Full text of "The talking horse, and other stories"

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THE TALKING HORSE

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THE TALKING HOBSE

AND OTHER TALES

F. ANSTEY

AUTHOR OF 'VICE VERSA' 'THE GIANT'S ROBE 1
' THE PARIAH ' ETC.

SECOND EDITION

LONDON

SMITH, ELDEE, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE

1892

PREFACE

THESE STORIES originally appeared in ' Macmillan's,'
' Longman's,' < Atalanta,' < The Cornhill,' < The
Graphic,' ' Aunt Judy's,' ' The Eeflector,' and Unwin's
' Christmas Annual,' respectively.

F. A.

CONTENTS

PAGB

THE TALKING HOUSE 1

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL . . . . . . 39

A MATTER OF TASTE 72

DON ; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG . . . . 127

TAKEN BY SURPRISE 151

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 176

SHUT OUT ......... 234

TOMMY'S HERO ........ 250

A CANINE ISHMAEL . . . . " ~~. . . 274

MARJORY . 286

THE TALKING HORSE

IT was on the way to Sandown Park that I met him
first, on that horribly wet July afternoon when
Bendigo won the Eclipse Stakes. He sat opposite to
me in the train going down, and my attention was
first attracted to him by the marked contrast between
his appearance and his attire : he had not thought fit
to adopt the regulation costume for such occasions,
and I think I never saw a man who had made himself
more aggressively horsey. The mark of the beast
was sprinkled over his linen : he wore snaffle sleeve-
links, a hard hunting-hat, a Newmarket coat, and
extremely tight trousers. And with all this, he fell as
far short of the genuine sportsman as any stage super
who ever wore his spurs upside down in a hunting-
chorus. His expression was mild and inoffensive, and
his watery pale eyes and receding chin gave one the
idea that he was hardly to be trusted astride anything
more spirited than a gold-headed cane. And yet,
somehow, he aroused compassion rather than any
sense of the ludicrous : he had that look of shrinking
self-effacement which comes of a recent humiliation,
and, in spite of all extravagances, he was obviously a

2 THE TALKING HOUSE

gentleman ; while something in his manner indicated
that his natural tendency would, once at all events,
have been to avoid any kind of extremes.

He puzzled and interested me so much that I did
my best to enter into conversation with him, only to
be baffled by the jerky embarrassment with which he
met all advances, and when we got out at Esher,
curiosity led me to keep him still in view.

Evidently he had not come with any intention of
making money. He avoided the grand stand, with
the bookmakers huddling in couples, like hoarse love-
birds ; he kept away from the members' inclosure,
where the Guards' band was endeavouring to defy the
elements which emptied their vials into the brazen
instruments ; he drifted listlessly about the course
till the clearing-bell rang, and it seemed as if he was
searching for some one whom he only wished to dis-
cover in order to avoid.

Sandown, it must be admitted, was not as gay as
usual that day, with its ' deluged park ' and ' unsum-
mer'd sky,' its waterproofed toilettes and massed um-
brellas, whose sides gleamed livid as they caught the
light but there was a general determination to ignore
the unseasonable dampness as far as possible, and an
excitement over the main event of the day which no
downpour could quench.

The Ten Thousand was run : ladies with marvel-
lously confected bonnets lowered their umbrellas with-
out a murmur, and smart men on drags shook hands

THE TALKING HOUSE 8

effusively as, amidst a frantic roar of delight, Bendigo
strode past the post. The moment after, I looked
round for my incongruous stranger, and saw him
engaged in a well-meant attempt to press a currant
bun upon a carriage-horse tethered to one of the
trees a feat of abstraction which, at such a time, was
only surpassed by that of Archimedes at the sack of
Syracuse.

After that I could no longer control my curiosity
I felt I must speak to him again, and I made an
opportunity later, as we stood alone on a stand which
commanded the finish of one of the shorter courses,
by suggesting that he should share my umbrella.

Before accepting he glanced suspiciously at me
through the rills that streamed from his unpro-
tected hat-brim. 'I'm afraid,' I said, 'it is rather
like shutting the stable- door after the steed is
stolen. 5

He started. ( He was stolen, then,' he cried ; ' so
you have heard ? '

I explained that I had only used an old proverb
which I thought might appeal to him, and he sighed
heavily.

'I was misled for the moment,' he said: 'you
have guessed, then, that I have been accustomed to
horses ? '

' You have hardly made any great secret of it.'

' The fact is,' he said, instantly understanding this
allusion to his costume, ' I I put on these things so

B 2

4 THE TALKING HORSE

as not to lose the habit of riding altogether 1 have
not been on horseback lately. At one time I used
to ride constantly constantly. I was a regular at-
tendant in Eotten Kow until something occurred
which shook my nerve, and I am only waiting now
for the shock to subside.'

I did not like to ask any questions, and we walked
back to the station, and travelled up to Waterloo in
company, without any further reference to the
subject.

As we were parting, however, he said, ' I wonder
if you would care to hear my full story some day ?
I cannot help thinking it would interest you, and it
would be a relief to me.'

I was ready enough to hear whatever he chose to tell
me ; and persuaded him to dine with me at my rooms
that evening, and unbosom himself afterwards, which
he did to an extent for which I confess I was unpre-
pared.

That he himself implicitly believed in his own
story, I could not doubt ; and he told it throughout
with the oddest mixture of vanity and modesty, and
an obvious struggle between a dim perception of his
own absurdity and the determination to spare himself
in no single particular, which, though it did not over-
come my scepticism, could not fail to enlist sympathy.
But for all that, by the time he entered upon the more
sensational part of his case, I was driven to form con-
clusions respecting it which, as they will probably

THE TALKING HOKSE 5

force themselves upon the reader's own mind, I need
not anticipate here.

I give the story, as far as possible, in the words of
its author ; and have only to add that it would never
have been published here without his full consent
and approval.

' My name,' said he, ' is Gustavus Pulvertoft. I
have no occupation, and six hundred a year. I lived
a quiet and contented bachelor until I was twenty-
eight, and then I met Diana Chetwynd for the first
time. We were spending Christmas at the same
country-house, and it did not take me long to become
the most devoted of her many adorers. She was one
of the most variously accomplished girls I had ever
met. She was a skilled musician, a brilliant amateur
actress ; she could give most men thirty out of a
hundred at billiards, and her judgment and daring
across the most difficult country had won her the
warm admiration of all hunting-men. And she was
neither fast nor horsey, seeming to find but little
pleasure in the society of mere sportsmen, to whose
conversation she infinitely preferred that of persons
who, like myself, were rather agreeable than athletic.
I was not at that time, whatever I may be now, with-
out my share of good looks, and for some reason it
pleased Miss Chetwynd to show me a degree of favour
which she accorded to no other member of the house-
party.

6 THE TALKING HOESE

It was annoying to feel that my unfamiliarity
with the open-air sports in which she delighted de-
barred me from her company to so great an extent ;
for it often happened that I scarcely saw her until the
evening, when I sometimes had the bliss of sitting
next to her at dinner ; but on these occasions I could
not help seeing that she found some pleasure in my
society.

I don't think I have mentioned that, besides being
exquisitely lovely, Diana was an heiress, and it was
not without a sense of my own presumption that I
allowed myself to entertain the hope of winning her
at some future day. Still, I was not absolutely pen-
niless, and she was her own mistress, and I had some
cause, as I have said, for believing that she was, at
least, not ill-disposed towards me. It seemed a favour-
able sign, for instance, when she asked me one day
why it was I never rode. I replied that I had not
ridden for years though I did not add that the exact
number of those years was twenty-eight.

' Oh, but you must take it up again ! ' she said,
with the prettiest air of imperiousness. ' You ought
to ride in the Kow next season.'

* If I did,' I said, ' would you let me ride with you
sometimes ? '

' We should meet, of course,' she said ; ' and it is
such a pity not to keep up your riding you lose so
much by not doing so.'

Was I wrong in taking this as an intimation that,

THE TALKING HOESE 7

by following her advice, I should not lose my reward ?
If you had seen her face as she spoke, you would
have thought as I did then as I do now.

And so, with this incentive, I overcame any
private misgivings, and soon after my return to town
attended a fashionable riding- school near Hyde Park,
with the fixed determination to acquire the whole art
and mystery of horsemanship.

That I found learning a pleasure I cannot con-
scientiously declare. I have passed happier hours
than those I spent in cantering round four bare white-
washed walls on a snorting horse, with my inter-
dicted stirrups crossed upon the saddle. The riding-
master informed me from time to time that I was
getting on, and I knew instinctively when I was
coming off ; but I must have made some progress, for
my instructor became more encouraging. 'Why,
when you come here first, Mr. Pulvertoft, sir, you
were like a pair o' tongs on a wall, as they say ;
whereas now well, you can tell yourself how you
are,' he would say ; though, even then, I occasionally
had reason to regret that I was not on a wall. How-
ever, I persevered, inspired by the thought that each
fresh horse I crossed (and some were very fresh in-
deed) represented one more barrier surmounted
between myself and Diana, and encouraged by the
discovery, after repeated experiments, that tan was
rather soothing to fall upon than otherwise.

When I walked in the Eow, where a few horsemen

8 THE TALKING HOESE

were performing as harbingers of spring, I criticised
their riding, which I thought indifferent, as they
neglected nearly all the rules. I began to antici-
pate a day when I should exhibit a purer and more
classic style of equestrianism. And one morning I saw
Diana, who pulled up her dancing mare to ask me if
I had remembered her advice, and I felt proudly able
to reply that I should certainly make my appearance
in the Kow before very long.

From that day I was perpetually questioning my
riding-master as to when he considered I should be
ripe enough for Eotten Kow. He was dubious, but
not actually dissuasive. ' It's like this, you see, sir,'
he explained, ' if you get hold of a quiet, steady horse
why, you won't come to no harm ; but if you go out
on an animal that will take advantage of you, Mr.
Pulvertoft, why, you'll be all no-how on him, sir.'

They would have mounted me at the school ; but
I knew most of the stud there, and none of them quite
came up to my ideal of a ' quiet, steady horse ; ' so I
went to a neighbouring job-master, from whom I had
occasionally hired a brougham, and asked to be shown
an animal he could recommend to one who had not
had much practice lately. He admitted candidly
enough that most of his horses * took a deal of riding,'
but added that it so happened that he had one just
then which would suit me ' down to the ground ' a
phrase which grated unpleasantly on my nerves,
though I consented to see the horse. His aspect

THE TALKING HORSE 9

impressed me most favourably. He was a chestnut
of noble proportions, with a hogged mane ; but what
reassured me was the expression of his eye, indicating
as it did a self-respect and sagacity which one would
hardly expect for seven and sixpence an hour.

' You won't get a showier Park 'ack than what he
is, not to be so quiet,' said his owner. 'He's what
you may call a kind 'oss, and as gentle you could
ride him on a packthread.'

I considered reins safer, but I was powerfully
drawn towards the horse : he seemed to me to be sen-
sible that he had a character to lose, and to possess
too high an intelligence wilfully to forfeit his testi-
monials. With hardly a second thought, I engaged
him for the following afternoon.

I mounted at the stables, with just a passing
qualm, perhaps, while my stirrup-leathers were being
adjusted, and a little awkwardness in taking up my
reins, which were more twisted than I could have
wished ; however, at length, I found myself embarked
on the stream of traffic on the back of the chestnut
whose name, by the way, was Brutus.

Shall I ever forget the pride and ecstasy of finding
that I had my steed under perfect control, that we
threaded the maze of carriages with absolute security ?
I turned him into the Park, and clucked my tongue :
he broke into a canter, and how shall I describe my
delight at the discovery that it was not uncomfort-
able ? I said ' Woa,' and he stopped, so gradually

10 THE TALKING HORSE

that my equilibrium was not seriously disturbed ; he
trotted, and still I accommodated myself to his move-
ments without any positive inconvenience. I could
have embraced him for gratitude : never before had
I been upon a beast whose paces were so easy, whose
behaviour was so considerate. I could ride at last !
or, which amounted to the same thing, I could ride
the horse I was on, and I would * use no other.' I
was about to meet Diana Chetwynd, and need not
fear even to encounter her critical eyes.

We had crossed the Serpentine bridge, and were
just turning in upon the Kide, when and here I am
only too conscious that what I am about to say may
strike you as almost incredible when I heard an
unfamiliar voice addressing me with, ' I say you ! '
and the moment afterwards realised that it proceeded
from my own horse !

I am not ashamed to own that I was as nearly off as
possible ; for a more practised rider than I could pre-
tend to be might have a difficulty in preserving his
equanimity in this all but unparalleled situation. I
was too much engaged in feeling for my left stirrup to
make any reply, and presently the horse spoke once
more. * I say,' he inquired, and I failed to discern
the slightest trace of respect in his tone 'do you
think you can ride ? ' You can judge for yourself
how disconcerting the inquiry must have been from
such lips: I felt rooted to the saddle a sensation
which, with me, was sufficiently rare. I looked round

THE TALKING HOUSE 11

in helpless bewilderment, at the shimmering Serpen-
tine, and the white houses in Park Lane gleaming out
of a lilac haze, at the cocoa-coloured Kow, and the
flash of distant carriage-wheels in the sunlight : all
looked as usual and yet, there was I on the back of
a horse which had just inquired ' whether I thought I
could ride ' !

' I have had two dozen lessons at a riding-school,'
I said at last, with rather a flabby dignity.

' I should hardly have suspected it,' was his brutal
retort. * You are evidently one of the hopeless cases.'

I was deeply hurt, the more so because I could
not deny that he had some claim to be a judge. ' I
I thought we were getting on so nicely together,'
I faltered, and all he said in reply to that was, ' Did
you?'

* Do you know,' I began, striving to be conversa-
tional, ' I never was on a horse that talked before.'

' You are enough to make any horse talk,' he
answered ; * but I suppose I am an exception.'

* I think you must be,' said I. * The only horses I
ever heard of as possessing the gift of speech were the
Houyhnhnms.'

* How do you know I am not one of them ? ' he
replied.

' If you are, you will understand that I took the
liberty of mounting you under a very pardonable mis-
take ; and if you will have the goodness to stand
still, I will no longer detain you.'

12 THE TALKING HORSE

* Not so fast,' said he : * I want to know some-
thing more about you first. I should say now you
were a man with plenty of oats.'

* I am well off,' I said. How I wished I was !

' I have long been looking out for a proprietor
who would not overwork me : now, of course, I don't
know, but you scarcely strike me as a hard rider.'

* I do not think I could be fairly accused of that,'
I answered, with all the consciousness of innocence.

' Just so then buy me.'

' No,' I gasped : * after the extremely candid
opinion you were good enough to express of my
riding, I'm surprised that you should even suggest
such a thing.'

'Oh, I will put up with that you will suit me
well enough, I dare say.'

* You must excuse me. I prefer to keep my spare
cash for worthier objects ; and, with your permission,
I will spend the remainder of the afternoon on foot.'

* You will do nothing of the sort,' said he.

' If you won't stop, and let me get off properly,'
I said with firmness, 'I shall roll off.' There were
some promenaders within easy hail ; but how was I
to word a call for help, how explain such a dilemma
as mine ?

' You will only reduce me to the painful necessity
of rolling on you,' he replied. ' You must see that
you are to a certain extent in my power. Suppose it
occurred to me to leap those rails and take you into

THE TALKING HOESE 13

the Serpentine, or to run away and upset a mounted
policeman with you do you think you could offer
much opposition ? '

I could not honestly assert that I did. ' You were
introduced to me,' I said reproachfully, 'as a kind
horse ! '

* And so I am apart from matters of business.
Come, will you buy, or be bolted with ? I hate in-
decision ! '

' Buy ! ' I said, with commercial promptness. ' If
you will take me back, I will arrange about it at
once.'

It is needless to say that my one idea was to get
safely off his back : after which, neither honour nor
law could require me to execute a contract extorted
from me by threats. But, as we were going down
the mews, he said reflectively, ' I've been thinking it
will be better for all parties, if you make your offer to
my proprietor before you dismount.' I was too vexed
to speak : this animal's infernal intelligence had fore-
seen my manoeuvre he meant to foil it, if he could.

And then we clattered in under the glass-roofed
yard of the livery stables ; and the job-master, who
was alone there, cast his eyes up at the sickly-faced
clock, as if he were comparing its pallor a with my own.
' Why, you are home early, sir,' he said. * You didn't
find the 'orse too much for you, did you ? ' He said
this without any suspicion of the'real truth ; and, in-
deed, I may say, once for all, that this weird horse

14 THE TALKING HORSE

Houyhnhnm, or whatever else he might be admitted
no one but myself into the secret of his marvellous
gifts, and in all his conversations with me, managed
(though how, I cannot pretend to say) to avoid being
overheard.

' Oh, dear no,' I protested, ' he carried me admir-
ably admirably ! ' and I made an attempt to slip off.

No such thing: Brutus instantly jogged my
memory, and me, by the slightest suggestion of a
< buck.'

' He's a grand 'orse, sir, isn't he ? ' said the job-
master complacently.

' M magnificent ! ' I agreed, with a jerk. * Will
you go to his head, please ? '

But the horse backed into the centre of the yard,
where he plunged with a quiet obstinacy. ' I like him
so much,' I called out, as I clung to the saddle, ' that
I want to know if you're at all inclined to part with
him ? ' Here Brutus became calm and attentive.

'Would you be inclined to make me a orfer for
him, sir ? '

' Yes,' I said faintly. ' About how much would
he be ? '

' You step into my orfice here, sir,' said he, ' and
we'll talk it over.'

I should have been only too willing, for there was
no room there for the horse, but the suspicious
animal would not hear of it : he began to revolve
immediately.

THE TALKING HOKSE 15

' Let us settle it now here,' I said, < I can't
wait.'

The job-master stroked away a grin. No doubt
there was something unbusinesslike and unpractical
in such precipitation, especially as combined with my
appearance at the time.

* Well, you 'ave took a voilent fancy to the 'orse
and no mistake, sir,' he remarked.

'I never crossed a handsomer creature,' I said;
which was hardly a prudent remark for an intending
purchaser, but then, there was the animal himself to
be conciliated.

* I don't know, really, as I can do without him
just at this time of year,' said the man. ' I'm under -
'orsed as it is for the work I've got to do.'

A sweet relief stole over me : I had done all that
could be expected of me. 'I'm very sorry to hear
that,' I said, preparing to dismount. * That is a
disappointment ; but if you can't there's an end
of it.'

* Don't you be afraid,' said Brutus, ' he'll sell me
readily enough : make him an offer, quick ! '

' I'll give you thirty guineas for him, come ! ' I
said, knowing well enough that he would not take
twice the money.

' I thought a gentleman like you would have had
more insight into the value of a 'orse,' he said : ' why,
his action alone is worth that, sir.'

' You couldn't let me have the action without the

16 THE TALKING HOESE

horse, I suppose ? ' I said, and I must have intended
some joke.

It is unnecessary to prolong a painful scene.
Brutus ran me up steadily from sum to sum, until
his owner said at last : ' Well, we won't 'aggie, sir,
call it a hundred.'

I had to call it a hundred, and what is more, it
was a hundred. I took him without a warranty,
without even a veterinary opinion. I could have
been induced to take my purchase away then and
there, as if I had been buying a canary, so unaccus-
tomed was I to transactions of this kind, and I am
afraid the job -master considered me little better than
a fool.

So I found myself the involuntary possessor of a
Houyhnhnm, or something even worse, and I walked
back to my rooms in Park Street in a state of stupor.
What was I to do with him ? To ride an animal so
brutally plainspoken would be a continual penance ;
and yet, I should have to keep him, for I knew he
was cunning enough to outwit any attempt to dispose
of him. And to this, Love and Ambition had led
me ! I could not, after all I had said, approach
Diana with any confidence as a mere pedestrian : the
fact that I was in possession of a healthy horse which
I never rode, would be sure to leak out in time, and
how was I to account for it ? I could see no way,
and I groaned under an embarrassment which I
dared not confide to the friendliest ear. I hated the

THE TALKING HORSE 17

monster that had saddled himself upon me, and
looked in vain for any mode of escape.

I had to provide Brutus with stabling in another
part of the town, for he proved exceedingly difficult
to please : he found fault with everything, and I only
wonder he did not demand that his stable should be
fitted up with blue china and mezzotints. In his
new quarters I left him for some days to his own
devices : a course which I was glad to find, on visiting
him again, had considerably reduced his arrogance.
He wanted to go in the Kow and see the other horses,
and it did not at all meet his views to be exercised
there by a stableman at unfashionable hours. So he
proposed a compromise. If I would only consent to
mount him, he engaged to treat me with forbearance,
and pointed out that he could give me, as he expressed
it, various ' tips ' which would improve my seat. I
was not blind to the advantages of such an arrange-
ment. It is not every one who secures a riding-master
in the person of his own horse ; the horse is essen-
tially a generous animal, and I felt that I might trust to
Brutus' s honour. And to do him justice, he observed
the compact with strict good faith. Some of his
' tips,' it is true, very nearly tipped me off, but their
result was to bring us closer together ; our relations
were less strained ; it seemed to me that I gained
more mastery over him every day, and was less stiff
afterwards.

But I was not allowed to enjoy this illusion long.

18 THE TALKING HOKSE

One day when I innocently asked him if he found my
hands improving, he turned upon me his off sardonic
eye. * You'll never improve, old sack-of-beans ' (for
he had come to address me with a freedom I burned
to resent) ; ' hands ! why, you're sawing my mouth off
all the time. And your feet "home," and tickling
me under my shoulders at every stride why, I'm
half ashamed to be seen about with you.'

I was deeply hurt. 'I will spare you for the
future,' I said coldly ; 'this is my last appearance.'

' Nonsense,' he said, ' you needn't show temper
over it. Surely, if I can put up with it, you can !
But we will make a new compact.' (I never knew
such a beast as he was for bargains !) ' You only
worry me by interfering with the reins. Let 'em out,
and leave everything to me. Just mention from time
to time where you want to go, and I'll attend to it,
if I've nothing better to do.'

I felt that such an understanding was destructive
of all dignity, subverting, as it did, the natural rela-
tions between horse and rider ; but I had hardly any
self-respect left, and I consented, since I saw no way
of refusing. And on the whole, I cannot say, even
now, that I had any grave reason for finding fault
with the use Brutus made of my concessions ;
he showed more tact than I could have expected
in disguising the merely nominal nature of my
authority.

I had only one serious complaint against him,

THE TALKING HORSE 19

which was that he had a habit of breaking suddenly
away, with a merely formal apology, to exchange
equine civilities with some cob or mare, to whose
owner I was a perfect stranger, thus driving me to
invent the most desperate excuses to cover my seem-
ing intrusion : but I managed to account for it in
various ways, and even made a few acquaintances in
this irregular and involuntary manner. I could have
wished he had been a less susceptible animal, for,
though his flirtations were merely Platonic, it is
rather humiliating to have to play ' gooseberry ' to
one's own horse a part which I was constantly being
called upon to perform !

As it happened, Diana was away in Paris that
Easter, and we had not met since my appearance in
the Kow ; but I knew she would be in town again
shortly, and with consummate diplomacy I began to
excite Brutus's curiosity by sundry careless, half-
slighting allusions to Miss Chetwynd's little mare,
Wild Eose. ' She's too frisky for my taste,' I said,
' but she's been a good deal admired, though I dare
say you wouldn't be particularly struck by her.'

So that, on the first afternoon of Diana's return
to the Eow, I found it easy, under cover of giving
Brutus an opportunity of forming an opinion, to pre-
vail on him to carry me to her side. Diana, who was
with a certain Lady Verney, her chaperon, welcomed
me with a charming smile.

' I had no idea you could ride so well,' she said,

c 2

20 THE TALKING HORSE

1 you manage that beautiful horse of yours so very
easily with such light hands, too.'

This was not irony, for I could now give my whole
mind to my seat ; and, as I never interfered at all
with the steering apparatus, my hands must have
seemed the perfection of lightness.

'He wants delicate handling,' I answered care-
lessly, 'but he goes very well with me. 1

' I wish you would let me try his paces some
morning, Pulverfcoft,' struck in a Colonel Cockshott,
who was riding with them, and whom I knew
slightly : 'I've a notion he would go better on the
curb.'

' I shall be very happy,' I began, when, just in
time, I noticed a warning depression in Brutus's ears.
The Colonel rode about sixteen stone, and with spurs !
' I mean,' I added hastily, ' I should have been only,
to tell you the truth, I couldn't conscientiously trust
any one on him but myself.'

' My dear fellow ! ' said the Colonel, who I could
see was offended, ' I've not met many horses in my
time that I couldn't get upon terms with.'

' I think Mr. Pulvertoft is quite right,' said Diana.
' When a horse gets accustomed to one he does so
resent a strange hand : it spoils his temper for days.
I never will lend Wild Kose to anybody for that very
reason ! '

The Colonel fell back in the rear in a decided sulk.
' Poor dear Colonel Cockshott ! ' said Diana, ' he is so

THE TALKING HOUSE 21

proud of his riding, but I think he dragoons a horse.
I don't call that riding, do you ? '

'Well hardly,' I agreed, with easy disparage-
ment. * I never believe in ruling a horse by fear.'

< I suppose you are very fond of yours ? ' she
said.

' Fond is not the word ! ' I exclaimed and it
certainly was not.

* I am not sure that what I said about lending
Wild Kose would apply to you,' she said. ' I think
you would be gentle with her.'

I was certain that I should treat her with all
consideration ; but as I doubted whether she would
wholly reciprocate it, I said with much presence of
mind, that I should regard riding her as akin to
profanation.

As Brutus and I were going home, he observed
that it was a good thing I had not agreed to lend him
to the Colonel.

' Yes,' I said, determined to improve the occasion,
' you might not have found him as considerate as-
well, as some people ! '

I 1 meant it was a good thing for you \ ' he hinted
darkly, and I did not care to ask for an explanation.
< What did you mean,' he resumed, * by saying that I
should not admire Wild Kose ? Why, she is charm-
ing charming ! '

'In that case,' I said, 'I don't mind riding with
her mistress occasionally to oblige you.'

22 THE TALKING HORSE

* You don't mind ! ' he said ; ' you will have to, my
boy, and every afternoon ! '

I suppressed a chuckle : after all, man is the
nobler animal. I could manage a horse in my
own way. My little ruse had succeeded: I should
have no more forced introductions to mystified
strangers.

And now for some weeks my life passed in a happy
dream. I only lived for those hours in the Row,
where Brutus turned as naturally to Wild Rose as
the sunflower to the sun, and Diana and I grew more
intimate every day. Happiness and security made
me almost witty. I was merciless in my raillery of
the eccentric exhibitions of horsemanship which were
to be met with, and Diana was provoked by my com-
ments to the sweetest silvery laughter. As for
Colonel Cockshott, whom I had once suspected of a
desire to be my rival, he had long become a * neglig-
ible quantity ; ' and if I delayed in asking Diana to
trust me with her sweet self, it was only because I
found an epicurean pleasure in prolonging a suspense
that was so little uncertain.

And then, without warning, my riding was inter-
rupted for a while. Brutus was discovered, much to
his annoyance, to have a saddle-raw, and was even so
unjust as to lay the blame on me, though, for my
own part, I thought it a mark of apt, though tardy,
retribution. I was not disposed to tempt Fortune
upon any other mount, but I could not keep away

THE TALKING HORSE 23

from the Eow, nevertheless, and appeared there on
foot. I saw Diana riding with the Colonel, who
seemed to think his opportunity had come at last ;
but whenever she passed the railings on which I
leaned, she would raise her eyebrows and draw her
mouth down into a little curve of resigned boredom,
which completely reassured me. Still, I was very
glad when Brutus was well again, and we were can-
tering down the Kow once more, both in the highest
spirits.

' I never heard the horses here whinny so much as
they do this season,' I said, by way of making conver-
sation. ' Can you account for it at all ? ' For he
sometimes gave me pieges of information which en-
abled me to impress Diana afterwards by my intimate
knowledge of horses.

' Whinnying ? ' he said. ' They're laughing, that's
what they're doing and no wonder ! '

* Oh ! ' said I, ' and what's the joke ? '

' Why, you are ! ' he replied. * You don't suppose
you take them in, do you ? They know all about you,
bless your heart ! '

' Oh, do they ? ' I said blankly. This brute took
a positive pleasure, I believe, in reducing my self-
esteem.

6 1 dare say it has got about through Wild Eose,'
he continued. ' She was immensely tickled when I
told her. I'm afraid she must have been feeling
rather dull all these days, by the bye.'

24 THE TALKING HORSE

I felt an unworthy impulse to take his conceit
down as he had lowered mine.

* Not so very, I think,' I said. ' She seemed to
me to find that brown hunter of Colonel Cockshott's
a very agreeable substitute.'

Late as it is for reparation, I must acknowledge
with shame that in uttering this insinuation, I did
that poor little mare (for whom I entertained the
highest respect) a shameful injustice; and I should
like to state here, in the most solemn and emphatic
manner, my sincere belief that, from first to last,
she conducted herself in a manner that should have
shielded her from all calumny.

It was only a mean desire to retaliate, a petty and
ignoble spite, that prompted me thus to poison
Brutus's confidence, and I regretted the words as soon
as I had uttered them.

' That beast ! ' he said, starting as if I had touched
him with a whip a thing I never used ' why, he
hasn't two ideas in his great fiddle-head. The only
sort of officer he ought to carry is a Salvationist ! '

I 1 grant he has not your personal advantages and
charm of manner,' I said. ' No doubt I was wrong
to say anything about it.'

* No,' he said, ' you you have done me a service,'
and he relapsed into a sombre silence.

I was riding with Diana as usual, and was about
to express my delight at being able to resume our
companionship, when her mare drew slightly ahead

THE TALKING HOESE 25

and lashed out suddenly, catching me on the left leg,
and causing intense agony for the moment.

Diana showed the sweetest concern, imploring me
to go home in a cab at once, while her groom took
charge of Brutus. I declined the cab ; but, as my
leg was really painful, and Brutus was showing an
impatience I dared not disregard, I had to leave her
side.

On our way home, Brutus said moodily, ' It is all
over between us you saw that ? '

' I felt it ! ' I replied. ' She nearly broke my leg.'

' It was intended for me,' he said. ' It was her
way of signifying that we had better be strangers for
the future. I taxed her with her faithlessness ; she
denied it, of course every mare does ; we had an
explanation, and everything is at an end ! '

I did not ride him again for some days, and when
I did, I found him steeped in Byronic gloom. He
even wanted at first to keep entirely on the Bayswater
side of the Park, though I succeeded in arguing him
out of such weakness. ' Be a horse ! ' I said. ' Show
her you don't care. You only flatter her by betray-
ing your feelings.'

This was a subtlety that had evidently not oc-
curred to him, but he was intelligent enough to feel
the force of what I said. ' You are right,' he admitted ;
' you are not quite a fool in some respects. She shall
see how little I care ! '

Naturally, after this, I expected to accompany

26 THE TALKING HOESE

Diana as usual, and it was a bitter disappointment to
me to find that Brutus would not hear of doing so.
He had an old acquaintance in the Park, a dapple-
grey, who, probably from some early disappointment
was a confirmed cynic, and whose society he thought
would be congenial just then. The grey was ridden
regularly by a certain Miss Gittens, whose appearance
as she titupped laboriously up and down had often
furnished Diana and myself with amusement.

And now, in spite of all my efforts, Brutus made
straight to the grey. I was not in such difficulties as
might have been expected, for I happened to know
Miss Gittens slightly, as a lady no longer in the
bloom of youth, who still retained a wiry form of
girlishness. Though rather disliking her than not, I
found it necessary just then to throw some slight effu-
sion into my greeting. She, not unnaturally perhaps,
was flattered by my preference, and begged me to give
her a little instruction in riding, which Heaven
forgive me for it ! I took upon myself to do.

Even now I scarcely see how I could have acted
otherwise : I could not leave her side until Brutus
had exhausted the pleasures of cynicism with his grey
friend, and the time had to be filled up somehow.
But, oh, the torture of seeing Diana at a distance,
and knowing that only a miserable misunderstanding
between our respective steeds kept us apart, feeling
constrained even to avoid looking in her direction,
lest she should summon me to her side !

THE TALKING- HORSE 27

One day, as I was riding with Miss Gittens, she
glanced coyly at me over her sharp right shoulder,
and said, ' Do you know, only such a little while ago,
I never even dreamed that we should ever become as
intimate as we are now ; it seems almost incredible,
does it not ? '

1 You must not say so,' I replied. ' Surely there
is nothing singular in my helping you a little with
your riding?' Though it struck me that it would
have been very singular if I had.

1 Perhaps not singular,' she murmured, looking
modestly down her nose ; ' but will you think me very
unmaidenly if I confess that, to me, those lessons
have developed a dawning danger ? '

' You are perfectly safe on the grey,' I said.

' I I was not thinking of the grey,' she returned.
' Dear Mr. Pulvertoft, I must speak frankly a girl
has so many things to consider, and I am afraid you
have made me forget how wrongly and thoughtlessly
I have been behaving of late. I cannot help suspect-
ing that you must have some motive in seeking my
society in so so marked a manner.'

'Miss Gittens,' said I, 'I can disguise nothing:
I have.'

1 And you have not been merely amusing yourself
all this time ? '

' Before Heaven,' I cried with fervour, * I have
notV

' You are not one of those false men who give their

28 THE TALKING HOESE

bridle-reins a shake, and ride off with " Adieu for
evermore ! " tell me you are not ? '

I might shake my bridle-reins till I was tired and
nothing would come of it unless Brutus was in the
humour to depart ; so that I was able to assure her
with truth that I was not at all that kind of person.

' Then why not let your heart speak ? '

' There is such a thing,' I said gloomily, * as a
heart that is gagged.'

