' H. O. Said. 

And the girls said, 'Oh, do let them come!' It was Alice who said--

'Why not ask them to tea? They'll be very tired coming all the way fromMaidstone. '

'Would you really like it?' Albert's uncle asked. 'I'm afraid they'llbe but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy old gentlemen with amphoraein their buttonholes instead of orchids, and pedigrees poking out of alltheir pockets. '

We laughed--because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don't you mightlook it up in the dicker. It's not a flower, though it sounds like oneout of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of anyone growing. 

Dora said she thought it would be splendid. 

'And we could have out the best china, ' she said, 'and decorate thetable with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We've never had aparty since we've been here. '

'I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your ownway, ' Albert's uncle said; and he went off to write the invitation totea to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the wrong word butsomehow we all used it whenever we spoke of them, which was often. 

In a day or two Albert's uncle came in to tea with a lightly-cloudedbrow. 

'You've let me in for a nice thing, ' he said. 'I asked the Antiquitiesto tea, and I asked casually how many we might expect. I thoughtwe might need at least the full dozen of the best teacups. Now thesecretary writes accepting my kind invitation--'

'Oh, good!' we cried. 'And how many are coming?' 'Oh, only aboutsixty, ' was the groaning rejoinder. 'Perhaps more, should the weather beexceptionally favourable. '

Though stunned at first, we presently decided that we were pleased. 

We had never, never given such a big party. 

The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew madecakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys be there, though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a cake beforeit is baked, and then licking your finger, if you are careful to puta different finger in the cake next time. Cake before it is baked isdelicious--like a sort of cream. 

Albert's uncle said he was the prey of despair. He drove in to Maidstoneone day. When we asked him where he was going, he said--

'To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly tear itout by double handfuls in the extremity of my anguish every time I thinkof those innumerable Antiquities. '

But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china andthings to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have hishair cut too, because he is the soul of truth and honour. 

Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as well asother presents. I think these were meant to make up for the pistol thatwas taken away after the adventure of the fox-hunting. These gave usboys something to do between the birthday-keeping, which was on theSaturday, and the Wednesday when the Antiquities were to come. 

We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, becausethey had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was little or nounpleasantness over this. 

On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where theAntiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate nuts. And as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field two labourerswith picks and shovels, and a very young man with thin legs and abicycle. It turned out afterwards to be a free-wheel, the first we hadever seen. 

They stopped at a mound inside the Roman wall, and the men took theircoats off and spat on their hands. 

We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist explained hismachine to us very fully and carefully when we asked him, and then wesaw the men were cutting turfs and turning them over and rolling them upand putting them in a heap. So we asked the gentleman with the thin legswhat they were doing. He said--

'They are beginning the preliminary excavation in readiness forto-morrow. '

'What's up to-morrow?' H. O. Asked. 

'To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it. '

'Then YOU'RE the Antiquities?' said H. O. 

'I'm the secretary, ' said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly. 

'Oh, you're all coming to tea with us, ' Dora said, and added anxiously, 'how many of you do you think there'll be?'

'Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think, ' replied thegentleman. 

This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, who notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light andcareless, saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, 'What's up?'

'I've got an idea, ' the Dentist said. 'Let's call a council. ' TheDentist had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him Dentistever since the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he had been usedto calling such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereaswe all know that his former existing was that of a white mouse in atrap, with that cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars. 

(That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert's uncle told me. )

Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, andthe straw had stopped rustling after our sitting down, Dicky said--

'I hope it's nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?'

'No, ' said Denny in a hurry: 'quite the opposite. '

'I hope it's nothing wrong, ' said Dora and Daisy together. 

'It's--it's "Hail to thee, blithe spirit--bird thou never wert", ' saidDenny. 'I mean, I think it's what is called a lark. '

'You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist, ' said Dicky. 

'Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?'

We didn't. 

'It's by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge, ' Daisy interrupted, 'and it's abouta family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be good, and they were confirmed, and had a bazaar, and went to church at theMinster, and one of them got married and wore black watered silk andsilver ornaments. So her baby died, and then she was sorry she had notbeen a good mother to it. And--' Here Dicky got up and said he'd gotsome snares to attend to, and he'd receive a report of the Council afterit was over. But he only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, the fleet of foot, closed with him, and they rolled together on thefloor, while all the others called out 'Come back! Come back!' likeguinea-hens on a fence. 

Through the rustle and bustle and hustle of the struggle with Dicky, Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his everlastingquotations--

'"Come back, come back!" he cried in Greek, "Across the stormy water, And I'll forgive your Highland cheek, My daughter, O my daughter!"'

When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with theCouncil, Denny said--

'The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It's a ripping book. Oneof the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, and another triesto hit his little sister with a hoe. It's jolly fine, I tell you. '

Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He wouldnever have learnt such words as 'ripping' and 'jolly fine' while underthe auntal tyranny. 

Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book forgirls and little boys. 

But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so Oswaldsaid--

'But what's your lark?'Denny got pale pink and said--

'Don't hurry me. I'll tell you directly. Let me think a minute. '

Then he shut his pale pink eyelids a moment in thought, and then openedthem and stood up on the straw and said very fast--

'Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, pots. You know Albert's uncle said they were going to open the barrow, tolook for Roman remains to-morrow. Don't you think it seems a pity theyshouldn't find any?'

'Perhaps they will, ' Dora said. 

But Oswald saw, and he said 'Primus! Go ahead, old man. '

The Dentist went ahead. 

'In The Daisy Chain, ' he said, 'they dug in a Roman encampment and thechildren went first and put some pottery there they'd made themselves, and Harry's old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The doctor helped themto some stuff to partly efface the inscription, and all the grown-upswere sold. I thought we might--

 'You may break, you may shatter The vase if you will; But the scent of the Romans Will cling round it still. '

Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least forHIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the MaidstoneAntiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly would be indeedsplendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that we had notgot an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we hadn't anydoctor who would 'help us to stuff to efface', and etcetera; but westernly bade her stow it. We weren't going to do EXACTLY like thoseDaisy Chain kids. 

The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream--which wasthe Nile when we discovered its source--and dried it in the sun, andthen baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul Play. And most of thethings were such queer shapes that they should have done for almostanything--Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or antediluvian, orhousehold milk-jugs of the cavemen, Albert's uncle said. The pots were, fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because we had already buried themin mixed sand and river mud to improve the colour, and not remembered towash it off. 

So the Council at once collected it all--and some rusty hinges and somebrass buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl Councillorscarried it all concealed in their pinafores, while the men memberscarried digging tools. H. O. And Daisy were sent on ahead as scoutsto see if the coast was clear. We have learned the true usefulness ofscouts from reading about the Transvaal War. But all was still in thehush of evening sunset on the Roman ruin. 

We posted sentries, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls andgive a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached. 

Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when wehappened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it be saidthat a Bastable grudged time or trouble when a lark was at stake. We putthe things in as naturally as we could, and shoved the dirt back, tilleverything looked just as before. Then we went home, late for tea. But it was in a good cause; and there was no hot toast, onlybread-and-butter, which does not get cold with waiting. 

That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up tobed--

'Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not aword. '

Oswald said, 'No kid?' And she replied in the affirmation. 

So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair--for heshrinks from no pain if it is needful and right. 

And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got up andwent out, and there was Alice dressed. 

She said, 'I've found some broken things that look ever so much moreRoman--they were on top of the cupboard in the library. If you'll comewith me, we'll bury them just to see how surprised the others will be. '

It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind. 

He said--

'Wait half a shake. ' And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, andslipped a few peppermints into his pocket in case of catching cold. It is these thoughtful expedients which mark the born explorer andadventurer. 

It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, andwe decided we'd do some other daring moonlight act some other day. Wegot out of the front door, which is never locked till Albert's unclegoes to bed at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and silently across thebridge and through the fields to the Roman ruin. 

Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had beendark. But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your dreams. 

Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper. 

We did not take all the pots Alice had found--but just the two thatweren't broken--two crooked jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots aremade of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the turf up andscratched the earth under, and took it out very carefully in handfulson to the newspaper, till the hole was deepish. Then we put in the jugs, and filled it up with earth and flattened the turf over. Turf stretcheslike elastic. This we did a couple of yards from the place where themound was dug into by the men, and we had been so careful with thenewspaper that there was no loose earth about. 

Then we went home in the wet moonlight--at least the grass was verywet--chuckling through the peppermint, and got up to bed without anyoneknowing a single thing about it. 

The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and thetables were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and verygrand Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different kinds of cake, and bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and gooseberries andplums and jam sandwiches. And the girls decorated the tables withflowers--blue larkspur and white Canterbury bells. And at about threethere was a noise of people walking in the road, and presently theAntiquities began to come in at the front gate, and stood about on thelawn by twos and threes and sixes and sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, exactly like a Sunday-school treat. Presently some gentlemen came, wholooked like the teachers; they were not shy, and they came right up tothe door. So Albert's uncle, who had not been too proud to be up in ourroom with us watching the people on the lawn through the netting of ourshort blinds, said--

'I suppose that's the Committee. Come on!'

So we all went down--we were in our Sunday things--and Albert's unclereceived the Committee like a feudal system baron, and we were hisretainers. 

He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, andfoundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and JuliusCaesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and dog's-toothmoulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose that Albert's uncleremarked that all our mouths were open, which is a sign of reels in thebrain, for he whispered--

'Go hence, and mingle unsuspected with the crowd!'

So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and womenand one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to talk toher, though we did not like her. (She was covered in red velvet likean arm-chair. ) But she wouldn't. We thought at first she was from adeaf-and-dumb asylum, where her kind teachers had only managed to teachthe afflicted to say 'Yes' and 'No'. But afterwards we knew better, forNoel heard her say to her mother, 'I wish you hadn't brought me, mamma. I didn't have a pretty teacup, and I haven't enjoyed my tea one bit. 'And she had had five pieces of cake, besides little cakes and nearlya whole plate of plums, and there were only twelve pretty teacupsaltogether. 

Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and thenthe President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn'tunderstand, and other people made speeches we couldn't understandeither, except the part about kind hospitality, which made us not knowwhere to look. 

Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, andwe handed cups and plates. 

Albert's uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was leftof his hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-threeAntiquities present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary that'tea always fetched them'. 

Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we tookour hats--it was exactly like Sunday--and joined the crowded processionof eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, thoughthe weather was fiery and without a cloud. That is the sort of peoplethey were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets, and no one took theirgloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it isnot wrong to take your gloves off there. 

We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert'suncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart. 

Then he said: 'The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The hostsand hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly informed, anexcellent view may be obtained. '

So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of thelark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw thatthings were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passedround for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Romanremains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, thoughwe heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchangedmeaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in theextras. Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and weknew we really HAD sold the Antiquities this time. 

Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle towardsthe house and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut homethe back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert'suncle--

'A genuine find--most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have ONE. Well, if you insist--'

And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquitiesmelted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups andplates, and the trampled grass and the pleasures of memory were left. 

We had a very beautiful supper--out of doors, too--with jam sandwichesand cakes and things that were over; and as we watched the settingmonarch of the skies--I mean the sun--Alice said--

'Let's tell. '

We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but wehelped him a little in the narrating of the fell plot, because he hasyet to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning. 

When he had done, and we had done, Albert's uncle said, 'Well, itamused you; and you'll be glad to learn that it amused your friends theAntiquities. '

'Didn't they think they were Roman?' Daisy said; 'they did in The DaisyChain. '

'Not in the least, ' said Albert's uncle; 'but the Treasurer andSecretary were charmed by your ingenious preparations for theirreception. '

'We didn't want them to be disappointed, ' said Dora. 

'They weren't, ' said Albert's uncle. 'Steady on with those plums, H. O. Alittle way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found twospecimens of REAL Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them homethanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child. '

'Those were our jugs, ' said Alice, 'and we really HAVE sold theAntiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs andburying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listenedwith deeply respectful interest. 'We really have done it this time, haven't we?' she added in tones of well-deserved triumph. 

But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert's uncle from almost thebeginning of Alice's recital; and he now had the sensation of somethingbeing up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. Thesilence of Albert's uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly. 

'Haven't we?' repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitivebrother's delicate feelings had already got hold of. 'We have done itthis time, haven't we?'

'Since you ask me thus pointedly, ' answered Albert's uncle at last, 'Icannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots onthe top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The amphoraewhich you hid in the mound are probably--I can't say for certain, mind--priceless. They are the property of the owner of this house. Youhave taken them out and buried them. The President of the MaidstoneAntiquarian Society has taken them away in his bag. Now what are yougoing to do?'

Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others addedto our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs about our not being sojolly clever as we thought ourselves. 

There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. Hesaid--

'Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you. '

As Albert's uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained to ask him forany. 

Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat downon the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never tried tohave a private lark of their very own with the Antiquities--'A PrivateSale', Albert's uncle called it afterwards. But regrets, as nearlyalways happens, were vain. Something had to be done. 

But what?

Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of thegay and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, heartlessin their youngness, they were playing tag. I don't know how they could. Oswald would not like to play tag when his brother and sister were in ahole, but Oswald is an exception to some boys. 

But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of Albert'suncle's. 

The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from theleaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted with hard thinking, butthey could not think of anything. And it grew so dark that the moonlightbegan to show. 

Then Alice jumped up--just as Oswald was opening his mouth to saythe same thing--and said, 'Of course--how silly! I know. Come on in, Oswald. ' And they went on in. 

Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just askedcarelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next day tobuy some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after one or twothings. 

Albert's uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the bailifffrom the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and too buy pigs. At any other time Oswald would not have been able to bear to leave thebailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now it was different. For heand Alice had the weight on their bosoms of being thieves without havingmeant it--and nothing, not even pigs, had power to charm the young buthonourable Oswald till that stain had been wiped away. 