* Can no word, no hint of mine loosen the gag ? '
she wished to know. ' What, you are silent still ?
Then, Mr. Pulvertoft, though I may seem harsh and
cruel in saying it, our pleasant intercourse must end
we must ride together no more ! '

No more ? What would Brutus say to that ? I
was horrified. ' Miss Gittens,' I said in great agita-
tion, ' I entreat you to unsay those words. I I am
afraid I could not undertake to accept such a dismissal.
Surely, after that, you will not insist ! '

She sighed. 'I am a weak, foolish girl,' she
said; 'you are only too able to overcome my judg-
ment. There, Mr. Pulvertoft, look happy again
I relent. You may stay if you will ! '

You must believe that I felt thoroughly ashamed of
myself, for I could not be blind to the encouragement
which, though I sought to confine my words to strict
truth, I was innocently affording. But, with a horse
like mine, what was a man to do ? What would you
have done yourself? As soon as was prudent, I

THE TALKING HOUSE 29

hinted to Brutus that his confidences had lasted long
enough ; and as he trotted away with me, he remarked,
' I thought you were never going.' Was he weary of
the grey already? My heart leaped. 'Brutus,' I
said thickly, * are you strong enough to bear a great

joy?'

' Speak out,' he said, < and do try to keep those
heels out of my ribs.'

' I cannot see you suffer,' I told him, with a sense
of my own hypocrisy all the time. ' I must tell you
circumstances have come to my knowledge which lead
me to believe that we have both judged Wild Kose
too hastily. I am sure that her heart is yours still.
She is only longing to tell you that she has never
really swerved from her allegiance.'

' It is too late now,' he said, and the back of his
head looked inflexibly obstinate ; ' we have kept
asunder too long.'

* No,' I said, ' listen. I take more interest in you
than you are, perhaps, aware of, and I have thought
of a little plan for bringing you together again.
What if I find an opportunity to see the lady she
belongs to we have not met lately, as you know, and
I do not pretend that I desire a renewal of our
intimacy '

' You like the one on the grey best ; I saw that
long ago,' he said ; and I left him in his error.

* In any case, for your sake, I will sacrifice myself,'
I said magnanimously. 'I will begin to-morrow.

30 THE TALKING HORSE

Come, you will not let your lives be wrecked by a
foolish lovers' quarrel ? '

He made a little half-hearted opposition, but finally,
as I knew he would, consented. I had gained my
point : I was free from Miss Gittens at last !

That evening I met Diana in the hall of a house
in Eaton Square. She was going downstairs as I was
making my way to the ball-room, and greeted me with
a rather cool little nod*

* You have quite deserted me lately,' she said,
smiling, but I could read the reproach in her eyes,
' you never ride with us now.'

My throat was swelling with passionate eloquence
and I could not get any of it out.

1 No, I never do,' was all my stupid tongue could
find to say.

' You have discovered a more congenial companion,'
said cruel Diana.

* Miss Chetwynd,' I said eagerly, * you don't know
how I have been wishing ! Will you let me ride
with you to-morrow, as as you used to do ? '

'You are quite sure you won't be afraid of my
naughty Wild Eose ? ' she said. ' I have given her
such a scolding, that I think she is thoroughly
ashamed of herself.'

* You thought it was that that kept me ! ' I cried.
' Oh, if I could tell you ! '

She smiled: she was my dear, friendly Diana
again.

THE TALKING HORSE 31

'You shall tell me all about it to-morrow,' she
said. * You will not have another opportunity, because
we are going to Aix on Friday. And now, good-night.
I am stopping the way, and the linkman is getting
quite excited over it.'

She passed on, and the carriage rolled away with
her, and I was too happy to mind very much had
she not forgiven me ? Should we not meet to-
morrow? I should have two whole hours to declare
myself in, and this time I would dally with Fortune
no longer.

How excited I was the following day : how fearful,
when the morning broke grey and lowering: how
grateful, when the benignant sun shone out later,
and promised a brilliant afternoon : how carefully I
dressed, and what a price I paid for the flower for my
buttonhole !

So we cantered on to the Eow, as goodly a couple
(if I may be pardoned this retrospective vanity) as
any there ; and by and by, I saw, with the quick eye
of a lover, Diana's willowy form in the distance. She
was not alone, but I knew that the Colonel would soon
have to yield his place to me.

As soon as she saw me, she urged her mare to a
trot, and came towards me with the loveliest faint
blush and dawning smile of welcome, when, all at
once, Brutus came to a dead stop, which nearly
threw me on his neck, and stood quivering in every
limb.

32 THE TALKING HORSE

' Do you see that ? ' he said hoarsely. ' And I
was about to forgive her ! '

I saw : my insinuation, baseless enough at the
beginning, was now but too well justified. Colonel
Cockshott was on his raw-boned brown hunter, and
even my brief acquaintance with horses enabled me to
see that Wild Eose no longer regarded him with her
former indifference.

Diana and the Colonel had reined up and seemed
waiting for me would Brutus never move ? ' Show
your pride,' I said in an agonised whisper, ' Treat
her with the contempt she deserves ! '

'I will,' he said between his bit and clenched
teeth.

And then Miss Gittens came bumping by on the
grey, and, before I could interfere, my Houyhnhnm
was off like a shot in pursuit. I saw Diana's sweet,
surprised face : I heard the Colonel's jarring laugh as
I passed, and I I could only bow in mortified appeal,
and long for a gulf to leap into like Curtius !

I don't know what I said to Miss Gittens. I believe
I made myself recklessly amiable, and I remember she
lingered over parting in a horribly emotional manner.
I was too miserable to mind : all the time I was see-
ing Diana's astonished eyes, hearing Colonel Cock-
shott 's heartless laugh. Brutus made a kind of
explanation on our way home : ' You meant well,' he
said, * but you see you were wrong. Your proposed
sacrifice, for which I am just as grateful to you as if

THE TALKING HOKSE 33

it had been effected, was useless. All I could do in
return was to take you where your true inclination
lay. I, too, can be unselfish.'

I was too dejected to curse his unselfishness. 1
did not even trouble myself to explain what it had
probably cost me. I only felt drearily that I had had
my last ride, I had had enough of horsemanship for
ever !

That evening I went to the theatre, I wanted to
deaden thought for the moment ; and during one of
the intervals I saw Lady Verney in the stalls, and
went up to speak to her. 'Your niece is not with
you ? ' I said ; ' I thought I should have had a chance
of of saying good-bye to her before she left for the
continent.'

I had a lingering hope that she might ask me to
lunch, that I might have one more opportunity of
explaining.

' Oh,' said Lady Verney, ' but that is all changed;
we are not going at least, not yet.'

' Not going ! ' I cried, incredulous for very joy.

' No, it is all very sudden ; but, well, you are
almost like an old friend, and you are sure to hear it
sooner or later. I only knew myself this afternoon,
when she came in from her ride. Colonel Cockshott
has proposed and she has accepted him. We're so

pleased about it. Wasn't dear Mrs. delightful in

that last act ? I positively saw real tears on her
face ! '

34 THE TALKING HORSE

If I had waited much longer she would have seen
a similar display of realism on mine. But I went
back and sat the interval out, and listened critically
to the classical selection of chamber-music from the
orchestra, and saw the rest of the play, though I have-
no notion how it ended.

All that night my heart was slowly consumed by
a dull rage that grew with every sleepless hour ; but
the object of my resentment was not Diana. She had
only done what as a woman she was amply justified
in doing after the pointed slight I had apparently
inflicted upon her. Her punishment was sufficient
already, for, of course, I guessed that she had only
accepted the Colonel under the first intolerable sting
of desertion. No : I reserved all my wrath for Brutus,
who had betrayed me at the moment of triumph. I
planned revenge. Cost what it might I would ride
him once more. In the eyes of the law I was his
master. I would exercise my legal rights to the
full.

The afternoon came at last. I was in a white
heat of anger, though as I ascended to the saddle
there were bystanders who put a more uncharitable
construction upon my complexion.

Brutus cast an uneasy eye at my heels as we
started : ' What are those things you've got on ? ' he-
inquired.

' Spurs,' I replied curtly.

' You shouldn't wear them till you have learnt to-

THE TALKING- HORSE 35

turn your toes in,' he said. ' And a whip, too ! May
I ask what that is for ? '

* We will discuss that presently,' I said very coldly;
for I did not want to have a scene with my horse in
the street.

When we came round by the statue of Achilles
and on to the Bide, I shortened my reins, and got a
better hold of the whip, while I found that, from some
cause I cannot explain, the roof of my mouth grew
uncomfortably dry.

' I should be glad of a little quiet talk with you, if
you've no objection,' I began.

' I am quite at your disposal,' he said, champing
his bit with a touch of irony.

* First, let me tell you,' I said, * that I have lost
my only love for ever.'

* Well,' he retorted flippantly, ' you won't die of it.
So have I. We must endeavour to console one an-
other ! '

I still maintained a deadly calm. ' You seem un-
aware that you are the sole cause of my calamity,' I
said. ' Had you only consented to face Wild Kose
yesterday, I should have been a happy man by this
time ! '

' How was I to know that, when you let me think
all your affections were given to the elderly thing who
is trotted out by my friend the grey ? '

'We won't argue, please,' I said hastily. 'It is
enough that your infernal egotism and self-will have

D 2

$6 THE TALKING HORSE

ruined my happiness. I have allowed you to usurp
the rule, to reverse our natural positions. I shall do
so no more. I intend to teach you a lesson you will
never forget.'

For a horse, he certainly had a keen sense of
humour. I thought the girths would have snapped.

t And when do you intend to begin ? ' he asked, as
goon as he could speak.

I looked in front of me : there were Diana and her
accepted lover riding towards us; and so natural is
dissimulation, even to the sweetest and best women,
that no one would have suspected from her radiant
face that her gaiety covered an aching heart.

* I intend to begin now,' I said. ' Monster, demon,
whatever you are that have held me in thrall so long,
I have broken my chains ! I have been a coward long
enough. You may kill me if you like. I rather hope
you will ; but first I mean to pay you back some of
the humiliation with which you have loaded me. I
intend to thrash you as long as I remain in the saddle.'

I have been told by eye-witnesses that the chas-
tisement was of brief duration, but while it lasted,
I flatter myself, it was severe. I laid into him with
a stout whip, of whose effectiveness I had assured
myself by experiments upon my own legs. I dug my
borrowed spurs into his flanks. I jerked his mouth.
I dare say he was almost as much surprised as pained.
But he was pained 1

I was about to continue my practical rebuke, when

THE TALKING HOKSE 37

my victim suddenly evaded my grasp ; and for one
vivid second I seemed to be gazing upon a birdseye
view of his back ; and then there was a crash, and I
lay, buzzing like a bee, in an iridescent fog, and each
colour meant a different pain, and they faded at last
into darkness, and I remember no more.

* It was weeks,' concluded Mr. Pulvertoft, * before
that darkness lifted and revealed me to myself as a
strapped and bandaged invalid. But and this is per-
haps the most curious part of my narrative almost
the first sounds that reached my ears were those of
wedding bells ; and I knew, without requiring to be
told, that they were ringing for Diana's marriage with
the Colonel. That showed there wasn't much the
matter with me, didn't it ? Why, I can hear them
everywhere now. I don't think she ought to have
had them rung at Sandown though : it was just a
little ostentatious, so long after the ceremony ; don't
you think so ? '

' Yes yes,' I said ; ' but you never told me what
became of the horse.'

' Ah ! the horse yes. I am looking for him.
I'm not so angry with him as I was, and I don't like
to ask too many questions at the stables, for fear they
may tell me one day that they had to shoot him while I
was so ill. You knew I was ill, I dare say ? ' he broke
off : ' there were bulletins about me in the papers.
Look here.'

He handed me a cutting on which I read :

38 THE TALKING HOUSE

' THE KECENT ACCIDENT IN EOTTEN Kow. There
is no change as yet in Mr. Pulvertoft's condition.
The unfortunate gentleman is still lying unconscious
at his rooms in Park Street ; and his medical attend-
ants fear that, even if he recovers his physical
Strength, the brain will be permanently injured.'

' But that was all nonsense ! ' said Mr. Pulvertoft,
with a little nervous laugh, ' it wasn't injured a bit,
or how could I remember everything so clearly as I
do, you know ? '

And this was an argument that was, of course,
Unanswerable.

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

A STORY FOR CHILDREN

HER name was Priscilla Prodgers, and she was a very
good little girl indeed. So good was she, in fact, that
she could not help being aware of it herself, and that
is a stage to which very many quite excellent persons
never succeed in attaining. She was only just a child,
it is true, but she had read a great many beautiful
story-books, and so she knew what a powerful re-
forming influence a childish and innocent remark, or
a youthful example, or a happy combination of both,
can exert over grown-up people. And early in life she
was but eleven at the date of this history early in
life she had seen clearly that her mission was to reform
her family and relatives generally. This was a heavy
task for one so young, particularly in Priscilla's
case, for, besides a father, mother, brother, and
sister, in whom she could not but discern many and
serious failings, she possessed an aunt who was
addicted to insincerity, two female cousins whose
selfishness and unamiability were painful to witness,
and a male cousin who talked slang and was so

40 THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL

worldly that he habitually went about in yellow
boots ! Nevertheless Priscilla did not flinch, although,
for some reason, her earnest and unremitting efforts
had hitherto failed to produce any deep impression.
At times she thought this was owing to the fact that
she tried to reform all her family together, and that
her best plan would be to take each one separately,
and devote her whole energies to improving that
person alone. But then she never could make up
her mind which member of the family to begin with.
It is small wonder that she often felt a little dis-
heartened, but even that was a cheering symptom,
for in the books it is generally just when the little
heroine becomes most discouraged that the seemingly
impenitent relative exhibits the first sign of softening.

So Priscilla persevered : sometimes with merely a
shocked glance of disapproval, which she had pract-
ised before the looking-glass until she could do it
perfectly ; sometimes with some tender, tactful little
hint. ' Don't you think, dear papa,' she would say
softly, on a Sunday morning, ' don't you think you
could write your newspaper article on some other day
is it a work of real necessity ? ' Or she would ask
her mother, who was certainly fond of wearing pretty
things. 'How much bread for poor starving people
would the price of your new bonnet buy, mother ?
I should so like to work it out on my little slate ! '

Then she would remind her brother Alick that it
would be so much better if, instead of wasting his

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 41

time in playing with silly little tin soldiers, he would
try to learn as much as he could before he was sent
to school; while she was never tired of quoting to
her sister Betty the line, ' Be good, sweet maid, and
let who will be clever ! ' which Betty, quite unjustly,
interpreted to mean that Priscilla thought but poorly
of her sister's intellectual capacity. Once when, as a
great treat, the children were allowed to read ' Ivan-
hoe ' aloud, Priscilla declined to participate until she
had conscientiously read up the whole Norman period
in her English history ; and on another occasion she
cried bitterly on hearing that her mother had ar-
ranged for them to learn dancing, and even endured
bread and water for an entire day rather than consent
to acquire an accomplishment which she feared, from
what she had read, would prove a snare. On the
second day well, there was roast beef and Yorkshire'
pudding for dinner, and Priscilla yielded ; but she
made the resolution and kept it too that, if she
went to the dancing class, she would firmly refuse to
take the slightest pains to learn a single step.

I only mention all these traits to show that Priscilla
really was an unusually good child, which makes
it the more sad and strange that her family should
have profited so little by her example. She was
neither loved nor respected as she ought to have
been, I am grieved to say. Her papa, when he was
not angry, made the cruellest fun of her mild reproofs ;
her mother continued to spend money on dresses and

42 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

bonnets, and even allowed the maid to say that her
mistress was ' not at home,' when she was merely
unwilling to receive visitors. Alick and Betty, too,
only grew more exasperated when Priscilla urged
them to keep their tempers, and altogether she could
not help feeling how wasted and thrown away she
was in such a circle.

But she never quite lost heart ; her papa was a
literary man and wrote tales, some of which she
feared were not as true as they affected to be, while
he invariably neglected to insert a moral in any of
them; frequently she dropped little remarks before
him with apparent carelessness, in the hope that he
might put them in print but he never did; she
never could recognise herself as a character in any of
his stories, and so at last she gave up reading them
at all !

But one morning she came more near to giving
up in utter despair than ever before. Only the previous
day she had been so hopeful ! her father had really
seemed to be beginning to appreciate his little
daughter, and had presented her with sixpence in the
new coinage to put in her money-box. This had
emboldened her to such a degree that, happening on
the following morning to hear him ejaculate * Confound
it ! ' she had, pressing one hand to her beating heart
and laying the other hand softly upon his shoulder
(which is the proper attitude on these occasions),
reminded him that such an expression was scarcely

THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL 43

less reprehensible than actual bad language. Upon
which her hard-hearted papa had told her, almost
sharply, ' not to be a little prig ! '

Priscilla forgave him, of course, and freely, because
he was her father and it was her duty to bear with
him; but she felt the injustice deeply, for all that*
Then, when she went up into the nursery, Alick and
Betty made a frantic uproar, merely because she
insisted on teaching them the moves in chess, when
they perversely wanted to play Halnia ! So, feeling
baffled and sick at heart, she had put on her hat and
run out all alone to a quiet lane near her home,
where she could soothe her troubled mind by thinking
over the ingratitude and lack of appreciation with
which her efforts were met.

She had not gone very far up the lane when she
saw, seated on a bench, a bent old woman in a poke-
bonnet with a crutch-handled stick in her hands, and
this old woman Priscilla (who was very quick of
observation) instantly guessed to be a fairy in which,
as it fell out, she was perfectly right.

' Good day, my pretty child ! ' croaked the old dame.

' Good-day to you, ma'am ! ' answered Priscilla
politely (for she knew that it was not only right but
prudent to be civil to fairies, particularly when they
take the form of old women) . ' But, if you please,
you mustn't call me pretty because I am not. At
least,' she added, for she prided herself upon her
truthfulness, ' not exactly pretty. And I should hate

44 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

to be always thinking about my looks, like poor Milly
she's our housemaid, you know and I so often have
to tell her that she did not make her own face.'

* I don't alarm you, I see,' said the old crone ; ' but
possibly you're not aware that you're talking to a
fairy ? '

* Oh, yes, I am but I'm not a bit afraid, because,
you see, fairies can only hurt bad children.'

'Ah, and you're a good little child that's not
difficult to see ! '

' They don't see it at home ! ' said Priscilla, with
a sad little sigh, ' or they would listen more when I
I tell them of things they oughtn't to do.'

' And what things do they do that they oughtn't
to, my child if you don't mind telling me ? '

* Oh, I don't mind in the least ! ' Priscilla hastened
to assure her ; and then she told the old woman all
her family's faults, and the trial it was to bear with
them and go on trying to induce them to mend their
ways. 'And papa is getting worse than ever,' she
concluded dolefully ; ' only fancy, this very morning
he called me a little prig ! '

' Tut, tut ! ' said the fairy sympathetically, ' deary,
deary me ! So he called you that, did he ? " a little
prig " ! And you, too ! Ah, the world's coming to
a pretty pass ! I suppose, now, your papa and the
rest of them have got it into their heads that you are
too young and too inexperienced to set up as their
adviser is that it ? '

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 45

' I'm afraid so,' admitted Priscilla ; * but we
mustn't blame them,' she added gently, * we must
remember that they don't know any better mustn't
we, ma'am ? '

* You sweet child ! ' said the old lady with
enthusiasm ; ' I must see if I can't do something to
help you, though I'm not the fairy I used to be still,
there are tricks I can manage still, if I'm put to
it. What you want is something that will prove to
them that they ought to pay more attention to you,
eh ? something there can be no possible mistake
about ? '

' Yes ! ' cried Priscilla eagerly, ' and and how
would it be if you changed them into something else,
just to show them, and then I could ask for them to
be transformed back again, you know ? '

* What an ingenious little thing you are ! ' ex-
claimed the fairy ; ' but, let us see if you came home
and found your cruel papa doing duty as the family
hatstand, or strutting about as a Cochin China
fowl '

* Oh, yes ; and I'd feed him every day, till he was
sorry ! ' interrupted the warmhearted little girl im-
pulsively.

' Ah, but you're so hasty, my dear. Who would
write all the clever articles and tales to earn bread and
meat for you all ? fowls can't use a pen. No, we
must find a prettier trick than that there was one I
seem to remember, long, long ago, performing for a

46 THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL

good little ill-used girl, just like you, my dearie, just
like you ! Now what was it? some gift I gave her

whenever she opened her lips '

' Why, I remember how funny that you should
have forgotten ! Whenever she opened her lips, roses,
and diamonds, and rubies fell out. That would be
the very thing ! Then they'd have to attend to me !
Oh, do be a kind old fairy and give me a gift like
that do, do! 9

' Now, don't be so impetuous ! You forget that
this is not the time of year for roses, and, as for jewels,
well, I don't think I can be very far wrong in supposing
that you open your lips pretty frequently in the course
of the day ? '

' Alick does call me a " mag," ' said Priscilla ; ' but
that's wrong, because I never speak without having
something to say. I don't think people ought to it
may do so much harm ; mayn't it ? '

.' Undoubtedly. But, anyhow, if we made it every
time you opened your lips, you would soon ruin me
in precious stones, that's plain ! No, I think we had
better say that the jewels shall only drop when you
are saying something you wish to be particularly
improving how will that do ? '

' Very nicely indeed, ma'am, thank you/ said
Priscilla, ' because, you see, it comes to just the same
thing.'

' Ah, well, try to be as economical of your good
things , as you can remember that in these hard

THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL 47

times a poor old fairy's riches are not as inexhaustible
as they used to be.'

' And jewels really will drop out ? '

' Whenever they are wanted to " point a moral
and adorn a tale," ' said the old woman (who, for a
fairy, was particularly well-read). ' There, run along
home, do, and scatter your pearls before your
relations.'

It need scarcely be said that Priscilla was only too
willing to obey ; she ran all the way home with
a light heart, eager to exhibit her wonderful gift.
' How surprised they will be ! ' she was thinking. ' If
it had been Betty, instead of me, I suppose she would
have come back talking toads ! It would have been
a good lesson for her but still, toads are nasty things,
and it would have been rather unpleasant for the rest
of us. I think I won't tell Betty where I met the
fairy.'

She came in and took her place demurely at the
family luncheon, which was the children's dinner ;
they were all seated already, including her father,
who had got through most of his writing in the course
of the morning.

* Now make haste and eat your dinner, Priscilla,'
said her mother, ' or it will be quite cold.'

' I always let it get a little cold, mother,' replied
the good little girl, ' so that I mayn't come to think
too much about eating, you know.'

As she uttered this remark, she felt a jewel pro-

48 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

ducing itself in some mysterious way from the tip of
her tongue, and saw it fall with a clatter into her
plate. Til pretend not to notice anything,' she
thought.

* Hullo ! ' exclaimed Alick, pausing in the act of
mastication, ' I say Prissie ! '

* If you ask mother, I'm sure she will tell you that
it is most ill-mannered to speak with your mouth full,'
said Priscilla, her speech greatly impeded by an
immense emerald.

' I like that ! ' exclaimed her rude brother ; ' who's
speaking with their mouth full now ? '

6 " Their " is not grammar, dear,' was Priscilla's
only reply to this taunt, as she delicately ejected a
pearl, 'you should say her mouth full.' For Priscilla's
grammar was as good as her principles.

* But really, Priscilla, dear,' said her mother, who
felt some embarrassment at so novel an experience as
being obliged to find fault with her little daughter,
' you should not eat sweets just before dinner, and
and couldn't you get rid of them in some other
manner ? '

' Sweets ! ' cried Priscilla, considerably annoyed
at being so misunderstood, 'they are not sweets,
mother. Look ! ' And she offered to submit one for
inspection.

* If I may venture to express an opinion,' observed
her father, ' I would rather that a child of mine
should suck sweets than coloured beads, and in either

THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL 49

case I object to having them prominently forced upon
my notice at meal-times. But I daresay I'm wrong.
I generally am.'

' Papa is quite right, dear,' said her mother, * it is
such a dangerous habit suppose you were to swallow
one, you know ! Put them in the fire, like a good
girl, and go on with your dinner.'

Priscilla rose without a word, her cheeks crimson-
ing, and dropped the pearl, ruby, and emerald, with
great accuracy, into the very centre of the fire. This
done, she returned to her seat, and went on with her
dinner in silence, though her feelings prevented her
from eating very much.

' If they choose to think my pearls are only beads,
or jujubes, or acidulated drops,' she said to herself,
bitterly, ' I won't waste any more on them, that's all !
I won't open my lips again, except to say quite ordi-
nary things so there I '

If Priscilla had not been such a very good little
girl, you might almost have thought she was in a
temper ; but she was not ; her feelings were wounded,
that was all, which is quite a different thing.

That afternoon, her aunt Margarine, Mrs. Hoyle,
came to call. She was the aunt whom we have
already mentioned as being given to insincerity ; she
was not well off, and had a tendency to flatter people ;
but Priscilla was fond of her notwithstanding, and
she had never detected her in any insincerity towards
herself. She was sent into the drawing-room to enter-

50 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

tain her aunt until her mother was ready to come
down, and her aunt, as usual, overwhelmed her with
affectionate admiration. * How pretty and well you
are looking, my pet ! ' she began, ' and oh, what a
beautiful frock you have on ! '

' The little silkworms wore it before I did, aunt,'
said Priscilla, modestly.

' How sweet of you to say so ! But they never

looked half so well in it, I'll be bou Why, my

child, you've dropped a stone out of a brooch or some-
thing. Look on the carpet there ! '

' Oh,' said Priscilla, carelessly, ' it was out of my
mouth not out of a brooch, I never wear jewellery.
I think jewellery makes people grow so conceited ;
don't you, Aunt Margarine ? '

' Yes, indeed, dearest indeed you are so right ! '
said her aunt (who wore a cameo-brooch as large as a
tart upon her cloak), ' and and surely that can't be a
diamond in your lap ? '

* Oh, yes, it is. I met a fairy this morning in the
lane, and so -' and here Priscilla proceeded to nar-
rate her wonderful experience. ' I thought it might
perhaps make papa and mamma value me a little
more than they do,' she said wistfully, as she finished
her story, * but they don't take the least notice ; they
made me put the jewels on the fire they did, really ! '

' What blindness ! ' cried her aunt ; * how can
people shut their eyes to such a treasure? And
and may I just have one look? What, you really

THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL 51

don't want them ? I may keep them for my very
own ? You precious love ! Ah, I know a humble
home where you would be appreciated at your proper
worth. What would I not give for my poor naughty
Belle and Cathie to have the advantage of seeing
more of such a cousin ! '

* I don't know whether I could do them much
good,' said Priscilla, ' but I would try my best.'

' I am sure you would ! ' said Aunt Margarine,
4 and now, dearest sweet, I am going to ask your dear
mamma to spare you to us for just a little while ; we
must both beg very hard.'

' I'll go and tell nurse to pack my things now, and
then I can go away with you,' said the little girl.

When her mother heard of the invitation, she
consented quite willingly. 'To tell you the truth,
Margarine,' she said, ' I shall be very glad for the
child to have a change. She seems a little unhappy
at home with us, and she behaved most unlike her
usual self at lunch ; it can't be natural for a child of
her age to chew large glass beads. Did your Cathie
and Belle ever do such a thing ? '

' Never,' said Aunt Margarine, coughing. ' It is
a habit that certainly ought to be checked, and I
promise you, my dear Lucy, that if you will only
trust Priscilla to me, I will take away anything of
that kind the very moment I find it. And I do think,
poor as we are, we shall manage to make her feel at
home. We are all so fond of your sweet Priscilla ! '

52 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

So the end of it was that Priscilla went to stay
with her aunt that very afternoon, and her family
bore the parting with the greatest composure.

' I can't give you nice food, or a pretty bedroom
to sleep in such as you have at home,' said her kind
aunt. 'We are very plain people, my pet; but at-
least we can promise you a warm welcome.'

' Oh, auntie,' protested Priscilla, ' you mustn't
think I mind a little hardship ! Why, if beds weren't
hard and food not nicely cooked now and then, we
should soon grow too luxurious to do our duty, and
that would be so very bad for us ! '

' Oh, what beauties ! ' cried her aunt, involuntarily,.
as she stooped to recover several sparkling gems from
the floor of the cab. ' I mean it's better to pick them
up, dear, don't you think ? they might get in people's
way, you know. What a blessing you will be in our
simple home ! I want you to do all you can to instruct
your cousins ; don't be afraid of telling them of any
faults you may happen to see. Poor Cathie and Belle,
I fear they are very far from being all they should be ! '
and Aunt Margarine heaved a sigh.

' Never mind, auntie ; they will be better in time, I
am sure. I wasn't always a good girl.'

Priscilla thoroughly enjoyed the first few days of
her visit ; even her aunt was only too grateful for
instruction, and begged that Priscilla would tell her,
quite candidly, of any shortcomings she might notice.
And Priscilla, very kindly and considerately, always

THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL 53

-did tell her. Belle and Catherine were less docile,
and she saw that it would take her some time to win
their esteem and affection ; but this was just what
Priscilla liked : it was the usual experience of the
heroines in the books, and much more interesting, too,
than conquering her cousins' hearts at once.

Still, both Catherine and Belle persistently hard-
ened their hearts against their gentle little cousin,
in the unkindest way ; they would scarcely speak to
her, and chose to make a grievance out of the fact
that one or other of them was obliged, by their
mother's strict orders, to be constantly in attendance
upon her, in order to pick up and bring Mrs. Hoyle
all the jewels that Priscilla scattered in profusion
wherever she went.

' If you would only carry a plate about with you,
Priscilla,' complained Belle one day, ' you could catch
the jewels in that.'

* But I don't want to catch the jewels, dear Belle,'
said Priscilla, with a playful but very sweet smile ;
' if other people prize such things, that is not my
fault, is it ? Jewels do not make people any happier,
Belle ! '

' I should think not ! ' exclaimed Belle. ' I'm sure
my back perfectly aches with stooping, and so does
Cathie's. There! that big topaz has just gone and
rolled under the sideboard, and mother will be so
angry if I don't get it out ! It is too bad of you,
Priscilla ! I believe you do it on purpose ! '

54 THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL

' Ah, you will know me better some day, dear,
was the gentle response.

' Well, at all events, I think you might be naughty
just now and then, Prissie, and give Cathie and me a
half-holiday.'

' I would do anything else to please you, dear,
but not that ; you must not ask me to do what is
impossible.'

Alas ! not even this angelic behaviour, not even
the loving admonitions, the tender rebukes, the
shocked reproaches that fell, accompanied by perfect
cascades of jewels, from the lips of our pattern little
Priscilla, succeeded in removing the utterly un-
founded prejudices of her cousins, though it was
some consolation to feel that she was gradually ac-
quiring a most beneficial influence over her aunt,
who called Priscilla ' her little conscience.' For, you
see, Priscilla's conscience had so little to do on her
own account that it was always at the service of other
people, and indeed quite enjoyed being useful, as was
only natural to a conscientious conscience which felt
that it could never have been created to be idle.

Very soon another responsibility was added to little
Priscilla's burdens. Her cousin Dick, the worldly one
with the yellow boots, came home after his annual
holiday, which, as he was the junior clerk in a large
bank, he was obliged to take rather late in the year.
She had looked forward to his return with some
excitement. Dick, she knew, was frivolous and reckless

THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL 55

in his habits he went to the theatre occasionally
and frequently spent an evening in playing billiards
and smoking cigars at a friend's house. There would
be real credit in reforming poor cousin Dick.

He was not long, of course, in hearing of Priscilla's
marvellous endowment, and upon the first occasion
they were alone together treated her with a respect
and admiration which he had very certainly never
shown her before.

* You're wonderful, Prissie ! ' he said ; ' I'd no idea
you had it in you ! '

* Nor had I, Dick ; but it shows that even a little
girl can do something.'

* I should rather think so ! and and the way you
look as grave as a judge all the time ! Prissie, I wish
you'd tell me how you manage it, I wouldn't tell a
soul.'

'But I don't know, Dick. I only talk and the
jewels come that is all.'

* You artful little girl ! you can keep a secret, I
see, but so can I. And you might tell me how you do
the trick. What put you up to the dodge ? I'm to
be trusted, I assure you.'

' Dick, you can't you mustn't think there is any
trickery about it ! How can you believe I could be
such a wicked little girl as to play tricks ? It was an
old fairy that gave me the gift. I'm sure I don't
know why unless she thought that I was a good
child and deserved to be encouraged.'

66 THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL

* By Jove ! ' cried Dick, ' I never knew you were
half such fun ! '

' I am not fun, Dick. I think fun is generally so
very vulgar, and oh, I wish you wouldn't say " by
Jove ! " Surely you know he was a heathen god ! '

' I seem to have heard of him in some such capa-
city,' said Dick. ' I say, Prissie, what a ripping big
ruby ! '

'Ah, Dick, Dick, you are like the others! I'm
afraid you think more of the jewels than of any words
I may say and yet jewels are common enough ! '

' They seem to be with you. Pearls, too, and such
fine ones ! Here, Priscilla, take them ; they're your
property.'

Priscilla put her hands behind her : * No, indeed,
Dick, they are of no use to me. Keep them, please ;
they may help to remind you of what I have said.'

* It's awfully kind of you,' said Dick, looking really
touched. ' Then since you put it in that way thanks,
I will, Priscilla. I'll have them made into a horse-
shoe pin.'

' You mustn't let it make you too fond of dress,
then,' said Priscilla ; ' but I'm afraid you're that
already, Dick.'

' A diamond ! ' he cried ; ' go on, Priscilla, I'm
listening pitch into me, it will do me a lot of
good ! '

But Priscilla thought it wisest to say no more just
then.

THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL 57

That night, after Priscilla and Cathie and Belle had
gone to bed, Dick and his mother sat up talking until
a late hour.

' Is dear little cousin Priscilla to be a permanency
in this establishment ? ' began her cousin, stifling a
yawn, for there had been a rather copious flow of
precious stones during the evening.

' Well, I shall keep her with us as long as I can,'
said Mrs. Hoyle, ' she's such a darling, and they don't
seem to want her at home. I'm sure, limited as my
means are, I'm most happy to have such a visitor.'

* She seems to pay her way only her way is a
trifle trying at times, isn't it ? She lectured me for
half an hour on end without a single check ! '

'Are you sure you picked them all up, dear
boy?'

'Got a few of the best in my waistcoat-pocket
now. I'm afraid I scrunched a pearl or two, though :
they were all over the place, you know. 1 suppose
you've been collecting too, mater ? '

' I picked up one or two,' said his mother ; ' I
should think I must have nearly enough now to fill a
bandbox. And that brings me to what I wanted to
consult you about, Eichard. How are we to dispose of
them ? She has given them all to me.'

'You haven't done anything with them yet,
then ? '

' How could I ? I have been obliged to stay at
home: I've been so afraid of letting that precious

58 THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL

child go out of my sight for a single hour, for fear
some unscrupulous persons might get hold of her. I
thought that perhaps, when you came home, you
would dispose of the jewels for me.'

' But, mater,' protested Dick, ' I can't go about
asking who'll buy a whole bandbox full of jewels ! '

1 Oh, very well, then ; I suppose we must go on
living this hugger-mugger life when we have the
means of being as rich as princes, just because you
are too lazy and selfish to take a little trouble ! '

' I know something about these things,' said Dick.
' I know a fellow who's a diamond merchant, and it's
not so easy to sell a lot of valuable stones as you
seem to imagine, mother. And then Priscilla really
overdoes it, you know why, if she goes on like this,
she'll make diamonds as cheap as currants ! '

' I should have thought that was a reason for
selling them as soon as possible; but I'm only a
woman, and of course my opinion is worth nothing !
Still, you might take some of the biggest to your
friend, and accept whatever he'll give you for them
there are plenty more, you needn't haggle over the
price.'

* He'd want to know all about them, and what
should I say ? I can't tell him a cousin of mine
produces them whenever she feels disposed.'

' You could say they have been in the family for
some time, and you are obliged to part with them ; I
don't ask you to tell a falsehood, Eichard.'

THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL 59

* Well, to tell you the honest truth,' said Dick,
'I'd rather have nothing to do with it. I'm not
proud, but I shouldn't like it to get about among our
fellows at the bank that I went about hawking dia-
monds.'

' But, you stupid, undutiful boy, don't you see that
you could leave the bank you need never do anything
any more we should all live rich and happy some-
where in the country, if we could only sell those jewels !
And you won't do that one little thing ! '

Well,' said Dick, ' I'll think over it. I'll see what
I can do.'

And his mother knew that it was perfectly useless
to urge him any further : for, in some things, Dick was
as obstinate as a mule, and, in others, far too easy-
going and careless ever to succeed in life. He had
promised to think over it, however, and she had to
be contented with that.

On the evening following this conversation cousin
Dick entered the sitting-room the moment after his
return from the City, and found his mother to all
appearances alone.

'What a dear sweet little guileless angel cousin
Priscilla is, to be sure ! ' was his first remark.

' Then you have sold some of the stones ! ' cried
Aunt Margarine. ' Sit down, like a good boy, and tell
me all about it.'

* Well,' said Dick, 'I took the finest diamonds and
rubies and pearls that escaped from that saintlike

60 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

child last night in the course of some extremely dis-
paraging comments on my character and pursuits
I took those jewels to Faycett and Eosewater's in New
Bond Street you know the shop, on the right-hand
side as you go up '

* Oh, go on, Dick ; go on never mind where it is
how much did you get for them ? '

* I'm coming to that ; keep cool, dear mamma.
Well, I went in, and I saw the manager, and I said :
" I want you to make these up into a horse-shoe scarf-
pin for me."

* You said that ! You never tried to sell one ? Oh,
Dick, you are too provoking ! '

' Hold on, mater ; I haven't done yet. So the
manager a very gentlemanly person, rather thin on
the top of the head not that that affects his business

capacities ; for, after all '

' Dick, do you want to drive me frantic ! '
' I can't conceive any domestic occurrence which
would be more distressing or generally inconvenient,
mother dear. You do interrupt a fellow so ! I
forgot where I was now oh, the manager, ah yes !
Well, the manager said, "We shall be very happy
to have the stones made in any design you may
select " jewellery, by the way, seems to exercise a
most refining influence upon the manners : this man
had the deportment of a duke "you may select,"
he said ; " but of course I need not tell you that none
of these stones are genuine."

THE GOOD LITTLE GIEL 61

' Not genuine ! ' cried Aunt Margarine excitedly.
' They must be he was lying ! '

'West-end jewellers never lie,' said Dick; 'but
naturally, when he said that, I told him I should like
to have some proof of his assertion. " Will you take
the risk of testing ? " said he. " Test away, my dear
man ! " said I. So he brought a little wheel near the
emerald " whizz ! " and away went the emerald !
Then he let a drop of something fall on the ruby and
it fizzled up for all the world like pink champagne.
" Go on, don't mind me ! " I told him, so he touched
the diamond with an electric wire " phit ! " and there
was only something that looked like the ash of a
shocking bad cigar. Then the pearls and they
popped like so many air-balloons. "Are you
satisfied ? " he asked.

'"Oh, perfectly,"' said I, "you needn't trouble
about the horse- shoe pin now. Good evening," and
so I came away, after thanking him for his very
amusing scientific experiments.'

* And do you believe that the jewels are all shams,
Dick ? do you really ? '

' I think it so probable that nothing on earth will
induce me to offer a single one for sale. I should
never hear the last of it at the bank. No, mater,
dear little Priscilla's sparkling conversation may be
unspeakably precious from a moral point of view, but
it has no commercial value. Those jewels are bogus
shams every stone of them ! '

62 THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL

Now, all this time our heroine had been sitting
unperceived in a corner behind a window-curtain,
reading ' The Wide, Wide World,' a work which she
was never weary of perusing. Some children would
have come forward earlier, but Priscilla was never a
forward child, r and she remained as quiet as a little
mouse up to the moment when she could control her
feelings no longer.

' It isn't true ! ' she cried passionately, bursting
out of her retreat and confronting her cousin ; 'it's
cruel and unkind to say my jewels are shams ! They
are real they are, they are ! '

' Hullo, Prissie ! ' said her abandoned cousin ; ' so
you combine jewel- dropping with eaves-dropping, eh ? '

' How dare you ! ' cried Aunt Margarine, almost
beside herself, ' you odious little prying minx, setting
up to teach your elders and your betters with your
cut and dried priggish maxims ! When I think how
I have petted and indulged you all this time, and
borne with the abominable litter you left in every
room you entered and now to find you are only a
little, conceited, hypocritical impostor oh,why haven't
I words to express my contempt for such conduct-
why am I dumb at such a moment as this ? '

' Come, mother,' said her son soothingly, * that's
not such a bad beginning ; I should call it fairly fluent
and expressive, myself.'

* Be quiet, Dick ! I'm speaking to this wicked
child, who has obtained our love and sympathy and

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 63

-attention on false pretences, for which she ought to
be put in prison yes, in prison, for such a heartless
trick on relatives who can ill afford to be so cruelly
disappointed ! '

' But, aunt ! ' expostulated poor Priscilla, ' you
always said you only kept the jewels as souvenirs,
.and that it did you so much good to hear me
talk ! '

' Don't argue with me, miss ! If I had known the
stones were wretched tawdry imitations, do you im-
agine for an instant ? '

' Now, mother,' said Dick, ' be fair they were un-
commonly good imitations, you must admit that ! '

' Indeed, indeed I thought they were real, the
fairy never told me ! '

' After all,' said Dick, ' it's not Priscilla's fault.
She can't help it if the stones aren't real, and she
made up for quality by quantity anyhow ; didn't you,
Prissie ? '

Hold your tongue, Eichard ; she could help it, she
knew it all the time, and she's a hateful, sanctimoni-
ous little stuck-up viper, and so I tell her to her
face ! '

Priscilla could scarcely believe that kind, indulg-
ent, smooth-spoken Aunt Margarine could be ad-
dressing such words to her ; it frightened her so much
that she did not dare to answer, and just then Cathie
and Belle came into the room.

' Oh, mother,' they began penitently, ' we're so

64 THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL

sorry, but we couldn't find dear Prissie anywhere,
so we haven't picked up anything the whole after-
noon ! '

' Ah, my poor darlings, you shall never be your
cousin's slaves any more. Don't go near her, she's a
naughty, deceitful wretch ; her jewels are false, my
sweet loves, false ! She has imposed upon us all,
she does not deserve to associate with you ! '

'I always said Prissie's jewels looked like the
things you get on crackers ! ' said Belle, tossing her
head.

' Now we shall have a little rest, I hope,' chimed
in Cathie.

' I shall send her home to her parents this very
night,' declared Aunt Margarine ; ' she shall not stay
here to pervert our happy household with her miser-
able gewgaws ! '

Here Priscilla found her tongue. ' Do you think
I want to stay ? ' she said proudly ; ' I see now that
you only wanted to have me here because because
of the horrid jewels, and I never knew they were false,
and I let you have them all, every one, you know I
did ; and I wanted you to mind what I said and not
trouble about picking them up, but you would do it I
And now you all turn round upon me like this 1
What have I done to be treated so ? What have I
done ? '

' Bravo, Prissie ! ' cried Dick. * Mother, if you ask
me, I think it serves us all jolly well right, and it's

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 65

a downright shame to bullyrag poor Prissie in this
way ! '

' I don't ask you,' retorted his mother, sharply ;
' so you will kindly keep your opinions to yourself.'

' Tra-la-la ! ' sang rude Dick, * we are a united
family we are, we are, we are ! ' a vulgar refrain
he had picked up at one of the burlesque theatres
he was only too fond of frequenting.

But Priscilla came to him and held out her hand
quite gratefully and humbly. * Thank you, Dick,' she
said ; ' you are kind, at all events. And I am sorry
you couldn't have your horse-shoe pin ! '

' Oh, hang the horse- shoe pin ! ' exclaimed Dick,
and poor Priscilla was so thoroughly cast down that
she quite forgot to reprove him.

She was not sent home that night after all, for
Dick protested against it in such strong terms that
even Aunt Margarine saw that she must give way ;
but early on the following morning Priscilla quitted
her aunt's house, leaving her belongings to be sent on
after her.

She had not far to walk, and it so happened that
her way led through the identical lane in which she
had met the fairy. Wonderful to relate, there, on the
very same stone and in precisely the same attitude,
sat the old lady, peering out from under her poke-
bonnet, and resting her knotty old hands on her
crutch-handled stick !

Priscilla walked past with her head in the air,

66 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

pretending not to notice her, for she considered that
the fairy had played her a most malicious and ill-
natured trick.

* Heyday ! ' said the old lady (it is only fairies who
can permit themselves such old-fashioned expres-
sions nowadays). 'Heyday, why, here's my good
little girl again ! Isn't she going to speak to me ? '

' No, she's not,' said Priscilla but she found
herself compelled to stop, notwithstanding.

' Why, what's all this about ? You're not going
to sulk with me, my dear, are you ? '

*I think you're a very cruel, bad, unkind old
woman for deceiving me like this ! '

' Goodness me ! Why, didn't the jewels come,
after all ? '

'Yes they came, only they were all horrid
artificial ones and it is a shame, it is ! ' cried poor
Priscilla from her bursting heart.

* Artificial, were they ? that really is very odd I
Can you account for that at all, now ? '

' Of course I can't ! You told me that they would
drop out whenever I said anything to improve people
and I was always saying something improving !
Aunt had a bandbox in her room quite full of them.'

'Ah, you've been very industrious, evidently; it's
unfortunate your jewels should all have been artificial
most unfortunate. I don't know how to explain it,
unless ' (and here the old lady looked up queer ly from

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 67

under her white eyelashes), ' unless your goodness
was artificial too ? '

' How do you mean ? ' asked Priscilla, feeling
strangely uncomfortable. ' I'm sure I've never done
anything the least bit naughty how can my goodness
possibly be artificial ? '

' Ah, that I can't explain ; but I know this that
people who are really good are generally the last
persons to suspect it, and the moment they become
aware of it and begin to think how good they are, and
how bad everybody else is, why, somehow or other,"
their goodness crumbles away and leaves only a sort
of outside shell behind it. And I'm very old, and of
course I may be mistaken but I think (I only say I
think, mind) that a little girl so young as you must
have some faults hidden about her somewhere, and
that perhaps on the whole she would be better
employed in trying to find them out and cure them
before she attempted to correct those of other people.
And I'm sure it can't be good for any child to be
always seeing herself in a little picture, just as she
likes to fancy other people see her. Very many pretty
books are written about good little girls, and it is
quite true that children may exercise a great influence
for good more than they can ever tell, perhaps but
only just so long as they remain natural and uncon-
scious, and not unwholesome little pragmatical
prigesses ; for then they make themselves and other
people worse than they might have been. But of

F 2

68 THE GOOD LITTLE GIKL

course, my dear, you never made such a mistake as
that ! '

Priscilla turned very red, and began to scrape one
of her feet against the other ; she was thinking, and
her thoughts were not at all pleasant ones.

* Oh, fairy,' she said at last, ' I'm afraid that's just
what I did do. I was always thinking how good I
was and putting everybody papa, mamma, Alick,
Betty, Aunt Margarine, Cathie, Belle, and even poor
cousin Dick right ! I have been a horrid little
hateful prig, and that's why all the jewels were
rubbish. But, oh, shall I have to go on talking sham
diamonds and things all the rest of my life ? '

' That,' said the fairy, ' depends entirely on yourself.
You have the remedy in your own hands or lips.'

' Ah, you mean I needn't talk at all ? But I must
sometimes. I couldn't bear to be dumb as long as
I lived and it would look so odd, too ! '

' I never said you were not to open your lips at
all. But can't you try to talk simply and naturally
not like little girls or boys in any story-books what-
ever not to " show off " or improve people ; only as
a girl would talk who remembers that, after all, her
elders are quite as likely as she is to know what they
ought or ought not to do and say ? '

' I shall forget sometimes, I know I shall ! ' said
Priscilla disconsolately.

* If you do, there will be something to remind you,
you know. And by and by, perhaps, as you grow up

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 69

you may, quite by accident, say something sincere
and noble and true and then a jewel will fall which
will really be of value ! '

' No ! ' cried Priscilla, ' no, please ! Oh, fairy, let
me off that ! If I must drop them, let them be false
ones to punish me not real. I don't want to be
rewarded any more for being good if I ever am
really good ! '

* Come,' said the fairy, with a much pleasanter
smile, ' you are not a hopeless case, at all events. It
shall be as you wish, then, and perhaps it will be the
wisest arrangement for all parties. Now run away
home, and see how little use you can make of your
fairy gift.'

Priscilla found her family still at breakfast.

' Why,' observed her father, raising his eyebrows as
she entered the room, ' here's our little monitor
(or is it monitress, eh, Priscilla ?) back again.
Children, we shall all have to mind our p's and q's
and, indeed, our entire alphabet, now ! '

' I'm sure,' said her mother, kissing her fondly,
' Priscilla knows we're all delighted to have her
home ! '

' I'm not,' said Alick, with all a boy's engaging
candour.

' Nor am I,' added Betty, ' it's been ever so much
nicer at home while she's been away ! '

Priscilla burst into tears as she hid her face upon

70 THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL

her mother's protecting shoulder. ' It's true ! ' she
sobbed, ' I don't deserve that you should be glad to
see me I've been hateful and horrid, I know
but, oh, if you'll only forgive me and love me
and put up with me a little, I'll try not to preach and
be a prig any more I will truly ! '

And at this her father called her to his side and
embraced her with a fervour he had not shown for a
very long time.

I should not like to go so far as to assert that no
imitation diamond, ruby, pearl, or emerald ever pro-
ceeded from Priscilla's lips again. Habits are not
cured in a day, and fairies however old they may
be are still fairies ; so it did occasionally happen that
a mock jewel made an unwelcome appearance after
one of Priscilla's more unguarded utterances. But
she was always frightfully ashamed and abashed by
such an accident, and buried the imitation stones
immediately in a corner of the garden. And as time
went on the jewels grew smaller and smaller, and
frequently dissolved upon her tongue, leaving a faintly
bitter taste, until at last they ceased altogether and
Priscilla became as pleasant and unaffected a girl as
she who may now be finishing this history.

Aunt Margarine never sent back the contents of
that bandbox ; she kept the biggest stones and had a
brooch made of them, while, as she never mentioned

THE GOOD LITTLE GIRL 71

that they were false, no one out of the family ever so
much as suspected it.

But, for all that, she always declared that her
niece Priscilla had bitterly disappointed her expecta-
tions which was perhaps the truest thing that Aunt
Margarine ever said.

A MATTER OF TASTE

PART I

IT is a little singular that, upon an engagement be-
coming known and being discussed by the friends and
acquaintances of the persons principally concerned,
by far the most usual tone of comment should be a
sorrowing wonder. That particular alliance is gener-
ally the very last that anybody ever expected. ' What
made him choose her, of all people,' and 'What on
earth she could see in him,' are declared insoluble
problems. It is confidently predicted that the engage-
ment will never come to anything, or that, if such a
marriage ever does take place, it is most unlikely to
prove a success.

Sometimes, in the case of female friends, this ton
is even perceptible under their warmest felicitations,
and through the smiling mask of compliment shine
eyes moist with the most irritating quality of compas-
sion. ' So glad ! so delighted ! But why, why didn't
you consult me ? ' this complicated expression might

A MATTEK OF TASTE 78-

be rendered : ' I could have saved you from this 1
was so pleased to hear of it ! '

And yet, in the majority of cases, these unions are
not found to turn out so very badly after all, and the
misguided couple seem really to have gauged their
own hearts and their possibilities of happiness together
more accurately than the most clear-sighted of their
acquaintances.

The announcement that Ella Hylton had accepted
George Chapman provoked the customary sensation
and surprise in their respective sets, and perhaps
with rather more justification than usual.

Miss Hylton had undeniable beauty of a spiritual
and rather exalte type, and was generally understood
to be highly cultivated. She had spent a year at
Somerville, though she had gone down without trying
for a place in either ' Mods.' or * Greats,' thereby pre-
serving, if not increasing, her reputation for superiority.
She had lived all her life among cultured people ; she
was devoted to music and regularly attended the
Eichter Concerts, though she could seldom be induced
to play in public ; she had a feeling for art, though
she neither painted nor drew ; a love of literature
strong enough to deter her from all amateur efforts in
that direction. In art, music and literature she was
impatient of mediocrity ; and, while she was as fond
as most girls of the pleasures which upper middle-
class society can offer, she reverenced intellect, and
preferred the conversation of the plainest celebrity to

74 A MATTER OF TASTE

the platitudes of the mere dancing-man, no matter
how handsome of feature and perfect of step he might
be.

George Chapman was certainly not a mere dancing-
man, his waltzing being rather conscientious than
dreamlike, and he was only tolerably good-looking.
>0n the other hand, he was not celebrated in any way,
and even his mother and sisters had never considered
him brilliant. He had been educated at Rugby and
Trinity, Cambridge, where he rowed a fairly good oar,
on principle, and took a middle second in the Moral
Science Tripos. Now he was in a solicitor's office,
where he was receiving a good salary, and was valued
.as a steady, sensible young fellow, who could be
thoroughly depended upon. He was fond of his pro-
fession, and had acquired a considerable knowledge
of its details ; apart from it he had no very decided
tastes ; he lived a quiet, regular life, and dined out and
went to dances in moderation; his manner, though
he was neaxly twenty- six, was still rather boyishly
blunt.

What there was in him that had found favour in
Ella Hylton's fastidious eyes the narrator is not rash
enough to attempt to particularise. But it may be
suggested that the most unlikely people may possess
their fairy rose and ring which render them irresistible
to at least one heart, if they only have faith to believe
in and luck to perceive their power.

So, early in the year, George had plucked up

A MATTER OF TASTE 75

courage to propose to Miss Hylton, after meeting and
secretly adoring her for some months past, and she,
to the general astonishment, had accepted him.

He had a private income not a large one of his
own, and had saved out of it. She was entitled under
her grandmother's will to a sum which made her an
heiress in a modest way, and thus there was no reason
why the engagement should be a long one, and,
though no date had been definitely fixed for the
marriage, it was understood that it should take place
at some time before the end of the summer.

Soon after the engagement, however, an invalid
aunt with whom Ella had always been a great
favourite was ordered to the south of France, and
implored her to go with her ; which Ella, who had a
real affection for her relative, as well as a strong sense
of duty, had consented to do.

This was a misfortune in one of two ways : it
either curtailed that most necessary and most
delightful period during which fiances discover one
another's idiosyncrasies and weaknesses, or it made
it necessary to postpone the marriage.

George naturally preferred the former, as the more
endurable evil ; but Ella's letters from abroad began
to hint more and more plainly at delay. Her aunt
might remain on the Continent all the summer, and
she could not possibly leave her ; there was so much
to be done after her return that could not be done in
a hurry ; they had not even begun to furnish the

76 A MATTEE OF TASTE

pretty little house on Cainpden Hill that was to be
their new home it would be better to wait tilL
November, or even later.

The mere idea was alarming to George, and he
remonstrated as far as he dared ; but Ella remained
firm, and he grew desperate.

He might have spared himself the trouble. About
the middle of June Ella's aunt who, of course, had
had to leave the Kiviera grew tired of travelling,
and Ella, to George's intense satisfaction, returned to
her mother's house in Linden Gardens, Netting
Hill.

And now, when our story opens, George, who had
managed to get away from office- work two hours
before his usual time, was hurrying towards Linden
Gardens as fast as a hansom could take him, to see
his betrothed for the first time after their long
separation.

He was eager, naturally, and a little nervous.
Would Ella still persist in her wish for delay? or
would he be able to convince her that there were no
obstacles in the way ? He felt he had strong argu-
ments on his side, if only and here was the real seat
of his anxiety if only her objections were not raised
from some other motive ! She might have been
trying to prepare him for a final rupture, and then
' Well,' he concluded, with his customary good sense,
* no use meeting trouble halfway in five minutes I
shall know for certain ! '

A MATTER OF TASTE 77

At the same moment Mrs. Hylton and her daughter
Flossie, a vivacious girl in the transitionary sixteen-
year-old stage, were in the drawing-room at Linden
Gardens. It was the ordinary double drawing-room
of a London house, but everything in it was beautiful
and harmonious. The eye was vaguely rested by the
delicate and subdued colour of walls and hangings ;
cabinets, antique Persian pottery, rare bits of china,
all occupied the precise place in which their decorative
value was most felt ; a room, in short, of exceptional
individuality and distinction.

Flossie was standing at the window, from which a
glimpse could just be caught of fresh green foliage and
the lodge-gates, with the bustle of the traffic in the
High Street beyond; Mrs. Hylton was writing at a
Flemish bureau in the corner.

1 1 suppose,' said Flossie meditatively, as she
fingered a piece of old stained glass that was hanging
in the window, ' we shall have George here this after-
noon.'

Mrs. Hylton raised her head. She had a striking
face, tinted a clear olive, with a high wave of silver
hair crowning the forehead ; her eyebrows were dark,
and so were the brilliant eyes ; the nose was aquiline,
and the thin, well- cut mouth a little hard. She was a
woman who had been much admired in her time, and
who still retained a certain attraction, though some
were apt to find her somewhat cold and unsympathetic.

78 A MATTER OF TASTE

Her daughter Ella, for example, was always secretly
a little in awe of her mother, who, however, had no
terrors for audacious, outspoken Flossie.

'If he comes, Flossie, he will be very welcome,' she
said, ' but I hardly expect him yet. George is not
likely to neglect his duties, even for Ella.'

Flossie pursed her mouth rather scornfully : * Oh,
George is immaculate ! ' she murmured.

' If he was, it would hardly be a reproach,' said
her mother, catching the word ; * but, at all events,
George has thoroughly good principles, and is sure to
succeed in the world. I have every reason to be
pleased.'

' Every reason ? ah ! but are you pleased ?
Mother, dear, you know he's as dull as dull ! '

' Ella does not find him so and, Flossie, I don't
like to hear you say such things, even in Ella's
absence.'

'Oh, I never abuse him to Ella; it wouldn't be any
use : she's firmly convinced that he's perfection at
least she was before she went away.'

' Why? do you mean that she has altered? have
you seen any sign of it, Flossie ? '

Mrs. Hylton made this inquiry sharply, but not as
if such a circumstance would be altogether displeasing
to her.

' Oh, no ; only she hasn't seen him for so long, you
know. Perhaps, when she comes to look at him with
fresh eyes, she'll notice things more. Ah, here is

A MATTEK OF TASTE 79'

George, just getting out of a hansom so he has
played truant for once ! There's one thing I do think
Ella might do persuade him to shave off some of
those straggly whiskers. I wonder why he never
seems to get a hat or anything else like other
people's ! '

Presently George was announced. He was slightly
above middle height, broad-shouldered and fresh-
coloured ; the obnoxious whiskers did indeed cover
more of his cheeks than modern fashion prescribes for
men of his age, and had evidently never known a razor ;
he wore a turn-down collar and a necktie of a rather
crude red ; his clothes were neat and well brushed, but
not remarkable for their cut.

'Well, my dear George,' said Mrs. Hylton, 'we
have seen very little of you while Ella has been away.'

'I know,' he said awkwardly; ' I've had a lot of
things to look after in one way and another.'

' What ? after your work at the office was over ! r
cried Flossie incredulously.

' Yes after that ; it's taken up my time a good
deal.'

'And so you couldn't spare any to call here I
see ! ' said Flossie. ' George,' she added, with a sudden
diversion, ' I wonder you aren't afraid of catching
cold ! How can you go about in such absurdly thin
boots as those ? '

' These ? ' he said, inspecting them doubtfully
they were strong, sensible boots with notched and

$0 A MATTER OF TASTE

projecting soles of ponderous thickness * why, what's
the matter with them, Flossie, eh ? Don't you think
they're strong enough for walking in ? '

* No, George ; they're the very things for an after-
noon dance, and quite a lot of couples could dance in
them, you see. But for walking ah, I'm afraid you
sacrifice too much to appearances.'

* I don't, really ! ' George protested in all good
faith ; ' now do I, Mrs. Hylton ? '

' Flossie is making fun of you, George ; you mustn't
mind her impertinence.'

* Oh, is that all ? Do you know, I really thought
for the moment that she meant they were too small
for me ! You like getting a rise out of me, Flossie,
don't you ? '

And he laughed with such genuine and good-
natured amusement that the young lady felt somehow
a, little small, and almost ashamed, although it took
the form of suppressed irritation. ' He really ought
not to come here in such things,' she said to herself ;
< and I don't believe that, even now, he sees what I
meant.'

Just at this point Ella came in, with the least
touch of shyness, perhaps, at meeting him before wit-
nesses after so long an absence ; but she only looked
the more charming in consequence, and, demure as
her greeting was, her pretty eyes had a sparkle of
pleasure that scattered all George Chapman's fears
to the winds. Even Flossie felt instinctively that

A MATTEK OF TASTE 81

straggly- whiskered, red-necktied, thick-booted George
had lost none of his divinity for Ella.

They did not seem to have much to say to one
another, notwithstanding ; possibly because Ella was
called upon to dispense the tea which had just been
brought in. George sat nursing the hat which Flossie
found so objectionable, while he balanced a teacup with
the anxious eye of a juggler out of practice, and the
conversation flagged. At last, under pretence of re-
newing his tea, most of which he had squandered
upon a Persian rug, he crossed to Ella : 'I say,' he
suggested, ' don't you think you could come out for a
little while? I've such lots to tell you and and I
want you to go somewhere with me.'

Mrs. Hylton made no objection, beyond stipulating
that Ella must not be allowed to tire herself after her
journey, and so, a few minutes later, Miss Hylton came
down in her pretty summer hat and light cape, and
she and George were allowed to set out.

Once outside the house, he drew a long breath of
mingled relief and pleasure : ' By Jove, Ella, I am
glad to get you back again ! I say, how jolly you do
look in that hat ! Now, do you know where I'm going
to take you ? '

' It will be quietest in the Gardens,' said Ella.

' Ah, but that's not where you're going now,' he
said with a delicious assumption of authority ; ' you're
coming with me to see a certain house on Campden
Hill you may have heard of.'

82 A MATTER OF TASTE

' That will be delightful. I do want to see our dear
little house again very much. And, George, we will
go carefully over all the rooms, and settle what can
be done with each of them. Then we can begin directly ;
we haven't too much time.'

* Perhaps,' he said with a conscious laugh, * it
won't take so much time as you think.'

' Oh, but it must to do properly. And while I've
been away I've had some splendid ideas for some of
the rooms I've planned them out so beautifully. You
know that delightful little room at the back ? the one
I said should be your own den, with the window all
festooned with creepers and looking out on the garden
_ we ll ?'

' Take my advice,' he said, * and don't make any
plans till you see it. And as for plans, these furnish-
ing fellows do all that they don't care to be bothered
with plans.'

* They will have to carry out ours, though. I shall
love settling how it is all to be it will be such fun.'

' You wouldn't call it fun if you knew what it was
like, I can tell you.'

' But I do know. Mother and I rearranged most
of the rooms at home only last year so you see I have
some experience. And what experience can you have
had, if you please ? '

Ella had a mental vision as she spoke of the house
in Dawson Place when George lived with his mother
and sisters a house in which furniture and every-

A MATTEK OF TASTE 83

thing else were commonplace and bourgeois to the last
degree, and where nothing could have been altered
since his boyhood ; indeed she had often secretly
pitied him for having to live in such surroundings,
and admired the filial patience that had made him
endure them so long.

'I've had my share, Ella, and I should be very
sorry for you to have all the worry and bother I've
been through over it ! '

' But when, George ? How ? I don't understand.'

' Ah, that's my secret ! ' he said provokingly ; ' and
you know, Ella, if we began furnishing now, it would
take no end of a time, with all these wonderful plans
of yours, and and I couldn't stand having to wait
till next November for you I couldn't do it ! '

' Mother thinks the marriage need not be put off
now,' said Ella simply, ' and we shall have six weeks
till then ; the house can be quite ready for us by the
time we want it.'

' Six weeks ! ' he said impatiently, ' what's six
weeks ? You've no idea what these chaps are, Ella !
And then there are all your own things to get, and
they would take up most of your time. No, we should
have had to put it off, whatever you may say. And
that would mean another separation for, of course,
you would go away in August, and I should have to
stay in town : th office wouldn't give me my fortnight
twice over honeymoon or no honeymoon ! '

G 2

84 A MATTER OF TASTE

Ella looked completely puzzled. ' But what are
you trying to prove now, George ? '

' I was only showing you that, even though you
have come back earlier, we couldn't possibly have got

things ready in time, if I hadn't ' but here he

stopped. ' No, I want that to be a surprise for you,
Ella ; you'll see presently,' he added.

Ella's delicate eyebrows contracted. * I like to be
prepared for my surprises, please, George. Tell me
now.'

They had turned up one of the quiet streets leading
to the hill. They were so near the house that George
thought he might abandon further mystery, not to
mention that he was only too anxious to reveal his
secret.

'Well, then, Ella, if you must have it, 5 he said
triumphantly, ' the house is very nearly ready now
what do you think of that ? '

'Do you mean that that it is furnished,
George?'

' Papered, painted, decorated, furnished every-
thing, from top to bottom ! I thought that would
surprise you, Ella ! '

' I think,' she answered slowly, ' you might have
told me you were doing it.'

1 What ! before it was all done ? That would have
spoilt it all, dear. I should have written, though, if
you hadn't been coming home so soon. And now it's
finished I must say it looks uncommonly jolly. I'm

A MATTER OF TASTE 85

sure you'll be pleased with it it looks quite a different
place.'

She tried to smile : ' And did you do it all your-
self, George ? '

' Well, no not exactly. I flatter myself I know
how to see that the work's properly done, and all that ;
but there are some things I don't pretend to be much
of a hand at, so I got certain ladies to give me some
wrinkles.'

Ella felt relieved. She was disappointed, it is
true hurt, even, at having been deprived of any voice
in the matter. She had been looking forward so much
to carrying out her pet schemes, to enjoying her
friends' admiration of the wonders wrought by her
artistic invention. And she had never thought of
George, somehow, as likely to have any strikingly
original ideas on the subject of decoration, although
she liked him none the less for that.

But it was something that he had had the good
sense to take her mother and Flossie into his confi-
dence : she knew she could trust them to preserve him
from any serious mistakes.

* You see,' said George, half apologetically, * I
would ever so much rather have waited till you came
back, only I couldn't tell when that would be. I really
couldn't help myself. You're sure you don't mind
about it ? If you only knew how I worked over it,
rushing about from one place to another, as soon as
I could get away from the office, picking up bits of

86 A MATTEK OF TASTE

furniture here and there, standing over those beggars
of painters and keeping 'em at it, and working out
estimates and seeing foremen and managers and all
kinds of chaps ! I used to get home dead-tired of an
evening ; but I didn't mind that : I felt it was all bring-
ing you nearer to me, darling, and that made every-
thing a pleasure ! '

There was such honest affection in his look and
voice ; he had so evidently intended to please her, and
had been in such manifest dread of any further
separation from her, that she was completely dis-
armed.

' Dear George,' she said gently, ' I am so sorry
you took all the trouble on yourself ; it was very, very
good of you to care so much, and I know I shall be
delighted with the house.'

* Well,' said George, ' I'm not much afraid about
that, because I expect our tastes are pretty much the
same in most things.'

They were by this time at the house, and George,
after a little fumbling with his as yet unfamiliar
latchkey, threw open the door with a flourish and
said) ' There you are, little woman ! Walk in and you'll
see what you shall see ! '

No sooner was Ella inside the hall than her heart
sank : * Looks neat and nice, doesn't it ? ' said George
cheerfully. ' You'd almost take that paper for real
marble, wouldn't you? See how well they've done
those veins. I like this yellowish colour better than

A MATTER OF TASTE 87

green, don't you ? It looks so cool in summer. That's
a good strong hall-lamp not what you call high art,
exactly but gives a rattling good light, and that's
the main thing. Here, I'll light it up for you con-
found it ! they haven't turned the gas on yet. How-
ever, there's too much sunshine for it to show much,
if they had. This linoleum is a capital thing : you
might scrub as long as you liked and you'd never get
that pattern out ! '

' No,' Ella agreed, with a tragic little smile, 'it it
looks as if it would last.'