So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities' house, and Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly told us where thePresident lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the unfortunatebrother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of Camperdown Villa. 

When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. Thenthey waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large room withbooks and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking odds and endsin them. Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means he stuck to anything, no matter how ugly and silly, if only it was old. 

He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very well, he said, and asked what he could do for us. 

Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to ownhimself the ass he had been. But Alice was less delicately moulded. Shesaid--

'Oh, if you please, we are most awfully sorry, and we hope you'llforgive us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all theother poor dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find nothingRoman--so we put some pots and things in the barrow for you to find. '

'So I perceived, ' said the President, stroking his white beard andsmiling most agreeably at us; 'a harmless joke, my dear! Youth's theseason for jesting. There's no harm done--pray think no more about it. It's very honourable of you to come and apologize, I'm sure. '

His brow began to wear the furrowed, anxious look of one who wouldfain be rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before theyinterrupted him. 

Alice said, 'We didn't come for that. It's MUCH worse. Those were twoREAL true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they aren'tours. We didn't know they were real Roman. We wanted to sell theAntiquities--I mean Antiquaries--and we were sold ourselves. '

'This is serious, ' said the gentleman. 'I suppose you'd know the--the"jugs" if you saw them again?'

'Anywhere, ' said Oswald, with the confidential rashness of one who doesnot know what he is talking about. 

Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the one wewere in, and beckoned us to follow. We found ourselves amid shelves andshelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves--small ones--werefilled with the sort of jug we wanted. 

'Well, ' said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, like awicked cardinal, 'which is it?'

Oswald said, 'I don't know. '

Alice said, 'I should know if I had it in my hand. '

The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and Alicetried to look inside them. And one after another she shook her head andgave them back. At last she said, 'You didn't WASH them?'

Mr Longchamps shuddered and said 'No'. 

'Then, ' said Alice, 'there is something written with lead-pencil insideboth the jugs. I wish I hadn't. I would rather you didn't read it. Ididn't know it would be a nice old gentleman like you would find it. I thought it would be the younger gentleman with the thin legs and thenarrow smile. '

'Mr Turnbull. ' The President seemed to recognize the descriptionunerringly. 'Well, well--boys will be boys--girls, I mean. I won't beangry. Look at all the "jugs" and see if you can find yours. '

Alice did--and the next one she looked at she said, 'This is one'--andtwo jugs further on she said, 'This is the other. '

'Well, ' the President said, 'these are certainly the specimens which Iobtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will return themto him. But it's a disappointment. Yes, I think you must let me lookinside. '

He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he laughed. 

'Well, well, ' he said, 'we can't expect old heads on young shoulders. You're not the first who went forth to shear and returned shorn. Nor, itappears, am I. Next time you have a Sale of Antiquities, take care thatyou yourself are not "sold". Good-day to you, my dear. Don't let theincident prey on your mind, ' he said to Alice. 'Bless your heart, I wasa boy once myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye. '

We were in time to see the pigs bought after all. 

I asked Alice what on earth it was she'd scribbled inside the beastlyjugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she had written'Sucks' in one of the jugs, and 'Sold again, silly', in the other. 

But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we haveany Antiquities to tea again, they shan't find so much as a Greekwaistcoat button if we can help it. 

Unless it's the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For aman of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can picturea very different scene having been enacted over those rotten pots if thePresident had been an otherwise sort of man. 

But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress you bydrawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for yourself. 

CHAPTER 11. THE BENEVOLENT BAR

The tramp was very dusty about the feet and legs, and his clothes werevery ragged and dirty, but he had cheerful twinkly grey eyes, and hetouched his cap to the girls when he spoke to us, though a little asthough he would rather not. 

We were on the top of the big wall of the Roman ruin in the Three Treepasture. We had just concluded a severe siege with bows and arrows--theones that were given us to make up for the pistol that was confiscatedafter the sad but not sinful occasion when it shot a fox. 

To avoid accidents that you would be sorry for afterwards, Oswald, inhis thoughtfulness, had decreed that everyone was to wear wire masks. 

Luckily there were plenty of these, because a man who lived in the MoatHouse once went to Rome, where they throw hundreds and thousands ateach other in play, and call it a Comfit Battle or Battaglia di Confetti(that's real Italian). And he wanted to get up that sort of thing amongthe village people--but they were too beastly slack, so he chucked it. 

And in the attic were the wire masks he brought home with him from Rome, which people wear to prevent the nasty comfits getting in their mouthsand eyes. 

So we were all armed to the teeth with masks and arrows, but inattacking or defending a fort your real strength is not in yourequipment, but in your power of Shove. Oswald, Alice, Noel and Dennydefended the fort. We were much the strongest side, but that was howDicky and Oswald picked up. 

The others got in, it is true, but that was only because an arrow hitDicky on the nose, and it bled quarts as usual, though hit onlythrough the wire mask. Then he put into dock for repairs, and while thedefending party weren't looking he sneaked up the wall at the back andshoved Oswald off, and fell on top of him, so that the fort, now thatit had lost its gallant young leader, the life and soul of the besiegedparty, was of course soon overpowered, and had to surrender. 

Then we sat on the top and ate some peppermints Albert's uncle broughtus a bag of from Maidstone when he went to fetch away the Roman potterywe tried to sell the Antiquities with. 

The battle was over, and peace raged among us as we sat in the sun onthe big wall and looked at the fields, all blue and swimming in theheat. 

We saw the tramp coming through the beetfield. He made a dusty blot onthe fair scene. 

When he saw us he came close to the wall, and touched his cap, as I havesaid, and remarked--

'Excuse me interrupting of your sports, young gentlemen and ladies, butif you could so far oblige as to tell a labouring man the way to thenearest pub. It's a dry day and no error. '

'The "Rose and Crown" is the best pub, ' said Dicky, 'and the landlady isa friend of ours. It's about a mile if you go by the field path. '

'Lor' love a duck!' said the tramp, 'a mile's a long way, and walking'sa dry job this 'ere weather. ' We said we agreed with him. 

'Upon my sacred, ' said the tramp, 'if there was a pump handy I believeI'd take a turn at it--I would indeed, so help me if I wouldn't! Thoughwater always upsets me and makes my 'and shaky. '

We had not cared much about tramps since the adventure of the villainoussailor-man and the Tower of Mystery, but we had the dogs on the wallwith us (Lady was awfully difficult to get up, on account of her longdeer-hound legs), and the position was a strong one, and easy to defend. Besides the tramp did not look like that bad sailor, nor talk like it. And we considerably outnumbered the tramp, anyway. 

Alice nudged Oswald and said something about Sir Philip Sidney and thetramp's need being greater than his, so Oswald was obliged to go to thehole in the top of the wall where we store provisions during sieges andget out the bottle of ginger-beer which he had gone without whenthe others had theirs so as to drink it when he got really thirsty. Meanwhile Alice said--

'We've got some ginger-beer; my brother's getting it. I hope you won'tmind drinking out of our glass. We can't wash it, you know--unless werinse it out with a little ginger-beer. '

'Don't ye do it, miss, ' he said eagerly; 'never waste good liquor onwashing. '

The glass was beside us on the wall. Oswald filled it with ginger-beerand handed down the foaming tankard to the tramp. He had to lie on hisyoung stomach to do this. 

The tramp was really quite polite--one of Nature's gentlemen, and a manas well, we found out afterwards. He said--

'Here's to you!' before he drank. Then he drained the glass till the rimrested on his nose. 

'Swelp me, but I WAS dry, ' he said. 'Don't seem to matter much whatit is, this weather, do it?--so long as it's suthink wet. Well, here'sthanking you. '

'You're very welcome, ' said Dora; 'I'm glad you liked it. '

'Like it?'--said he. 'I don't suppose you know what it's like to have athirst on you. Talk of free schools and free libraries, and free bathsand wash-houses and such! Why don't someone start free DRINKS? He'd be aero, he would. I'd vote for him any day of the week and one over. Ef yerdon't objec I'll set down a bit and put on a pipe. '

He sat down on the grass and began to smoke. We asked him questionsabout himself, and he told us many of his secret sorrows--especiallyabout there being no work nowadays for an honest man. At last he droppedasleep in the middle of a story about a vestry he worked for that hadn'tacted fair and square by him like he had by them, or it (I don't know ifvestry is singular or plural), and we went home. But before we went weheld a hurried council and collected what money we could from the littlewe had with us (it was ninepence-halfpenny), and wrapped it in an oldenvelope Dicky had in his pocket and put it gently on the billowingmiddle of the poor tramp's sleeping waistcoat, so that he would findit when he woke. None of the dogs said a single syllable while we weredoing this, so we knew they believed him to be poor but honest, and wealways find it safe to take their word for things like that. 

As we went home a brooding silence fell upon us; we found out afterwardsthat those words of the poor tramp's about free drinks had sunk deep inall our hearts, and rankled there. 

After dinner we went out and sat with our feet in the stream. Peopletell you it makes your grub disagree with you to do this just aftermeals, but it never hurts us. There is a fallen willow across the streamthat just seats the eight of us, only the ones at the end can't gettheir feet into the water properly because of the bushes, so we keepchanging places. We had got some liquorice root to chew. This helpsthought. Dora broke a peaceful silence with this speech--

'Free drinks. '

The words awoke a response in every breast. 

'I wonder someone doesn't, ' H. O. Said, leaning back till he nearlytoppled in, and was only saved by Oswald and Alice at their own deadlyperil. 

'Do for goodness sake sit still, H. O. , ' observed Alice. 'It would be aglorious act! I wish WE could. '

'What, sit still?' asked H. O. 

'No, my child, ' replied Oswald, 'most of us can do that when we try. Your angel sister was only wishing to set up free drinks for the poorand thirsty. '

'Not for all of them, ' Alice said, 'just a few. Change places now, Dicky. My feet aren't properly wet at all. '

It is very difficult to change places safely on the willow. The changershave to crawl over the laps of the others, while the rest sit tight andhold on for all they're worth. But the hard task was accomplished andthen Alice went on--

'And we couldn't do it for always, only a day or two--just while ourmoney held out. Eiffel Tower lemonade's the best, and you get a jollylot of it for your money too. There must be a great many sincerelythirsty persons go along the Dover Road every day. '

'It wouldn't be bad. We've got a little chink between us, ' said Oswald. 

'And then think how the poor grateful creatures would linger and tell usabout their inmost sorrows. It would be most frightfully interesting. We could write all their agonied life histories down afterwards like Allthe Year Round Christmas numbers. Oh, do let's!'

Alice was wriggling so with earnestness that Dicky thumped her to makeher calm. 

'We might do it, just for one day, ' Oswald said, 'but it wouldn't bemuch--only a drop in the ocean compared with the enormous dryness of allthe people in the whole world. Still, every little helps, as the mermaidsaid when she cried into the sea. '

'I know a piece of poetry about that, ' Denny said. 

 'Small things are best. Care and unrest To wealth and rank are given, But little things On little wings--

do something or other, I forget what, but it means the same as Oswaldwas saying about the mermaid. '

'What are you going to call it?' asked Noel, coming out of a dream. 

'Call what?'

'The Free Drinks game. '

 'It's a horrid shame If the Free Drinks game Doesn't have a name. You would be to blame If anyone came And--'

'Oh, shut up!' remarked Dicky. 'You've been making that rot up all thetime we've been talking instead of listening properly. ' Dicky hatespoetry. I don't mind it so very much myself, especially Macaulay's andKipling's and Noel's. 

'There was a lot more--"lame" and "dame" and "name" and "game" andthings--and now I've forgotten it, ' Noel said in gloom. 

'Never mind, ' Alice answered, 'it'll come back to you in the silentwatches of the night; you see if it doesn't. But really, Noel's right, it OUGHT to have a name. '

'Free Drinks Company. ' 'Thirsty Travellers' Rest. ' 'The Travellers'joy. '

These names were suggested, but not cared for extra. 

Then someone said--I think it was Oswald--'Why not "The HouseBeautiful"?'

'It can't be a house, it must be in the road. It'll only be a stall. '

'The "Stall Beautiful" is simply silly, ' Oswald said. 

'The "Bar Beautiful" then, ' said Dicky, who knows what the 'Rose andCrown' bar is like inside, which of course is hidden from girls. 

'Oh, wait a minute, ' cried the Dentist, snapping his fingers likehe always does when he is trying to remember things. 'I thought ofsomething, only Daisy tickled me and it's gone--I know--let's call itthe Benevolent Bar!'

It was exactly right, and told the whole truth in two words. 'Benevolent' showed it was free and 'Bar' showed what was free; e. G. Things to drink. The 'Benevolent Bar' it was. 

We went home at once to prepare for the morrow, for of course we meantto do it the very next day. Procrastination is you know what--and delaysare dangerous. If we had waited long we might have happened to spend ourmoney on something else. 

The utmost secrecy had to be observed, because Mrs Pettigrew hatestramps. Most people do who keep fowls. Albert's uncle was in London tillthe next evening, so we could not consult him, but we know he is alwayschock full of intelligent sympathy with the poor and needy. 

Acting with the deepest disguise, we made an awning to cover theBenevolent Bar keepers from the searching rays of the monarch of theskies. We found some old striped sun-blinds in the attic, and the girlssewed them together. They were not very big when they were done, so weadded the girls' striped petticoats. I am sorry their petticoats turnup so constantly in my narrative, but they really are very useful, especially when the band is cut off. The girls borrowed Mrs Pettigrew'ssewing-machine; they could not ask her leave without explanations, whichwe did not wish to give just then, and she had lent it to them before. They took it into the cellar to work it, so that she should not hear thenoise and ask bothering questions. 

They had to balance it on one end of the beer-stand. It was not easy. While they were doing the sewing we boys went out and got willow polesand chopped the twigs off, and got ready as well as we could to put upthe awning. 