' Last ! I should just think so ! And here's a hat-
stand you could almost swear it was carved wood of
some sort, but it's only cast-iron painted ; indestruct-
ible, you see ; they told me that was the latest dodge
wonderful how cheaply they turn them out, isn't
it?'

' I thought you said you were helped ? '

' Oh, I didn't want any help here this is only the
passage, you know ! '

Yes, it was only the passage and yet she had
been picturing such a charming entrance, with a
draped arch, a graceful lamp, a fresh bright paper, a
small buffet of genuine old oak, and so on. She sup-
pressed a sigh as she passed on ; after all, so long as
the rooms themselves were all right, it did not so very
much matter, and she knew that her mother's taste
could be trusted.

But on the threshold of the dining-room she

88 A MATTER OF TASTE

stopped aghast. The walls had been distempered a
particularly hideous drab ; the curtains were mustard
yellow ; the carpet was a dull brown ; the mottled
marble mantelpiece, for which she had been intending
to substitute one in walnut wood with tiles, still shone
in slabs of petrified brawn ; there was a huge maho-
gany sideboard of a kind she had only seen in old-
fashioned hotels.

' Comfortable, eh ? ' remarked George. ' Lots of
wear in those curtains ! '

Unhappily there was, as Ella was only too well
aware. 'You did this room yourself too, then,
George ? ' she managed to say, without betraying
herself by her voice.

' Yes, I chose everything here. You see, Ella, we
shall only use this room for meals.'

'Only for meals, yes,' she acquiesced with a
shudder ; ' but George, surely you said mother had
helped you with the rooms ? '

' What ! your mother ? No, Ella ; her notions are
rather too grand for me. It was Jessie and Carrie I
meant. Just come and see what they've made of my
den.'

Ella followed. The window which had com-
manded such a cheerful outlook into one of the
pretty gardens, with a pink thorn, a laburnum-tree
or two, and some sycamores which still flourish fresh
and fair on Campden Hill was obscured now by

A MATTER OF TASTE 89

some detestable contrivance in transparent paper
imitating stained glass.

' That was the girls' notion,' said George, follow-
ing the direction of her eyes ; ' they fixed it all them-
selves it was their present to me. Pretty of them to
think of it, wasn't it ? I call it an immense improve-
ment, and, you see, it's stuck on with some patent
cement varnish, so it can't rub off. You get the effect
better if you stand here now, see how well the colours
come out in the sun ! '

If only they would come out ! But what could she
do but stand and admire hypocritically ? Her eyes, in
spite of herself, seemed drawn to that bright-hued
sham intersected by black lines intended to represent
leading ; of the room itself she only saw vaguely that
it was not unworthy of the window.

. ' Nothing to what they've done with the drawing-
room ! ' said innocent George, beaming ; ' come along,
darling, you'll scarcely know the place.'

And Ella, reduced to a condition of stony stupor,
followed to the drawing-room. She did not know the
place, indeed. It was a quaintly-shaped, irregular
room, with French windows opening upon the garden
on one side and a deep bow-window on another ; when
she had last seen it, the walls were covered with a
paper so pleasing in tone and design that she had
almost decided to retain it. That paper was gone,
and in its place a gaudy semi-Chinese pattern of
unknown birds, flying and perching on sprawling

90 A MATTEK OF TASTE

branches laden with impossible flowers. And then
the furniture the ' elegant drawing-room suite ' in
brilliant plush and shiny satin, the cheap cabinets,
and the ready-made black and gilt overmantel, with
its panels of swans, hawthorn-blossom, and landscapes
sketchily daubed on dead gold surely it had all been
transferred bodily from the stage of some carelessly
mounted farcical comedy !

Ella's horrified gaze gradually took in other
features the china monkeys swinging on cords, the
porcelain parrots hanging in great brass rings, huge
misshapen terra-cotta jars and pots, dead grass in
bloated drain-pipes, tambourines, beribboned and
painted with kittens and robins, enormous wooden
sabots, gilded Japanese fans, a woolly white rug and a
bright Kidderminster carpet.

' Oh, George ! ' burst involuntarily from her
lips.

' I knew you'd be pleased ! ' he said complacently ;
* but I mustn't take all the credit myself. It was like
this, you see : I felt all right enough about the other
rooms, but the drawing-room that's your room, and
I was awfully afraid of not having it exactly as it
ought to be. So I went to the girls, and I said, " You
know all about these things just make it what you
think Ella will like, and then we can't go wrong ! "
We had that Grosvenor Gallery paper down first of
all. " Choose something bright and cheerful," I said,
and I don't think they've chosen badly. Then the

A MATTER OF TASTE 91

pottery and china and all that those are the girls'
presents to you, with their best love.'

* It it's very good of them,' said poor Ella, on
the verge of tears.

' Oh, they think a lot of you ! They were rather
nervous about doing anything at first, for fear you
mightn't like it ; but I told them they needn't be
afraid. " What I like, Ella will like," I said ; and, I
must say, no one could wish to see a prettier drawing-
room than they've turned it into they've a good deal
of taste, those two girls.'

Ella stood there in a kind of dreary dream. What
had happened to the world since she came into this
house? What was this change in her? She was
afraid to speak, lest the intense rebellious anger she
felt should gain the mastery. Was it she that had
these wicked thoughts of George poor, kind, unsus-
pecting, loving George ? She felt a little faint, for the
windows were closed and the room stuffy with the
odour of the new furniture and the atmosphere of the
workshop ; everything here seemed to her common-
place and repulsive.

' How about those plans of yours now, Ella, eh ? '
cried George.

This was too much ; her overtried patience broke
down. ' George ! ' she cried impulsively, and her voice
sounded hoarse and strange to her own ear ; ' George !.
I must speak I must tell you ! ' and then she
checked herself. She must keep command of herself, or

92 A MATTEE OF TASTE

she could not, without utter loss of dignity, find the
words that were to sting him into a sense of what he
had done and allowed to be done. Before she could
go on, George had drawn her to him, and was patting
her shoulder tenderly. ' I know, dear little girl,' he
said, ' I know ; don't try to tell me anything. I'm so
awfully glad you're pleased ; but all the money and
pains in the world wouldn't make the place good
enough for my Ella ! '

She released herself with a little cry of impotent
despair. How could she say the sharp, cruel speeches
that were struggling to reach her tongue now ? It
was no use ; she was a coward ; she simply had not
the courage to undeceive him here, on the very first
day of their reunion, too !

'You haven't been upstairs yet,' said George,
dropping sentiment abruptly ; ' shall we go up ? '

Ella assented submissively, much as even this cost
her ; but it was better, she reflected, to get it over and
know the very worst. However, she was spared this
ordeal for the present ; as they returned to the hall,
they found themselves suddenly face to face with a
dingy man, whose face was surrounded by a fringe of
black whiskers and crowned by a shock of fleecy
hair.

* Who on earth are you ? ' demanded George, as
the man rose from the kitchen-stairs.

1 No offence, sir and lady ! Peagrum, that's my
name, fust shop round the corner as you go into

A MATTER OF TASTE 9S

Silver Street, plumber and sanitry hengineer, gas-
fittin' and hartistic decorating, bell-'anging in all
its branches. I received instructions from Mr. Jones
that I was to look into a little matter o' leakage in
the back-kitchen sink ; also to see what taps, if hany,
required seein' to, and gen'ally to put things straight
like. So I come round, 'aving the keys, jest to cast a
heye over them, as I may term it, preliminry to com-
mencing work in the course of a week or so, as soon
as I'm at libity to attend to it pussonally.'

* Oh, the landlord sent you ? All right, then.'

' Correct, sir,' said the plumber affably. * While I've
been 'ere, I took the freedom of going all over this
little 'ouse, and a nice cosy little 'ouse you've made of
it, for such a nouse as it is ! You've done it up very
tysty very tysty you've done this little 'ouse up ; and
I've some claim to speak, seein' as how I've had the
decoration throughout of a many 'ouses in my time,
likewise mansions. You ain't been too ambitious,
which is the error most parties falls into with small
'ouses. Now the parties as 'ad the place before you
by the name o' Kummles well, I daresay they
satisfied theirselves, but the 'ouse never looked right
not to my taste, it didn't ! '

' George, get rid of this person ! ' said Ella rapidly,
under her breath, in French. Unfortunately, George's
acquaintance with that tongue was about on a par
with the plumber's, and he remained passive.

The plumber now proceeded to put down his

D4 A MATTER OF TASTE

mechanic's straw-bag upon the hall-table, which he
did with great care, as if it were of priceless stuff and
contained fragile articles ; having done this, he posed
himself with one elbow resting on the post at the foot
of the staircase, like a grimy statue of Shakespeare.

' Ah,' he said, shaking his touzled head, ' this ain't
the fust time I've been 'ere in my puffessional capa-
city, not by a long way. Not by a long way, it ain't.
Mr. Eummles, him as I mentioned to you afore, and
a nice pleasant- spoken gentleman he was, too in
the tea trade Mr. Eummles, he allus sent round for
me whenever there was hany odd jobs as wanted
doin', and in course I was allus pleased to get 'em, be
they hodd or hotherwise.'

' Er-exactly,' said George, as soon as he could put
in a word ; ' but you see, this lady and I '

The plumber, however, did not abandon his posi-
tion, and seemed determined that they should hear
him :

' I know, sir I see how things were with you with
'arf a glance ; but afore we go any further, it's right
you should know 'oo I am and all about me. Jest
'ear what I'm goin' to tell you, for it's somethink out
of the common way, though gospel-truth. It's a
melinkly reflection for a man in my station of life,
but ' and here he lowered his voice to a solemn
pitch 'I've never set foot inside of this 'ere 'ouse
without somethink 'appens more or less immejit.
Ah, it's true, though. Seems almost like as if I

A MATTER OF TASTE 95

Brought a fatality in along o' me. Don't you inter-
rupt ; you wait till I'm done, and see if I'm talking
at random or without facks to support me. Well, fust
time as ever I was sent for 'ere was in regard to
drains, as they couldn't flush satisfactory. I did my
work and come away. Not three weeks arter, Miss
Kummles, the heldest gell, was took ill with typhoid.
Never the same young lady again nor yet she never
won't be neither, not if she lives to a nundered. " No-
thing very hodd about that ? " says you. Wait a bit.
Next time, it was the kitching copper as had got all
furred up like. I tinkered that up to rights, and come
away. Well, afore I'd even made out my account,
that identical copper blew up and scalded the cook
dreadful ! " Coppers will play these games," you sez.
All right, then ; but you let me finish. Third time
there was a flaw in one of the gas-brackets in the
spare room. I soddered it up and I come away.
Soon arterwards, a day or two as it might be, Mrs.
Eummles 'ad 'er mar a-stayin' with her, and the old
lady slep in that very room, and was laid up weeks !
" Gurus," says I, when I come to 'ear of it, " very
<mrus ! " and it set me a-thinkin'. Last time but one
'ere, lemme see that was a bell-'anging job, I think
no, I'm wrong, it was drains agen, so it were
drains it was agen. And the next thing I 'eard was
that Mrs. Eummles was a-layin' at death's door with
the diffthery ! The last time ah, I recklect well, I
was called in to see if somethink wasn't wrong with

96 A MATTER OF TASTE

the ballcock in the top cistin. I see there was some-
think, and I come away as usual. That day week, old
Mr. Kummles was took with a fit on the floor in the
back droring-room, which broke up the 'ouse !

'Now, I think, as fair-minded and unprejudiced
parties, you'll agree with me that there was some-
thing more'n hordinary coinside-ency in all that. I
declare to you ! ' avowed the plumber, with a gloomy
relish and a candour that was possibly begotten of
beer, 'I declare to you there's times when I do
honestly believe as I carry a curse along with me
whenever I visits this 'ere partickler 'ouse ! and,,
though it's agen my own hinterests, I deem it on'y
my dooty, as a honest man, to mention it ! '

Under any other circumstances, the plumber's
compliments on her taste and his lugubrious as-
sumption of character of the Destroying Angel
would have sorely tried, if not completely upset,
Ella's gravity ; as it was, she was too wretched to
have more than a passing and quite unappreciative
sense of his absurdity. George, having the quality
of mind which makes jokes more readily than sees
them, took him quite seriously.

' Well,' he answered solemnly, * I hope you won't
bring us bad luck, at all events ! '

4 1 'ope so, sir, I'm sure. I 'ope so. It will not
be by any desire on my part, more partickler when
you're just settin' up 'ousekeepin' with your good
lady 'ere. But there's no tellin' in these matters.

A MATTER OF TASTE 97

That's where it is, you see there's no tellin'. And,
arter all my experence, with the best intentions in
the world, I can't go and guarantee to you as nothink
won't come of it. I wish I could, but, as a honest
man, I can't. If it's to be,' moralised this fatalistic
plumber, ' it is to be, and that's all about it, and no
hefforts on my part or yours won't make hany
difference, will they, sir ? '

' Well, well,' said George, plainly ill at ease, ' that
will do, my friend. Now, Ella, what do you say
shall we go upstairs ? '

' Not now,' she gasped, ' let us go away . Oh,
George, take me outside, please ! '

1 Dash that confounded fool of a plumber ! ' said
George, irritably, when they were in the street again ;
' wonder if he thinks I'm going to employ him after

that ! Not that it isn't all bosh, of course Why,

Ella, you're not tired, are you ? '

' I I think I am a little do you mind if we drive
home ? '

Ella was very silent during their short drive.
When they reached Linden Gardens she said, ' I think
we must say good-bye here, George. I feel as if I
were going to have a headache.'

1 You poor little girl ! ' he said, looking rather
crestfallen, for he had been counting upon going in
and being invited to remain for dinner, 'it's been
rather too much for you, going over the house and

98 A MATTER OF TASTE

all that or was it that beastly plumber with his
rigmaroles ? '

'It wasn't the plumber,' she said hurriedly, as
the door was opened, ' and good-bye, George.'

* How easily girls do get knocked up ! ' thought
George, as he walked homeward, ' a little pleasant
excitement like this and she seems quite upset. She
was delighted with the house, though, that's one
blessing, and I mustn't forget to tell the girls how
touched she was by their presents. What a darling
she is, and how happy we shall be together ! '

PART II

ONCE safely at home, Ella hastened upstairs to her
own room, where, if the truth must be told, she em-
ployed the half-hour before dinner in unintermittent
sobbing, into which temper largely entered. 'He
has spoilt it all for me ! How could he oh, how could
he ? ' ran the burden of her moan. At the dinner-
table, though pale and silent, she had recovered
composure.

'A pleasant walk, Ella?' inquired her mother,
with rather formal interest.

' Yes, very,' replied Ella, trusting she would not
be questioned further.

' I believe I know where you went ! ' cried in-
discreet Flossie. 'You went to look at your new

A MATTEE OF TASTE 99

home now, didnt you ? Ah, I thought so ! I suppose
you have quite made up your minds how you mean
to do the rooms ? '

< Quite.'

'We might go round to all the best places to-
morrow,' said Mrs. Hylton, ' and see some papers and
hangings there were some lovely patterns in Blank's
windows the other day.'

'And, Ella,' added Flossie, 'I've been out with
Andrews after school several times, to Tottenham
Court Koad, and Wardour Street, and Oxford Street
oh, everywhere, hunting up old furniture, and I can
show you where they have some beautiful things
not shams, but really good ! '

' You know, Ella,' said Mrs. Hylton, observing
that she did not answer, ' I want you to have a pretty
house, and you and George must order exactly what
you like; but I think you will find I may be some
help to you in choosing.'

' Thank you, mother,' said Ella, without any
animation ; ' I I don't think we shall want much.'

' You will want all that young people in your
position do want, I suppose,' said Mrs. Hylton, a
little impatiently; 'and of course you understand
that the bills are to be my affair.'

' Thank you, mother,' murmured Ella again. She
didn't feel able to tell them just yet how this had all
been forestalled; she felt that she would infallibly
break down if she tried.

H 2

100 A MATTER OF TASTE

'You seem a little overdone to-night, my dear,'
said her mother frigidly ; she was naturally hurt at
the very uneffusive way in which her good offices had
been met.

' I have such a dreadful headache,' pleaded Ella.
* I I think I overtired myself this afternoon.'

' Then you were very foolish, after travelling all
yesterday, as you did. I don't wonder that George
was ashamed to come in. You had better go to bed
early, and I will send Andrews in to you with some of
my sleeping mixture.'

Ella was glad enough to obey, though the draught
took some time to operate ; she felt as if no happiness
or peace of mind were possible for her till George had
been persuaded to undo his work.

Surely he could not refuse when he knew that
her mother was prepared to do everything for them
at her own expense !

And here it began to dawn upon her what this
would entail ! George's words came back to her
as if she heard them actually spoken. Did he not
say that the house had been furnished out of his
savings ?

What was she asking him to do ? To dismantle it
entirely ; to humiliate himself by going round to all
the people he had dealt with, asking them as a favour
to take back their goods, or else he must sell them as
best he could for a fraction of their cost. Who was
to refund him all he had so uselessly spent ? Could she

A MATTEK OF TASTE 101

ask her mother to do so ? Would he even consent to
such an arrangement if it was proposed ?

Then his sisters how could she avoid offending
them irreparably, perhaps involving George in a
quarrel with his family, if she were to carry her
point ?

As she realised, for the first time, the inevitable
consequences of success, she asked herself in despair
what she ought to do where her plain duty lay ?

Did she love George or was it all delusion, and
was he less to her than mere superfluities, the fringe
of life ?

She did love him, in spite of any passing disloyalty
of thought. She felt his sterling worth and goodness,
even his weaknesses had something lovable in them
for her.

And he had been planning, spending, working
all this time to give her pleasure, and this was his
reward ! She had been within an ace of letting him
see the cruel ingratitude that was in her heart !
' What a selfish wretch I have been ! ' she thought ;
* but I won't be no, I won't ! George shall not be
snubbed, hurt, estranged from his family on my
account ! '

No, she would suffer she alone and in silence.
Never by a word would she betray to him the pain his
well-intentioned action cost her. Not even to her
mother and Flossie would she permit herself to utter

102 A MATTER OF TASTE

the least complaint, lest they should insist upon
opening George's eyes!

So, having arrived at this heroic resolve, in which
she found a touch of the sublime that almost consoled
her, the tears dried on her cheeks and Ella fell asleep
at last.

Some readers, no doubt though possibly few
of our heroine's sex will smile scornfully at this
crumpled rose-leaf agony, this tempest in a Dresden
teacup ; and the writer is not concerned to deny that
the situation has its ludicrous side.

But, for a girl brought up as Ella Hylton had
been, in an artistic milieu, her eye insensibly trained
to love all that was beautiful in colour and form, to be
almost morbidly sensitive to ugliness and vulgarity-
it was a very real and bitter struggle, a hard-won
victory to come to such a decision as she formed.
Life, Heaven knows, contains worse trials and deeper
tragedies than this ; but at least Ella's happy life had
as yet known no harder.

And, so far, she must be given the credit of having
conquered.

Resolution is, no doubt, half the battle. Unfortu-
nately, Ella's resolution, though she hardly perceived
this at present, could not be effected by one isolated
and final act, but by a long chain of daily and hourly
forbearances, the first break in which would undo all
that had gone before.

How she bore the test we are going to see.

A MATTER OF TASTE 103

She woke the next morning to a sense that her life
had somehow lost its savour ; the exaltation of her
resolve overnight had gone off and left her spirits flat
and dead ; but she came down, nevertheless, determined
to be staunch and true to George under all provocations.

' Have you and George decided when you would
like your wedding to be ? ' asked her mother, after
breakfast, * because we ought to have the invitations
printed very soon.'

' Not yet,' faltered Ella, and the words might have
passed either as an answer or an appeal.

' I think it should be some time before the end of
next month, or people will be going out of town.'

* I suppose so,' was the reply, so listlessly given
that Mrs. Hylton glanced keenly at her daughter.

1 What do you feel about it yourself, Ella ? '

' I ? oh, I I've no feeling. Perhaps, if we
waited no, it doesn't matter let it be when you
and George wish, mother, please ! '

Mrs. Hylton gave a sharp, annoyed little laugh :
* Keally, my dear, if you can't get up any more interest
in it than that, I think it would certainly be wiser to
wait ! '

It was more than indifference that Ella felt a
wild aversion to beginning the new life that but lately
had seemed so mysteriously sweet and strange ; she
was frightened by it, ashamed of it, but she could not
help herself. She made no answer, nor did Mrs.
Hylton again refer to the subject.

104 A MATTER OF TASTE

But Ella's worst tribulations had yet to come.
That afternoon, as she and her mother and Flossie
were sitting in the drawing-room, ' Mrs. and the Miss
Chapmans ' were announced. Evidently they had
deemed it incumbent on them to pay a state visit as
soon as possible after Ella's return.

Ella returned their effusive greetings as dutifully
as she could. She had never succeeded in cultivating
a very lively affection for them ; to-day she found
them barely endurable.

Mrs. Chapman was a stout, dewlapped old lady,
with dull eyes and pachydermatous folds in her face.
She had a husky voice and a funereal manner. Jessie,
her eldest daughter, was not altogether uncomely in
a commonplace way : she was dark-haired, high-
coloured, loud-voiced generally sprightly and voluble
and overpowering ; she was in such a hurry to speak
that her words tripped one another up, and she had
a meaningless and, to Ella, highly irritating little
laugh.

Carrie was plain and colourless, content to admire
and echo her sister.

After some conversation on Ella's Conti-
nental experiences, Jessie suddenly, as Ella's uneasy
instinct foresaw, turned to Mrs. Hylton. ' Of course,
Ella told you what a surprise she had at Campden
Hill yesterday ? Weren't you electrified ? '

1 No doubt I should have been,' said Mrs. Hylton,

A MATTEK OF TASTE 105

who detested Jessie, ' only Ella did not think fit to
mention it.'

' Oh, I wonder at that ! I hope I wasn't going to
betray the secrets of the prison-house ? ' Jessie was
fond of using stock phrases to give lightness and
sparkle to her conversation. * Ella, the idea of your
keeping it all to yourself, you sly puss ! But tell me
would you ever have believed Tumps ' his. sisters
called George ' Tumps ' ' could be capable of such
independent behaviour ? '

' No,' said Ella, ' I indeed I never should ! '

' Ha, ha ! nor should we ! You would have
screamed to see him fussing about wasn't he killing
over it, Carrie ? '

' Oh, he was, Jessie ! '

' My son,' explained Mrs. Chapman to Mrs. Hylton,
* is so wonderfully energetic and practical. I have
never known him fail to carry through anything he
has once undertaken he inherits that from his poor
dear father.'

' I don't quite gather what your brother George
has been doing, even now ? 'said Mrs. Hylton to Jessie.

* Oh, but my lips are sealed. Wild horses sha'n't
drag any more from me ! Don't be afraid, Ella, I won't
spoil sport ! '

* There is no sport to spoil,' said Ella. ' Mother,
it is only that that George has furnished the house
while I have been away.'

106 A MATTER OF TASTE

'Keally?' said Mrs. Hylton politely; * that is
energetic of him, indeed ! '

' Poor dear Tumps came home so proud of your
approval/ said Jessie to Ella, * and we were awfully
relieved to find you didn't think we'd made the house
quite too dreadful weren't we, Carrie ? '

' Yes, indeed, Jessie.'

'Of course,' observed the latter young lady, 'it's
always so hard to hit upon another person's taste
exactly especially in furnishing.'

' Impossible, I should have thought,' from Mrs.
Hylton.

' I hope Ella is of a different opinion what do you
say, dearest ? '

' Oh,' cried Ella hastily, with splendid mendacity,
' I I liked it all very much, and and it was so
much too kind of you and Carrie. I've never
thanked you for for all the things you gave me ! '

' Oh, those ! they ain't worth thanking for just a
few little artistic odds and ends. They set off a room,
you know give it a finish.'

' Young people nowadays,' croaked old Mrs. Chap-
man lugubriously in Mrs. Hylton's courteously in-
clined ear, ' think so much of luxury and ornament.
I'm sure when I married my dear husband, we '

' Now, mater dear, you really mustn't \ ' inter-
rupted the irrepressible Jessie ; ' Mrs. Hylton is on our
side, you know. She likes pretty things about her
don't you, Mrs. Hylton ? And, talking of that, Ella,

A MATTER OF TASTE 107

I hope you thought our glyco-vitrine decoration a
success ? We were perfectly surprised ourselves to
see how well it came out ! Just transparent coloured
paper, Mrs. Hylton, and you cut it into sheets, and
gum it on the window-panes, and really, unless you
were told or came quite close, you would declare it
was real stained glass ! You ought to try some of it
on your windows, Mrs. Hylton. I'll tell you where
you can get it you go down

'I'm afraid I'm old-fashioned, my dear,' said
Mrs. Hylton, stiffly ; ' if I cannot have the reality, I
prefer to do without even the best imitations.'

' Why, you're deserting us, I declare ! Ella, you
must take her to see the window, and then perhaps
she will change her opinion.'

' I always tell my girls,' said Mrs. Chapman, in
her woolly voice, ' when I am dead and gone they
can make any alterations they please, but while I am
spared to them I like everything about the house to
be kept exactly as it was in their poor father's life-
time.'

' Isn't she a dear conservative old mummy ? ' said
Jessie to Ella in an audible aside. ' Why, I do believe
she won't see anything to admire in your little house
at least, if she does, the dear old lady, she'd sooner
die than admit it ! '

The Chapmans went at last, and before they were
out of the house Mrs. Hylton, with an effort to seem
unconcerned, said: 'And so, Ella, you and George

108 A MATTEE OF TASTE

have done without my help ? Of course you know
your own affairs best ; still, I should have thought
I should certainly have thought that I might have
been of some assistance to you if only in pecu-
niary matters.'

* George preferred that you should not be troubled,'
stammered Ella.

' I am not blaming him. I respect him for wish-
ing to be independent. I own to being a little sur-
prised that you should not have told me of this
before, though, Ella. But for that chattering girl, I
presume I should have been left to discover it for
myself. I wonder you cannot bring yourself to be a
little more open with your mother, my dear.'

' Oh, mother ! ' cried Ella in despair, ' indeed I
was going to tell you only, I did not know myself

till yesterday. At least, that is ' she broke off

lamely, fearing to reflect on George.

' I find it hard to believe that George would act
without consulting you in any way. It is strange
enough that he should have undertaken to furnish
the house in your absence.'

' But if I couldn't be there ! ' pleaded Ella' and
I couldn't.'

* Naturally, as you were on the Continent, you
couldn't be on Campden Hill at the same time ; you
need not be absurd, Ella. But what I want to know
is this have you had a voice in the matter, or have
you not ? '

A MATTER OF TASTE 109

' N not much,' confessed Ella, hanging her head.

' So I suspected, and I think George ought to be
ashamed of himself. I never heard of such a thing,
and I shall make a point of seeing the house and
satisfying myself that it is fit for a daughter of mine
to inhabit.'

' Mother ! ' exclaimed Ella, springing up excitedly,
'you don't understand. Why should you choose to
suppose that the house is not pretty ? It is not done
as you would do it, because poor George hadn't much
money to spend ; but if I am satisfied, why should you
come between us ? And I am satisfied quite, quite
satisfied ; he has done it all beautifully, and I will not
have a single thing altered ! After all, it is his house
our house and nobody else has any right to inter-
fere not even you, mother ! '

Mrs. Hylton shrugged her shoulders. ' Oh, my
dear, if that is the way you think proper to speak to
me, it is time to change the subject. Pray under-
stand that I shall not dream of interfering. I am very
glad that you are so satisfied.' And by-and-by she
left the room majestically.

When she had gone, Flossie, who had been listen-
ing open-eyed to all that had taken place, came and
stood in front of Ella's chair.

' Ella, tell me,' she said, ' has George really fur-
nished the house exactly as you like really now ? '

'Haven't I said so, Flossie? Why should you
doubt it ? '

110 A MATTER OF TASTE

' Oh, I don't know ; I was wondering, that was
all!'

' Eeally ! ' cried Ella angrily, ' anyone would think
poor George was a sort of barbarian, who couldn't
be expected to know anything, or trusted to do any-
thing ! '

' I'm sure I never said so, Ella. But how clever
of him to choose just the right things ! And, Ella,
do all the colours and things go well together ? I
always thought most men didn't notice much about
all that. And are the new mantelpieces pretty ? Oh,
and where did he go for the papers and the carpets ? '
' Flossie, I wish you wouldn't tease so. Can't
you see I have a headache ? I can't answer so many
questions, and I won't ! Once for all, everything is
just what I like. Do you understand, or shall I tell
you again ? just, just what I like ! '

* Oh, all right,' returned Flossie, with exasperating
good-humour ; * then there's nothing to lose your
temper about, darling, is there ? '

And this was all that Ella had gamed by her
loyalty to George so far.

It was the morning after the Chapmans' visit.
Ella had seen her mother and Flossie preparing to
go out, but, owing to the friction between them, they
neither invited her to accompany them, nor did she
venture to ask where they were going. At luncheon,
however, the unhappy girl divined from the expres-
sion of their faces how they had employed the fore-

A MATTEE OF TASTE 111

noon. They had been inspecting the Campden Hill
house ! Her mother's handsome face wore a look of
frozen contempt. Imagine a strict Quaker's feelings
on seeing his son with a pair of black eyes a
Socialist's at finding a peerage under his daughter's
pillow a Positivist's whose children have all joined
the Salvation Army, and even then but a faint idea
will be reached of Mrs. Hylton's utter dismay and
disgust.

Flossie, though angry, took a different view of
Ella's share in the business ; she knew her better than
her mother did, and consequently refused to believe
that she was a Philistine at heart. It was her absurd
infatuation for George that made her see with his
eyes and bow down before the hideous household
gods he had chosen to erect. On such weakness
Flossie had no mercy.

' Well, Ella, dear,' she began, ' mother and I have
seen your house. George has quite surpassed our
wildest expectations. Accept my compliments ! '

' Flossie,' said her mother severely, ' will you
kindly choose some other topic? I really feel too
seriously annoyed about all this to bear to hear it
spoken of just yet. I think you shall come with me
to the Amberleys' garden-party this afternoon, and
not Ella, as we are dining out this evening. You
had better stay at home and rest, Ella.'

In this, and countless other ways, was Ella made
to feel that she was in disgrace.

112 A MATTEK OF TASTE

Nor did Flossie spare her sister when they were
alone. ' Poor dear mother ! ' she said, ' I quite thought
that house would have broken her heart oh, I'm not
saying a word against it, Ella, I know you like it, and
I'm sure it looks very comfortable everything so
sensible and useful, and the kitchen really charm-
ing ; mother and I liked it best of all the rooms.
Such a horrid man let us in ; he was at work there,
and he would follow us all about, and tell mother his
entire history. I don't think he could have been
quite sober, he would insist on turning all the taps
on everywhere. I suppose, Ella, it's ever so much
cheaper to furnish as you and George have done;
that's the worst of pretty things, they do cost such a
lot ! I'd no idea you were so practical, though,' and
so on.

On Sunday George came to luncheon. He was
delighted to hear from Flossie that they had been
to the house, and gave a boisterously high-spirited
account of his labours. ' It was a grind,' he informed
them, ' and, as for those painter-fellows, I began to
think they'd stay out the entire lease.'

' Art is long, George,' observed Flossie, wickedly.

' Oh yes, I know ; but they promised faithfully to
be out in ten days, and they were over three Weeks ! '

* But look at the result ! George, how did you
find out that Ella liked grained doors ? '

1 Well, to tell you the truth, Flossie, that was a
bit of a fluke. The man told me that graining was

A MATTEK OF TASTE 113

coming in again, and I said, " Grain 'em, then " I
didn't know ! '

In short, he was more provokingly dense than ever
to-day, and Ella found herself growing more and
more captious and irritable that afternoon ; he could
not understand why she was so disinclined to talk ; even
the dear little house of which she was so soon to be
the mistress failed to interest her.

' You have told me twice already that you got the
drawing-room carpet a great bargain, and only paid
four pounds ten for the table in the dining-room,'
she broke out. ' Can't we take that for granted in
future ? '

' I forgot I'd told you ; I thought it was the mater,'
he said ; ' and I say, Ella, how about pictures ?
Jessie's promised to do us some water-colours she's
been taking lessons lately, you know but we shall
want one or two prints for the dining-room, shan't
we? You can pick them up second-hand very cheap.'

* Oh yes, yes ; anything you please, George ! . . .
No, no ; I'm not cross, I'm only tired, especially of
talking about the house. It is quite finished, you
know, so what is there to discuss ? '

During the days that followed, Flossie devised an
ingenious method of tormenting Ella; she laid out
her pocket-money, of which she had a good deal, on
the most preposterous ornaments a pair of dangling
cut-glass lustres, bead mats, a trophy of wax fruit
under a glass shade, gaudy fire-screens and flower-

114 A MATTER OF TASTE

pots, all of which she solemnly presented to her
suffering sister. This was not pure mischief or un-
kindness on Flossie's side, but part of a treatment
she had hit upon for curing Ella of her folly. And
at last the worm turned. Flossie came in one day
with a cheap plush and terra-cotta panel of appalling
ugliness.

* For the drawing-room, dear,' she observed blandly,
and Ella suddenly burst into a flood of tears.

' You are very, very unkind to me, Flossie ! ' she
sobbed.

' I ! ' exclaimed Flossie, in a tone of the most inno-
cent surprise. ' Why, Ella, I thought you would be
charmed with it. I'm sure George will. And, you
know, it will go beautifully with the rest of your
things ! '

' You might understand . . . you might see '

1 1 might see what ? '

' How frightfully miserable I am! ' said Ella, which
was the very admission Miss Flossie had been seeking
to provoke.