When we returned a detachment of us went down to the shop in the villagefor Eiffel Tower lemonade. We bought seven-and-sixpence worth; then wemade a great label to say what the bar was for. Then there was nothingelse to do except to make rosettes out of a blue sash of Daisy's to showwe belonged to the Benevolent Bar. 

The next day was as hot as ever. We rose early from our innocentslumbers, and went out to the Dover Road to the spot we had marked downthe day before. It was at a cross-roads, so as to be able to give drinksto as many people as possible. 

We hid the awning and poles behind the hedge and went home to brekker. 

After break we got the big zinc bath they wash clothes in, and afterfilling it with clean water we just had to empty it again because it wastoo heavy to lift. So we carried it vacant to the trysting-spot and leftH. O. And Noel to guard it while we went and fetched separate pails ofwater; very heavy work, and no one who wasn't really benevolent wouldhave bothered about it for an instant. Oswald alone carried three pails. So did Dicky and the Dentist. Then we rolled down some empty barrelsand stood up three of them by the roadside, and put planks on them. This made a very first-class table, and we covered it with the besttablecloth we could find in the linen cupboard. We brought out severalglasses and some teacups--not the best ones, Oswald was firm aboutthat--and the kettle and spirit-lamp and the tea-pot, in case any wearytramp-woman fancied a cup of tea instead of Eiffel Tower. H. O. And Noelhad to go down to the shop for tea; they need not have grumbled; theyhad not carried any of the water. And their having to go the second timewas only because we forgot to tell them to get some real lemons to puton the bar to show what the drink would be like when you got it. The manat the shop kindly gave us tick for the lemons, and we cashed up out ofour next week's pocket-money. 

Two or three people passed while we were getting things ready, butno one said anything except the man who said, 'Bloomin' Sunday-schooltreat', and as it was too early in the day for anyone to be thirsty wedid not stop the wayfarers to tell them their thirst could be slakedwithout cost at our Benevolent Bar. 

But when everything was quite ready, and our blue rosettes fastened onour breasts over our benevolent hearts, we stuck up the great placard wehad made with 'Benevolent Bar. Free Drinks to all Weary Travellers', inwhite wadding on red calico, like Christmas decorations in church. Wehad meant to fasten this to the edge of the awning, but we had to pinit to the front of the tablecloth, because I am sorry to say the awningwent wrong from the first. We could not drive the willow poles into theroad; it was much too hard. And in the ditch it was too soft, besidesbeing no use. So we had just to cover our benevolent heads with ourhats, and take it in turns to go into the shadow of the tree on theother side of the road. For we had pitched our table on the sunny sideof the way, of course, relying on our broken-reed-like awning, andwishing to give it a fair chance. 

Everything looked very nice, and we longed to see somebody reallymiserable come along so as to be able to allieve their distress. 

A man and woman were the first: they stopped and stared, but when Alicesaid, 'Free drinks! Free drinks! Aren't you thirsty?' they said, 'Nothank you, ' and went on. Then came a person from the village--he didn'teven say 'Thank you' when we asked him, and Oswald began to fear itmight be like the awful time when we wandered about on Christmas Daytrying to find poor persons and persuade them to eat our Consciencepudding. 

But a man in a blue jersey and a red bundle eased Oswald's fears bybeing willing to drink a glass of lemonade, and even to say, 'Thank you, I'm sure' quite nicely. 

After that it was better. As we had foreseen, there were plenty ofthirsty people walking along the Dover Road, and even some from thecross-road. 

We had had the pleasure of seeing nineteen tumblers drained to the dregsere we tasted any ourselves. Nobody asked for tea. 

More people went by than we gave lemonade to. Some wouldn't have itbecause they were too grand. One man told us he could pay for his ownliquor when he was dry, which, praise be, he wasn't over and above, atpresent; and others asked if we hadn't any beer, and when we said 'No', they said it showed what sort we were--as if the sort was not a goodone, which it is. 

And another man said, 'Slops again! You never get nothing for nothing, not this side of heaven you don't. Look at the bloomin' blue ribbon on'em! Oh, Lor'!' and went on quite sadly without having a drink. 

Our Pig-man who helped us on the Tower of Mystery day went by and wehailed him, and explained it all to him and gave him a drink, and askedhim to call as he came back. He liked it all, and said we were a realgood sort. How different from the man who wanted the beer. Then he wenton. 

One thing I didn't like, and that was the way boys began to gather. Ofcourse we could not refuse to give drinks to any traveller who was oldenough to ask for it, but when one boy had had three glasses of lemonadeand asked for another, Oswald said--

'I think you've had jolly well enough. You can't be really thirsty afterall that lot. '

The boy said, 'Oh, can't I? You'll just see if I can't, ' and went away. Presently he came back with four other boys, all bigger than Oswald; andthey all asked for lemonade. Oswald gave it to the four new ones, but hewas determined in his behaviour to the other one, and wouldn't give hima drop. Then the five of them went and sat on a gate a little way offand kept laughing in a nasty way, and whenever a boy went by they calledout--

'I say, 'ere's a go, ' and as often as not the new boy would hang aboutwith them. It was disquieting, for though they had nearly all hadlemonade we could see it had not made them friendly. 

A great glorious glow of goodness gladdened (those go all together andare called alliteration) our hearts when we saw our own tramp comingdown the road. The dogs did not growl at him as they had at the boys orthe beer-man. (I did not say before that we had the dogs with us, butof course we had, because we had promised never to go out without them. )Oswald said, 'Hullo, ' and the tramp said, 'Hullo. ' Then Alice said, 'Yousee we've taken your advice; we're giving free drinks. Doesn't it alllook nice?'

'It does that, ' said the tramp. 'I don't mind if I do. '

So we gave him two glasses of lemonade succeedingly, and thanked himfor giving us the idea. He said we were very welcome, and if we'd noobjection he'd sit down a bit and put on a pipe. He did, and aftertalking a little more he fell asleep. Drinking anything seemed to end insleep with him. I always thought it was only beer and things made peoplesleepy, but he was not so. When he was asleep he rolled into the ditch, but it did not wake him up. 

The boys were getting very noisy, and they began to shout things, and tomake silly noises with their mouths, and when Oswald and Dicky went overto them and told them to just chuck it, they were worse than ever. I think perhaps Oswald and Dicky might have fought and settledthem--though there were eleven, yet back to back you can always do itagainst overwhelming numbers in a book--only Alice called out--

'Oswald, here's some more, come back!'

We went. Three big men were coming down the road, very red and hot, andnot amiable-looking. They stopped in front of the Benevolent Bar andslowly read the wadding and red-stuff label. 

Then one of them said he was blessed, or something like that, andanother said he was too. The third one said, 'Blessed or not, a drink'sa drink. Blue ribbon, though, by ----' (a word you ought not to say, though it is in the Bible and the catechism as well). 'Let's have aliquor, little missy. '

The dogs were growling, but Oswald thought it best not to take anynotice of what the dogs said, but to give these men each a drink. So hedid. They drank, but not as if they cared about it very much, and thenthey set their glasses down on the table, a liberty no one else hadentered into, and began to try and chaff Oswald. Oswald said in anundervoice to H. O. --

'Just take charge. I want to speak to the girls a sec. Call if you wantanything. ' And then he drew the others away, to say he thought there'dbeen enough of it, and considering the boys and new three men, perhapswe'd better chuck it and go home. We'd been benevolent nearly four hoursanyway. 

While this conversation and the objections of the others were going on, H. O. Perpetuated an act which nearly wrecked the Benevolent Bar. 

Of course Oswald was not an eye or ear witness of what happened, butfrom what H. O. Said in the calmer moments of later life, I think thiswas about what happened. One of the big disagreeable men said to H. O. --

'Ain't got such a thing as a drop o' spirit, 'ave yer?'

H. O. Said no, we hadn't, only lemonade and tea. 

'Lemonade and tea! blank' (bad word I told you about) 'and blazes, 'replied the bad character, for such he afterwards proved to be. 'What'sTHAT then?'

He pointed to a bottle labelled Dewar's whisky, which stood on the tablenear the spirit-kettle. 

'Oh, is THAT what you want?' said H. O. Kindly. 

The man is understood to have said he should bloomin' well think so, butH. O. Is not sure about the 'bloomin'. 

He held out his glass with about half the lemonade in it, and H. O. Generously filled up the tumbler out of the bottle, labelled Dewar'swhisky. The man took a great drink, and then suddenly he spat out whathappened to be left in his mouth just then, and began to swear. It wasthen that Oswald and Dicky rushed upon the scene. 

The man was shaking his fist in H. O. 's face, and H. O. Was stillholding on to the bottle we had brought out the methylated spirit in forthe lamp, in case of anyone wanting tea, which they hadn't. 'If I wasJim, ' said the second ruffian, for such indeed they were, when he hadsnatched the bottle from H. O. And smelt it, 'I'd chuck the whole showover the hedge, so I would, and you young gutter-snipes after it, so Iwouldn't. '

Oswald saw in a moment that in point of strength, if not numbers, he andhis party were out-matched, and the unfriendly boys were drawing gladlynear. It is no shame to signal for help when in distress--the best shipsdo it every day. Oswald shouted 'Help, help!' Before the words were outof his brave yet trembling lips our own tramp leapt like an antelopefrom the ditch and said--

'Now then, what's up?'

The biggest of the three men immediately knocked him down. He lay still. 

The biggest then said, 'Come on--any more of you? Come on!'

Oswald was so enraged at this cowardly attack that he actually hit outat the big man--and he really got one in just above the belt. Then heshut his eyes, because he felt that now all was indeed up. There wasa shout and a scuffle, and Oswald opened his eyes in astonishment atfinding himself still whole and unimpaired. Our own tramp had artfullysimulated insensibleness, to get the men off their guard, and then hadsuddenly got his arms round a leg each of two of the men, and pulledthem to the ground, helped by Dicky, who saw his game and rushed in atthe same time, exactly like Oswald would have done if he had not had hiseyes shut ready to meet his doom. 

The unpleasant boys shouted, and the third man tried to help hisunrespectable friends, now on their backs involved in a desperatestruggle with our own tramp, who was on top of them, accompanied byDicky. It all happened in a minute, and it was all mixed up. The dogswere growling and barking--Martha had one of the men by the trouserleg and Pincher had another; the girls were screaming like mad and thestrange boys shouted and laughed (little beasts!), and then suddenly ourPig-man came round the corner, and two friends of his with him. Hehad gone and fetched them to take care of us if anything unpleasantoccurred. It was a very thoughtful, and just like him. 

'Fetch the police!' cried the Pig-man in noble tones, and H. O. Startedrunning to do it. But the scoundrels struggled from under Dicky and ourtramp, shook off the dogs and some bits of trouser, and fled heavilydown the road. 

Our Pig-man said, 'Get along home!' to the disagreeable boys, and'Shoo'd' them as if they were hens, and they went. H. O. Ran back whenthey began to go up the road, and there we were, all standing breathlessin tears on the scene of the late desperate engagement. Oswald gives youhis word of honour that his and Dicky's tears were tears of pure rage. There are such things as tears of pure rage. Anyone who knows will tellyou so. 

We picked up our own tramp and bathed the lump on his forehead withlemonade. The water in the zinc bath had been upset in the struggle. Then he and the Pig-man and his kind friends helped us carry our thingshome. 

The Pig-man advised us on the way not to try these sort of kind actionswithout getting a grown-up to help us. We've been advised this before, but now I really think we shall never try to be benevolent to the poorand needy again. At any rate not unless we know them very well first. 

We have seen our own tramp often since. The Pig-man gave him a job. Hehas got work to do at last. The Pig-man says he is not such a very badchap, only he will fall asleep after the least drop of drink. We knowthat is his failing. We saw it at once. But it was lucky for us he fellasleep that day near our benevolent bar. 

I will not go into what my father said about it all. There was a gooddeal in it about minding your own business--there generally is in mostof the talkings-to we get. But he gave our tramp a sovereign, and thePig-man says he went to sleep on it for a solid week. 

CHAPTER 12. THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS

The author of these few lines really does hope to goodness that no onewill be such an owl as to think from the number of things we did when wewere in the country, that we were wretched, neglected little children, whose grown-up relations sparkled in the bright haunts of pleasure, andwhirled in the giddy what's-its-name of fashion, while we were left toweep forsaken at home. It was nothing of the kind, and I wish you toknow that my father was with us a good deal--and Albert's uncle (who isreally no uncle of ours, but only of Albert next door when we livedin Lewisham) gave up a good many of his valuable hours to us. And thefather of Denny and Daisy came now and then, and other people, quite asmany as we wished to see. And we had some very decent times with them;and enjoyed ourselves very much indeed, thank you. In some ways thegood times you have with grown-ups are better than the ones you have byyourselves. At any rate they are safer. It is almost impossible, then, to do anything fatal without being pulled up short by a grown-up ere yetthe deed is done. And, if you are careful, anything that goes wrong canbe looked on as the grown-up's fault. But these secure pleasures are notso interesting to tell about as the things you do when there is no oneto stop you on the edge of the rash act. 

It is curious, too, that many of our most interesting games happenedwhen grown-ups were far away. For instance when we were pilgrims. 

It was just after the business of the Benevolent Bar, and it was a wetday. It is not easy to amuse yourself indoors on a wet day as olderpeople seem to think, especially when you are far removed from yourown home, and haven't got all your own books and things. The girls wereplaying Halma--which is a beastly game--Noel was writing poetry, H. O. Was singing 'I don't know what to do' to the tune of 'Canaan's happyshore'. It goes like this, and is very tiresome to listen to--

 'I don't know what to do--oo--oo--oo! I don't know what to do--oo--oo! It IS a beastly rainy day And I don't know what to do. '

The rest of us were trying to make him shut up. We put a carpet bag overhis head, but he went on inside it; and then we sat on him, but he sangunder us; we held him upside down and made him crawl head first underthe sofa, but when, even there, he kept it up, we saw that nothing shortof violence would induce him to silence, so we let him go. And then hesaid we had hurt him, and we said we were only in fun, and he said ifwe were he wasn't, and ill feeling might have grown up even out of aplayful brotherly act like ours had been, only Alice chucked the Halmaand said--

'Let dogs delight. Come on--let's play something. '

Then Dora said, 'Yes, but look here. Now we're together I do want to saysomething. What about the Wouldbegoods Society?'

Many of us groaned, and one said, 'Hear! hear!' I will not say whichone, but it was not Oswald. 

'No, but really, ' Dora said, 'I don't want to be preachy--but you knowwe DID say we'd try to be good. And it says in a book I was reading onlyyesterday that NOT being naughty is not enough. You must BE good. Andwe've hardly done anything. The Golden Deed book's almost empty. '

'Couldn't we have a book of leaden deeds?' said Noel, coming out of hispoetry, 'then there'd be plenty for Alice to write about if she wantsto, or brass or zinc or aluminium deeds? We shan't ever fill the bookwith golden ones. '

H. O. Had rolled himself in the red tablecloth and said Noel was onlyadvising us to be naughty, and again peace waved in the balance. ButAlice said, 'Oh, H. O. , DON'T--he didn't mean that; but really andtruly, I wish wrong things weren't so interesting. You begin to do anoble act, and then it gets so exciting, and before you know where youare you are doing something wrong as hard as you can lick. '

'And enjoying it too' Dick said. 

'It's very curious, ' Denny said, 'but you don't seem to be able to becertain inside yourself whether what you're doing is right if you happento like doing it, but if you don't like doing it you know quite well. Ionly thought of that just now. I wish Noel would make a poem about it. '

'I am, ' Noel said; 'it began about a crocodile but it is finishingitself up quite different from what I meant it to at first. Just wait aminute. '

He wrote very hard while his kind brothers and sisters and his littlefriends waited the minute he had said, and then he read:

'The crocodile is very wise, He lives in the Nile with little eyes, Heeats the hippopotamus too, And if he could he would eat up you. 

'The lovely woods and starry skies He looks upon with glad surprise! Hesees the riches of the east, And the tiger and lion, kings of beast. 

'So let all be good and beware Of saying shan't and won't and don'tcare; For doing wrong is easier far Than any of the right things I knowabout are. 

And I couldn't make it king of beasts because of it not rhyming witheast, so I put the s off beasts on to king. It comes even in the end. '

We all said it was a very nice piece of poetry. Noel gets really ill ifyou don't like what he writes, and then he said, 'If it's trying that'swanted, I don't care how hard we TRY to be good, but we may as welldo it some nice way. Let's be Pilgrim's Progress, like I wanted to atfirst. '

And we were all beginning to say we didn't want to, when suddenly Dorasaid, 'Oh, look here! I know. We'll be the Canterbury Pilgrims. Peopleused to go pilgrimages to make themselves good. '

'With peas in their shoes, ' the Dentist said. 'It's in a piece ofpoetry--only the man boiled his peas--which is quite unfair. '

'Oh, yes, ' said H. O. , 'and cocked hats. '

'Not cocked--cockled'--it was Alice who said this. 'And they had staffsand scrips, and they told each other tales. We might as well. '

Oswald and Dora had been reading about the Canterbury Pilgrims in a bookcalled A Short History of the English People. It is not at all shortreally--three fat volumes--but it has jolly good pictures. It waswritten by a gentleman named Green. So Oswald said--

'All right. I'll be the Knight. '

'I'll be the wife of Bath, ' Dora said. 'What will you be, Dicky?'

'Oh, I don't care, I'll be Mr Bath if you like. '

'We don't know much about the people, ' Alice said. 'How many werethere?'

'Thirty, ' Oswald replied, 'but we needn't be all of them. There's aNun-Priest. '

'Is that a man or a woman?'

Oswald said he could not be sure by the picture, but Alice and Noelcould be it between them. So that was settled. Then we got the book andlooked at the dresses to see if we could make up dresses for the parts. At first we thought we would, because it would be something to do, and it was a very wet day; but they looked difficult, especially theMiller's. Denny wanted to be the Miller, but in the end he was theDoctor, because it was next door to Dentist, which is what we call himfor short. Daisy was to be the Prioress--because she is good, and has'a soft little red mouth', and H. O. WOULD be the Manciple (I don't knowwhat that is), because the picture of him is bigger than most of theothers, and he said Manciple was a nice portmanteau word--half mandarinand half disciple. 

'Let's get the easiest parts of the dresses ready first. ' Alicesaid--'the pilgrims' staffs and hats and the cockles. '

So Oswald and Dicky braved the fury of the elements and went into thewood beyond the orchard to cut ash-sticks. We got eight jolly good longones. Then we took them home, and the girls bothered till we changed ourclothes, which were indeed sopping with the elements we had faced. 

Then we peeled the sticks. They were nice and white at first, but theysoon got dirty when we carried them. It is a curious thing: howeveroften you wash your hands they always seem to come off on anythingwhite. And we nailed paper rosettes to the tops of them. That was thenearest we could get to cockle-shells. 

'And we may as well have them there as on our hats, ' Alice said. 'Andlet's call each other by our right names to-day, just to get into it. Don't you think so, Knight?'

'Yea, Nun-Priest, ' Oswald was replying, but Noel said she was only halfthe Nun-Priest, and again a threat of unpleasantness darkened the air. But Alice said--

'Don't be a piggy-wiggy, Noel, dear; you can have it all, I don't wantit. I'll just be a plain pilgrim, or Henry who killed Becket. '

So she was called the Plain Pilgrim, and she did not mind. 

We thought of cocked hats, but they are warm to wear, and the big gardenhats that make you look like pictures on the covers of plantation songsdid beautifully. We put cockle-shells on them. Sandals we did try, withpieces of oil-cloth cut the shape of soles and fastened with tape, butthe dust gets into your toes so, and we decided boots were better forsuch a long walk. Some of the pilgrims who were very earnest decidedto tie their boots with white tape crossed outside to pretend sandals. Denny was one of these earnest palmers. As for dresses, there was notime to make them properly, and at first we thought of nightgowns; butwe decided not to, in case people in Canterbury were not used to thatsort of pilgrim nowadays. We made up our minds to go as we were--or aswe might happen to be next day. 

You will be ready to believe we hoped next day would be fine. It was. 

Fair was the morn when the pilgrims arose and went down to breakfast. Albert's uncle had had brekker early and was hard at work in his study. We heard his quill pen squeaking when we listened at the door. It is notwrong to listen at doors when there is only one person inside, becausenobody would tell itself secrets aloud when it was alone. 

We got lunch from the housekeeper, Mrs Pettigrew. She seems almost toLIKE us all to go out and take our lunch with us. Though I should thinkit must be very dull for her all alone. I remember, though, that Eliza, our late general at Lewisham, was just the same. We took the dear dogsof course. Since the Tower of Mystery happened we are not allowed to goanywhere without the escort of these faithful friends of man. We did nottake Martha, because bull-dogs do not like walks. Remember this if youever have one of those valuable animals. 

When we were all ready, with our big hats and cockle-shells, and ourstaves and our tape sandals, the pilgrims looked very nice. 

'Only we haven't any scrips, ' Dora said. 'What is a scrip?'

'I think it's something to read. A roll of parchment or something. '

So we had old newspapers rolled up, and carried them in our hands. Wetook the Globe and the Westminster Gazette because they are pink andgreen. The Dentist wore his white sandshoes, sandalled with black tape, and bare legs. They really looked almost as good as bare feet. 

'We OUGHT to have peas in our shoes, ' he said. But we did not think so. We knew what a very little stone in your boot will do, let alone peas. 

Of course we knew the way to go to Canterbury, because the old Pilgrims'Road runs just above our house. It is a very pretty road, narrow, andoften shady. It is nice for walking, but carts do not like it because itis rough and rutty; so there is grass growing in patches on it. 

I have said that it was a fine day, which means that it was not raining, but the sun did not shine all the time. 

''Tis well, O Knight, ' said Alice, 'that the orb of day shines not inundi--what's-its-name?--splendour. '

'Thou sayest sooth, Plain Pilgrim, ' replied Oswald. ''Tis jolly warmeven as it is. '

'I wish I wasn't two people, ' Noel said, 'it seems to make me hotter. Ithink I'll be a Reeve or something. '

But we would not let him, and we explained that if he hadn't been sobeastly particular Alice would have been half of him, and he had onlyhimself to thank if being all of a Nun-Priest made him hot. 

But it WAS warm certainly, and it was some time since we'd gone so farin boots. Yet when H. O. Complained we did our duty as pilgrims andmade him shut up. He did as soon as Alice said that about whining andgrizzling being below the dignity of a Manciple. 

It was so warm that the Prioress and the wife of Bath gave up walkingwith their arms round each other in their usual silly way (Albert'suncle calls it Laura Matildaing), and the Doctor and Mr Bath had to taketheir jackets off and carry them. 

I am sure if an artist or a photographer, or any person who likedpilgrims, had seen us he would have been very pleased. The papercockle-shells were first-rate, but it was awkward having them on the topof the staffs, because they got in your way when you wanted the staff touse as a walking-stick. 

We stepped out like a man all of us, and kept it up as well as we couldin book-talk, and at first all was merry as a dinner-bell; but presentlyOswald, who was the 'very perfect gentle knight', could not helpnoticing that one of us was growing very silent and rather pale, likepeople are when they have eaten something that disagrees with thembefore they are quite sure of the fell truth. 

So he said, 'What's up, Dentist, old man?' quite kindly and like aperfect knight, though, of course, he was annoyed with Denny. It issickening when people turn pale in the middle of a game and everythingis spoiled, and you have to go home, and tell the spoiler how sorry youare that he is knocked up, and pretend not to mind about the game beingspoiled. 

Denny said, 'Nothing', but Oswald knew better. 

Then Alice said, 'Let's rest a bit, Oswald, it IS hot. '

'Sir Oswald, if you please, Plain Pilgrim, ' returned her brotherdignifiedly. 'Remember I'm a knight. '

So then we sat down and had lunch, and Denny looked better. We playedadverbs, and twenty questions, and apprenticing your son, for a bit inthe shade, and then Dicky said it was time to set sail if we meant tomake the port of Canterbury that night. Of course, pilgrims reck not ofports, but Dicky never does play the game thoughtfully. 

We went on. I believe we should have got to Canterbury all right andquite early, only Denny got paler and paler, and presently Oswald saw, beyond any doubt, that he was beginning to walk lame. 

'Shoes hurt you, Dentist?' he said, still with kind strivingcheerfulness. 

'Not much--it's all right, ' returned the other. 

So on we went--but we were all a bit tired now--and the sun was hotterand hotter; the clouds had gone away. We had to begin to sing to keep upour spirits. We sang 'The British Grenadiers' and 'John Brown's Body', which is grand to march to, and a lot of others. We were just startingon 'Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching', when Denny stoppedshort. He stood first on one foot and then on the other, and suddenlyscrewed up his face and put his knuckles in his eyes and sat down ona heap of stones by the roadside. When we pulled his hands down he wasactually crying. The author does not wish to say it is babyish to cry. 

'Whatever is up?' we all asked, and Daisy and Dora petted him to get himto say, but he only went on howling, and said it was nothing, only wouldwe go on and leave him, and call for him as we came back. 

Oswald thought very likely something had given Denny the stomach-ache, and he did not like to say so before all of us, so he sent the othersaway and told them to walk on a bit. 

Then he said, 'Now, Denny, don't be a young ass. What is it? Is itstomach-ache?'

And Denny stopped crying to say 'No!' as loud as he could. 

'Well, then, ' Oswald said, 'look here, you're spoiling the whole thing. Don't be a jackape, Denny. What is it?'

'You won't tell the others if I tell you?'

'Not if you say not, ' Oswald answered in kindly tones. 

'Well, it's my shoes. '

'Take them off, man. '

'You won't laugh?'

'NO!' cried Oswald, so impatiently that the others looked back to seewhy he was shouting. He waved them away, and with humble gentlenessbegan to undo the black-tape sandals. 

Denny let him, crying hard all the time. 

When Oswald had got off the first shoe the mystery was made plain tohim. 

'Well! Of all the--' he said in proper indignation. 

Denny quailed--though he said he did not--but then he doesn't know whatquailing is, and if Denny did not quail then Oswald does not know whatquailing is either. 

For when Oswald took the shoe off he naturally chucked it down andgave it a kick, and a lot of little pinky yellow things rolled out. AndOswald look closer at the interesting sight. And the little things wereSPLIT peas. 

'Perhaps you'll tell me, ' said the gentle knight, with the politeness ofdespair, 'why on earth you've played the goat like this?'

'Oh, don't be angry, ' Denny said; and now his shoes were off, he curledand uncurled his toes and stopped crying. 'I KNEW pilgrims put peas intheir shoes--and--oh, I wish you wouldn't laugh!'

'I'm not, ' said Oswald, still with bitter politeness. 

'I didn't want to tell you I was going to, because I wanted to be betterthan all of you, and I thought if you knew I was going to you'd want totoo, and you wouldn't when I said it first. So I just put some peasin my pocket and dropped one or two at a time into my shoes when youweren't looking. '

In his secret heart Oswald said, 'Greedy young ass. ' For it IS greedy towant to have more of anything than other people, even goodness. 

Outwardly Oswald said nothing. 