' Suppose I do see,' she said ; ' suppose I've been
trying to get you to act sensibly, Ella ? '

' Then it's cruel of you ! '

' No it's not. It's kind. How am I to help you
unless you speak out ? I'm younger than you, Ella,
but I know this I would never mope and make
myself miserable when a word would put everything
right ! '

A MATTER OF TASTE 115

* But it wouldn't, Flossie ; it is too late to speak
now. I can't tell him how I really feel I can't ! '

' Ah, then you own there is something to tell ? '

' What have I said ? Flossie, forget what I said ;
it slipped out. I meant nothing.'

'And you are perfectly happy and satisfied, are
you ? Now, I know how people look when they are
perfectly happy and satisfied.'

1 It's no use ! ' cried Ella, suddenly. ' I've tried, and
tried, and tried to bear it, but I can't. I must tell
somebody ... it is making me ill. I am getting
cross and wicked, and unlike what I used to be.
Flossie, I can't go and live there I dread the thought
of it ; I shrink from it more and more every day ! It
is all odious, impossible and yet I must, I must ! '

' No, you mustn't ; and, what's more, you shan't ! '

' Flossie, you mean you will tell mother ! You
must not, do you hear ? If you do, it will only make
matters worse. Oh, why did I tell you ? ' cried Ella,
in shame at this lapse from all her heroism. ' Promise
me you will say nothing to mother it is too late now
promise ! '

' Very well,' said Flossie reluctantly ; * then I
promise. But, all the same, Ella, I think you're a
great goose ! '

' I didn't promise I wouldn't say anything to
George, though,' she reflected ; and so, on the very
next occasion that she caught him alone, she availed
herself of an innocent allusion of his to Ella's low

i 2

V .

116 A MATTER OF TASTE

spirits to give him the benefit of her candid opinion,
which was not tempered by any marked consideration
for his feelings.

Ella was in the morning-room alone she had
taken to sitting alone lately, brooding over her trials.
She was no heroine, after all ; her mind, it is to be
feared, was far from superior. She was finding out that
she had undertaken too heavy a task ; she could not
console herself for her lost dream of a charmingly
appointed house. She might endure to live in such a
home as George had made for her ; but to be expected
to admire it, to let it be understood that it was her
handiwork, that she had chosen or approved of it
this was the burden that was crushing her.

Suddenly the door opened and George stood before
her. His expression was so altered that she scarcely
recognised him ; all the cheery buoyancy had vanished,
and his stern, set face had a dignity and character in
it now that were wanting before.

' I have just had a talk with Flossie,' he began ;
' she has shown me what a what a mistake I've been
making.'

Ella could not help feeling a certain relief, though
she said, * It was very wrong of Flossie she had no
right to speak.'

' She had every right,' he said. * She might have
done it more kindly, perhaps, but that's nothing.
Why didn't you tell me yourself, Ella ? You might
have trusted me ! '

A MATTER OF TASTE 117

'I couldn't it seemed so cruel, so ungrateful,
after all you had done. I hoped you would never know.'

* It's well for you, and for me too, that I know this
while there's still time. Ella, I've been a blind, blun-
dering fool. I never had a suspicion of this till till
just now, or you don't think I should have gone on
with it a single minute. I came to tell you that you
need not make yourself miserable any longer. I will
put an end to this whatever it costs me.'

' Oh, George, I am so ashamed. I know it is weak
and cowardly of me, but I can't help it. And and
will it cost you so very much ? '

' Quite as much as I can bear.'

* No ; but tell me about how much ? More than
a hundred pounds ? '

* I haven't worked it out in pounds, shillings, and
pence,' he said grimly ; < but I should put it higher
myself.'

' Won't they take back some of the things ? They
ought to,' she suggested timidly.

' The things ? Oh, the furniture ! Good Heavens,
Ella ! do you suppose I care a straw about that .? All
I can think of is how I could have gone on deceiving
myself like this, believing I knew your every thought ;
and all the time pah, what a fool I've been ! '

'I thought I should get used to it,' she pleaded.
'And oh, you don't know how hard I have tried to
bear it, not to let anyone see what I felt you don't
know ! '

118 A MATTEE OF TASTE

' And I would rather not know,' he replied, ' for
it's not exactly flattering, you see, Ella. And at all
events, it's over now. This is the last time I shall
trouble you ; you will see no more of me after to-day.'

Ella could only stare at him incredulously. Had
he really taken the matter so seriously to heart as this ?
Could he not forgive the wound to his vanity ? How
hard, how utterly unworthy of him !

' Yes,' he continued, ' I see now we were quite
unsuited to one another. I should never have made
you happy, Ella ; it's best to find it out before it's too
late. So let us shake hands and say good-bye, my
dear.'

She felt powerless to appeal to him, and yet it was
not wholly pride that tied her tongue ; she was too
shaken and stunned to make the least effort at re-
monstrance.

' Then, if it must be,' she said at last, very low
' good-bye, George.'

He crushed her hand in his strong grasp. ' Don't
mind about me,' he said roughly. ' You've nothing to
blame yourself for. I daresay I shall get over it all
right. It's rather sudden at first that's all ! ' And
with that he was gone.

Flossie, coming in a little later, found her sister
sitting by the window, smiling in a strange, vacant
way. ' Well ? ' said Flossie eagerly, for she had been
anxiously waiting to hear the result of the interview.

1 It's all over, Flossie ; he has broken it off.'

A MATTER OF TASTE 119

' Oh, Ella, I'm so glad ! I hoped he would, but I
wasn't sure. Well, you may thank me for delivering
you, darling. If I hadn't spoken plainly '

1 Tell me what you said.'

* Oh, let me see. Well, I told him anybody else
would have seen long ago that your feelings were
altered. I said you were perfectly miserable at having
to marry him, only you thought it was too late to say
so. I told him he didn't understand you in the least,
and you hadn't a single thought or taste in common.
I said if he cared about you at all, the best way he
could prove it was by setting you free, and not spoil-
ing your life and his own too. I put it as pleasantly
as I could,' said Flossie naively, 'but he is very
trying ! '

' You told him all that ! What made you invent
such wicked, cruel lies ? Flossie, it is you that have
spoilt our lives, and I will never forgive you never,
as long as I live ! '

' Ella ! ' cried the younger sister, utterly astonished
at this outburst. ' Why, didn't you tell me the other
day how miserable you were, and how you dared not
speak about it ? And now, when I '

' Go away, Flossie ; you have done mischief
enough ! '

' Oh, very well, I'm going if this is all I get for
helping you. Is it my fault if you don't know your
own mind, and say what you don't mean ? And if
you really want your dearly beloved George back

120 A MATTEE OF TASTE

again, there's time yet ; he hasn't gone he's in the
drawing-room with mother.'

How infinitely petty her past misery seemed now !
for what trifles she had thrown away George's honest
heart ! If only there was a chance still ! at least
false pride should not come between them any longer :
so thought Ella on her way to the drawing-room.
George was still there ; as she turned the door-handle
she heard her mother's clear resonant tones. ' Not
that that is any excuse for Ella,' she was saying.

Ella burst precipitately into the room. She was
only just in time, for George had risen and was
evidently on the point of leaving. ' George,' she ex-
claimed, panting after her rapid flight, ' I I came to
tell you '

'My dear Ella,' interrupted Mrs. Hylton, 'the
kindest thing you can do for George now is to let him
go without any more explanations.'

Ella stopped ; again her mind became a blank.
What had she come for ; what was it she felt she must
say ? While she hesitated, George was already at the
other door ; he seemed anxious to avoid hearing her ;
in another second he would be gone.

She cried to him piteously. ' George, dear George,
don't leave me ! . . . I can't bear it ! '

' This is too ridiculous ! ' exclaimed her mother
angrily. ' What is it that you do want, Ella ? '

'I want George,' she said simply. 'It was all a
mistake, George. Flossie mistook Oh, you don't

A MATTER OF TASTE 121

really think that I have left off caring for you ? I
haven't, dear, indeed I haven't won't you believe
me?'

' I had better leave you to come to an understand-
ing together,' said Mrs. Hylton, not in the best of
tempers, for she had been more sorry for George than
for the rupture he came to announce, and she swept
out of the room with very perceptible annoyance.

* I thought it was all up with me, Ella ; I did
indeed,' said George, a minute or two later, his face
still pale after all this emotion. ' But tell me what's
wrong with the furniture I ordered ? '

' Nothing, dear, nothing,' she answered, blushing.
' Don't think about it any more.'

' No ? But your mother was talking about it too,'
he insisted. ' Come, Ella, dear, for heaven's sake let us
have no more misunderstandings ! I see now what
an ass I was not to wait and let you choose for
yourself; these aesthetic things are not in my line.
But I'd no idea you'd care so much ! '

' But I don't now a bit.'

' Well, I do, then. And the house must be done all
over again, and exactly as you would like it ; so there's
no more to be said about it,' said George, without a
trace of pique or wounded vanity.

* George, you are too good to me ; I don't de-
serve it. And indeed you must not think of the
-expense ! '

122 A MATTEK OF TASTE

His face lengthened slightly ; he knew well enough
that the change would cost him dear.

' I'll manage it somehow,' he declared stoutly.

Would her mother help them now ? thought Ella,
and felt more than doubtful. No, in spite of her own
wishes, she must not allow George to carry out his
intentions.

' But you forget Carrie and Jessie,' she said ;
' we shall hurt their feelings so if we change now.'

' By Jove ! I forgot that,' he said. ' Yes, they won't
like it they meant well, poor girls, and took a lot of
trouble. Still, you're the first person to be considered,
Ella. I'll try and smooth it over with them, and if
they choose to be offended, why, they must that's
all. And I tell you what. Suppose we go and see the
house now, and you shall tell me just what wants
doing to make it right ? '

She would have liked to decline this rather in-
vidious office, especially as she felt no compromise to
be possible; but he was so urgent that she finally
agreed to go with him.

As they gained Campden Hill and the road in
which their house stood, George stopped. ' Hullo ! '
he said, * that can't be the house what's the matter
with it ? '

Very soon it was pretty evident what had been the
matter the walls were scorched and streaming, the
window sashes were empty, charred and wasted by
fire, the door was blistered and blackened, a stalwart

A MATTEK OF TASTE 123

fireman in his undress cap, with his helmet slung at
his back, was just opening the gate as they came up.

' Can't come in, sir,' he said, civilly enough. ' No
one admitted.'

' Hang it ! ' exclaimed George, ' it's my own fire
I'm the tenant.'

' Oh, I beg your pardon, sir it's been got under
some hours now. I was just going off duty.'

'Much damage done?' inquired George laconic-
ally.

* Well, you see, sir,' said the man, evidently con-
sidering how to prepare George for the worst, ' we
didn't get the call till the house was well alight, and
there was three steamers and a manual a-playing on
it, so well, you must expect things to be a bit untidy -
like inside. But the walls and the roof ain't much
damaged.'

* And how did it happen ? the house isn't even
occupied.'

' Workmen,' said the man. ' Someone was in there
early this morning and left the gas escaping some-
wheres, and as likely as not a light burning near
and here you are. Well, I'll be off, sir ; there's nothing
more to be done 'ere. Good-day, sir, and thank ye,
I'm sure.'

' Oh, George ! ' said Ella, half crying, ' our poor,
poor little house ! It seems like a judgment on me.
How can you laugh ! Who will build it up for us
now?'

124 A MATTER OF TASTE

* Who ? Why, the insurance people, to be sure ! You
see, the firm are agents for the " Curfew," and as soon
as I got all the furniture in I insured the whole con-
cern and got a protection note, so we're all right.
Don't worry, little girl. Why, don't you see this gets
us out of our difficulty ? We can start afresh now with-
out offending anybody. Look there ; there's that
idiot of a plumber who's done all the mischief
a nice funk he'll be in when he sees us ! '

But Mr. Peagrum was quite unperturbed ; if any-
thing, his smudgy features wore a look of sombre com-
placency as he came towards them. * I'm sorry this
should have occurred,' he said, * but you'll bear me out
that I warned yer as something was bound to 'appen.
In course I couldn't tell what form it might take, and
fire I must say I did not expect. I 'adn't on'y been
in the place not a quarter of a hour, watering the
gaselier in the libery the libery as was, I should say
when it struck me I'd forgot my screw-driver, so,
fortunately, as things turned out, I went 'ome to my
place to get it, and I come back to see the place all in
a blaze. It's fate, that's what it is fate's at the
bottom o' this 'ere job ! '

'Much more likely to be a lighted candle,' said
George.

' I was not on the premises at the time, so I can't
say ; but, be that 'ow it may, there's no denying it's
a, singler thing the way my words have been fulfilled
almost literal.'

A MATTER OF TASTE 125

< Confound you ! ' said George. ' You take good
care your prophecies come off. Why, man, you're not
going to pretend you don't know that it's your own
carelessness that's brought this about ! This isn't
the only house you've brought bad luck into,
Mr. What's-your-name, since you've started in
business ! '

'You can't make me lose my temper,' replied
the plumber with dignity. ' I put it down to igni-
rance.'

' So do I,' said George. ' And if I know anyone
who's anxious for a little typhoid, or wants his house
burnt down at a moderate charge, why, I shall know
whom to recommend. Good-day.'

He turned on his heel and walked off, but Ella
lingered behind. ' I only just wanted to tell you,' she
said, addressing the astonished plumber, < that you
have done us a very great service, and I, at least, am
very much obliged to you.' And she fluttered away
after her fiance.

The plumber that instrument of Destiny looked
after the retreating couple, and indulged in a mystified
whistle.

' 'E comes a bullyragging of me,' he observed to
a lamp-post, ' and she's " very much obliged " ! And
I'm blowed if I know what for, either way ! Cracked,
poor young things, cracked, the pair on 'em and no
wonder, with such a calamity so recent. Ah, well, I
do 'ope as this is the end on it. I 'ope I shan't be

126 A MATTER OF TASTE

the means of bringing no more trouble into that little
'ouse that I kin truly say ! '

And human gratitude having its limits it is
highly probable that this pious aspiration will not be
disappointed, so long, at least, as Mr. and Mrs. Chap-
man's tenancy continues.

127

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

A TALE FOE CHILDREN

4 DAISY, dearest,' said Miss Millikin anxiously to her
niece one afternoon, < do you think poor Don is quite
the thing ? He has seemed so very languid these last
few days, and he is certainly losing his figure ! '

Daisy was absorbed in a rather ambitious attempt
to sketch the lake from the open windows of Apple-
thwaite Cottage, and did not look up from her drawing
immediately. When she did speak her 'reply might
perhaps have been more sympathetic. ' He eats such
a lot, auntie ! ' she said. ' Yes, Don, we are talking
about you. You know you eat too much, and that's
the reason you're so disgracefully fat ! '

Don, who was lying on a rug under the verandah,
wagged his tail with an uneasy protest, as if he dis-
approved (as indeed he did) of the very personal turn
Daisy had given to the conversation. He had noticed
himself that he was not as active as he used to be ;
he grew tired so very soon now when he chased birds
(he was always possessed by a fixed idea that, if he
only gave his whole mind to it, he could catch any

128 DON; THE STOEY OF A GREEDY DOG

swallow that flew at all fairly) ; he felt the heat con-
siderably.

Still, it was Don's opinion that, so long as he did
not mind being fat himself, it was no business of any
other person's certainly not of Daisy's.

1 But, Daisy,' cried Miss Millikin plaintively, ' you
don't really mean that I overfeed him ? '

' Well,' Daisy admitted, ' I think you give way to
him rather, Aunt Sophy, I really do. I know that at
home we never let Fop have anything between his
meals. Jack says that unless a small dog is kept on very
simple diet he'll soon get fat, and getting fat,' added
Daisy portentously, ' means having fits sooner or later.'

' Oh, my dear ! ' exclaimed her aunt, now seriously
alarmed. ' What do you think I ought to do about it ? '

' I know what I would do if he was my dog,' said
Daisy, with great decision ' diet him, and take no
notice when he begs at table ; I would. I'd begin this
very afternoon.'

' After tea, Daisy ? ' stipulated Miss Millikin.

* No,' was the inflexible answer, ' at tea. It's all
for his own good.'

' Yes, dear, I'm sure you're right but he has such
pretty ways I'm so afraid I shall forget.'

' I'll remind you, Aunt Sophy. He shan't take
advantage of you while I'm here.'

' You're just a tiny bit hard on him, Daisy, aren't
you?'

* Hard on Don ! ' cried Daisy, catching him up and

DON; THE STORY OF A . GREEDY DOG 129

holding him out at arm's length. ' Don, I'm not hard on
you, am I ? I love you, only I see your faults, and
you know it. You're full of deceitfulness ' (here she
kissed him between the eyes and set him down).
' Aunt Sophy, you would never have found out his
trick about the milk if it hadn't been for me would
you now ? '

* Perhaps not, my love,' agreed Miss Millikin
mildly.

The trick in question was a certain ingenious device
of Don's for obtaining a double allowance of afternoon
tea a refreshment for which he had acquired a strong
taste. The tea had once been too hot and burnt his
tongue, and, as he howled with the-pain, milk had been
added. Ever since that occasion he had been in the
habit of lapping up all but a spoonful or two of the
tea in his saucer, and then uttering a pathetic little
yelp ; whereupon innocent Miss Millikin would as
regularly fill up the saucer with milk again.

But, unfortunately for Don, his mistress had in-
vited her niece Daisy to spend part of her summer
holidays at her pretty cottage in the Lake District,
and Daisy's sharper eyes had detected this little strata-
gem about the milk on the very first evening !

Daisy was fourteen, and I fancy I have noticed
that when a girl is about this age, she not unfrequently
has a tendency to be rather a severe disciplinarian
when others than herself are concerned. At all events
Daisy had very decided notions on the proper method

130 DON ; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

of bringing up dogs, and children too; only there
did not happen to be any children at Applethwaite
Cottage to try experiments upon ; and she was quite
sure that Aunt Sophy allowed herself to be shamefully
imposed upon by Don.

There was perhaps some excuse for Miss Millikin,
for Don was a particularly charming specimen of the
Yorkshire terrier, with a silken coat of silver-blue, set
off by a head and paws of the ruddiest gold. His
manners were most insinuating, and his great eyes
glowed at times under his long hair, as if a wistful,
loving little soul were trying to speak through them.
But, though it seems an unkind thing to say, it must
be confessed that this same soul in Don's eyes was
never quite so apparent as when he was begging for
some peculiarly appetising morsel. He was really
fond of his mistress, but at meal times I am afraid he
' put it on ' a little bit. Of course this was not quite
straightforward ; but then I am not holding him up
as a model animal.

How far he understood the conversation that has
been given above is more than I can pretend to say,
but from that afternoon he began to be aware of a very
unsatisfactory alteration in his treatment.

Don had sometimes felt a little out of temper with
his mistress for being slow to understand exactly what
he did want, and he had barked, almost sharply, to
intimate to the best of his powers ' Not bread and
butter, stoopid cake ! ' So you may conceive his

DON ; THE STOEY OF A GREEDY DOG 131

disgust when she did not even give him bread and
butter ; nothing but judicious advice without jam.
She was most apologetic, it is true, and explained
amply why she could not indulge him as heretofore,
but Don wanted sugar, and not sermons. Sometimes
she nearly gave way, and then cruel Daisy would inter-
cept the dainty under his very nose, which he thought
most unfeeling.

He had a sort of notion that it was all through
Daisy that they were just as stingy and selfish in the
kitchen, and that his meals were now so absurdly few
and plain. It was very ungrateful of her, for he had
gone out of his way to be polite and attentive to her.
When he thought of her behaviour to him he felt
strongly inclined to sulk, but somehow he did not actu-
ally go so far as that. He liked Daisy ; she was pretty
for one thing, and Don always preferred pretty people,
and then she stroked him in a very superior and sooth-
ing manner. Besides this, he respected her : she had
been intrusted with the duty of punishing him on
more than one occasion, and her slaps really hurt,
while it was hopeless to try to soften her heart by
trying to lick the chastising hands a manoeuvre which
was always effective with poor Miss Millikin. So he
contented himself with letting her see that though he
did not understand he conduct towards him, he was
willing to overlook it for the present.

1 What a wonderful improvement in the dear dog ! '
Miss Millikin remarked one morning at breakfast,

K 2

132 DON ; THE STOKY OF A GREEDY DOG

after Don had been on short commons for a week or
two. ' Keally, Daisy, I begin to think you were quite
right about him.'

, * Oh, I'm sure I was,' said Daisy, who always had
great confidence in her own judgment.

' Yes,' continued her aunt, ' and, now he's so much
better just this one small bit, Daisy ? ' Don's eyes
already had a green glitter in them and his mouth
was watering.

' No, Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy, ' I wouldn't really.
He's better without anything.'

* I wish that girl was gone ! ' reflected poor Don,
as he went sulkily back to his basket. ' It's enough
to make a dog steal, upon my tail it is ! I'm positively
starved no bones, no chicken, only beastly dry dog-
biscuits and milk twice a day ! I wish I could rum-
mage about in gutters and places as Jock does
but I don't think the things you find in gutters are
ever really nice. Jock does but he's just that low
sort of dog who would ! '

Jock was a humble friend of his down in the
village, a sort of distant relation to the Dandie Din-
monts ; he was a rough, long-backed creature, as grey
as a badger, and with a big solemn head like a hammer.
Don was civil to him in a patronising way, but he did
not tell him of the indignities he was subject to,
perhaps because he had been rather given to boast of
his influence over his mistress, and the high considera-
tion he enjoyed at Applethwaite Cottage.

DON; THE STOEY OF A GREEDY DOG 133

Now Daisy used to go up for solitary rambles on
the fells sometimes, when she generally took Don as a
protector. He was becoming very nearly as active as
ever, and now there was a stronger motive than before
for pursuing the swallows for he had a notion that
they would be rather good eating. But one morning
she missed him on her way back through the village
by the lake ; she was sure he was with her on the pier,
and she had only stopped to ask some question at the
ticket-office about the steamboat times ; and when she
turned round, Don was gone.

However, her aunt was neither angry nor alarmed.
Miss Millikin was not able to walk as much as Don
wished, she said, so he was accustomed to take a great
deal of solitary exercise ; he was such a remarkably
intelligent dog that he could be trusted to take care of
himself oh, he would come back.

And towards dusk that evening Don did come back.
There was a curious air about him subdued, almost
sad ; Daisy remembered long afterwards how unusually
affectionate he had been, and how quietly he had lain
on her lap till bedtime.

The next morning, when her aunt and she pre-
pared to go for a walk along the lake, Don's excitement
was more marked than usual ; he leaped up and tried
to caress their hands : he assured them in a thousand
ways of the delight he felt at being allowed to make
one of the party,

After this, it was a painful surprise to find that he

134 DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

gave them the slip the moment they reached the village.
But Miss Millikin said he always did prefer mountain
scenery, and no doubt it was tiresome for him to have
to potter about as they did. And Master Don began
to give them less and less of his society in the day-
time, and to wander from morn to dewy eve in solitude
and independence ; though whether he went up moun-
tains to admire the view, or visited ruins and water-
falls, or spent his days hunting rabbits, no one at
Applethwaite Cottage could even pretend to guess.

' One good thing, Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy com-
placently one evening, a little later, 'I've quite
cured Don of being troublesome at meals ! '

'He couldn't be troublesome if he tried, dear/
said Miss Millikin with mild reproof ; ' but I must
say you have succeeded quite wonderfully how did
you do it ? '

' Why,' said Daisy, ' I spoke to him exactly as
if he could understand every word, and I made him
thoroughly see that he was only wasting his time
by sitting up and begging for things. And you got
to believe it at last, didn't you, dear ? ' she added
to Don, who was lying stretched out on the rug.

Don pricked the ear that was uppermost, and
then uttered a heavy sigh, which smote his mistress
to the heart.

' Daisy,' she said, ' it's no use I must give him
something. Poor pet, he deserves it for being so
good and patient all this time. One biscuit, Daisy ? '

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 135

Even Daisy relented : ' Well a very plain one,
then. Let me give it to him, auntie ? '

The biscuit was procured, and Daisy, with an
express intimation that this was a very particular
indulgence, tendered it to the deserving terrier.

He half raised his head, sniffed at it and then
fell back again with another weary little sigh. Daisy
felt rather crushed. 'I'm afraid he's cross with
me,' she said ; ' you try, Aunt Sophy.' Aunt
Sophy tried, but with no better success, though
Don wagged his tail feebly to express that he was
not actuated by any personal feeling in the matter
he had no appetite, that was all.

' Daisy,' said Miss Millikin, with something
more like anger than she generally showed, ' I
was very wrong to listen to you about the diet.
It's perfectly plain to me that by checking Don's
appetite as we have we have done him serious
harm. You can see for yourself that he is past
eating anything at all now. Cook told me to-day
that he had scarcely touched his meals lately. And
yet he's stouter than ever isn't he ? '

Daisy was forced to allow that this was so. * But
what can it be ? ' she said.

' It's disease ,' said her aunt, very solemnly.
' I've read over and over again that corpulence
has nothing whatever to do with the amount of
food one eats. And, oh ! Daisy, I don't want to
blame you, dear but I'm afraid we have been

136 DON; THE STOKY OF A GEEEDY DOG

depriving him of the nourishing things he really
needed to enable him to struggle against the
complaint ! '

Poor Daisy was overcome by remorse as she
knelt over the recumbent Don. ' Oh, darling Don,'
she said, ' I didn't mean it you know I didn't,
don't you ? You must get well and forgive me !
I tell you what, aunt,' she said as she rose to heif
feet, ' you know you said I might drive you over in
the pony cart to that tennis-party at the Netherbys
to-morrow. Well, young Mr. Netherby is rather
a " doggy " sort of man, and nice too. Suppose we
take Don with us and ask him to tell us plainly
whether he has anything dreadful the matter with
him?'

Miss Millikin consented, though she did not
pretend to hope much from Mr. Nether by 's skill.
'I'm afraid,' she said, with a sigh, 'that only a
very clever veterinary surgeon would find out what
really is the matter with Don. But you can try,
my dear.'

The following afternoon Miss Millikin entrusted
herself and Don to Daisy's driving, not without some
nervous misgivings.

1 You're quite sure you can manage him, Daisy ? '
she said. ' If not, we can take John.'

' Why, Aunt Sophy ! ' exclaimed Daisy, ' I always
drive the children at home ; and sometimes when I'm
on the box with Toppin, he gives me the reins in a

DON; THE STOKY OF A GKEEDY DOG 137

straight part of the road, and Paul and Virginia pull
like anything Toppin says it's all he can do to hold
them.'

Daisy was a little hurt at the idea that she might
find Aunt Sophy's pony too much for her a sleepy
little ' slug of a thing,' as she privately called it, which
pattered along exactly like a clockwork animal in
urgent need of winding up.

Don seemed a little better that day, and was
lifted into the pony-cart, where he lay on the in-
diarubber mat, sniffing the air as if it was doing him
good.

Daisy really could drive well for her age, and
woke the pony up in a manner that astonished her
aunt, who remarked from time to time that she knew
Wildfire wanted to walk now he never could trot
long at a time and so they reached the Netherbys'
house, which was five miles away towards the head of
the lake, well under the hour, a most surprising feat
for Wildfire.

It was a grown-up tennis-party, and Daisy,
although she had brought her racket, was a little
afraid to play ; besides, she wanted to consult young
Mr. Netherby about Don, who had been left with the
cart in the stables.

Mr. Netherby, who was a good-natured, red-faced
young soldier, just about to join his regiment, was
not playing either, so Daisy went up to him on the
first opportunity.

138 DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

' You know about dogs, Mr. Netherby, don't
you?'

' Rath-er ! ' said Mr. Netherby, who was a trifle
slangy. ' Why ? Are you thinking of investing in a
dog?'

' It's Aunt Sophy's dog,' explained Daisy, * and
he's ill very ill and we can't make out what's the
matter, so I thought you would tell us perhaps ? '

' I'll ride over to-morrow and have a look at him.'

* Oh, but you needn't he's here. Wait I'll
fetch him don't you come, please.'

And presently Daisy made her appearance on the
lawn, carrying Don, who felt quite a weight, in her
arms. She set him down before the young man, who
examined him in a knowing manner, while Miss
Millikin, and some others who were not playing just
then, gathered round. Don was languid, but digni-
fied he rather liked being the subject of so much
notice. Daisy waited breathlessly for the verdict.

' Well,' said Mr. Netherby, * it's easy enough to
see what's wrong with him. I should knock off his
grub.'

' But,' cried Miss Millikin, ' we have knocked off
his grub, as you call it. The poor dog is starved
literally starved.'

Mr. Netherby said he should scarcely have sup-
posed so from his appearance.

' But I assure you he has eaten nothing positively
nothing for days and days ! '

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 139

' Ah,' said Mr. Netherby, ' chameleon, is he ? then
he's had too much air that's all.'

Just then a young lady who had been brought by
some friends living close by joined the group : ' Why,*
she said at once, ' that's the little steamer dog. How
did he come here ? '

' He is not a little steamer dog,' said Miss Millikin
in her most dignified manner ; ' he is my dog.'

' Oh, I didn't know,' said the first speaker ; ' but
but I'm sure I've seen him on the steamer several
times lately.'

' I never use the steamers unless I'm absolutely
obliged I disapprove of them : it must have been
some other dog.'

The young lady was positive she had made no
mistake. ' You so seldom see a dog with just those
markings,' she said, ' and I don't think anybody was
with him ; he came on board at Amblemere and went
all round the lake with us.'

' At Amblemere ! ' cried Daisy, ' that's where we
live ; and, Aunt Sophy, you know Don has been away
all day lots of times lately.'

' What did this dog do on the steamer ? ' asked
Miss Millikin faintly.

* Oh, he was so sweet ! he went round to every-
body, and sat up so prettily till they gave him bis-
cuits and things he was everybody's pet ; we were
all jealous of one another for the honour of feeding
him. The second time we brought buns on pur-

140 DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

pose. But we quite thought he belonged to the
steamer.'

Young Mr. Netherby laughed. ' So that is how
he took the air ! I thought I wasn't far wrong,' he
said.

'Put him back in the cart, Daisy,' said Miss
Millikin severely ; ' I can't bear to look at him.'

Don did his best to follow this dialogue, but all he
could make out was that it was about himself, and
that he was being as usual exceedingly admired. So
he sat and looked as good and innocent and interest-
ing as he knew how. Just then he felt that he would
.almost rather they did not offer him anything to eat
at least not anything very sweet and rich, for he was
still not at all well. It was a relief to be back in the
cart and in peace again, though he wondered why
Daisy didn't kiss the top of his head as she had done
several times in carrying him to the lawn. This time
she held him at a distance, and said nothing but two
words, which sounded suspiciously like ' You pig \ ' as
she put him down.

Miss Millikin was very grave and silent as they
drove home. ' I can't trust myself to speak about it,
Daisy,' she said ; ( if if it was true, it shows such an
utter want of principle such deceit ; and Don used to
be so honest and straightforward ! What if we make
inquiries at the pier ? It it may be all a mistake.'

They stopped for this purpose at Amblemere.
' Ay, Miss Millikin, mum, he cooms ahn boord reglar,

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 141

does that wee dug,' said the old boatman, ' and a' makes
himseF rare an' frien'ly, a' do they coddle him oop
fine, amang 'em. Eh, but he's a smart little dug, we
quite look for him of a morning coomin' for his
constitutionil, fur arl the worl' like a Chreestian ! '

' Like a very greedy Christian ! ' said his disgusted
mistress. * Daisy,' she said, when she returned to
the pony-cart, ' it's all true ! I I never have been
so deceived in any one ; and the worst of it is, I don't
know how to punish him, or how to make him feel
what a disgraceful trick this is. Nobody else's dog I
ever heard of made his mistress publicly absurd in
this way. It's so so ungrateful ! '

'Aunt Sophy,' said Daisy, 'I've an idea. Will
you leave him to me, and pretend you don't suspect
anything ? I will cure him this time ! '

' You you won't want to whip him ? ' said Mis
Millikin, ' because, though it's all his own doing, he
really is not well enough for it just now.'

1 No,' said Daisy, ' I won't tell you my plan,
auntie, but it's better than whipping.'

And all this time the unconscious Don was wearing
an expression of uncomplaining suffering, and looking
meekly sorry for himself, with no suspicion in the
world that he had been found out.

Next day he felt much better, and as the morning
was bright he thought that, after all, he might
manage another steamer trip ; his appetite had come
back, and his breath was not nearly so short as it had

142 DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

been. He was just making modestly for the gate
when Daisy stopped him. ' Where are you going,
sir ? ' she inquired.

Don rolled over instantly with all his legs in the
air and a feeble apology in his eye.

1 1 want you for just one minute first,' said Daisy
politely, and carried him into the morning-room.
Was he going to be whipped ? she couldn't have the
heart an invalid like him ! He tried to protest by
his whimpering.

But Daisy did nothing of the kind ; she merely
took something that was flat and broad and white,
and fastened it round his neck with a very orna-
mental bow and ribbon. Then she opened the French
windows, and said in rather a chilly voice, ' Now run
away and get on your nasty steamer and beg, and
see what you get by it ! '

That seemed, as far as he could tell, very sensible
advice, and, oddly enough, it was exactly what he had
been intending to do. It did not strike him as par-
ticularly strange that Daisy should know, because
Don was a dog that didn't go very deeply into matters
unless he was obliged.

He trotted off at an easy pace down to the village,
getting hungrier every minute, and hoping that the
people on the steamer would have brought nice things
to-day, when, close to the turning that led to the
landing-stage, he met Jock, and was naturally obliged
to stop for a few moments' conversation.

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 143

He was not at all pleased to see him notwith-
standing, for I am sorry to say that Don's greediness
had so grown upon him of late that he was actually
afraid that his humble friend (who was a little slow
to find out when he wasn't wanted) would accompany
him on to the steamboat, and then of course the good
things would have to be divided.

However, Don was a dog that was always scrupu-
lously polite, even to his fellow-dogs, and he did not
like to be rude now.