'You see'--Denny went on--'I do want to be good. And if pilgriming is todo you good, you ought to do it properly. I shouldn't mind being hurtin my feet if it would make me good for ever and ever. And besides, Iwanted to play the game thoroughly. You always say I don't. '

The breast of the kind Oswald was touched by these last words. 

'I think you're quite good enough, ' he said. 'I'll fetch back theothers--no, they won't laugh. '

And we all went back to Denny, and the girls made a fuss with him. ButOswald and Dicky were grave and stood aloof. They were old enough to seethat being good was all very well, but after all you had to get the boyhome somehow. 

When they said this, as agreeably as they could, Denny said--

'It's all right--someone will give me a lift. '

'You think everything in the world can be put right with a lift, ' Dickysaid, and he did not speak lovingly. 

'So it can, ' said Denny, 'when it's your feet. I shall easily get a lifthome. '

'Not here you won't, ' said Alice. 'No one goes down this road; but thehigh road's just round the corner, where you see the telegraph wires. '

Dickie and Oswald made a sedan chair and carried Denny to the high road, and we sat down in a ditch to wait. For a long time nothing went bybut a brewer's dray. We hailed it, of course, but the man was so soundasleep that our hails were vain, and none of us thought soon enoughabout springing like a flash to the horses' heads, though we all thoughtof it directly the dray was out of sight. 

So we had to keep on sitting there by the dusty road, and more than onepilgrim was heard to say it wished we had never come. Oswald was not oneof those who uttered this useless wish. 

At last, just when despair was beginning to eat into the vital parts ofeven Oswald, there was a quick tap-tapping of horses' feet on the road, and a dogcart came in sight with a lady in it all alone. 

We hailed her like the desperate shipwrecked mariners in the long-boathail the passing sail. 

She pulled up. She was not a very old lady--twenty-five we found outafterwards her age was--and she looked jolly. 

'Well, ' she said, 'what's the matter?'

'It's this poor little boy, ' Dora said, pointing to the Dentist, who hadgone to sleep in the dry ditch, with his mouth open as usual. 'His feethurt him so, and will you give him a lift?'

'But why are you all rigged out like this?' asked the lady, looking atour cockle-shells and sandals and things. We told her. 

'And how has he hurt his feet?' she asked. And we told her that. 

She looked very kind. 'Poor little chap, ' she said. 'Where do you wantto go?'

We told her that too. We had no concealments from this lady. 

'Well, ' she said, 'I have to go on to--what is its name?'

'Canterbury, ' said H. O. 

'Well, yes, Canterbury, ' she said; 'it's only about half a mile. I'lltake the poor little pilgrim--and, yes, the three girls. You boysmust walk. Then we'll have tea and see the sights, and I'll drive youhome--at least some of you. How will that do?'

We thanked her very much indeed, and said it would do very nicely. 

Then we helped Denny into the cart, and the girls got up, and the redwheels of the cart spun away through the dust. 

'I wish it had been an omnibus the lady was driving, ' said H. O. , 'thenwe could all have had a ride. '

'Don't you be so discontented, ' Dicky said. And Noel said--

'You ought to be jolly thankful you haven't got to carry Denny all theway home on your back. You'd have had to if you'd been out alone withhim. '

When we got to Canterbury it was much smaller than we expected, andthe cathedral not much bigger than the Church that is next to the MoatHouse. There seemed to be only one big street, but we supposed the restof the city was hidden away somewhere. There was a large inn, witha green before it, and the red-wheeled dogcart was standing in thestableyard and the lady, with Denny and the others, sitting on thebenches in the porch, looking out for us. The inn was called the 'Georgeand Dragon', and it made me think of the days when there were coachesand highwaymen and foot-pads and jolly landlords, and adventures atcountry inns, like you read about. 

'We've ordered tea, ' said the lady. 'Would you like to wash your hands?'

We saw that she wished us to, so we said yes, we would. The girls andDenny were already much cleaner than when we parted from them. 

There was a courtyard to the inn and a wooden staircase outside thehouse. We were taken up this, and washed our hands in a big room witha fourpost wooden bed and dark red hangings--just the sort of hangingsthat would not show the stains of gore in the dear old adventuroustimes. 

Then we had tea in a great big room with wooden chairs and tables, verypolished and old. 

It was a very nice tea, with lettuces, and cold meat, and three kinds ofjam, as well as cake, and new bread, which we are not allowed at home. 

While tea was being had, the lady talked to us. She was very kind. 

There are two sorts of people in the world, besides others; one sortunderstand what you're driving at, and the other don't. This lady wasthe one sort. 

After everyone had had as much to eat as they could possibly want, thelady said, 'What was it you particularly wanted to see at Canterbury?'

'The cathedral, ' Alice said, 'and the place where Thomas A Becket wasmurdered. '

'And the Danejohn, ' said Dicky. 

Oswald wanted to see the walls, because he likes the Story of St Alphegeand the Danes. 

'Well, well, ' said the lady, and she put on her hat; it was a reallysensible one--not a blob of fluffy stuff and feathers put on sidewaysand stuck on with long pins, and no shade to your face, but almost asbig as ours, with a big brim and red flowers, and black strings to tieunder your chin to keep it from blowing off. 

Then we went out all together to see Canterbury. Dicky and Oswald tookit in turns to carry Denny on their backs. The lady called him 'TheWounded Comrade'. 

We went first to the church. Oswald, whose quick brain was easilyaroused to suspicions, was afraid the lady might begin talking in thechurch, but she did not. The church door was open. I remember mothertelling us once it was right and good for churches to be left openall day, so that tired people could go in and be quiet, and say theirprayers, if they wanted to. But it does not seem respectful to talk outloud in church. (See Note A. )

When we got outside the lady said, 'You can imagine how on the chancelsteps began the mad struggle in which Becket, after hurling one of hisassailants, armour and all, to the ground--'

'It would have been much cleverer, ' H. O. Interrupted, 'to hurl himwithout his armour, and leave that standing up. '

'Go on, ' said Alice and Oswald, when they had given H. O. A witheringglance. And the lady did go on. She told us all about Becket, and thenabout St Alphege, who had bones thrown at him till he died, because hewouldn't tax his poor people to please the beastly rotten Danes. 

And Denny recited a piece of poetry he knows called 'The Ballad ofCanterbury'. 

It begins about Danish warships snake-shaped, and ends about doing asyou'd be done by. It is long, but it has all the beef-bones in it, andall about St Alphege. 

Then the lady showed us the Danejohn, and it was like an oast-house. And Canterbury walls that Alphege defied the Danes from looked down ona quite common farmyard. The hospital was like a barn, and other thingswere like other things, but we went all about and enjoyed it verymuch. The lady was quite amusing, besides sometimes talking like a realcathedral guide I met afterwards. (See Note B. ) When at last we said wethought Canterbury was very small considering, the lady said--

'Well, it seemed a pity to come so far and not at least hear somethingabout Canterbury. '

And then at once we knew the worst, and Alice said--

'What a horrid sell!' But Oswald, with immediate courteousness, said--

'I don't care. You did it awfully well. ' And he did not say, though heowns he thought of it--

'I knew it all the time, ' though it was a great temptation. Becausereally it was more than half true. He had felt from the first that thiswas too small for Canterbury. (See Note C. )

The real name of the place was Hazelbridge, and not Canterbury at all. We went to Canterbury another time. (See Note D. ) We were not angrywith the lady for selling us about it being Canterbury, because shehad really kept it up first-rate. And she asked us if we minded, veryhandsomely, and we said we liked it. But now we did not care how soon wegot home. The lady saw this, and said--

'Come, our chariots are ready, and our horses caparisoned. '

That is a first-rate word out of a book. It cheered Oswald up, and heliked her for using it, though he wondered why she said chariots. Whenwe got back to the inn I saw her dogcart was there, and a grocer's carttoo, with B. Munn, grocer, Hazelbridge, on it. She took the girls in hercart, and the boys went with the grocer. His horse was a very good oneto go, only you had to hit it with the wrong end of the whip. But thecart was very bumpety. 

The evening dews were falling--at least, I suppose so, but you do notfeel dew in a grocer's cart--when we reached home. We all thanked thelady very much, and said we hoped we should see her again some day. Shesaid she hoped so. 

The grocer drove off, and when we had all shaken hands with the ladyand kissed her, according as we were boys or girls, or little boys, shetouched up her horse and drove away. 

She turned at the corner to wave to us, and just as we had done waving, and were turning into the house, Albert's uncle came into our midst likea whirling wind. He was in flannels, and his shirt had no stud in at theneck, and his hair was all rumpled up and his hands were inky, and weknew he had left off in the middle of a chapter by the wildness of hiseye. 

'Who was that lady?' he said. 'Where did you meet her?'

Mindful, as ever, of what he was told, Oswald began to tell the storyfrom the beginning. 

'The other day, protector of the poor, ' he began; 'Dora and I werereading about the Canterbury pilgrims. . . '

Oswald thought Albert's uncle would be pleased to find his instructionsabout beginning at the beginning had borne fruit, but instead heinterrupted. 

'Stow it, you young duffer! Where did you meet her?'

Oswald answered briefly, in wounded accents, 'Hazelbridge. '

Then Albert's uncle rushed upstairs three at a time, and as he went hecalled out to Oswald--

'Get out my bike, old man, and blow up the back tyre. '

I am sure Oswald was as quick as anyone could have been, but longere the tyre was thoroughly blowed Albert's uncle appeared, with acollar-stud and tie and blazer, and his hair tidy, and wrenching theunoffending machine from Oswald's surprised fingers. 

Albert's uncle finished pumping up the tyre, and then flinging himselfinto the saddle he set off, scorching down the road at a pace notsurpassed by any highwayman, however black and high-mettled his steed. We were left looking at each other. 'He must have recognized her, ' Dickysaid. 

'Perhaps, ' Noel said, 'she is the old nurse who alone knows the darksecret of his highborn birth. '

'Not old enough, by chalks, ' Oswald said. 

'I shouldn't wonder, ' said Alice, 'if she holds the secret of the willthat will make him rolling in long-lost wealth. '

'I wonder if he'll catch her, ' Noel said. 'I'm quite certain all hisfuture depends on it. Perhaps she's his long-lost sister, and the estatewas left to them equally, only she couldn't be found, so it couldn't beshared up. '

'Perhaps he's only in love with her, ' Dora said, 'parted by cruel Fateat an early age, he has ranged the wide world ever since trying to findher. '

'I hope to goodness he hasn't--anyway, he's not ranged since we knewhim--never further than Hastings, ' Oswald said. 'We don't want any ofthat rot. '

'What rot?' Daisy asked. And Oswald said--

'Getting married, and all that sort of rubbish. '

And Daisy and Dora were the only ones that didn't agree with him. EvenAlice owned that being bridesmaids must be fairly good fun. It's nogood. You may treat girls as well as you like, and give them everycomfort and luxury, and play fair just as if they were boys, but thereis something unmanly about the best of girls. They go silly, like milkgoes sour, without any warning. 

When Albert's uncle returned he was very hot, with a beaded brow, butpale as the Dentist when the peas were at their worst. 

'Did you catch her?' H. O. Asked. 

Albert's uncle's brow looked black as the cloud that thunder willpresently break from. 'No, 'he said. 

'Is she your long-lost nurse?' H. O. Went on, before we could stop him. 

'Long-lost grandmother! I knew the lady long ago in India, ' saidAlbert's uncle, as he left the room, slamming the door in a way weshould be forbidden to. 

And that was the end of the Canterbury Pilgrimage. 

As for the lady, we did not then know whether she was his long-lostgrandmother that he had known in India or not, though we thought sheseemed youngish for the part. We found out afterwards whether she wasor not, but that comes in another part. His manner was not the one thatmakes you go on asking questions. The Canterbury Pilgriming did notexactly make us good, but then, as Dora said, we had not done anythingwrong that day. So we were twenty-four hours to the good. 

 Note A. --Afterwards we went and saw real Canterbury. It isvery large. A disagreeable man showed us round the cathedral, and jawedall the time quite loud as if it wasn't a church. I remember one thinghe said. It was this:

'This is the Dean's Chapel; it was the Lady Chapel in the wicked dayswhen people used to worship the Virgin Mary. '

And H. O. Said, 'I suppose they worship the Dean now?'

Some strange people who were there laughed out loud. I think this isworse in church than not taking your cap off when you come in, as H. O. Forgot to do, because the cathedral was so big he didn't think it was achurch. 

 Note B. (See Note C. )

 Note C. (See Note D. )

 Note D. (See Note E. )

 Note E. (See Note A. )

This ends the Canterbury Pilgrims. 

CHAPTER 13. THE DRAGON'S TEETH; OR, ARMY-SEED

Albert's uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when webecame Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart withred wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost grandmother he hadknown years ago in India, he spent not nearly so much of his timein writing, and he used to shave every morning instead of only whenrequisite, as in earlier days. And he was always going out on hisbicycle in his new Norfolk suit. We are not so unobserving as grown-uppeople make out. We knew well enough he was looking for the long-lost. And we jolly well wished he might find her. Oswald, always full ofsympathy with misfortune, however undeserved, had himself tried severaltimes to find the lady. So had the others. But all this is what theycall a digression; it has nothing to do with the dragon's teeth I am nownarrating. 

It began with the pig dying--it was the one we had for the circus, butit having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its illnessand death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and perhaps if wehadn't made it run so that day it might have been spared to us. ButOswald cannot pretend that people were right just because they happen tobe dead, and as long as that pig was alive we all knew well enough thatit was it that made us run--and not us it. 

The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made thetombstone for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner wetook a turn at digging, because we like to be useful, and besides, whenyou dig you never know what you may turn up. I knew a man once thatfound a gold ring on the point of his fork when he was digging potatoes, and you know how we found two half-crowns ourselves once when we weredigging for treasure. 

Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were sittingon the gravel and telling him how to do it. 

'Work with a will, ' Dicky said, yawning. 

Alice said, 'I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig withoutfinding something. I think I'd rather it was a secret passage thananything. '

Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying. 

'A secret's nothing when you've found it out. Look at the secretstaircase. It's no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of itssqueaking. I'd rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for when wewere little. ' It was really only last year, but you seem to grow oldvery quickly after you have once passed the prime of your youth, whichis at ten, I believe. 

'How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist soldiersfoully done to death by nasty Ironsides?'Noel asked, with his mouth fullof plum. 

'If they were really dead it wouldn't matter, ' Dora said. 'What I'mafraid of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your legs whenyou're going upstairs to bed. ' 'Skeletons can't walk, ' Alice said in ahurry; 'you know they can't, Dora. '

And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what shehad. The things you are frightened of, or even those you would rathernot meet in the dark, should never be mentioned before the little ones, or else they cry when it comes to bed-time, and say it was because ofwhat you said. 

'We shan't find anything. No jolly fear, ' said Dicky. 

And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, and it felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that we hadfound that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, seemed to belongish; longer, that is, than a pot of gold would naturally be. And asI uncovered it I saw that it was not at all pot-of-gold-colour, but likea bone Pincher has buried. So Oswald said--

'It IS the skeleton. '

The girls all drew back, and Alice said, 'Oswald, I wish you wouldn't. '

A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it up, with both hands. 

'It's a dragon's head, ' Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. 

It was long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth stickingin the jaw. 

Bill came back just then and said it was a horse's head, but H. O. AndNoel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has everseen had a head at all that shape. 

But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who showed mehow to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him about ferrets, so he went off and Dicky and Denny and Alice with him. Also Daisy andDora went off to finish reading Ministering Children. So H. O. And Noelwere left with the bony head. They took it away. 

The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But justbefore breakfast Noel and H. O. Came in, looking hot and anxious. Theyhad got up early and had not washed at all--not even their hands andfaces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the others saw it, and withproper delicate feeling pretended not to have. 

When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O. In obedience to the secretsignal, Noel said--

'You know that dragon's head yesterday?'

'Well?' Oswald said quickly, but not crossly--the two things are quitedifferent. 

'Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap soweddragon's teeth?'

'They came up armed men, ' said H. O. , but Noel sternly bade him shut up, and Oswald said 'Well, ' again. If he spoke impatiently it was because hesmelt the bacon being taken in to breakfast. 

'Well, ' Noel went on, 'what do you suppose would have come up if we'dsowed those dragon's teeth we found yesterday?'

'Why, nothing, you young duffer, ' said Oswald, who could now smell thecoffee. 'All that isn't History it's Humbug. Come on in to brekker. '

'It's NOT humbug, ' H. O. Cried, 'it is history. We DID sow--'

'Shut up, ' said Noel again. 'Look here, Oswald. We did sow thosedragon's teeth in Randall's ten-acre meadow, and what do you think hascome up?'

'Toadstools I should think, ' was Oswald's contemptible rejoinder. 

'They have come up a camp of soldiers, ' said Noel--ARMED MEN. So you seeit WAS history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and it hascome up. It was a very wet night. I daresay that helped it along. '

Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve--his brother or his ears. So, disguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way tothe bacon and the banqueting hall. 

He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. O. Butafter the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good elder brothersaid--

'Why don't you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?'

So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions ofdoubt. It was Dicky who observed--

'Let's go and have a squint at Randall's ten-acre, anyhow. I saw a harethere the other day. '

We went. It is some little way, and as we went, disbelief reigned superbin every breast except Noel's and H. O. 's, so you will see that even theready pen of the present author cannot be expected to describe to youhis variable sensations when he got to the top of the hill and suddenlysaw that his little brothers had spoken the truth. I do not mean thatthey generally tell lies, but people make mistakes sometimes, and theeffect is the same as lies if you believe them. 

There WAS a camp there with real tents and soldiers in grey and redtunics. I daresay the girls would have said coats. We stood in ambush, too astonished even to think of lying in it, though of course we knowthat this is customary. The ambush was the wood on top of the littlehill, between Randall's ten-acre meadow and Sugden's Waste Wake pasture. 

'There would be cover here for a couple of regiments, ' whispered Oswald, who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of a borngeneral. 

Alice merely said 'Hist', and we went down to mingle with the troops asthough by accident, and seek for information. 

The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a sort ofcauldron thing like witches brew bats in. 

We went up to him and said, 'Who are you? Are you English, or are youthe enemy?'

'We're the enemy, ' he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being what hewas. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a foreigner. 

'The enemy!' Oswald echoed in shocked tones. It is a terrible thing toa loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy cleaning a pot in an Englishfield, with English sand, and looking as much at home as if he was inhis foreign fastnesses. 

The enemy seemed to read Oswald's thoughts with deadly unerringness. Hesaid--

'The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. They aretrying to keep us out of Maidstone. '

After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth goingon with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in reading Oswald'sinnermost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other things, or he wouldnever have given away his secret plans like this, for he must haveknown from our accents that we were Britons to the backbone. Or perhaps(Oswald thought this, and it made his blood at once boil and freeze, which our uncle had told us was possible, but only in India), perhaps hethought that Maidstone was already as good as taken and it didn't matterwhat he said. While Oswald was debating within his intellect what tosay next, and how to say it so as to discover as many as possible of theenemy's dark secrets, Noel said--

'How did you get here? You weren't here yesterday at tea-time. '

The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said--

'I daresay it does seem quick work--the camp seems as if it had sprungup in the night, doesn't it?--like a mushroom. '

Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. Thewords 'sprung up in the night' seemed to touch a string in every heart. 

'You see, ' whispered Noel, 'he won't tell us how he came here. NOW, isit humbug or history?'

Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up and notbother, remarked, 'Then you're an invading army?'

'Well, ' said the soldier, 'we're a skeleton battalion, as a matter offact, but we're invading all right enough. '

And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as thequick-witted Oswald's had done earlier in the interview. Even H. O. Opened his mouth and went the colour of mottled soap; he is so fat thatthis is the nearest he can go to turning pale. Denny said, 'But youdon't look like skeletons. '

The soldier stared, then he laughed and said, 'Ah, that's the padding inour tunics. You should see us in the grey dawn taking our morning bathin a bucket. ' It was a dreadful picture for the imagination. A skeleton, with its bones all loose most likely, bathing anyhow in a pail. Therewas a silence while we thought it over. 

Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about takingMaidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald's jacket behind, and hehad kept on not taking any notice. But now he could not stand it anylonger, so he said--

'Well, what is it?'

Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that henearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, 'Come along, don'tstay parlaying with the foe. He's only talking to you to gain time. '

'What for?' said Oswald. 

'Why, so that we shouldn't warn the other army, you silly, ' Alice said, and Oswald was so upset by what she said, that he forgot to be properlyangry with her for the wrong word she used. 

'But we ought to warn them at home, ' she said--' suppose the Moat Housewas burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the foe?'

Alice turned boldly to the soldier. 'DO you burn down farms?' she asked. 

'Well, not as a rule, ' he said, and he had the cheek to wink at Oswald, but Oswald would not look at him. 'We've not burned a farm since--oh, not for years. '

'A farm in Greek history it was, I expect, ' Denny murmured. 'Civilizedwarriors do not burn farms nowadays, ' Alice said sternly, 'whatever theydid in Greek times. You ought to know that. '

The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. 

So we said good morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to bepolite even to your enemy, except just at the moments when it has reallycome to rifles and bayonets or other weapons. 

The soldier said 'So long!' in quite a modern voice, and we retraced ourfootsteps in silence to the ambush--I mean the wood. Oswald did think oflying in the ambush then, but it was rather wet, because of the rain thenight before, that H. O. Said had brought the army-seed up. And Alicewalked very fast, saying nothing but 'Hurry up, can't you!' and draggingH. O. By one hand and Noel by the other. So we got into the road. 

Then Alice faced round and said, 'This is all our fault. If we hadn'tsowed those dragon's teeth there wouldn't have been any invading army. '

I am sorry to say Daisy said, 'Never mind, Alice, dear. WE didn't sowthe nasty things, did we, Dora?'

But Denny told her it was just the same. It was WE had done it, so longas it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into trouble. Oswaldwas very pleased to see that the Dentist was beginning to understandthe meaning of true manliness, and about the honour of the house ofBastable, though of course he is only a Foulkes. Yet it is something toknow he does his best to learn. 

If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I daresay you will now havethought of a great many things. If you have you need not say anything, especially if you're reading this aloud to anybody. It's no good puttingin what you think in this part, because none of us thought anything ofthe kind at the time. 

We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, filledwith shame and distress to think of what might happen owing to thedragon's teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to sow seedwithout being quite sure what sort it is. This is particularly true ofthe penny packets, which sometimes do not come up at all, quite unlikedragon's teeth. 

Of course H. O. And Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. This wasonly fair. 

'How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?' Dickie said. 'Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from the bodiesof dead English soldiers, I shouldn't wonder. '

'If they're the old Greek kind of dragon's-teeth soldiers, they ought tofight each other to death, ' Noel said; 'at least, if we had a helmet tothrow among them. '

But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be of no use forH. O. To go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he wanted to. Denny said suddenly--

'Couldn't we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn't know the way toMaidstone?'

Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. 

He said--

'Fetch all the tools out of your chest--Dicky go too, there's a goodchap, and don't let him cut his legs with the saw. ' He did once, tumbling over it. 'Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, where we hadthe Benevolent Bar. Courage and dispatch, and look sharp about it. '

When they had gone we hastened to the crossroads, and there a great ideaoccurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably that ina very short time the board in the field which says 'No thoroughfare. Trespassers will be prosecuted' was set up in the middle of the road toMaidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the road, behind it to make itstand up. 

Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post andsawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it said 'ToMaidstone' on the Dover Road, and 'To Dover' on the road to Maidstone. We decided to leave the Trespassers board on the real Maidstone road, asan extra guard. 

Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone. 

Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been unkindto say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt a pang ofjoy when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather stay where theywere and tell anybody who came by which was the real road. 

'Because it would be so dreadful if someone was going to buy pigs orfetch a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had got toDover instead of where they wanted to go to, ' Dora said. But when itcame to dinner-time they went home, so that they were entirely out ofit. This often happens to them by some strange fatalism. 

We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher wentwith us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to remember noone said anything about their dinners, whatever they may have thought. We cannot always help our thoughts. We happened to know it was roastrabbits and currant jelly that day. 

We walked two and two, and sang the 'British Grenadiers' and 'Soldiersof the queen' so as to be as much part of the British Army as possible. The Cauldron-Man had said the English were the other side of the hill. But we could not see any scarlet anywhere, though we looked for it ascarefully as if we had been fierce bulls. 

But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into a lotof soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were dressed in greyand silver. And it was a sort of furzy-common place, and three roadsbranching out. The men were lying about, with some of their beltsundone, smoking pipes and cigarettes. 

'It's not British soldiers, ' Alice said. 'Oh dear, oh dear, I'm afraidit's more enemy. You didn't sow the army-seed anywhere else, did you, H. O. Dear?'

H. O. Was positive he hadn't. 'But perhaps lots more came up where wedid sow them, ' he said; 'they're all over England by now very likely. _I_ don't know how many men can grow out of one dragon's tooth. '

Then Noel said, 'It was my doing anyhow, and I'm not afraid, ' and hewalked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his pipewith a piece of grass, and said--

'Please, are you the enemy?' The man said--

'No, young Commander-in-Chief, we're the English. '

Then Oswald took command. 'Where is the General?' he said. 

'We're out of generals just now, Field-Marshal, ' the man said, and hisvoice was a gentleman's voice. 'Not a single one in stock. We might suityou in majors now--and captains are quite cheap. Competent corporalsgoing for a song. And we have a very nice colonel, too quiet to ride ordrive. '

Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one. 

'You seem to be taking it very easy, ' he said with disdainfulexpression. 

'This IS an easy, ' said the grey soldier, sucking at his pipe to see ifit would draw. 

'I suppose YOU don't care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!'exclaimed Oswald bitterly. 'If I were a soldier I'd rather die than bebeaten. '

The soldier saluted. 'Good old patriotic sentiment' he said, smiling atthe heart-felt boy. 

But Oswald could bear no more. 'Which is the Colonel?' he asked. 

'Over there--near the grey horse. '

'The one lighting a cigarette?' H. O. Asked. 

'Yes--but I say, kiddie, he won't stand any jaw. There's not an ounce ofvice about him, but he's peppery. He might kick out. You'd better bunk. '

'Better what?' asked H. O. 

'Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit, ' said the soldier. 

'That's what you'd do when the fighting begins, ' said H. O. He is oftenrude like that--but it was what we all thought, all the same. 

The soldier only laughed. 

A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended inour allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the Colonel. It was she whowanted to. 'However peppery he is he won't kick a girl, ' she said, andperhaps this was true. 

But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to standin front of the Colonel. And as we went along we agreed that we wouldsalute him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick said, 'One, two, three', and we all saluted very well--except H. O. , who chose thatminute to trip over a rifle a soldier had left lying about, and was onlysaved from falling by a man in a cocked hat who caught him deftly by theback of his jacket and stood him on his legs. 

'Let go, can't you, ' said H. O. 'Are you the General?'

Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to theColonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as wethreaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really said was--

'Oh, how CAN you!'

'How can I WHAT?' said the Colonel, rather crossly. 

'Why, SMOKE?' said Alice. 

'My good children, if you're an infant Band of Hope, let me recommendyou to play in some other backyard, ' said the Cock-Hatted Man. 