' Hullo ! ' said Jock (in dogs' language of course,
but I have reason to believe that what follows is as
nearly as possible what was actually said). ' What's
the matter with you this morning ? '

Don replied that he was rather out of sorts, and
was going down to a certain lane for a dose of dog-
grass.

' A little dog-grass won't do me any harm,' said
Jock ; * I'll come too.'

This was awkward, but Don pretended to be glad,
and they went a little way together.

' But what's that thing round your neck ? ' asked
the Dandie Dinmont.

' Oh,' said Don, < that ? It's a bit of finery they
put on me at the cottage. It pleases them, you know.
Think it's becoming ? '

' Um,' answered Jock ; * reminds me of a thing a
friend of mine used to wear. But he had a blind
man tied to him. I don't see your blind man.'

144 BON; THE STOKY OF A GREEDY DOG

' They would have given me a blind man of
course if I'd asked for it,' said Don airily, 'but
what's the use of a blind man isn't he rather a
bore?'

' I didn't ask ; but my friend said he believed the
thing round his neck, which was flat and white just
like yours (only he had a tin mug underneath his),
made people more inclined to give him things he
didn't know why. Do you find that ? '

' How stupid of Daisy to forget the mug ! *
thought Don. ' I couLd have brought things home to
eat quietly then. I don't know,' he replied to Jock ;
* I haven't tried.'

He meant to put it to the test very soon, though
if only he could get rid of Jock.

' By the way,' he said carelessly, ' have you been
round by the hotel lately ? '

' No,' answered Jock, < not since the ostler threw a
brush at me.'

1 Well,' said Don, < there was a bone outside the
porch, which, if I hadn't been feeling so poorly, I should
have had a good mind to tackle myself. But perhaps
some other dog has got hold of it by this time.'

' I'll soon make him let go if he has ! ' said Jock,
who liked a fight almost as well as a bone, * Where, was
it, did you say ? '

' Outside the hotel. Don't let me keep you. It
was a beautiful bone. Good-morning,' said Don.

He did not think it worth while to explain that he

DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG 145

had seen it several days ago, for Don, as you will
have remarked already, was a very artful dog.

He got rid of his unwelcome friend in this highly
unprincipled manner, and strolled on to the pier full
of expectation. Steamers ply pretty frequently on
this particular lake, so he had not to wait very long.
The little Cygnet soon came hissing up, and the
moment the gangway was placed Don stepped on
board, with tail proudly erect.

As usual, he examined the passengers, first to see
who had anything to give, then who looked most
likely to give it to him. Generally he did best with
children. He was not fond of children (Daisy was
quite an exception), but he was very fond of cakes,
and children, he had observed, generally had the best
cakes. Don was so accomplished a courtier that he
would contrive to make every child believe that he or
she was the only person he loved in the whole world,
and he would stay by his victim until the cake was all
gone, and even a little longer, just for the look of the
thing, and then move on to some one else and begin
again.

There were no children with any cakes or buns
on board this time, however. There was a stout man
up by the bows, dividing his attention between scenery
and sandwiches ; but Don knew by experience that
tourists' sandwiches are always made with mustard,
which he hated. There were three merry-looking,
round-faced young ladies on a centre bench, eating

146 DON; THE STOEY OF A GKEEDY DOG

Osborne biscuits. He wished they could have made
it sponge-cakes, because he was rather tired of
Osborne biscuits ; but they were better than nothing.
So to these young ladies he went, and, placing him-
self where he could catch all their eyes at once, he sat
up in the way he had always found irresistible.

I don't suppose any dog ever found his expectations
more cruelly disappointed. It was not merely that
they shook their heads, they went into fits of laughter
they were laughing at him ! Don was so deeply
offended that he took himself off at once, and tried an
elderly person who was munching seed-cake ; she did
not laugh, but she examined him carefully, and then
told him with a frown to go away. He began to think
that Daisy's collar was not a success ; he ought to
have had a mug, or a blind man, or both ; he did
much better when he was left to himself.

Still he persevered, and went about, wagging his
tail and sitting up appealingly. By and by he began
to have an uncomfortable idea that people were saying
things about him which were not complimentary.
He was almost sure he heard the word ' greedy,' and
he knew what that meant : he had been taught by
Daisy. They must be talking of some other dog not
him ; they couldn't possibly know what he was !

Now Don was undeniably a very intelligent terrier
indeed, but there was just this defect in his education
he could not read : he had no idea what things
could be conveyed by innocent-looking little black

DON ; THE STOKY OF A GREEDY DOG 147

marks. * Of course not,' some of my readers will
probably exclaim, ' he was only a dog ! ' But it is
not so absurd as it sounds, for one very distinguished
man has succeeded in teaching his dogs to read and
even to spell, though I believe they have not got into
very advanced books as yet. Still, it may happen
some day that all but hopelessly backward or stupid
dogs will be able to read fluently, and then you may
find that your own family dog has taken this book into
his kennel, and firmly declines to give it up until he
has finished it. At present, thank goodness, we have
not come to this, and so there is nothing remarkable
in the mere fact that Don was unable to read. I only
mention it because, if he had possessed this accom-
plishment, he would never have fallen into the trap
Daisy had prepared for him.

For the new collar was, as you perhaps guessed
long ago, a card, and upon it was written, in Daisy's
neatest and plainest round hand :

I am a very Greedy little Dog, and have Plenty to eat at Home,
So please do not give me anything, or I shall have a Fit and die !

You can easily imagine that, when this unlucky
Don sat up and begged, bearing this inscription written
legibly on his unconscious little chest, the effect was
likely to be too much for the gravity of all but very
stiff and solemn persons.

Nearly everybody on board the steamer was
delighted with him ; they pointed out the joke to one
another, and roared with laughter, until he grew quite

L 2

148 DON ; THE STOKY OF A GREEDY DOG

ashamed to sit up any more. Some teased him by
pretending to give him something, and then eating
it themselves ; some seemed almost sorry for him and
petted him; and one, an American, said, 'It was
playing it too low down to make the little critter give
himself away in that style ! ' But nobody quite liked
to disobey Daisy's written appeal.

Poor Don could not understand it in the least;
he only saw that every one was very rude and
disrespectful to him, and he tried to get away under
benches. But it was all in vain ; people routed him out
from his hiding-places to be introduced to each new
comer ; he could not go anywhere without being stared
at, and followed, and hemmed in, and hearing always
that same hateful whisper of ' Greedy dog not to be
given anything,' until he felt exactly as if he was being
washed !

Poor disappointed greedy dog, how gladly he would
have given the tail between his legs to be safe at home
in the drawing-room with Miss Millikin and Daisy !
How little he had bargained for such a terrible trip as
this!

I am sure that if Daisy had ever imagined he
would feel his disgrace so deeply she would not have
had the heart to send him out with that tell-tale card
around his neck ; but then he would not have received
a very wholesome lesson, and would certainly have
eaten himself into a serious illness before the summer
ended, so perhaps it was all for the best.

DON; THE STOEY OF A GREEDY DOG 149

This time Don did not go the whole round of the
lake ; he had had quite enough of it long before the
Cygnet reached Highwood, but he did not get a chance
until they came to Winderside, and then, watching
his opportunity, he gave his tormentors the slip at
last.

Two hours later, as Daisy and her aunt sat sketch-
ing under the big holm-oak on the lawn, a dusty little
guilty dog stole sneakingly in under the garden-gate.
It was Don, and he had run all the way from Winder-
side, which, though he did not appreciate it, had done
him a vast amount of good. ' Oh ! ' cried Daisy,
dropping her paint-brush to clap her hands gleefully,
' Look, Aunt Sophy, he has had his lesson already ! '

Miss Millikin was inclined to be shocked when she
read the ticket. ' It was too bad of you, Daisy ! ' she
said ; ' I would never have allowed it if I had known.
Come here, Don, and let me take the horrid thing off/

' Not yet, please, auntie ! ' pleaded Daisy, ' I want
him to be quite cured, and it will take at least till bed-
time. Then we'll make it up to him.'

But Don had understood at last. It was this
detestable thing, then, that had been telling tales of
him and spoiling all his fun ! Very well, let him find
himself alone with it just once ! And he went off
very soberly into the shrubbery, whence in a few
minutes came sounds of ' worrying.'

In half an hour Don came out again ; his collar

150 DON; THE STORY OF A GREEDY DOG

was gone, and in his mouth he trailed a long piece
of chewed ribbon, which he dropped with the queerest
mixture of penitence and reproach at Daisy's feet.
After that, of course, it was impossible to do anything
but take him into favour at once, and he was generous
enough to let Daisy see that he bore her no malice for
the trick she had played him.

What became of the card no one ever discovered ;
perhaps Don had buried it, though Daisy has very
strong suspicions that he ate it as his best revenge.

But what is more important is that from that day
he became a slim and reformed dog, refusing firmly
to go on board a steamer on any pretence whatever,
and only consenting to sit up after much coaxing, and
as a mark of particular condescension.

So that Daisy's experiment, whatever may be
thought of it, was at least a successful one.

151

TAKEN BY SURPRISE

BEING THE PERSONAL STATEMENT OF BEDELL
GRUNCHER, M.A.

THERE are certain misconceptions which a man who
is prominently before the public is morally bound to
combat more for the sake of others than his own
as soon as it becomes probable that the popular
estimate of his character may be shaken, if not
shattered, should he hold his peace. Convinced as
I am of this, and having some ground to anticipate
that the next few days may witness a damaging blow
to my personal dignity and influence for good, I have
thought it expedient to publish the true history of an
episode which, if unexplained, is only too likely to
prejudice me to a serious extent. Any circumstance
that tends to undermine or lessen the world's reverence
for its instructors is a deplorable calamity, to be
averted at all hazards, even when this can only be
effected by disclosures scarcely less painful to a
delicate mind.

For some years I, Bedell Cruncher, have conse-
crated my poor talents to the guidance and education

152 TAKEN BY SURPRISE

of public taste in questions of art and literature. To
do this effectively I have laboured at the cost of
some personal inconvenience to acquire a critical
style of light and playful badinage. My lash has ever
been wreathed in ribbons of rare texture and daintiest
hues ; I have thrown cold water in abundance over
the nascent flames of young ambition but suck
water was systematically tinctured with attar of roses,
And in time the articles appearing in various period-
icals above the signature of ' Vitriol ' became, I may
acknowledge without false modesty, so many literary
events of the first magnitude. I attribute this to my
early recognition of the true function of a critic. It
is not for him to set up sign-posts, or even warning-
boards, for those who run and read. To attain
true distinction he should erect a pillory upon his
study table, and start the fun himself with a choice
selection of the literary analogues of the superannu-
ated eggs and futile kittens which served as project-
iles in the past. The public may be trusted to keep
it going, and also to retain a grateful recollection of
the original promoter of the sport. My little weekly
and monthly pillories became instantly popular, for all
my kittens were well aimed, and my eggs broke and
stuck in a highly entertaining fashion. We are so
constituted that even the worst of us is capable of a
kindly feeling towards the benefactor who makes
others imperishably ridiculous in our eyes ; and to do
this was my metier a moi. At first my identity with

TAKEN BY SUEPEISE 15&

the lively but terrible * Vitriol ' was kept a profound
secret, but gradually, by some means which I do not
at present remember, it leaked out, and I imme-
diately became a social, as well as a literary, celeb-
rity. Physically I have been endewed with a presence
which, though not of unusual height and somewhat
inclined to central expansion, produces, I find, an
invariably imposing effect, especially with members of
the more emotional and impressionable sex. Conse-
quently I was not surprised even at the really extra-
ordinary sensation I inspired upon my first introduction
to a very charming young lady, Miss Iris Waverley,.
as soon as my nom de guerre was (I forget just no why
whom) incidentally alluded to. However, as it turned
out, she had another and a deeper reason for emotion :.
it seemed she had been engaged to a young poet
whose verses, to her untaught and girlish judgment,,
seemed inspired by draughts of the true Helicon, and
whose rhythmical raptures had stirred her maiden
heart to its depths.

Well, that young poet's latest volume of verse
came under my notice for review, and in my custom-
ary light-hearted fashion I held it up to general
derision for a column or two, and then dismissed it,
with an ineffaceable epigrammatic kick, to spin for
ever (approximately) down the ringing grooves of
criticism.

Miss Waverley, it happened, was inclined to cor-
rect her own views by the opinions of others, and

154 TAKEN BY SURPEISE

was, moreover, exceptionally sensitive to any associa-
tion of ridicule with the objects of her attachment
indeed, she once despatched a dog she fondly loved to
the lethal chamber at Battersea, merely because all
the hair had come off the poor animal's tail ! My
trenchant sarcasms had depoetised her lover in a
isimilar fashion; their livid lightning had revealed
the baldness, the glaring absurdity of the very stanzas
which once had filled her eyes with delicious tears ;
he was dismissed, and soon disappeared altogether
from the circles which I had (in perfect innocence)
rendered impossible to him.

Notwithstanding this, Miss Waverley's first senti-
ments towards me were scarcely, oddly enough, of un-
mixed gratitude. I represented the rod, and a very
commendable feeling of propriety made her unwilling
to kiss me on a first interview, though, as our inti-
macy advanced well, there are subjects on which I
claim the privilege of a manly reticence.

I hasten over, then, the intermediate stages of
antipathy, fear, respect, interest, and adoration. In
me she recognised an intellect naturally superior, too
indifferent and unambitious to give life to its own
imaginings too honest, too devoted to humanity, to
withhold merited condemnation from those of others.
J was the radiant sun whose scorching beams melted
the wax from the pinions of many a modern Icarus .
or, to put the metaphor less ingeniously, the shining
light in which, by an irresistible impulse of self-

TAKEN BY SURPRISE 155

destruction, the poetical and artistic moths flew and
incontinently frizzled.

One trait in my character which Iris valued above
all others was the caution with which I habitually
avoided all associations of a ridiculous nature ; for it
was my pride to preserve a demeanour of unsullied
dignity under circumstances which would have been
trying, if not fatal, to an ordinary person. So we
became engaged ; and if, pecuniarily speaking, the
advantage of the union inclined to my side, I cannot
consider that I was the party most benefited by the
transaction.

It was soon after this happy event that Iris entreated
from me, as a gift, a photograph of myself. I could
not help being struck by this instance of feminine
parsimony with regard to small disbursements, since,
for the trifling sum of one shilling, it was perfectly
open to her to procure an admirable presentment of
me at almost any stationer's; for, in obedience to a
widely expressed demand, I had already more than
once undergone the ordeal by camera.

But no; she professed to desire a portrait more
peculiarly her own one that should mark the precise
epoch of our mutual happiness a caprice which re-
minded me of the Salvation Army recruit who was
photographed, by desire, ' before and after conversion ' ;
and I demurred a little, until Iris insisted with such
captivating pertinacity that although my personal
expenses (always slightly in excess of my income) had

156 TAKEN BY SUKPKISE

been further swelled since my engagement by the in-
numerable petits soins expected by an absurd custom
from every lover I gave way at length.

It was her desire that my portrait should form a
pendant to one of herself which had been recently
taken by a fashionable photographer, and I promised
to see that this wish should be gratified. It is pos-
sible that she expected me to resort to the same artist ;
but there were considerations which induced me to
avoid this, if I could. To the extent of a guinea (or
even thirty shillings) I could refuse her nothing ; but
every one knows what sums are demanded by a photo-
grapher who is at all in vogue. I might, to be sure,
as a public character, have sat without being called
upon for any consideration, beyond the right to dispose
of copies of my photograph ; but I felt that Iris would
be a little hurt if I took this course, and none of the
West-end people whom I consulted in the matter
quite saw their way to such an arrangement just
then. There was a temporary lull, they assured me,
in the demand for likenesses of our leading lite-
rary men, and I myself had been photographed within
too recent a period to form any exception to the
rule.

So, keeping my promise constantly in mind, I
never entered a secluded neighbourhood without being
on the look-out for some unpretending photographic
studio which would combine artistic excellence with
moderate charges.

TAKEN BY SUKPRISE 157

And at last I discovered this photographic phoenix,
^vhose nest, if I may so term it, was in a retired
suburb which I do not care to particularise. Upon
the street level was a handsome plate-glass window,
in which, against a background of dark purple hang-
ings and potted ferns, were displayed cartes, cabinets,
and groups, in which not even my trained faculties
could detect the least inferiority to the more costly
productions of the West-end, while the list of prices
that hung by the door was conceived in a spirit of
exemplary modesty. After a brief period of hesitation
I stepped inside, and, on stating my wish to be photo-
graphed at once, was invited by a very civil youth
with a slight cast in his eye to walk upstairs, which I
accordingly did.

I mounted flight after flight of stairs, till I even-
tually found myself at the top of the house, in an
apartment pervaded by a strong odour of chemicals,
and glazed along the roof and the whole of one side
with panes of a bluish tint. It was empty at the
moment of my entrance, but, after a few minutes,
the photographer burst impetuously in a tall young
man, with long hair and pale eyes, whose appearance
denoted a nervous and high-strung temperament.
Perceiving him to be slightly overawed by a certain
unconscious dignity in my bearing, which frequently
does produce that effect upon strangers, I hastened
to reassure him by discriminating eulogies upon the
specimens of his art that I had been inspecting below,

158 TAKEN BY SUKPKISE

and I saw at once that he was readily susceptible to
flattery.

' You will find me,' I told him frankly, ' a little
more difficult to satisfy than your ordinary clientele ;
but, on the other hand, I am peculiarly capable of
appreciating really good work. Now I was struck at
once by the delicacy of tone, the nice discrimination
of values, the atmosphere, gradation, feeling, and sur-
face of the examples displayed in your window.'

He bowed almost to the ground ; but, having taken
careful note of his prices, I felt secure in commending
him, even to the verge of extravagance ; and, besides,
does not the artistic nature demand the stimulus of
praise to enable it to put forth its full powers ?

He inquired in what style I wished to be taken,
whether full-length, half-length, or vignette. ' I will
answer you as concisely as possible,' I said. ' I have
been pressed, by one whose least preference is a law
to me, to have a photograph of myself executed which
shall form a counterpart or pendant, as it were, to her
own. I have, therefore, taken the precaution to bring
her portrait with me for your guidance. You will
observe it is the work of a firm in my opinion greatly
overrated Messrs. Lenz, Kamerer, & Co. ; and,
while you will follow it in style and the disposition of
the accessories, you will, I make no doubt, produce, if
you take ordinary pains, a picture vastly superior in
artistic merit.'

This, as will be perceived, was skilfully designed

TAKEN BY SUKPEISE 15 ^

to put him on his mettle, and rouse a useful spirit
of emulation. He took the portrait of Iris from my
hands and carried it to the light, where he examined
it gravely in silence.

' I presume,' he said at length, ' that I need hardly
tell you I cannot pledge myself to produce a result as
pleasing as this under the circumstances ? '

' That,' I replied, ' rests entirely with you. If you
overcome your natural diffidence, and do yourself full
justice, I see no reason why you should not obtain
something even more satisfactory.'

My encouragement almost unmanned him. He
turned abruptly away and blew his nose violently with
a coloured silk handkerchief.

' Come, come,' I said, smiling kindly, ' you see I
have every confidence in you let us begin. I don't
know, by the way,' I added, with a sudden after-
thought, * whether in your leisure moments you take
any interest in contemporary literature ? '

' I I have done so in my time,' he admitted ;
1 not very lately.'

* Then,' I continued, watching his countenance
with secret amusement for the spasm I find this
announcement invariably produces upon persons of
any education, ' it may possibly call up some associa-
tions in your mind if I tell you that I am perhaps
better known by my self-conferred sobriquet of
" Vitriol." '

Evidently 1 had to do with a man of some intelli-

160 TAKEN BY SURPRISE

gence I obtained an even more electrical effect than
usual. ' " Vitriol! " ' he cried, ' not surely Vitriol, the
great critic ? '

' The same,' I said carelessly. ' I thought I had
better mention it.'

* You did well,' he rejoined, ' very well ! Pardon
my emotion may I wring that hand ? '

It is not my practice to shake hands with a photo-
grapher, but I was touched and gratified by his boyish
enthusiasm, and he seemed a gentlemanly young
fellow too, so I made an exception in his favour ; and
he did wring my hand hard.

* So you are Vitriol ? ' he repeated in a kind of
daze, ' and you have sought me out me, of all people
In the world to have the honour of taking your
photograph ! '

' That is so,' I said, * but pardon me if I warn you
ihat you must not allow your head to be turned by
what is, in truth, due to the merest accident.'

' But what an accident ! ' he cried ; ' after what I
have learnt I really could not think of making any
charge for this privilege ! '

That was a creditable and not unnatural impulse,
and I did not check it. ' You shall take me as often
as you please,' I said, ' and for nothing.'

' And may I,' he said, a little timidly ' would you
give me permission to exhibit the results ? '

' If I followed my own inclinations,' I replied, ' I
should answer " certainly not." But perhaps I have

TAKEN BY SURPRISE 161

no right to deprive you of the advertisement, and still
less to withhold my unworthy features from public
comment. I may, for private reasons,' I added,
thinking of Iris, ' find it advisable to make some show
of displeasure, but you need not fear my taking any
proceedings to restrain you.'

'We struggling photographers must be so care-
ful,' he sighed. ' Suppose the case of your lamented
demise it would be a protection if I had some writ-
ten authority under your hand to show your legal
representatives.'

' Actio personalis moritur cum persona,' I replied ;
* if my executors br ought |an action, they would find
themselves non-suited.' (I had studied for the Bar
at one period of my life.)

' Quite so,' he said, ' but they might drag me into
court, nevertheless. I should really prefer to be on
the safe side.'

It did not seem unreasonable, particularly as I had
not the remotest intention either of bringing an action
or dying ; so I wrote him a hasty memorandum to
the effect that, in consideration of his photographing
me free of charge (I took care to put that in), I under-
took to hold him free from all [molestation or hind-
rance whatever in respect of the sale and circulation
of all copies resulting from such photographing as
aforesaid.

' Will that do ? ' I said as I handed it to him.

His eyes gleamed as he took the document. ' It

162 TAKEN BY SURPKISE

is just what I wanted,' he said gratefully ; * and now,
if you will excuse me, I will go and bring in a few
accessories, and then we will get to work.'

He withdrew in a state of positive exultation,
leaving me to congratulate myself upon the happy
chance which had led me to his door. One does not
discover a true artist every day, capable of approach-
ing his task in a proper spirit of reverence and en-
thusiasm; and I had hardly expected, after my
previous failures, to be spared all personal outlay.
My sole regret, indeed, was that I had not stipulated
for a share in the profits arising from the sale which
would be doubtless a large one ; but meanness is
not one of my vices, and I decided not to press this
point.

Presently he returned with something which bulged
inside his velvet jacket, and a heap of things which
he threw down in a corner behind a screen.

' A few little properties,' he said ; * we may be able
to introduce them by-and-by.'

Then he went to the door and, with a rapid action,
turned the key and placed it in his pocket.

'You will hardly believe,' he explained, 'how
nervous I am on occasions of importance like this ;
the bare possibility of interruption would render me
quite incapable of doing myself justice.'

I had never met any photographer quite so sensi-
tive as that before, and I began to be uneasy about
his success; but I know what the artistic tempera-

TAKEN BY SURPRISE 163

ment is, and, as he said, this was not like an ordinary
occasion.

' Before I proceed to business,' he said, in a voice
that positively trembled, 'I must tell you what an
exceptional claim you have to my undying gratitude.
Amongst the many productions which you have
visited with your salutary satire you may possibly
recall a little volume of poems entitled " Pants of
Passion " ? '

I shook my head good-humouredly. 'My good
friend,' I told him, ' if I burdened my memory with
all the stuff I have to pronounce sentence upon, do
you suppose my brain would be what it is ? '

He looked crestfallen. * No,' he said slowly, ' I
ought to have known you would not remember, of
course. But I do. I brought out those Pants.
Your mordant pen tore them to tatters. You con-
vinced me that I had mistaken my career, and, thanks
to your monitions, I ceased to practise as a Poet, and
became the Photographer you now behold ! '

* And I have known poets,' I said encouragingly,
1 who have ended far less creditably. For even an
indifferent photographer is in closer harmony with
nature than a mediocre poet.'

' And I was mediocre, wasn't I ? ' he inquired
humbly.

' So far as I recollect,' I replied (for I did begin to
remember him now), 'to attribute mediocrity to you

M 2

164 TAKEN BY SUEPEISE

would have been beyond the audacity of the grossest
sycophant.'

1 Thank you,' he said ; 'you little know how you
encourage me in my present undertaking for you
will admit that I can photograph ? '

'That,' I replied, 'is intelligible enough, photo-
graphy being a pursuit demanding less mental ability
in its votaries than that of metrical composition,
however halting.'

' There is something very soothing about your
conversation,' he remarked ; ' it heals my self-love
which really was wounded by the things you wrote.'

' Pooh, pooh ! ' I said indulgently, ' we must all of
us go through that in our time at least all of you
must go through it.'

' Yes,' he admitted sadly, ' but it ain't pleasant,
is it ? '

' Of that I have never been in a position to judge,'
said I ; ' but you must remember that your sufferings,
though doubtless painful to yourself, are the cause,
under capable treatment, of infinite pleasure and
amusement to others. Try to look at the thing with-
out egotism. Shall I seat myself on that chair I see
over there ? '

He was eyeing me in a curious manner. ' Allow
me,' he said ; ' I always pose my sitters myself.'
With that he seized me by the neck and elsewhere
without the slightest warning, and, carrying me to
the further end of the studio, flung me carelessly,

TAKEN BY SUEPEISE 165

face downwards, over the cane-bottomed chair to
which I had referred. He was a strong athletic
young man, in spite of his long hair or might that
have been, as in Samson's case, a contributory cause ?
I was like an infant in his hands, and lay across the
chair, in an exceedingly uncomfortable position, gasp-
ing for breath.'

'Try to keep as limp as you can, please,' he
said, ' the mouth wide open, as you have it now,
the legs careless in fact, trailing. Beautiful ! don't
move.'

And he went to the camera. I succeeded in
partly twisting my head round. ' Are you mad ? ' I
cried indignantly ; ' do you really suppose I shall
consent to go down to posterity in such a position as
this ? '

I heard a click, and, to my unspeakable horror,
saw that he was deliberately covering me from behind
the camera with a revolver that was what I had seen
bulging inside his pocket.

' I should be sorry to slay any sitter in cold blood,'
he said, ' but I must tell you solemnly, that unless
you instantly resume your original pose which was
charming you are a dead man ! '

Not till then did I realise the awful truth I was
locked up alone, at the top of a house, in a quiet
neighbourhood, with a mad photographer ! Sum-
moning to my aid all my presence of mind, I resumed
the original pose for the space of forty-five hours

166 TAKEN BY SUKPELSE

they were seconds really, but they seemed hours ; it
was not needful for him to exhort me to be limp
again I was limper than the dampest towel !

' Thank you very much,' he said gravely as he
covered the lens ; * I think that will come out very
well indeed. You may move now.'

I rose, puffing, but perfectly collected. ' Ha-ha,'
I laughed in a sickly manner (for I felt sick), <I I
perceive, sir, that you are a humorist.'

* Since I have abandoned poetry,' he said as he
carefully removed the negative to a dark place, 'I
have developed a considerable sense of quiet humour.
You will find a large Gainsborough hat in that corner
might I trouble you to put it on for the next
sitting ? '

' Never ! ' I cried, thoroughly revolted. ' Surely,
with your rare artistic perception, you must be aware
that such a headdress as that (which is no longer
worn even by females) is out of all keeping with my
physiognomy. I will not sit for my photograph in
such a preposterous thing ! '

' I shall count ten very slowly,' he replied pen-
sively, ' and if by the time I have finished you are
not seated on the back of that chair, your feet crossed
so as to overlap, your right thumb in the corner of
your mouth, a pleasant smile on your countenance,
and the Gainsborough hat on your head, you will
need no more hats on this sorrowful earth. One
two- '

TAKEN BY SUEPEISE 167

I was perched on that chair in the prescribed
attitude long before he had got to seven ! How can
I describe what it cost me to smile, as I sat there
under the dry blue light, the perspiration rolling in
beads down my cheeks, exposed to the gleaming
muzzle of the revolver, and the steady Gorgon glare
of that infernal camera ?

* That will be extremely popular,' he said, lowering
the weapon as he concluded. * Your smile, perhaps,
was a little too broad, but the pose was very fresh and
unstudied.'

I have always read of the controlling power of the
human eye upon wild beasts and dangerous maniacs,
and I fixed mine firmly upon him now as I said
sternly, ' Let me out at once I wish to go.'

Perhaps I did not fix them quite long enough ;
perhaps the power of the human eye has been exag-
gerated : I only know that for all the effect mine had
on him they might have been oysters.

' Not yet,' he said persuasively, ' not when we're
getting on so nicely. I may never be able to take you
under such favourable conditions again.'

That, I thought, I could undertake to answer for ;
but who, alas ! could say whether I should ever leave
that studio alive ? For all I knew, he might spend
the whole day in photographing me, and then, with a
madman's caprice, shoot me as soon as it became too
dark to go on any longer ! The proper course to
take, I knew, was to humour him, to keep him in a

168 TAKEN BY SUEPRISE

good temper, fool him to the top of his bent it was
my only chance.

' Well,' I said, ' perhaps you're right. I I'm in
no great hurry. Were you thinking of taking me in
some different style ? I am quite at your disposition/

He brought out a small but stout property-mast,
and arranged it against a canvas background of coast
scenery. ' I generally use it for children in sailor
costume,' he said, 'but I think it will bear your weight
long enough for the purpose.'

I wiped my brow. ' You are not going to ask me
to climb that thing ? ' I faltered.

'Well,' he suggested, 'if you will just arrange
yourself upon the cross-trees in a negligent attitude,
upside down, with your tongue protruded as if for
medical inspection, I shall be perfectly satisfied.'

I tried argument. ' I should have no objection in
the world,' I said ; 'it's an excellent idea only, do
sailors ever climb masts in that way ? Wouldn't it
be better to have the thing correct while we're about
it?'

' I was not aware that you were a sailor,' he said ;
' are you ? '

I was afraid to say I was, because I apprehended
that, if I did, it might occur to him to put me through
some still more frightful performance.

' Come,' he said, ' you won't compel me to shed
blood so early in the afternoon, will you ? Up with
you.'

TAKEN BY SUEPKISE 169

I got up, but, as I hung there, I tried to obtain a
modification of some of the details. ' I don't think,'
I said artfully, ' that I'll put out my tongue it's
rather overdone, eh? Everybody is taken with his
tongue out nowadays.'

* It is true,' he said, ' but I am not well enough
known in the profession yet to depart entirely from
the conventional. Your tongue out as far as it will
go, please.'

' I shall have a rush of blood to the head, I know
I shall,' I protested.

' Look here,' he said ; ' am I taking this photo-
graph, or are you ? '

There was no possible doubt, unfortunately, as to
who was taking the photograph. I made one last
remonstrance. ' I put it to you as a sensible man,' I
began ; but it is a waste of time to put anything to a
raving lunatic as a sensible man. It is enough to say
that he carried his point.

' I wish you could see the negative ! ' he said as he
came back from his laboratory. ' You were a little
red in the face, but it will come out black, so it's all
right. That carte will be quite a novelty, I flatter
myself.'

I groaned. However, this was the end ; I would
get away now at all hazards, and tell the police that
there was a dangerous maniac at large. I got down
from the mast with affected briskness. ' Well,' I said,
' I mustn't take advantage of your good nature any

170 TAKEN BY SUKPKISE

longer. I'm exceedingly obliged to you for the the
pains you have taken. You will send all the photo-
graphs to this address, please ? '

1 Don't go yet,' he said. ' Are you an equestrian,
by the way ? '

If I could only engage him in conversation I felt
comparatively secure.

' Oh, I put in an appearance in the Kow sometimes,
in the season,' I replied ; * and, while I think of it,' I
added, with what I thought at the time was an inspi-
ration, ' if you will come with me now, I'll show you
my horse you might take me on horseback, eh ? ' I
did not possess any such animal, but I wanted to
have that door unlocked.

' Take you on horseback ? ' he repeated. ' That's
a good idea I had rather thought of that myself.'

* Then come along and bring your instrument,' I
said, * and you can take me at the stables ; they're
close by.'

* No need for that,' he replied cheerfully. ' I'll
find you a mount here.'

And the wretched lunatic went behind the screen
and wheeled out a small wooden quadruped covered
with large round spots !

' She's a strawberry roan,' he said ; * observe the
strawberries. So, my beauty, quiet, then ! Now
settle yourself easily in the saddle, as if you were in
the Eow, with your face to the tail.'

' Listen to me for one moment,' I entreated tremu-

TAKEN BY SUKPKISE 171

lously. ' I assure you that I am not in the habit of
appearing in Eotten Row on a spotted wooden horse,
nor does any one, I assure you any one mount a
horse of any description with his face towards the
crupper ! If you take me like that, you will betray
your ignorance you will be laughed at ! '

When people tell you it is possible to hoodwink
the insane by any specious show of argument, don't
believe them ; my own experience is that demented
persons can be quite perversely logical when it suits
their purpose.

' Pardon me,' he said, ' you will be laughed at
possibly not I. I cannot be held responsible for
the caprices of my clients. Mount, please ; % she'll carry
you perfectly.'

' I will,' 1 said, ' if you'll give me the revolver to
hold. I I should like to be done with a revolver/

' I shall be delighted to do you with a revolver,' he
said grimly, ' but not yet ; and if I lent you the
weapon now, I could not answer for your being able
to hold the horse as well she has never been broken
in to firearms. Til hold the revolver. One two
three.'

I mounted ; why had I not disregarded the expense
and gone to Lenz and Kamerer ? Lenz does not pose
his customers by the aid of a revolver. Kamerer, I
was sure, would not put his patrons through these
degrading tomfooleries.

He took more trouble over this than any of the

172 TAKEN BY SUKPEISE

others ; I was photographed from the back, in front,
and in profile ; and if I escaped being made to appear
abjectly ridiculous, it can only be owing to the tragic
earnestness which the consciousness of my awful
situation lent to my expression.

As he took the last I rolled off the horse, com-
pletely prostrated. ' I think,' I gasped faintly, ' I
would rather be shot at once without waiting to be
taken in any other positions. I really am not equal
to any more of this ! ' (He was quite capable, I felt,
of photographing me in a perambulator, if it once
occurred to him ! )

' Compose yourself,' he said soothingly, * I have
obtained all I wanted. I shall not detain you much
longer. Your life, I may remark, was never in any
imminent danger, as this revolver is unloaded. I
have now only to thank you for the readiness with
which you have afforded me your co-operation, and
to assure you that early copies of each of the photo-
graphs shall be forwarded for Miss Waverley's
inspection.'

' Miss Waverley ! ' I exclaimed ; ' stay, how do you
know that name ? '

' If I mistake not, it was her photograph that you
kindly brought for my guidance. I ought to have
mentioned, perhaps, that I once had the honour of
being engaged to her until you (no doubt from the
highest motives) invested my little gift of song with a
flavour of unromantic ridicule. That ridicule I am

TAKEN BY SUBPKISE 173

now enabled to repay, with interest calculated up to
the present date.'

* So you are Iris's poet ! ' I burst out, for, somehow,
I had not completely identified him till that moment.
* You scoundrel ! do you think I shall allow you to
circulate those atrocious caricatures with impunity ?
No, by heavens ! my solicitor shall '

' I rely upon the document you were kind enough
to furnish,' he said quietly. * I fear that any legal
proceedings you may resort to will hardly avert the
publicity you seem to fear. Allow me to unfasten the
door. Good-bye ; mind the step on the first landing.
Might I beg you to recommend me amongst your
friends ? '

I went out without another word ; he was mad, of
course, or he would not have devised so outrageous a
revenge for a fancied injury, but he was cunning
enough to be my match. I knew too well that if I
took any legal measures, he would contrive to shift
the whole burden of lunacy upon me. I dared not
court an inquiry for many reasons, and so I was
compelled to pass over this unparalleled outrage in
silence.

Iris made frequent inquiries after the promised
photograph, and I had to parry them as well as I
could which was a mistake in judgment on my part,
for one afternoon while I was actually sitting with her,
a packet arrived addressed to Miss Waverley.

I did not suspect what it might contain until it

174 TAKEN BY SURPEISE

was too late. She recognised that photographs were
inside the wrappings, which she tore open with a cry
of rapture and then !

She had a short fainting fit when she saw the
Gainsborough hat, and as soon as she revived, the ex-
traordinary appearance I presented upside down on
the mast sent her into violent hysterics. By the
time she was in a condition to look at the equestrian
portraits she had grown cold and hard as marble.
' Go,' she said, indicating the door, ' I see I have been
wasting my affection upon a vulgar and heartless
buffoon ! '

I went for she would listen to no explanations ;
and indeed I doubt whether, even were she to come
upon this statement, it would serve to restore my
tarnished ideal in her estimation. But, though I
have lost her, I am naturally anxious (as I said when
I began) that the public should not be misled into
drawing harsh conclusions r from what, if left un-
explained, may doubtless have a singular appearance.

It is true that, up to the present, I have not been
able to learn that any of those fatal portraits have
absolutely been exposed for sale, though I direct my
trembling steps almost every day to Eegent Street,
and search the windows of the Stereoscopic Company
with furtive and foreboding eyes, dreading to be
confronted with presentments of myself Bedell
Gruncher, * Vitriol,' the great critic ! lying across a
chair in a state of collapse, sucking my thumb in

TAKEN BY SUBPKISE 175

a Gainsborough hat, or bestriding a ridiculous wooden
horse with my face towards its tail !

But they cannot be long in coming out now ; and
my one hope is that these lines may appear in print
in time to forestall the prejudice and scandal which
are otherwise inevitable. At all events, now that the
world is in possession of the real facts, I am entitled
to hope that the treatment to which I have been
subjected will excite the indignation and sympathy
it deserves.

176

PALEFACE AND BED SKIN

A COMEDY-STORY FOB GIRLS AND BOYS

ACT THE FIEST

WHERE IS THE ENEMY?

IT was a very hot afternoon, and Hazel, Hilary, and
Cecily Jolliffe were sitting under the big cedar on the
lawn at The Gables. Each had her racket by her
side, and the tennis-court lay, smooth and inviting,
close by ; but they did not seem inclined to play just
then, and there was something in the expression of all
three which indicated a common grievance.

* Well,' said Hazel, the eldest, who was nearly
fourteen, ' we need not have excited ourselves about
the boys' holidays, if we had only known. They
don't give us much of their society why, we haven't
had one single game of cricket together yet ! '

' And then to have the impudence to tell us that
they didn't care much about our sort of cricket ! ' said
Hilary, ' when I can throw up every bit as far as
Jack, and it takes Guy three overs to bowl me ! It's
beastly cheek of them.'

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 177

' Hilary ! ' cried Cecily, ' what would mother say
if she heard you talk like that ? '

' Oh, it's the holidays ! ' said Hilary, lazily. ' Be-
sides, it is a shame ! They would have played with
us just as they used to, if it hadn't been for that
Clarence Tinling.'

' Yes,' Hazel agreed, ' he hates cricket. I do believe
that's the reason why he invented this silly army,
and talked Jack and Guy into giving up everything
for it.'

' They haven't any will of their own, poor things ! '
said Hilary.

' You forget, Hilary,' put in Cecily, ' Tinling is
the guest. They ought to give way to him.'

'Well,' said Hilary, 'it's ridiculous for great boys
who have been two terms at school to go marching
about with swords and guns. Big babies ! '

Perhaps there was a little personal feeling at the
bottom of this, for she had offered herself for enlist-
ment, and had been sternly rejected on the ground of
her sex.

'I wish he would go, I know that,' said Hazel,
making a rather vicious little chop at her shoe with
her racket ; ' those boys talk about nothing but their
stupid army from morning to night. Uncle Lambert
says they make him feel quite gunpowdery at lunch.
And what do you think is the last thing they've done?
put up a great fence all round their tent, and shut
themselves up there all day ! '

178 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

' Except when they're sentries and hide,' put in
Hilary ; ' they're always jumping up somewhere and
wanting you to give the countersign. It isn't like
home, these holidays ! '

* Perhaps,' suggested Cecily, ' it makes things
safer, you know.'

* Duffer, Cis ! ' cried Hilary, contemptuously, for
Cecily had appointed herself professional peacemaker
to the family, and her efforts were about as successful
as such domestic offices ever are.

* Look out ! ' cried Hilary, presently ; ' they're
coming. Don't let's take the least notice of them.
They hate that more than anything.'

From the shrubbery filed three boys, the first
and tallest of whom wore an imposing dragoon's
helmet with a crimson plume, and carried a sabre-
tache and a drawn sword ; the other two had knap-
sacks and crossbelts, and wore red caps like those
of the French army ; they carried guns on their
shoulders.

< Halt ! 'Tention ! Dis-miss ! ' shouted the com-
manding officer, and the army broke off with admir-
able precision.

1 Don't be alarmed,' said the General considerately
to the three girls ; ' the army is only out on fatigue
duty.'

' Then wouldn't the army like to sit down ? '
suggested Hilary, forgetting all about her recent
proposal.

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 179

' Ah, you don't understand,' said General Tinlin
with some pity. ' It's a military term.'

He was a pale, puffy boy, with reddish hair and
freckles, who was evidently fully alive to the dignity
of his position.

* Suppose we let military things alone for a little
while,' said Hazel. * We want the army to come and
play tennis. You will, won't you, Jack and Guy ? and
Ois will umpire she likes it.'

' I don't mind a game,' said Jack.

' I'll play, if you like,' added Guy ; but he
had forgotten that the General was a bit of a
martinet.

' That's nice discipline,' he said. ' I don't know
whether you know it ; but in some armies you'd be
court-martialled for less than that.'

' Well, may we, then ? ' asked Guy a little im-
patiently.

' No salute now ! ' cried his superior. * I shall
never make you fellows smart. Why, at the Haver-
sacks, last Easter, there were half a dozen of us, and
we drilled like machines. Of course you mayn't play
tennis this is only a bivouac ; and it's over now.
Attention ! The left wing of the force will occupy the
shrubbery ; the right will push on and blow up the
gate.

* Which of us is the left wing ? ' inquired Guy.
You are, of course.'

' Oh, all right ; only you said Jack was just now,'

N 2

180 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

grumbled Guy, who was evidently a little disposed to
rebel at being deprived of his tennis.

* Look here,' said the General ; ' either let's do the
thing thoroughly, or not do it at all. It's no pleasure
to me to be General, I can tell you ; and if I can't
have perfect discipline in the ranks why, we might
as well drop the army altogether ! '

* Oh, all right,' said Jack, who was a sweet-tempered
boy, * we won't do it again.'

And they went off to carry out their separate
instructions, Clarence Tinling remaining by the
cedar.

'I have to be a little sharp now and then,' he
explained. ' Why, if I didn't keep an iron rule over
them, they'd be getting insubordinate in no time.
You mustn't think I've any objection to their playing
tennis, or anything of that sort ; only discipline must
be kept up; though it seems severe, perhaps, to you.'

' It doesn't seem to be half bad fun for you y at all
events,' said Hazel.

' Of course,' added Hilary, whose cheeks were
flushed and eyes suspiciously bright as she plucked
all the blades of grass that were within her reach,
1 we're glad if you're enjoying being here ; but it's a
little slow for us girls. You might give the army a
half-holiday now and then.'

' An army, especially a small army, like ours,' said
Clarence, grandly, ' ought to be constantly prepared
for action ; else it's no use. Then, look at the pro-

PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN 181

tection it is. Why, we've just built a fortified place
close to the kitchen garden, where you could all retire
to if we were attacked ; and, properly provisioned, we
could hold out for almost any time.'

' Thank you,' said Hilary. * I should feel a good
deal safer in the box-room. And then, who's going to
attack us ? '

I Well, you never know,' replied Clarence ; ' but, if
they did come, it's something to feel we should be
able to defend ourselves.'

' Yes, Hilary,' Cecily remarked, ' an army would
certainly be a great convenience then.'

* That would depend on what it did,' said her
sister. ' It wouldn't be much of a convenience if it
ran away.'

' I don't think Jack and Guy would ever do that, 1
observed Hazel.

I 1 suppose that means that you think I should ? '
inquired Clarence, who was quick at discovering
personal allusions.

* I wasn't thinking about you at all,' said Hazel,
with supreme indifference ; ' we don't know you well
enough to say whether you're brave or not we do
know our brothers.'

' There wouldn't be much sense in my being the
General if I wasn't the bravest, would there ? ' he
demanded.

' Well, as to that, you see,' retorted Hilary, ' we
don't see much sense in any of it.'

182 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

' Girls can't be expected to see sense in anything/
he said sulkily.

'At all events, no one can be expected to see
bravery till there's some danger,' said Hazel ; ' and
there isn't the least ! '

* That's all you know about it ; but I've something
more important to do than stay here squabbling. I'm
off to see what the army's up to.' And he marched off
with great pomp.

When he had disappeared, Hilary remarked
frankly, ' Isn't he a pig ? '

' I don't think it's nice to call our visitors " pigs,"
Hilary ! ' remonstrated Cecily, ' and he's not really
more greedy than most boys.'

( Don't lecture, Cis. I didn't mean he was that
kind of pig I said he was a pig. And he is ! ' said
Hilary, not over lucidly. ' I wonder what Jack and
Guy can see in him. I thought that when they wrote
asking him to be invited, that he'd be sure to be such
a jolly boy ! '

' He may be a jolly boy at school,' was all that
even the tolerant Cecily could find to urge in his
favour.

' I believe,' said Hazel, * that they're not nearly so
mad about him as they were didn't you notice about
the tennis just now ? '

'He bullies them that's what it is,' explained
Hilary ; ' only with talking, I mean, of course, but he
talks such a lot, and he will have his own way, and,

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 183

if they say anything, he reminds them he's a visitor,
and ought to be humoured. I wish it was any use
getting Uncle Lambert to speak to him but he's so
stupid ! '

* Is he, though ? ' said a lazy voice from behind
the cedar.

' Oh, Uncle Lambkin ! ' cried Hilary, < I didn't
know you were there ! '

' Don't apologise,' was the answer. ' I know it
must be a trial to have an uncle on the verge of
imbecility but bear with me. I am at least harm-
less.'

' Of course we know you're really rather clever,'
said Hazel, ' but you are stupid about some things
you never interfere, whatever people do ! '

' Don't I, really ? ' said their uncle, as he disposed
himself on his back, and tilted his hat over his nose ;
' you do surprise me ! What a mistake for a man to
make, who has come down for perfect quiet ! Whom
shall I begin to interfere with ? '

1 Well, you might snub that horrid Tinling boy,
instead of encouraging him, as you always do ! '

'. Encourage him ! He's got a fine flow of martial
enthusiasm, and a good supply of military terms, and
I listen when he gives me long accounts of thrilling
engagements, when he came out uncommonly strong
and the enemy, so far as I can gather, never came
out at all. I'm passive, because I can't help myself ;
and then he amuses me in his way that's all.'

184 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

' Do you believe he's brave, uncle ? '

* I only know that I saw him kill two wasps with
his teaspoon,' was the reply. ' They don't award the
Victoria Cross for it but it's a thing I couldn't have
done myself.'

* I should hope not ! ' exclaimed Hilary ; ' but every-
body knows you're a coward,' she added (she did not
intend this remark to be taken seriously), ' and you're
awfully lazy. Still, there are some things you
might do ! '

' If that means fielding long-leg till tea-time, I re-
spectfully disagree. Irreverent girls, have you never
been taught that a digesting uncle is a very solemn
and sacred thing ? '

' Now you are going to be idiotic again ! But as
to cricket why, you must know that we never get
a game now ! And next summer I shall be too old to

play!'

' I never mean to be too old for cricket,' said
Hilary, with conviction ; * but we've had none for
weeks, uncle, positive weeks ! '

' Quite right, too ! ' observed Uncle Lambert,
sleepily. ' Not a game for girls only spoil your
hands do you think I want a set of nieces with paws
like so many glovers' signs ? '

'That's utter nonsense,' said Hazel, calmly,
' because we always play in gloves. Mother makes
us. At least, when we did play. Now the boys will
only play soldiers, and, if they do happen to be in-

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 185

clined for a set at tennis, Clarence comes up and
orders them off as pickets or outposts, or something ! '

' But he's not Bismarck or Boulanger, is he ?
I always understood this was a free country.'

' You know what Guy and Jack are they can't
bear their visitor to think he isn't welcome.'

'Well, they seem to have made him feel very
much at home but it isn't my business ; if they
choose to declare the house in a state of siege, and
turn the garden into a seat of war, I can't help it
I'd rather they wouldn't, but it's your mother's affair,
not mine ! '

And he closed the discussion by lighting a cigar-
ette, and relapsing into a contented silence.

Uncle Lambert was short and stout, with a round
red face, a heavy auburn moustache, and little green
eyes which never seemed to notice anything. His
nieces were fond of him, though they often wished
he would pay them the occasional compliment of
talking sensibly ; but he never did, and he spent all
his time at The Gables in elaborately doing nothing
at all.

Clarence Tinling had gone off in a decided huff-
so much so indeed that he left his devoted army to
carry out their rather misty manoeuvres without any
help from him. He was beginning to find a falling-
off in their docility of late, which was no doubt owing
to their sisters ; it was excessively annoying to him
that those girls should be so difficult to convince of

186 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

the protective value of a fortress, and especially that
they should decline to take his own superior nerve
and courage for granted. And the worst of it was,
nothing but some imminent danger was ever likely to
convince them, such were their prejudice and narrow-
mindedness.

Later that afternoon the family assembled for tea
in the cool, shady dining-room ; Mrs. Jolliffe, with
a gentle anxiety on her usually placid face, sat at the
head (Colonel Jolliffe was away shooting in the North
just then). 'Where are all the boys?' she said,
looking round the table. * Why don't they come in ? '

' It's no use asking us, mother,' said Hilary, * we
see so very little of them ever.'

* Very likely they are washing their hands,' said
her mother.

' So like them ! ' murmured Uncle Lambert in
confidence to his tea-cake. ' But here's the noble
General, at all events. Well, Field Marshal, what
have you done with the Standing Army ? '

Tinling addressed himself to his hostess. ' Oh,
Mrs. Jolliffe, I'm so sorry I was late, but I had just
to run round to the stables for a minute. Oh, the
other two ? They're on duty they're guarding the
camp. In fact, I can't stay here very long myself.'

* But the poor dear boys must have their tea ! '
cried Mrs. Jolliffe.

' Well, you know,' said their veteran officer, as
he helped himself to the marmalade, ' I don't think

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 187

a little roughing it is at all a bad thing for them
teaches them that a soldier's life is not all jam.'

' No,' said Hazel, ' the General seems to get most
of that.'

All Clarence said was : ' I'll trouble one of you
girls for the tea- cake.'

' I don't think it's fair that the poor army should
" rough," as you call it, while you stuff, Clarence,' said
Hazel, indignantly. ' Mustn't they come in to tea,
mother ? It is such nonsense ! '

'Yes, dear, run and call them in,' said Mrs.
Jolliffe. ' I can't let my boys go without their meals,
Clarence, it's so bad for them.'

' It's not discipline,' said the chief; ' still, if they
must come, you had better take them this permit
from me.' And he scribbled a line on a scrap of
paper, which he handed to Hazel, who received it with
the utmost disdain.

Hazel crossed the lawn and over a little rustic
bridge to the kitchen garden and hothouses, beyond
which was the paddock, where the fortress had been
erected. It was a very imposing construction, built,
with some help from the village carpenter, of
portions of some disused fencing. The stockade had
loopholes in it, and above the top she could see
a fluttering flag and the point of a tent. Jack was
perched up on a kind of look-out, and Guy was pacing
solemnly before the covered entrance with a musket
of very mild aspect over his shoulder.

188 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

' Who goes there ? ' he called out, some time after
recognising her.

Hazel vouchsafed no direct reply to this challenge.
' You're to come in to tea directly,' she announced in
her most peremptory tone.

* Advance, and give the countersign,' said the
sentinel.

* Don't be a donkey ! ' returned Hazel, tossing
back her long brown hair impatiently.

Guy levelled his firearm. It is exasperating when
a sister can't enter into the spirit of the thing better
than that. Who ever heard of a sentry being told,
on challenging, ' not to be a donkey ' ? ' My orders
are to fire on all suspicious persons,' he informed
her.

Hazel stopped both her ears. ' No, Guy, please
it makes me jump so.'

1 There's no cap on,' said he.

' Then there's a ramrod, or a pea, or something
horrid,' she objected ; ' do turn it the other way.'

* Hazel's all right, Guy,' said Jack, in rebuke of
this excessive zeal ; ' we can let her pass.'

1 As if I wanted to pass ! ' exclaimed Hazel. ' I
only came to bring you back to tea; and if you're
afraid to go without leave, there's a permission from
Clarence for you.'

' Oh ! come in and have a look now you're here,'
said the garrison more hospitably. ' You can't think
how jolly the inside is.'

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 189

' Well, if I must,' she said ; though, as a matter of
fact, she was exceedingly curious to see the interior of
the stronghold.

' It's like the ones in " Masterman Eeady " and
" Treasure Island," you see,' explained Jack, proudly.
* And it's pierced for musketry, too ; we could open
a withering fire on besiegers before they could come
near us.'

1 They would have to be rather stupid to want to
besiege this, wouldn't they ? ' said Hazel.

* I don't see that besiegers must besiege some-
thing. And it is snug, isn't it, now ? '

Hazel was secretly much impressed. In the centre
of the enclosure was the commander's tent, with a
lantern fixed at the pole for night watches ; and rugs
and carpets were strewn about ; at one of the angles
of the palisading was the look-out an elaborate
erection of old wine-cases and egg-boxes on the top
of which was fixed a seven-and-sixpenny telescope
that commanded the surrounding country for quite a
hundred yards.

She was not the person, however, to go into
raptures; she merely smiled a rather teasing little
smile, arid said, * Mar-vellous ! ' but somehow, what-
ever sarcasm underlay this was accepted by both boys
as a tribute.

' You can see now,' said Guy, in a reasonable tone,
1 that there wouldn't have been room here for all you
girls now, would there ? '

190 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

' Girls are always in the way everywhere,' said
Hazel, with a reproachful inflection which was quite
lost upon her brothers.

'I knew you'd be sensible about it,' said Jack;
* you can't think what fun we have in here especially
at night, when the lantern's lit. Hallo ! there's some
one calling.'

A shrill whistle sounded from the kitchen garden,
and, a moment after, a stone came flying over the
stockade, and was stopped by the canvas of the
tent.

'That's cool cheek!' said Jack; 'get up and
reconnoitre, Guy quick ! '

Guy mounted the scaffold, and brought the tele-
scope to bear upon the immediate neighbourhood
with admirable coolness and science but no particular
result.

' We shall have to scour the bush and see if we
can find any traces of the enemy,' said he with infinite
relish.

' Was that the stone ? ' said Hazel, pointing to one
that lay at the foot of the fence ; ' because there seems
to be some paper wrapped round it.'

' So there is ! ' said Jack, proceeding to unfold it.
Presently he exclaimed, ' I say \ '

' What is it now ? ' asked Hazel.

' Nothing for you it's private ! ' said Jack,
mysteriously. 'Here, Guy, come down and look at
this.'

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 191

Guy read it and whistled. ' We must report this
to the General at once,' he said gravely.

Both boys were very solemn, and yet had a certain
novel air of satisfied importance.

' Shall we tell her ? ' asked Guy.

' She must know it some time,' returned Jack ;
* we'll break it by degrees. We've just had notice
that we're going to be attacked by Bed Indians, Hazel ;
don't be alarmed.'

* I'll try not to be,' she said, conquering a very
strong inclination to laugh. She saw that they took
it quite seriously ; and, though she had at once
suspected that some one in the village was play-
ing them a trick, she did not choose to enlighten
them. Hazel had a malicious desire to see what
the General would do. ' I don't believe he will like
the idea at all,' she said to herself. ' What fun it
will be ! '

Hazel's expectations seemed about to be fulfilled ;
for already she could hear steps on the plank of the
little bridge, and in another minute the General him-
self entered the fortress.

'1 say, you fellows,' he began, 'this is too bad
no one on guard, and a girl inside ! Why, she might
be a spy for anything you could tell ! '

' Thank you, Clarence ! ' said Hazel ; for this
insinuation was rather trying to a person of her
dignity.

'I say, General,' began Jack, 'never mind about

192 PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN

rowing us now ; we've some queer news to report.
This has just fallen into our hands.'

Hazel watched Tinling closely as he read the
paper. It was grimy, and printed in lead pencil, and
contained these words : ' BE ON THE LUKOUT. KED
INGIANS ON THE WORPATH. I HERD THEM SAYING THEY

MENT TO ATACK YURE FORT AT NITEFAL. FROM A
FREND.'

She was soon compelled to own that she had
done him a great injustice. He was certainly as far
as possible from betraying the slightest fear ; on the
contrary, his eye seemed actually to brighten with
satisfaction. He behaved exactly as all heroes in
books of adventure do on such occasions he went
through it twice carefully, and then inquired at what
time the warning had arrived.

'About five minutes ago. Eound a stone,' an-
swered Guy, with true military conciseness.

* This will be a bad business,' observed the General,
his face brightening with the joy of battle. ' We have
no time to spare we must give these demons a lesson
they will not forget ! ' (this was out of the books).
' Look to your arms, my men, and see that we are
provisioned for a siege (you might get the cook to give
us some of that shortbread, and the rest of the cake
we had at tea, Private Jack). We cannot tell to
what straits we may be reduced.'

'Then,' inquired Hazel, demurely, 'you mean to
stay here and fight them ? '

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 193

* To the last gasp ! ' said the General.

Hazel liked him better then than she had done
since his first arrival.

' He really is a plucky boy after all,' she thought.
' I wonder if it will last ? '

ACT THE SECOND

WHERE IS THE ARMY ?

THE General's self-possession and resource were indeed
remarkable.

' We ought to have a cannon,' he said ; ' there's a
big roll of matting somewhere in the house. If we
got that, and widened a loophole, and shoved it
through, it would look just like the muzzle of a
cannon in the dark.'

' Would that frighten a Eed Indian much ? ' asked
Hazel.

' Not if he knew what it was, perhaps ; but who's
going to tell him ? Jack, just run up to the house,
like a good fellow, and see if you can find it, will you ?
You can go with him, Guy.'

' You seem rather to like the idea of being attacked,'
said Hazel, when she and Clarence were alone together.
He was gratified to notice the new friendliness in her
voice.

'Well, you see,' he explained loftily, 'I don't

194 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

suppose I'm pluckier than most people, but it just
happens that I'm not afraid of Ked Indians, that's
all ; when I saw all those at Buffalo Bill's I wasn't
even excited : it's constitutional, I fancy.' He always
modelled his talk a good deal upon books, and a crisis
like this naturally brought out his largest language.

' I'd better see you safe back to the house, I think,'
he added ; ' I don't expect them for an hour yet, but
you can never depend on savages they might be
lurking about the grounds already, for what we know/

And, although Hazel had her own private ideas
about the reality of the danger, she was struck by his
coolness and courage, for which, whether justified or
not by the occasion, she was quite fair-minded enough
to give him due credit.

Meanwhile, the other two boys, bursting with
excitement, had rushed up to the verandah, under
which their mother and uncle were sitting.

* Mother ! Uncle Lambert ! What do you think ?
Our camp is going to be attacked this very night by
Indians ! '

' Yes, dears,' said Mrs. Jolliffe, serenely ; ' but have
you had your teas yet ? '

Trifles such as these harrow the martial soul
more than conflicts.

' But, mother, did you hear what we said ? The
fort is to be stormed by Eed Indians ! '

' Very well, dears, so long as you don't make too
much noise,' was the sole comment of this most

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 195

provokingly placid lady. What she ought to have
done was, of course, to throw down her work, raise
her eyes to the clouds, clasp her hands, and observe,
in an agitated tone, * Heaven protect us ! We are
lost ! ' But few mothers are capable of really rising
to emergencies of this kind.

Hilary and Cecily had been playing tennis, and,
overhearing the alarming news, came up to the steps
of the verandah. 'Did you say Eed Indians were
coming here ? '

Uncle Lambert shook his head lugubriously. ' I
always warned your father,' he remarked ; ' but he
would come to live in Berkshire.'

'Why?' inquired Cecily. 'Is Berkshire a bad
place for Ked Indians, uncle ? '

' I should say it was one of the worst places in all
Europe ! ' he said solemnly.

Both Hilary and Cecily had heard and read a
good deal about Ked Indians lately, and had also,
with their brothers, visited the American Exhibition,
so that it did not strike either of them as unlikely
just then that there should be a few scattered about
in England, just as gipsies are.

' But what are you going to do about it ? ' they
asked their brother.

' Lick 'em, of course ! ' said Guy. * Now you see
that an army is some use, after all.'

' Don't be taken alive, there's good boys,' advised
their frivolous uncle, who seemed still unable to realise

o 2

196 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

the extreme gravity of the occasion. ' Sell your lives
as dearly as possible.'

' What is the use of telling them that, uncle ? ' ex-
claimed Cecily. ' They wouldn't get the money ; and
do you think any of us would touch it? How can
you talk in that horrid way ? Jack and Guy, don't
go to that camp. Let the Indians have it, if they
want to ; you can soon build another.'

' You don't understand,' said Jack, impatiently.
' We can't have a lot of Eed Indians in our camp it
wouldn't be safe for you.'

' Oh, I shall go and speak to Clarence,' she cried.
' I'm sure he won't want to fight them.' And she ran
down to the end of the lawn, where he could be seen
returning with Hazel.

' I want to speak to you quite alone,' she said.
' No, Hazel, it's a secret,' and she drew him aside.

' Clarence,' she said, and her blue eyes were
dark with fear, ' tell me are the Indians really
coming ? '

' You can judge for yourself,' he said, and gave
her the paper. ' We've just had this thrown over the
stockade. It seems to have been written by somebody
who is in their secrets.'

' How badly Eed Indians do spell ! ' said Cecily,
shuddering as she read.

' It may be a white man's writing,' he said ; ' per-
haps a prisoner, or a confederate who repents.'

' But, Clarence, dear,' entreated Cecily (ten minutes

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 197

ago she would not have added the epithet) , ' you
won't stay out and sit up for them, will you ? '

* Do you think we're a set of cowards ? ' he de-
manded grandly.

* Not you, Clarence ; but but Jack and Guy are
not very big boys, are they ? I mean, they're a little
too young to fight full- sized Indians.'

* There will be all sorts of sized Indians, I expect,'
said Clarence. ' Of course, I don't say they'll come.
They may think discretion's the better part of valour
when they find we're prepared; but I must say I
anticipate an attack myself.'

' I wish you would do without Jack and Guy.
Couldn't you ? ' suggested Cecily.

His eyes gleamed. ' Cecily,' he said, ' tell me the
worst the army are getting in a funk ? '

' No,' she cried ; and then she resolved to sacrifice
their reputation for their safety. ' At least, they
haven't said anything ; but I'm sure they'd feel more
comfortable in the drawing-room. Can't you order
them to stay and guard us ? You're General.'

* And I am to face the foe alone ? ' he cried.
' Well, I am older than them ' (I must decline to be
responsible for the grammar of the characters of this
story). ' I have lived my life I shall be the less
missed. . . . Let it be as you say.'

All this was strictly according to the books, and
he enjoyed himself immensely.

' Thank you, dear, dear Clarence. I'd no idea

198 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

you were so noble and brave. Try not to let those
Indians hit you.'

' I cannot answer for the future,' he said ; ' but
since you wish it I will do my best.'

After all there was some good in girls. Here was
one who said exactly the right things, without needing
any prompting whatever.

Cecily hunted up Jack and Guy, who were poking
about in the house. ' You're not to guard the stock-
ade,' she announced, with ill-concealed triumph.

' Oh, aren't we, though ? ' said Guy ; ' who says so ?
Not mother ! '

' No Clarence ; he said I was to tell you to go on
duty in the drawing-room.'

' What bosh ! ' said Guy. ' As if any Indians
would come there ! I don't care what Clarence says,
I shall go in the stockade ! '

' So shall I ! ' said Jack. ' Now let's get that piece
of matting, and go down sharp the evening star's
out already.'

Poor Cecily was in despair ; what was to be done
when they were so obstinate as this ?

' I know where there's some beautiful matting,'
she said.

* Where ? Tell us, quick ! '

' Come with me, and I'll show you.' She led the
way along a corridor to the wing where the billiard-
room was. * Wait till I see if it's there still,' she said,

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 199

and went into the billiard-room and looked around.
' Yes, it is there,' she told them as she came out.

' I don't see it, Cecily ; where ? ' they cried from
within.

Cecily shut the door softly, and turned the key
{which she had managed to abstract on entering) in
the outer lock.

' It's on the floor,' she cried through the keyhole ;
' I didn't tell a story and don't be angry, boys, dear,
it's all for your good ! '

Then, without waiting to hear their indignant
outcry, she scudded along the corridor and down the
staircase, with the sounds of muffled shouts and kicks
growing fainter behind her.

'I don't mind so much now,' she thought; 'they'll
be awfully angry when they come out but the
Indians will have gone by that time ! '

Clarence had already retreated to his stronghold
when she entered the drawing-room.

Everything seemed as usual ; Uncle Lambert, in
evening dress, was playing desultory snatches from
Ruddigore. Mrs. Jolliffe came down presently, and
he took her in to dinner with one of his tiresome
jokes. No one seemed at all anxious about poor
Tinling, fighting all alone down in the paddock.

She curled herself up on a settee by one of the
open windows, and listened, trying to catch the
sound of Indian yells. ' Hazel,' she said anxiously,
' do you think the Indians will hurt Tinling ? '

200 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

Hazel gave a little laugh. 'I don't think the-
army's in any very great danger, Cis,' she replied.

'Hazel doesn't believe there are any Indians at
all,' explained Hilary.

' Well,' said Cecily, softly, ' I've kept the army
out of danger, whether there are or not ! '

But she felt relieved by her sisters' evident tran-
quillity, and by-and-by, when Mrs. Jolliffe came in
from the dining-room and settled down with her em-
broidery as if there were not the least chance of a
savage coming whooping in the open window, Cecily
almost forgot her fears.

They came back in full force, however, as, a little
later on, she heard a quick, light step on the gravel
outside, and started with a little scream of terror.
* Don't tell them where the army are ! ' she cried;
and then she saw that her alarm was needless, for
it was the gallant General who stepped into the
room. Hazel looked up from the album which she
was making for a children's hospital, Hilary threw
away her book, Mrs. Jolliffe had ceased to embroider r
but that was because she was peacefully dozing.

* Victory ! ' said Clarence, waving his sword.

' Then they did come ? ' cried Cecily, triumph-
antly.

' Kather ! ' he replied. ' I couldn't tell how many
there were, but they were overcome with panic at
the first discharge. I fancy these Indians had never
heard firearms before.'

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 201

'How funny that we shouldn't have heard any
now ! ' remarked Hazel, resting her chin on her
palms, while her grey eyes had a rather mocking
sparkle in them.

' Not funny at all,' he said, ' considering the
wind was the other way. I let them come on,
and then poured a volley into the thickest part of
their ranks that made them waver, and then I
made a sortie, and you should have just seen them
scuttle ! '

' I wish I had,' said Hazel, as she pasted another
Christmas card into her album. ' And weren't you
wounded at all ? '

'A mere scratch,' he said lightly (which is what
book-heroes always say).

' It looks as if you had been amongst the goose-
berry-bushes,' said Hilary, examining his arm as he
pulled up his sleeve.

' Does it ? Well, I only know it's lucky for me
there were no poisoned arrows.'