H. O. Said, 'Band of Hope yourself'--but no one noticed it. 

'We're NOT a Band of Hope, ' said Noel. 'We're British, and the man overthere told us you are. And Maidstone's in danger, and the enemy not amile off, and you stand SMOKING. ' Noel was standing crying, himself, orsomething very like it. 

'It's quite true, ' Alice said. 

The Colonel said, 'Fiddle-de-dee. '

But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, 'What was the enemy like?' We told himexactly. And even the Colonel then owned there might be something in it. 

'Can you show me the place where they are on the map?' he asked. 

'Not on the map, we can't, ' said Dicky--'at least, I don't think so, but on the ground we could. We could take you there in a quarter of anhour. '

The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the Colonel, who returned his scrutiny, then he shrugged his shoulders. 

'Well, we've got to do something, ' he said, as if to himself. 'Lead on, Macduff. '

The Colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words ofcommand which the present author is sorry he can't remember. 

Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, marchingat the head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One'shorse. It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been ina ballad. They call a grey-roan a 'blue' in South Africa, theCocked-Hatted One said. 

We led the British Army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate ofSugden's Waste Wake pasture. Then the Colonel called a whispered halt, and choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerningcommander went on, on foot, with an orderly. He chose Dicky and Oswaldas guides. So we led him to the ambush, and we went through it asquietly as we could. But twigs do crackle and snap so when you arereconnoitring, or anxious to escape detection for whatever reason. 

Our Colonel's orderly crackled most. If you're not near enough to tella colonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you can tell himby the orderly behind him, like 'follow my leader'. 

'Look out!' said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, 'the camp'sdown in that field. You can see if you take a squint through this gap. '

The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, baffledbeyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with his bafflednessthe British Colonel had his squint. He also drew back, and said a wordthat he must have known was not right--at least when he was a boy. 

'I don't care, ' said Oswald, 'they were there this morning. White tentslike mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a cauldron. '

'With sand, ' said Dicky. 

'That's most convincing, ' said the Colonel, and I did not like the wayhe said it. 

'I say, ' Oswald said, 'let's get to the top corner of the ambush--thewood, I mean. You can see the crossroads from there. '

We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer dismayedour almost despairing spirits. 

We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald's patriotic heart really didgive a jump, and he cried, 'There they are, on the Dover Road. '

Our miscellaneous signboard had done its work. 

'By Jove, young un, you're right! And in quarter column, too! We've gotem on toast--on toast--egad!' I never heard anyone not in a book say'egad' before, so I saw something really out of the way was indeed up. 

The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the orderlyto tell the Major to advance two companies on the left flank and takecover. Then we led him back through the wood the nearest way, because hesaid he must rejoin the main body at once. We found the main body veryfriendly with Noel and H. O. And the others, and Alice was talking tothe Cocked-Hatted One as if she had known him all her life. 

'I think he's a general in disguise, ' Noel said. 'He's been giving uschocolate out of a pocket in his saddle. '

Oswald thought about the roast rabbit then--and he is not ashamed to ownit--yet he did not say a word. But Alice is really not a bad sort. Shehad saved two bars of chocolate for him and Dicky. Even in war girls cansometimes be useful in their humble way. 

The Colonel fussed about and said, 'Take cover there!' and everybody hidin the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with Alice, retreateddown the road out of sight. We were in the ditch too. It was muddy--butnobody thought of their boots in that perilous moment. It seemed a longtime we were crouching there. Oswald began to feel the water squelchingin his boots, so we held our breath and listened. Oswald laid his ear tothe road like a Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace, butwhen your country is in danger you care but little about keeping yourears clean. His backwoods' strategy was successful. He rose and dustedhimself and said--'They're coming!'

It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be heardquite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The wicked enemyapproached. They were marching with a careless swaggeringness thatshowed how little they suspected the horrible doom which was about toteach them England's might and supremeness. 

Just as the enemy turned the corner so that we could see them, theColonel shouted--'Right section, fire!' and there was a deafeningbanging. 

The enemy's officer said something, and then the enemy got confused andtried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was vain. Therewas firing now from our men, on the left as well as the right. Andthen our Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy's Colonel and demandedsurrender. He told me so afterwards. His exact words are only known tohimself and the other Colonel. But the enemy's Colonel said, 'I wouldrather die than surrender, ' or words to that effect. 

Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, andeven Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of the amountof blood to be shed. What would have happened can never now be revealed. For at this moment a man on a piebald horse came clattering over ahedge--as carelessly as if the air was not full of lead and steel atall. Another man rode behind him with a lance and a red pennon on it. Ithink he must have been the enemy's General coming to tell his men notto throw away their lives on a forlorn hope, for directly he said theywere captured the enemy gave in and owned that they were. The enemy'sColonel saluted and ordered his men to form quarter column again. Ishould have thought he would have had about enough of that myself. 

He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter end. He rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek to say toour Colonel--

'By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to havemarked us down uncommonly neatly. '

It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand onOswald's shoulder and said--

'This is my chief scout' which were high words, but not undeserved, andOswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard them. 

'So you are the traitor, young man, ' said the wicked Colonel, going onwith his cheek. 

Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous to afallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you haven't. 

He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might havedone, but he said--

'We aren't traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a Foulkes. We only mingled unsuspected with the enemy's soldiery and learned thesecrets of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell always does when thenatives rebel in South Africa; and Denis Foulkes thought of alteringthe sign-posts to lead the foe astray. And if we did cause all thisfighting, and get Maidstone threatened with capture and all that, itwas only because we didn't believe Greek things could happen in GreatBritain and Ireland, even if you sow dragon's teeth, and besides, someof us were not as e a out sowing them. '

Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and madeus tell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked Colonellistened too, which was only another proof of his cheek. 

And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some peoplethink he has, and gave the others all the credit they deserved. Hisnarration was interrupted no less than four times by shouts of 'Bravo!'in which the enemy's Colonel once more showed his cheek by joining. Bythe time the story was told we were in sight of another camp. It was theBritish one this time. The Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, and it only shows the magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field ofbattle that he asked the enemy's Colonel too. With his usual cheek heaccepted. We were jolly hungry. 

When everyone had had as much tea as they possibly could, the Colonelshook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said--

'Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in mydispatches to the War Office. '

H. O. Interrupted him to say, 'His name's Oswald Cecil Bastable, andmine is Horace Octavius. ' I wish H. O. Would learn to hold his tongue. No one ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if he canpossibly help it. YOU didn't know it till now. 

'Mr Oswald Bastable, ' the Colonel went on--he had the decency not totake any notice of the 'Cecil'--'you would be a credit to any regiment. No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for what you have donefor your country. But meantime, perhaps, you'll accept five shillingsfrom a grateful comrade-in-arms. ' Oswald felt heart-felt sorry to woundthe good Colonel's feelings, but he had to remark that he had only donehis duty, and he was sure no British scout would take five bob for doingthat. 'And besides, ' he said, with that feeling of justice which is partof his young character, 'it was the others just as much as me. '

'Your sentiments, Sir, ' said the Colonel who was one of the politestand most discerning colonels I ever saw, 'your sentiments do you honour. But, Bastables all, and--and non-Bastables' (he couldn't rememberFoulkes; it's not such an interesting name as Bastable, of course)--'atleast you'll accept a soldier's pay?'

'Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!' Alice and Denny said together. And the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing your own mind andknowing your own Kipling. 

'A soldier, ' said the Colonel, 'would certainly be lucky to touch it. You see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is exactlyright, deducting twopence each for six teas. '

This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and allthe strawberry jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well as whatthe others ate, and Lady's and Pincher's teas, but I suppose soldiersget things cheaper than civilians, which is only right. 

Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any scrupleswhy he should not. 

Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw abicycle coming. It was Albert's uncle. He got off and said--

'What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with thosevolunteers?'

We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and then hesaid he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked. 

But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was nowalmost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without a moment'spause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He said nothing at thetime, but after supper he had it out with Albert's uncle about the wordwhich had been withdrawn. 

Albert's uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the dragon'steeth hadn't come up in the good old-fashioned way, but that, on theother hand, it was barely possible that both the British and the enemywere only volunteers having a field-day or sham fight, and he ratherthought the Cocked-Hatted Man was not a general, but a doctor. And theman with a red pennon carried behind him MIGHT have been the umpire. 

Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts wereall panting with joy because they had saved their country; and it wouldhave been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly they had been. Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have been so taken in--ifhe HAD been. Besides, Albert's uncle did say that no one could be sureabout the dragon's teeth. 

The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole thing wasa beastly sell, was that we didn't see any wounded. But he tries not tothink of this. And if he goes into the army when he grows up, he willnot go quite green. He has had experience of the arts of war and thetented field. And a real colonel has called him 'Comrade-in-Arms', whichis exactly what Lord Roberts called his own soldiers when he wrote homeabout them. 

CHAPTER 14. ALBERT'S UNCLE's GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST

The shadow of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds uponour devoted nobs. As Albert's uncle said, 'School now gaped for itsprey'. In a very short space of time we should be wending our way backto Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness of the countrywould soon be only preserved in memory's faded flowers. (I don't carefor that way of writing very much. It would be an awful swot to keep itup--looking out the words and all that. )

To speak in the language of everyday life, our holiday was jolly nearlyup. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We really didfeel sorry--though, of course, it was rather decent to think of gettingback to Father and being able to tell the other chaps about our raft, and the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and things like that. 

When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by chancein an apple-tree. (That sounds like 'consequences', but it is meretruthfulness. ) Dicky said--

'Only four more days. '

Oswald said, 'Yes. '

'There's one thing, ' Dickie said, 'that beastly society. We don't wantthat swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought to dissolveit before we leave here. '

The following dialogue now took place:

Oswald--'Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot. '

Dicky--'So did I. '

Oswald--'Let's call a council. But don't forget we've jolly well got toput our foot down. '

Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples. 

The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made Oswald's andDicky's task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy despair about onething, they will agree to almost anything about something else. (Remarkslike this are called philosophic generalizations, Albert's uncle says. )Oswald began by saying--

'We've tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it's done usgood. But now the time has come for each of us to be good or bad on hisown, without hanging on to the others. '

'The race is run by one and one, But never by two and two, '

the Dentist said. 

The others said nothing. 

Oswald went on: 'I move that we chuck--I mean dissolve--the WouldbegoodsSociety; its appointed task is done. If it's not well done, that's ITSfault and not ours. '

Dicky said, 'Hear! hear! I second this prop. '

The unexpected Dentist said, 'I third it. At first I thought it wouldhelp, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be naughty, justbecause you were a Wouldbegood. '

Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as notto let Denny cool. H. O. And Noel and Alice voted with us, so Daisy andDora were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried to cheer theirhopelessness by letting them read the things out of the Golden Deedbook aloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that we should not see thefaces he made while he made poetry instead of listening, and when theWouldbegoods was by vote dissolved for ever he sat up, straws in hishair, and said--

 THE EPITAPH

 'The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone But not the golden deeds they have done These will remain upon Glory's page To be an example to every age, And by this we have got to know How to be good upon our ow--N. 

N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O, W, N, own; do you see?'

We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And thecouncil broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from hisexpanding chest, and it is curious that he never felt so inclined to begood and a model youth as he did then. As he went down the ladder out ofthe loft he said--

'There's one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We oughtto find Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmother for him. '

Alice's heart beat true and steadfast. She said, 'That's just exactlywhat Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, Oswald, you wretch, you're kicking chaff into my eyes. ' She was going down the ladder justunder me. 

Oswald's younger sister's thoughtful remark ended in another council. But not in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite new place, anddisregarded H. O. 's idea of the dairy and Noel's of the cellars. We hadthe new council on the secret staircase, and there we settled exactlywhat we ought to do. This is the same thing, if you really wish to begood, as what you are going to do. It was a very interestingcouncil, and when it was over Oswald was so pleased to think that theWouldbegoods was unrecoverishly dead that he gave Denny and Noel, whowere sitting on the step below him, a good-humoured, playful, gentle, loving, brotherly shove, and said, 'Get along down, it's tea-time!'

No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, andwho is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been Oswald'sfault that the two other boys got along down by rolling over and overeach other, and bursting the door at the bottom of the stairs open bytheir revolving bodies. And I should like to know whose fault it wasthat Mrs Pettigrew was just on the other side of that door at that veryminute? The door burst open, and the Impetuous bodies of Noel and Dennyrolled out of it into Mrs Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray. Both revolving boys were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one ortwo cups and things smashed. Mrs Pettigrew was knocked over, but none ofher bones were broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed, butOswald said it was all his fault. He really did this to give the othersa chance of doing a refined golden deed by speaking the truth and sayingit was not his fault. But you cannot really count on anyone. They didnot say anything, but only rubbed the lumps on their late-revolvingheads. So it was bed for Oswald, and he felt the injustice hard. 

But he sat up in bed and read The Last of the Mohicans, and then hebegan to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks ofsomething. He thought of something now, and it was miles better than theidea we had decided on in the secret staircase, of advertising in theKentish Mercury and saying if Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmotherwould call at the Moat House she might hear of something much to heradvantage. 

What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and askedMr B. Munn, Grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse thatliked the wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the lady wasin the red hat and red wheels that paid him to drive us home thatCanterbury night. He must have been paid, of course, for even grocersare not generous enough to drive perfect strangers, and five ofthem too, about the country for nothing. Thus we may learn that evenunjustness and sending the wrong people to bed may bear useful fruit, which ought to be a great comfort to everyone when they are unfairlytreated. Only it most likely won't be. For if Oswald's brothers andsisters had nobly stood by him as he expected, he would not have hadthe solitary reflections that led to the great scheme for finding thegrandmother. 

Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and squattedon Oswald's bed and said how sorry they were. He waived their apologieswith noble dignity, because there wasn't much time, and said he had anidea that would knock the council's plan into a cocked hat. But he wouldnot tell them what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This wasnot sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else tothink of besides the way they hadn't stood by him in the bursting of thesecret staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk. 

Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer fora forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswalda pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with anyman living. 'And mind, ' he added, hiding the pang under a general-likesevereness, 'I won't have anyone in the expedition who has anything inhis shoes except his feet. '

This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald isoften misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the peas upat Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took sometime because Daisy cried, and Dora said, 'There now, Oswald!') therewere seven volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed, all of us. There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, orscrips, or anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who setout for Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good anddeedful--at least Oswald, I know, was--than ever they had been in thedays of the beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either itwas fine nearly all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, orelse nearly all the interesting things we did came on fine days. 

With hearts light and gay, and no peas in anyone's shoes, the walk toHazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, andthe dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one ofthem at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridgeis not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowedto put on her things--I mean her collar--and come with us. She walksslowly, but we had the day before us so there was no extra hurry. 

At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn's grocer's shop and asked forginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised atus wanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm--it had just beenwashed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B. Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. Youcannot be too careful. However, when we had said it was first-classginger-beer, and paid for it, we found it not so easy to extractanything more from B. Munn, grocer; and there was an anxious silencewhile he fiddled about behind the counter among the tinned meats andsauce bottles, with a fringe of hobnailed boots hanging over his head. 

H. O. Spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in whereangels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person that is). He said--

'I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the cart?'

Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word, it means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said--

'I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don't you terrify yourself. '

People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry. So Dora shoved in agentle oar. She said--

'We want to know the kind lady's name and address, so that we can writeand thank her for being so jolly that day. '

B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady's address being goodshe was often asked for. Alice said, 'But do tell us. We forgot to askher. She's a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so wantto thank her properly. And if you've got any extra-strong peppermints ata penny an ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound. '

This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints hisheart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paperbag, Dora said, 'What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us. '

And B. Munn's heart was now quite melted, he said--

'It's Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars--about a mile down theMaidstone Road. '

We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a littleanxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had got the moneyall right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good dealof it is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other. Then Dorasaid--

'Let's go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it. '

Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it's such abeastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards. 

The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divinedhers--he is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald's--and the two saidtogether--

'Why not go and see her?'

'She did say she would like to see us again some day, ' Dora replied. Soafter we had argued a little about it we went. 

And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha beganto make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. She beganto limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when he had thesplit peas in his silly palmering shoes. 

So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quiteswollen and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter withtheir feet, and it always comes on when least required. They are not theright breed for emergencies. 

There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. Sheis very stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A half-heartedunadventurous person name no names, but Oswald, Alice, Noel, H. O. , (Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why not go straighthome and come another day without Martha? But the rest agreed withOswald when he said it was only a mile, and perhaps we might get alift home with the poor invalid. Martha was very grateful to us forour kindness. She put her fat white arms round the person's neck whohappened to be carrying her. She is very affectionate, but by holdingher very close to you you can keep her from kissing your face allthe time. As Alice said, 'Bulldogs do give you such large, wet, pinkkisses. '

A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying Martha. 

At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chainsswinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the ditch, and a gate with 'The Cedars' on it in gold letters. All very neat andtidy, and showing plainly that more than one gardener was kept. There westopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with exhaustedness, and said--

'Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don't believe a bit that it's hisgrandmother. I'm sure Dora was right, and it's only his horridsweetheart. I feel it in my bones. Now, don't you really think we'dbetter chuck it; we're sure to catch it for interfering. We always do. '

'The cross of true love never did come smooth, ' said the Dentist. 'Weought to help him to bear his cross. '

'But if we find her for him, and she's not his grandmother, he'll MARRYher, ' Dicky said in tones of gloominess and despair. 

Oswald felt the same, but he said, 'Never mind. We should all hate it, but perhaps Albert's uncle MIGHT like it. You can never tell. If youwant to do a really unselfish action and no kid, now's your time, mylate Wouldbegoods. '

No one had the face to say right out that they didn't want to beunselfish. 

But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the longgate and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons and othershrubberies towards the house. 

I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of anybody iscalled the representative of the family if his father isn't there. Thiswas why Oswald now took the lead. When we got to the last turn of thedrive it was settled that the others were to noiselessly ambush in therhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on alone and ask at the house forthe grandmother from India--I mean Miss Ashleigh. 

So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how neatthe flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all bright andspeckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green parrot ina cage in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying clean anduntrodden in the sunshine, he stood still and thought of his boots andhow dusty the roads were, and wished he had not gone into the farmyardafter eggs before starting that morning. As he stood there in anxiousuncertainness he heard a low voice among the bushes. It said, 'Hist!Oswald here!' and it was the voice of Alice. 

So he went back to the others among the shrubs and they all crowdedround their leader full of importable news. 

'She's not in the house; she's HERE, ' Alice said in a low whisper thatseemed nearly all S's. 'Close by--she went by just this minute with agentleman. '

'And they're sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and she'sgot her head on his shoulder, and he's holding her hand. I never sawanyone look so silly in all my born, ' Dicky said. 

'It's sickening, ' Denny said, trying to look very manly with his legswide apart. 

'I don't know, ' Oswald whispered. 'I suppose it wasn't Albert's uncle?'

'Not much, ' Dicky briefly replied. 

'Then don't you see it's all right. If she's going on like that withthis fellow she'll want to marry him, and Albert's uncle is safe. Andwe've really done an unselfish action without having to suffer for itafterwards. '

With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as he spoke in realjoyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed. But we hadreckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping to look about hera bit in the shrubbery. 'Where's Martha?' Dora suddenly said. 

'She went that way, ' pointingly remarked H. O. 

'Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for?'Oswald said. 'And look sharp. Don't make a row. '

He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha--the oneshe always gives when suddenly collared from behind--and a little squealin a lady-like voice, and a man say 'Hallo!' and then we knew that H. O. Had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about it. We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late. We were just in timeto hear H. O. Say--

'I'm sorry if she frightened you. But we've been looking for you. Areyou Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmother?'

'NO, ' said our lady unhesitatingly. 

It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now goingon. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a clergyman, and Ifound out afterwards he was the nicest we ever knew except our own MrBriston at Lewisham, who is now a canon or a dean, or something grandthat no one ever sees. At present I did not like him. He said, 'No, thislady is nobody's grandmother. May I ask in return how long it is sinceyou escaped from the lunatic asylum, my poor child, and whence yourkeeper is?'

H. O. Took no notice of this at all, except to say, 'I think you arevery rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are. '

The lady said, 'My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all theothers, and are you pilgrims again to-day?'

H. O. Does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and said--

'Are you going to marry the lady?'

'Margaret, ' said the clergyman, 'I never thought it would come to this:he asks me my intentions. '

'If you ARE, ' said H. O. , 'it's all right, because if you do Albert'suncle can't--at least, not till you're dead. And we don't want him to. '

'Flattering, upon my word, ' said the clergyman, putting on a deep frown. 'Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of you, or shall Isend for the police?'

Alice now saw that H. O. , though firm, was getting muddled and ratherscared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the scene. 

'Don't let him rag H. O. Any more, ' she said, 'it's all our faults. Yousee, Albert's uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought perhaps youwere his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who alone knew thesecret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, and he said youwere his long-lost grandmother he had known in India. And we thoughtthat must be a mistake and that really you were his long-lostsweetheart. And we tried to do a really unselfish act and find you forhim. Because we don't want him to be married at all. '

'It isn't because we don't like YOU, ' Oswald cut in, now emerging fromthe bushes, 'and if he must marry, we'd sooner it was you than anyone. Really we would. '

'A generous concession, Margaret, ' the strange clergyman uttered, 'mostgenerous, but the plot thickens. It's almost pea-soup-like now. One ortwo points clamour for explanation. Who are these visitors of yours? Whythis Red Indian method of paying morning calls? Why the lurking attitudeof the rest of the tribe which I now discern among the undergrowth?Won't you ask the rest of the tribe to come out and join the gladthrong?'

Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs wedo, and books and tunes and things. 

The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if shewas going to cry. But she couldn't help laughing too, as more and moreof us came out. 

'And who, ' the clergyman went on, 'who in fortune's name is Albert? Andwho is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this galere--I meangarden?'

We all felt rather silly, and I don't think I ever felt more than thenwhat an awful lot there were of us. 

'Three years' absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignoranceof these details, but still--'

'I think we'd better go, ' said Dora. 'I'm sorry if we've done anythingrude or wrong. We didn't mean to. Good-bye. I hope you'll be happy withthe gentleman, I'm sure. '

'I HOPE so too, ' said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much nicerAlbert's uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silentcompared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. Butnow she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold ofDora by the shoulder. 

'No, dear, no, ' she said, 'it's all right, and you must have sometea--we'll have it on the lawn. John, don't tease them any more. Albert's uncle is the gentleman I told you about. And, my dear children, this is my brother that I haven't seen for three years. '

'Then he's a long-lost too, ' said H. O. 

The lady said 'Not now' and smiled at him. 

And the rest of us were dumb with confounding emotions. Oswald wasparticularly dumb. He might have known it was her brother, because inrotten grown-up books if a girl kisses a man in a shrubbery that isnot the man you think she's in love with; it always turns out to bea brother, though generally the disgrace of the family and not arespectable chaplain from Calcutta. 

The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and said, 'John, go and tell them we'll have tea on the lawn. '

When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said, 'I'mgoing to tell you something, but I want to put you on your honour notto talk about it to other people. You see it isn't everyone I would tellabout it. He, Albert's uncle, I mean, has told me a lot about you, and Iknow I can trust you. '

We said 'Yes', Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too wellwhat was coming next. 

The lady then said, 'Though I am not Albert's uncle's grandmother Idid know him in India once, and we were going to be married, but we hada--a--misunderstanding. '

'Quarrel?' Row?' said Noel and H. O. At once. 

'Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. Andthen. . . Well, we were both sorry, but well, anyway, when his ship cameback we'd gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he couldn't findus. And he says he's been looking for me ever since. '

'Not you for him?' said Noel. 

'Well, perhaps, ' said the lady. 

And the girls said 'Ah!' with deep interest. The lady went on morequickly, 'And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I mustbreak it to you. Try to bear up. '

She stopped. The branches cracked, and Albert's uncle was in our midst. He took off his hat. 'Excuse my tearing my hair, ' he said to the lady, 'but has the pack really hunted you down?'

'It's all right, ' she said, and when she looked at him she got milesprettier quite suddenly. 'I was just breaking to them. . . '

'Don't take that proud privilege from me, ' he said. 'Kiddies, allowme to present you to the future Mrs Albert's uncle, or shall we sayAlbert's new aunt?'

 * * *There was a good deal of explaining done before tea--about how we gotthere, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of disappointmentwe felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. For Albert's uncle'slady was very jolly to us, and her brother was awfully decent, andshowed us a lot of first-class native curiosities and things, unpackingthem on purpose; skins of beasts, and beads, and brass things, andshells from different savage lands besides India. And the lady told thegirls that she hoped they would like her as much as she liked them, andif they wanted a new aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction inthe new situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging toDaisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert's unclehad married HER. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we mightthink ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse. 

Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot whichhe had explored thoroughly before, and told him she was not like somepeople in books. When she was married she would never try to separateher husband from his bachelor friends, she only wanted them to be herfriends as well. 

Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the reverendand friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha we shouldn'thave had tea, or explanations, or lift or anything. So we honoured her, and did not mind her being so heavy and walking up and down constantlyon our laps as we drove home. 

And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert'suncle. I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important (tohim), so I felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers andgetting married are generally slow. I like a love-story where the heroparts with the girl at the garden-gate in the gloaming and goes off andhas adventures, and you don't see her any more till he comes home tomarry her at the end of the book. And I suppose people have to marry. Albert's uncle is awfully old--more than thirty, and the lady isadvanced in years--twenty-six next Christmas. They are to be marriedthen. The girls are to be bridesmaids in white frocks with fur. Thisquite consoles them. If Oswald repines sometimes, he hides it. What'sthe use? We all have to meet our fell destiny, and Albert's uncle is notextirpated from this awful law. 

Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for thesake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the Wouldbegoods, and there are no more chapters after this. But Oswald hates books thatfinish up without telling you the things you might want to know aboutthe people in the book. So here goes. 

We went home to the beautiful Blackheath house. It seemed very statelyand mansion-like after the Moat House, and everyone was most frightfullypleased to see us. 

Mrs Pettigrew CRIED when we went away. I never was so astonished in mylife. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like a heart, and each of us boys had a knife bought out of the housekeeping (I meanhousekeeper's own) money. 

Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert's uncle's lady'smother. They do keep three gardeners--I knew they did. And our trampstill earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old Pig-man. 

Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewellsympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. Wepromised to come and see them next year. I hope we shall. 

Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. Idon't think they'll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone aunt--whois really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the autumn of her daysas our new Albert's-uncle aunt. I think they plucked up spirit enoughto tell their father they didn't like her--which they'd never thought ofdoing before. Our own robber says their holidays in the country didthem both a great deal of good. And he says us Bastables have certainlytaught Daisy and Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. Ibelieve they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirelyon their own--and done them too--since they came back from the MoatHouse. 

I wish you didn't grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long hewill be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he feelsgrown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of this. 

And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles of theWouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the author willbe very glad, of course. But take my advice and don't make a society fortrying in. It is much easier without. 

And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. Theone beginning with C. , I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed what it was. If so, don't look back for it. It is a name no manly boy would like tobe called by--if he spoke the truth. Oswald is said to be a very manlyboy, and he despises that name, and will never give it to his own sonwhen he has one. Not if a rich relative offered to leave him an immensefortune if he did. Oswald would still be firm. He would, on the honourof the House of Bastable.