' Oughtn't you to have it burnt, though, Clarence,
just in case ? ' suggested Cecily, in all good faith ;
'there's sure to be a red-hot poker in the kitchen.'

But Clarence was very decidedly of opinion that
such a precaution was not necessary.

' And you're quite sure the Indians are all gone ? '
she asked.

' There isn't one of 'em within miles,' he said
confidently, ' I'll answer for that,'

202 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

' Then come upstairs with me, and we'll let the
army out. They'll be in such a temper ! '

They found the two boys, who had tired of kicking
and shouting by that time, sitting gloomily on the
long seats in the dark.

' Guy, dear Jack,' said Cecily, timidly, ' you can
come out now. Clarence has beaten the Indians.'

' Without us ? ' groaned Guy. ' Cecily, I'll never
speak to you again ! Tinling, I we you don't
think we funked, do you ? She locked us up
here ! '

All the General's native magnanimity came out
now.

' We won't say any more about it,' he said. ' It
was rather a close shave, with only one man to do
it all. But, there, I managed somehow, and perhaps
it was just as well you weren't there. The first rush
was no joke, I can tell you.'

Jack punched his own head with both hands.

'Oh, it's too bad ! ' he said he was almost in
tears. ' They'll all think we deserted you ! Did you
kill many of them, Tinling ? '

' I didn't see any corpses,' he replied ; ' but I
shouldn't be surprised if some of them died when
they got home.'

t They may come again to-morrow night,' said
Jack, more cheerfully.

* Not much fear of that they've had their lesson.
They were seized with utter panic.'

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 203

* Which way did they go ? ' asked Guy, evidently
bent on pursuing them.

' Oh, in all directions. But you wouldn't catch
them up now ; they ran too fast for me even ! '

'Then I shall go to bed,' said the entire army,
in great depression. ' It is a shame we couldn't be
there. Good-night, General.' And, pointedly ignor-
ing poor Cecily, they marched off to their quarters.
She looked wistfully after them.

' They'll never forgive me I know they won't ! '
she said to Tinling.

' Don't you mind,' he said, ' you acted very wisely.
And, after all, these raw young troops can never be
depended on under fire, you know I mean, under
arrows.'

Cecily drew herself up a little haughtily.

' I locked them in because I didn't want them to
get hurt,' she said, ' not because I thought they'd be
afraid.'

Uncle Lambert did not hear about the result
of the engagement until the following day, but then,
to make up for any delay, he heard a good deal about
it. Even Clarence was not quite prepared for the
enthusiasm he showed.

' Splendid, my boy, splendid ! ' he kept repeating,
while he hit him rather hard on the back ; ' you're
a hero. A grateful country ought to give you the
Bath for it. I shall take care this affair is generally
known.'

204 PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN

And the poor army looked on with hot cheeks and
envious eyes. But for Cecily, they might have been
heroes, too !

Even Hazel seemed to have understood that a
really brilliant victory had been achieved ; she
brought Tinling a magnificent flag of pink glazed
calico, on which she had painted in crimson letters :
' Indians' Terror.'

' I did not think of making the motto " Seven at
one blow," ' she said, with a mischievous dimple.

' I like the other best,' said the General, unsus-
pectingly.

Jack and Guy went down to the camp as usual,
but for some time they were in very low spirits, in
spite of their commander's well-meant efforts to raise
them.

' You'll do better next time,' he said kindly.

' But we've told you over and over again how it
was ! ' they would exclaim.

'Yes, I know, I know. It's all right. I'm not
complaining : I never expected you to be as cool as I
was, your first time.' But even this did not seem to
console the army to any large extent ; they hunched
their shoulders and kicked pebbles about with great
apparent interest.

The fact was, they could not help seeing that they
had lost their prestige. It was true that their mother
and elder sister at least (in spite of the flag) did not
seem to treat the past danger with all the seriousness

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 205

it deserved. It even struck Jack and Guy sometimes
that they were under the delusion that the whole
thing had been only a new development of the game.
But as the General said : ' Even if that were so, it
was kinder not to undeceive them. He certainly was
contented to leave them in their error ; he knew well
enough what he had had to go through he did not
like even now to think of his despair when he found
he would have to face the danger all alone.'

He was always making the army writhe by little
unintentional reminders of this kind, and they had
cruel misgivings that Uncle Lambert, though he was
always quite kind and encouraging, did not in his
heart believe that their unfortunate absence in the
hour of peril was quite an accident on their part.

How they longed for an opportunity of wiping out
their disgrace, and how their hearts sank when Tin-
ling, from the depths of his experience, declared it
very improbable that the attack would ever again be
renewed. In the school-stories, the good boy who
refuses to fight when he is kicked, and is sent to
Coventry as a coward, always gets a speedy chance
to clear his character. Someone (generally the very
boy who kicked him) falls into a mill-stream, or a
convenient horse runs away, or else a mad but con-
siderate bull comes into the playground and the
good boy is always at hand to dive, or hang on to the
bridle and be dragged several yards in the dust, or
slowly retreat backwards, throwing down first his hat

206 PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN

and then his coat to amuse and detain the infuriated
bull.

But out of stories, unfortunately, as even Jack
and Guy dimly perceived, things are not always
arranged so satisfactorily. They might have to wait
for weeks, perhaps months or years, before Uncle
Lambert fell into the fish-pond and, even if he did,
he could probably swim better than they could. Then
they were neither of them sure that they could suc-
cessfully stop a runaway horse, or a maniac bull,
without a little more practice than they had had
as yet. -

However, Fortune was kind, and took pity on
them in a most unexpected manner. For one morn-
ing, soon after breakfast, when Hazel was practising
in the music-room, and Hilary and Cecily feeding
their rabbits, Jack came up in a highly-excited state
of mind to the verandah where his officer was seated
doing nothing in particular. ' General,' he said, with
a very creditable salute, ' do come down to the camp
at once.'

' Oh, bother ! ' said the veteran warrior, who had,
by the way, shown rather a tendency to rest on his
laurels of late.

' No, but it isn't humbug, really,' protested Jack ;
' it's something you'll like awfully.'

The General marched down in a very stately man-
ner ; it would have been undignified to run, eager as
he was to get down to the stockade, thinking it not

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 207

unlikely that Lintoft, the carpenter, really had found
time to make a cannon for them after all, or, at the
very least, that there would be some change in the
internal arrangements of the stronghold which it
would be his duty as superior officer to criticise, if
not condemn.

Now it must be explained here that, during the
last two or three days, the outside wall of the fort
had been placarded with various bills, all glorying in
the recent repulse of the enemy by a single-handed
defender, and containing most insulting reflections on
the courage of Ked Indians as a race ; while, in case
they might not have enough knowledge of English to
understand these taunts, they were accompanied by
sketches which were certainly scathing enough to
infuriate the least susceptible savage.

To do Clarence justice, they were not due to any
elation on his part, but had all been executed by the
army in the wild hope that they might thus stir up
the foe to a fresh demonstration, when they them-
selves might recover their lost spurs.

These placards, as Clarence found on reaching the
stockade, had been scrawled over with a kind of red
and yellow paint so as to be quite illegible.

' Ochre,' said Guy ; ' but that's not the best of it,
for we found this pinned with an arrow to one of the
posts.' And he produced a thin strip of white bark,
on which were writing and drawings in crimson.
4 They must have done it with their own blood,'

208 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

commented Jack, with great gusto ; ' but read it do
read it.'

Clarence did not need a second invitation to read
the document, which was as follows :

*WAH NA SA PASH Boo (YELLOW VULTURE),

Chief of Black Bogallala Tribe, to the Great White Chief,
Tin Lin, DEFIANCE.

* The wigwam of Yellow Vulture wants but one
ornament the scalp of the white chief. Yellow Vul-
ture has seen the taunts calling the red warriors
" women with the hearts of deer." He will show the
Paleface that the anger of the dusky ones is a big
heap- lot terrible. When the sun has set behind the
hills, and the stars light their watch-fires, then will
Yellow Vulture and his braves be at hand. The scalp
of the Paleface shall adorn the tepee of the Eed Man.

<WAH-WAH!'

In order that there should be no possible mistake
about the intention, the message was supplemented by
a rude representation of the process of scalping, evi-
dently the work of a practised hand.

* Didn't I tell you we had something jolly to show
you ! ' exclaimed Jack.

But joy, or some equally powerful emotion, ren-
dered the General incapable of speaking for several
moments.

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 209

ACT THE THIKD

WHEEE IS THE GENERAL ?

IT was some little time before Clarence Tinling gave
any opinion upon this bloodthirsty document. He
turned exceedingly red, and examined it suspiciously
on both sides. It seemed as if he did not altogether
welcome this second opportunity for distinguishing
himself. When he spoke it was with a sort of angry
anxiety.

'You think yourselves very clever, I dare say,' he
said ; * but you needn't fancy you'll take me in !
Come, you had better say so at once you did this
yourselves ? It is not half bad I will say that for it.'

' That we didn't,' cried Guy. ' Why, just look at
it, Tinling. Any one could see that it's an Indian's
doing. No, it's all right ; they really are coming.'

'It's all skittles, I tell you,' said Clarence, still
more angrily, though he was paler again now. ' What
should Indians come here for ? '

' Well, he says why, there,' said Jack, ' and they
came the other evening.'

Clarence's colour rose again. ' That's different/
he said ; ' I mean, it's not the same tribe.'

' No, these are Black Bogallalas,' said Jack.
' What were the first ones, Tinling ? '

' I didn't ask them,' said the General shortly.

' How many braves should you think Wah Na

210 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

What's-his-name will bring ? ' asked Guy. ' As many
as came the other evening ? How many did come the
first time ? '

' Do you think I had nothing better to do than
count ? ' he retorted. ' Is there anything else you
would like to know ? '

'Well, we'll hang out the lantern to-night, and
watch how many come inside its rays,' said Jack,
with a briskness which displeased his chief.

' You wouldn't be quite so jolly cheerful over it if
you knew what it was like ! ' he grumbled.

' Why not ? ' said Guy. ' You beat the others
easily enough by yourself, and we shall be three this
time.'

' Oh, it's all very fine to talk,' retorted the General ;
' but we shall see what your mother and uncle say
about it. They they may think we ought not to
take any notice of it.'

Jack's eyes opened wide at this. ' Not take any
notice of an attack by Black Bogallalas ! I don't see
how we can very well help noticing it ! '

' It all depends on what Mrs. Jolliffe says,' replied
the conscientious General. ' I'm only a visitor here,
and it wouldn't be the right thing for me to lead you
into danger without leave.'

' Well, you weren't so particular the first time the
Indians came ! ' remarked Guy.

' Will you shut up about that first time ! ' the
Commander burst out, in exasperation ; ' it's the

PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN 211

second time now that is, if it isn't all humbug.
That's what I mean to find out first you stay here
till I come back, will you ? '

Taking the strip of bark with him, he went slowly
up to the house. He had an uneasy feeling that the
Indian's challenge was genuine enough, but he still
hoped to have it pronounced a forgery. This may
seem strange indeed to some, considering the courage
of which he had already given proof, but I do not
wish to make any further mystery, particularly as
most of my readers will probably have already guessed
the secret of this apparent contrast.

The fact is, then, that Clarence Tinling had the
best of reasons for being cool and courageous on the
previous occasion. Those Indians were entirely
imaginary ; he had written the warning himself, and
instructed the coachman's boy to throw it over the
stockade; the attack on the fort and the brilliant
victory were an afterthought.

What had he done it for ? That is rather difficult
to explain perhaps he hardly i knew himself ; he had
a vague idea of proving to those disrespectful girls
that enemies did exist, and that the protection of an
Army was not to be despised.

Then when he found himself alone in the camp,
the temptation to carry his invention further was too
much for him ; and after Jack and Guy and Cecily,
and even Uncle Lambert himself, accepted his story
without hesitation, and treated him as a hero why,

p 2

212 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

it would have looked so silly to explain then, and so-
he went through with it.

Lying is lying, whatever explanations and excuses
may be made respecting it, and I am afraid it must be
admitted that Tinling, if he began by a mere harmless
device for giving a new turn to the game, ended by
telling some very unmistakable lies.

Now he found himself in a most delicate position :
what if an attack by Bed Indians should really be
quite possible ? Mr. Lambert Jolliffe had certainly
not seemed to see anything incredible in the former
visit, and, though Clarence had not a very high
opinion of his abilities, he was grown up, and was not
likely to be misinformed on such a point as that at
all events, he was the best person to consult just then.
As he expected, he found him under the big ilex on his
back, with his after-breakfast pipe, no longer alight y
between his lips.

' Mr. Jolliffe ; I say, Mr. Jolliffe,' began Clarence.

Lambert Jolliffe sat up, and fixed his glass in one-
drowsy eye. ' Hullo, Sir Garnet I beg your pardon,
Lord Wolseley, I mean. You ought to hear what
they're saying at the War Office, I can tell you ! '

Praise is sweet, even when we do not deserve it,
and Clarence felt a thrill of satisfaction at this some-
what vague tribute.

' I wanted to ask you,' he said, ' should you say
that Eed Indians were well, common in England ? r

' You have asked me a straightforward question r

PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN 213

.and I'll give you a straightforward answer,' was
the reply. ' Till quite lately I should say they were
absolutely unknown in this country.'

Clarence's face brightened ; he felt quite fond of
Uncle Lambert, and began to think him a particularly
well-informed and entertaining person.

' Yes,' continued Uncle Lambert, thoughtfully, ' I
must confess I thought it a little unlikely at first that
you should have been annoyed by Eed Indians ; but,
of course, when I remembered the Earl's Court Show,
I saw at once that it was quite possible.' Clarence
felt a cold qualm. He had, as we already know, seen
Buffalo Bill's wonderful show, which, indeed, was re-
sponsible for much of his recent military enthusiasm.
But till that moment, curiously enough, it had not
occurred to him to connect the mysterious Wah Na
Sa Pash Boo with the denizens of the Wild West
whom he had seen careering about the immense
arena at Earl's Court.

' Do you mean,' he said, with an effort, ' that you
thought some of Buffalo Bill's Indians had managed
to escape ? '

' Well, I don't know any other way to account for
such a thing. Do you ? '

Clarence did not answer this question directly :
'But,' he objected desperately, 'those were converted
Indians. They went to church, and the Lyceum, and
all that ! '

Uncle Lambert shrugged his shoulders : ' Once an

214 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

Indian always an Indian ! ' he said. ' They must have
their fling now and then, I suppose, and then the old
Adam crops up. And you see,' he added, 'it cropped
up in that attack on you the other night. Fortunately
for us, and indeed for the whole country, you were
prepared for them otherwise no one can tell what
horrors we might not have seen.'

* We may we may see them yet ! ' said the hero,,
gloomily. ' Just look at this, Mr. Jolliffe.'

Lambert took the bark from him, and read it with
a thoughtful frown. At last he said :

' Well, I rather expected something of this sort
when I saw you posting up all those insulting notices
Indians are so confoundedly touchy, you know.'

' You might have said that at the time, then ! *
exclaimed the General reproachfully.

Lambert lifted his eyebrows.

' My dear chap, I thought you knew. Wasn't
that what you were all driving at ? '

' Not me,' said Clarence. ' I was against it from
the first. I told them it was caddish to insult a
fallen foe, but they would go and stick up those beastly
notices.'

* All's well that ends well, eh ? You've got a rise
out of 'em this time. I congratulate you, my boy,
on getting the chance of a second brush with the
Indians. And this time you'll have the army with you.'

< A lot of good they are ! ' said Clarence, in a
muffled voice.

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 215

' Come, it's not good form for a General to run
down his troops ; but you heroes are always so modest.
I'll be bound, now, you've determined not to mention
this in the house till -the danger is passed ? '

* No, I haven't, though. I shall mention it, most
likely. Why not ? '

' To save them useless anxiety. Because, unless I
am wrong, you see cause to apprehend (I must ask
you not to conceal anything from me) to apprehend
that this will be a more serious affair than the last ? '

' Yes, I do,' replied the General, promptly, ' a good
deal.'

' I feared as much,' said Uncle Lambert, with a
very grave face. ' But in that case, isn't it as well
not to terrify my sister and those poor girls unneces-
sarily ? '

' I don't see that. Mrs. Jolliffe might think we
ought to be guarding the inside of the house.'

' Oh,' said Uncle Lambert, 'but I should object to
that strongly. You see it's very plain that it's
you the Yellow Vulture's after. He won't think of
coming near the house unless you're in it, and then
what will become of us all ? '

' You'll take care you don't get mixed up in it, I
can see,' said Tinling, savagely.

' I shall take very good care indeed. Oh, but you
must make allowances for me, my boy. Kemember,
I've not been in military training for days and days,
as you have.'

216 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

' If that's all, I could get you up in the drill in
half-an-hour,' proposed Tinling, eagerly.

* Thanks, but I have a better reason still. Tastes
differ so much. You like to spend your evenings in
beating off wild Indians from a stockade. Now, I
prefer a plain, comfortable dinner, and a quiet cigar.
I'm not sure that your way isn't the manlier of the
two but it's not nearly so much in my line.'

' Why don't you say you're a funk, and have done
with it ? ' Tinling said rudely.

' My dear young friend,' was the placid answer,
* if Providence has endowed you with a meed of per-
sonal courage beyond that of others, it is ungraceful
to taunt those who are less fortunate. While I am
by no means prepared to admit that I am what you
so pleasingly term " a funk," I readily allow that

But Tinling did not stay to hear any more ; he
turned on his heel with an anger that had a spice of
envy in it. Why, why had not he been content with
an ordinary reputation, instead of one that he must
sustain now at all hazards ? He could deceive himself
no longer ; his foolish vanity, which had allowed the
army to post those rash defiances, had brought down
some real Bed Indians upon him, and he was horribly
afraid.

As he walked restlessly down the path, a veil
seemed drawn across the brilliant sky, the dahlias
and ' red-hot pokers ' and gladioli in the beds burnt
with a sinister glow, the smell of the sweet peas and

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 217

mignonette seemed oppressive, the bees droning about
the lavender patches had a note of warning in their
buzz, he felt chilly in the shade and sick in the sun.

He saw nothing for it but fighting, but the idea of
facing a horde of howling savages with only two boys
younger than himself was too appalling ; he must
engage recruits, grown-up ones, and with this inten-
tion he went to the stable-yard, where he found
Chinnock, the coachman, sluicing the carriage-wheels.

' Chinnock,' he began, with an attempt to seem
casual and careless, ' we're going to be attacked by
Bed Indians again to-night.'

Chinnock touched a sandy forelock, as he raised
his red grinning face.

'Lor', sir, be you indeed? Well, you young
genl'men du have rare goings on down in the
paddock, that you du.'

' It's it's real Eed Indians this time, Chinnock
B black Bogallalas ! '

Chinnock had deliberately moved to the harness-
room, and Tinling had to repeat his information.

' Ah, indeed, sir ! Eed Injians ? Well, to think
o' that ! ' he said cheerfully, as if he was humouring
some rather childish remark.

' But we shall want every available man ; do you
think you can spare time to come and help ? '

' 'Bout what time, sir ? ' said Chinnock.

' About nine half-past eight, say. Do try.'

' Can't come as late as that, nohow, sir. That's

218 PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN

my supper-hour, that is. If the mistress don't want
the carriage to-day, I dessay I could step down 'bout
five for half-an-hour or so, if that would suit.'

1 That wouldn't be any use at all, Chinnock ; we
shan't begin till dark.'

' Then I'm afraid I can't be of no sarvice to 'ee,
sir.'

The poor General turned away : evidently the
coachman had no intention of risking his life. He
remembered Joe, the gardener's boy and stable-help
he was better than no one. Joe was rolling the
tennis-court, and grinned sheepishly on being pressed
to join.

' Noa, sur,' he said, ' it doan't lay in my work fur
to fight no Injins. I see one onst at Eeading Vair,
I did, a nippin' about he wur, and a roarin' ! I
bain't goin' to hev naught to do with the likes o' he ! '

Tinling saw only one hope left. If he could see
Mrs. Jolliffe and tell her of the danger which threatened
him, she might refuse permission to fight at all, or,
at the very least, she would see that he had proper
assistance. So into the house he went, and the first
person he found was Hazel, who was knitting her
pretty forehead over the Latin exercise which had
been given her as a holiday task.

' I say, Hazel,' he said, with a trembling voice ; but
she interrupted him :

' Oh, perhaps you can help me. What's the Latin
for " Balbus says it is all over with the General " ? '

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 219

He shivered ; it sounded so like an omen. ' No,
but Hazel, listen,' he said ; ' the Indians are coming
again to-night.'

' If you're not going to talk sensibly,' said Hazel,
' go out this instant.'

He saw she was utterly unsympathetic, and he
wandered on to the hall, which was used as a morning-
room, where Hilary sat painting a pansy, and he
broke the news to her in much the same words.
She actually laughed, and she had been almost as
frightened as Cecily when he had told her of the other
Indians.

* You are too killing over those Eed Indians ! ' she
said. Privately, he thought that the Eed Indians
would do all the killing.

'You needn't laugh ; it's true ! ' he said solemnly,
' Oh, of course ! ' said Hilary ; < but don't come so
near, or you'll upset my glass of water.' Hilary, too,
was hopeless ; he was reduced to his last cards now,
and came in upon Mrs. Jolliffe as she sat at her
writing-table. She looked up with a sweet, vague
smile.

* What is it now, dear boy ? ' she asked. ' I hope
you are managing to amuse yourself.'

* I think I ought to tell you,' he said thickly, 'that
a tribe of Bogallala Indians are going to storm our
encampment this evening.'

Perhaps Mrs. Jolliffe was getting a little bored
with military topics. 'Yes, yes,' she said absently,

220 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

* that will be very nice, I'm sure. Don't be too late
in coming in, there's good boys.'

' You don't mind our being there ? there will be
danger ! ' he said with meaning.

' Mind ? Not in the very least, so long as you are
enjoying yourself,' she said kindly.

There went one card : he had but one more.

* Could you let Corklett and George ' (they were the
butler and page respectively) * come down to the camp
about half-past eight ? We should be so much safer
if we had them with us.'

' What are you thinking of, Clarence ? We dine
at eight, remember ; how can I send either of them
down then ? You really must be reasonable.'

Clarence was by no means an ill-mannered boy in
general, but fear made him insolent at this.

' Of course, if you think your dinner is more im-
portant than us ! ' he burst out hotly.

' Clarence, I can't allow you to speak to me in
that way. It is ridiculous for you to expect me to
alter my arrangements to suit your convenience,'
said Mrs. Jolliffe ; ' leave tho room, or I shall be
really angry with you. I don't wish to hear any
more go.'

He went with a swelling heart, and in the garden
he met Cecily. If he could only induce her to beg
him not to risk his life again ! He disclosed the situ-
ation as impressively as he could ; but, alas ! Cecily
seemed perfectly tranquil.

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 221

' I'm not a bit afraid this time,' she said, * be-
cause you beat them so easily before ; there's only
one thing, Clarence. You know I daren't lock the
army in again they've made it up ; but they were
so cross over it ! So I want you to promise to look
after them.'

' I shall have enough to do to look after myself, I
expect,' he answered roughly ; ' you don't know what
these Indians are.'

' Oh, but I do, Clarence ; I saw them at the " Wild
West." I thought they looked rather nice then. And
you know you frightened them so before. You are so
awfully brave aren't you ? '

' I I don't think I feel quite so awfully brave as
I did then,' he admitted.

' Ah, but you will. Jack and Guy will be quite
safe with you. Good-bye ; I'm going to get some
mulberry-leaves for my silkworms.' And she ran off
cheerfully.

It was his hard fate that everybody persisted in
treating the affair in one of two ways either they
looked upon it as part of the army game, or else con-
sidered him such a champion, on the strength of his
past exploits, that there was practically no danger
even if a whole tribe of Eedskins came to attack
him.

Luncheon that day was a terrible meal for him.
Uncle Lambert (though he was too great a coward to
go near the fight himself) seemed very anxious that

222 PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN

the defenders should be in good condition. * Give
yourself a chance, General,' he would say ; * another
slice of this roly-poly pudding may just turn the scale
between you and Yellow Vulture. Look at the army
they're victualling for a regular siege ! '

But Clarence was quite unable to follow their
example ; he was annoyed with them for what he con-
sidered was * showing off ' though he might have
reflected that to consume three helpings of jam-and-
suet in rapid succession was an almost impossible
form of bravado.

The rest of the afternoon he spent in trying to
lower the army's confidence by telling all the grue-
some stories of Indian warfare he could think of ; but
he frightened himself a great deal more than them, and
at last had to abandon the attempt in despair.

For Jack and Guy had no nerves to speak of ;
they were eager to clear their tarnished reputation,
and the possibility of harm coming to them did not
seem to present itself. They had formed rather a
poor opinion of Buffalo Bill's Indians, whose yell turned
out to be very little more than short yelps, and who
ran away directly a Cowboy showed his nose. Hadn't
Clarence defeated them with ease already ? What
Clarence had done alone they surely could do together,
and then they had an unbounded belief in the impreg-
nable character of their stockade.

Tinling found that he could not undeceive them
without exposing himself, which he would still rather

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 223

die than do, and he roamed about the grounds, making
a little mental calculation whenever a clock struck in
the heavy afternoon stillness : ' In so many hours from
this I shall be fighting hand-to-hand with real
Indians ! '

Then at tea-time he thought (for the first time)
the smell of cake quite detestable, and he hardly knew
how he forced himself to sit quietly on his chair.

'General Tinling,' said Uncle Lambert, * before
you, so to speak, " go to the front " and occupy the
post of danger, will you oblige me by drawing up the
troops before the verandah ? I should like, though
unable to accompany you myself, to say a few words
of farewell.'

Clarence sulkily acquiesced, and Lambert Jolliffe
addressed the army : * Soldiers,' he said, ' a great
responsibility rests upon you this day. You are ex-
pected solemnly and earnestly to strive your utmost
not to

Let the red man dance
By our red cedar tree,

to quote (with a trifling variation) from Tennyson's
" Maud." For myself, I have no fears of the result.
Under the leadership of your veteran General, victory
must infallibly crown your arms. We peaceful civilians
shall rest secure in the absolute confidence such pro-
tection inspires, and be the first to welcome your
triumphant return. Should your hearts fail you at any
moment, I have already instructed you how to act.

224 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

To the Commander himself I should consider the mere
suggestion an impertinence. Go, then, devoted spirits,
where Glory leads, and endeavour to avoid the in-
dignity of scalping if only for the sake of appearances.
Soldiers, I have done. May the God of Battles (I
need hardly explain to scholars that I refer to Mars)
keep his eye on you ! '

Hazel and Hilary were also on the verandah, and
used their handkerchiefs freely but principally to
conceal their mouths. ' They'll be sorry they laughed
by-and-by ; ' thought Clarence ; ' they'll wish they had
cried just a little, perhaps ! ' a reflection the pathos
of which very nearly made him cry himself, as he
marched down to the stockade, feeling distinctly unwell.

Before he entered the fort he tore down the fatal
notices. ' What's the good of that ? ' asked Guy.

( Well, the Indians have seen 'em,' said the
General.

' But they'll think we want to back out of it/
objected Jack.

' Let them think ! ' was the bold retort.

Inside the fort Jack and Guy set to work in the
highest spirits to barricade the entrance with wheel-
barrows and an old mowing-machine ; then they lit
the lantern, and polished their guns, sharpened their
swords, and looked to the springs of their pistols for
about the hundredth time.

' I say, this would jolly well pepper a Bed Indian,
wouldn't it ! ' cried Guy, showing a pistol, the tiny

PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN 225

barrel of which was constructed to discharge swanshot
with a steel watch-spring.

'I tell you what,' said Jack, with the air of a
trapper, ' I shall reserve my peas till I've fired away
all the corks, and take a deliberate aim each
time.'

It was impossible to persuade them that these
missiles would not be accepted as deadly by savages,
who of course would know no better ; and again, had
not the first victory been won by these simple means ?

So General Tinling held his peace, and the
western sky slowly changed from crocus to green, and
from green to deep violet, and the evening star lighted
its steady golden fire, the grasshoppers set up a louder
chirp, a bat executed complicated figures overhead,
and the boys unconsciously began to speak in whispers.

' It's getting too dark to see much with this tele-
scope,' said Jack, ' I wish we had a night-glass. The
Indians ought to be here by this time they said
" sunset," didn't they ? If I was a Ked Indian I
would be punctual! When do you suppose they'll
come, Clarence soon ? '

* How on earth do I know ? ' snapped the General
from within the tent.

'Well, you needn't get in a bait over it. How
did they come on the first time did they crawl along
like snakes till they were quite near, and then give a
yell and rush at the stockade ? '

' I forget what they did don't bother me ! '

226 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

* I suppose they'll all have tomahawks,' said Guy.
' Clarence, does scalping hurt ? '

There was a slight convulsion inside the tent, but
no answer.

' I wonder if the Bogallala torture prisoners,' Jack
observed ; ' I don't think I could stand that.'

The General came to the tent-door at this : ' Can't
you fellows shut up ? ' he said fiercely. ' They'll hear
you ! '

' They're not here yet we shall know when they
come, by the signalling let's all keep quite quiet for a
minute or two.'

There was a breathless interval of silence. At last
Jack said : ' I hear something a sort of low grunting
noise, like pigs.'

'Perhaps it is the pigs at the farm,' suggested
Guy.

' Indians can imitate all kinds of birds, I know,'
reasoned Jack, not directly to the point, perhaps, but
he was getting excited.

Tinling felt a dull rage against the other two.
How dared they pretend not to be afraid ? It was all
swagger he knew that very well. Various unpleasant
recollections began to rise in his mind. He remem-
bered how that Indian spy had stalked the settler's
cabin at Earl's Court. He could see him now, stealing
over the sand, then listening with his ear to the ground,
and turning to beckon on the ambushed warriors.
He even remembered the way the yellow and red

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 227

striped blinds of the log hut flapped in the wind, and
how the horse that was hobbled outside raised his
head from his hay, and pricked his ears uneasily, as
the foe came gliding nearer and nearer. Then their
way of fighting he had thought it rather comic then
they hopped and pranced about like so many lively
frogs, but the butchery would not be rendered any
more agreeable by being accompanied by laughable
gestures ! And there was an almost naked light-yellow
savage, whom he recalled dancing the war dance he
tried not to think of all this, but it came vividly before
him.

* S-s-h Cave \ ' cried Guy, suddenly, as he looked
through the loophole ; ' I can see just the top of one's
head and feathers among the currant bushes. I'll
touch him up in a second.'

He raised his tiny spring pistol, and was just
aiming, when Tinling, almost beside himself, darted
on him, and struck it out of his hand. ' What are
you doing now ? ' he said, through his teeth. ' What
is the good of irritating them ? '

' Why, they are irritated,' said Guy, * or they
wouldn't come.'

* If they are,' retorted Clarence, raising his voice,
' whose doing was it ? You can't say I had anything
to do with putting up those defiances ! Haven't I
always said I respected Bed men ? They've got feelings
like us. When you go and insult them, of course
they get annoyed who wouldn't, I should like to

Q 2

228 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

know ? I honour a chief like Yellow Vulture myself,
and I don't care if he hears ine say so. I say I honour
him!'

His voice rose almost to a scream as he concluded.

' I say, Tinling, I do believe you're in a funk ! '
said Guy, after a moment of wondering silence.

' If you are, say so, and we shall know what to
do,' added Jack, feeling in his pocket. ' Are you ? '

1 Feel his hands,' suggested Guy.

* Look here,' said Clarence, dashing aside the
obstacles before the door, < I'm not going to stay here
to be treated in this way. If it hadn't been for your
foolery in sticking up the notices we should have been
friends with the Indians now. I don't want to
quarrel with any Bogallala. And you have the
cheek to ask me if I'm in a funk, and to want to feel
my hands. Well, it just serves you right I'm going.'

' Well, go then ; who wants you ? ' said Guy.

But softer-hearted Jack said, ' Clarence, you
mustn't. You'll be safe in here ; but out there

But the General had already vanished. He was
crouching outside in the shadow of the stockade. He
could not bear being penned up any longer ; he must
at least have a run for his life.

Had the enemy heard him declare his innocence ?
If so, it did not seem to have softened them. They
were still crouching silent, hidden, relentless
behind the currant bushes, their scouts signalling to
one another, for no real grasshopper ever made so much

PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN 229

noise as that. He must make a bolt for it, and take
his chance of their arrows missing him. Over the
open space of grey-green grass he scuttled, and actu-
ally succeeded in reaching the friendly shadow of the
holly hedge unharmed ; but that was probably because
they felt so certain of cutting him off at their plea-
sure.

On tiptoe and trembling went the General along
the narrow paths, green with damp, and latticed by
the shadows which branches cast in the sickly moon-
light, until just when he was almost clear of the
gloom his knees bent under him ; for there, at the
end of the walk, against the starry sky, stood a tower-
ing figure, with bristling feather head-dress, and
tomahawk poised.

' Oh, please, sir, don't! ' he faltered, and shut his
eyes, expecting the Indian to bound upon him. But
when he opened his eyes again, the savage was gone !
He must have slipped behind a ragged old yew which
had once been clipped and trimmed to look like a
chess-king.

Clarence Tinling tottered on through the shrub-
bery, which was full of terrors. Warriors, stealthy
and cruel, lurked behind every rustling laurel; far
away on the lawn he saw their spears through the
tall pampas grass ; he heard them chirping, clucking,
and grunting in every direction as they lay in wait
for him, until at last he gained the broad gravel path,
at the end of which oh, how far away they seemed !

230 PALEFACE AND REDSKIN

were the three lighted windows of the drawing-
room. He could see the interior quite plainly, and
the group round the piano where the shaded lamp
made a spot of brilliant colour. What were they all
doing ? Were they huddled together, waiting, watch-
ing in an agony of suspense ? Nothing of the kind :
it will be scarcely credited, perhaps, but this heartless
domestic circle were positively passing the time with
music, as if nothing were happening !

If only he could reach that bright drawing-room
before the rush came ! He felt that there were lithe
forms stealing along behind the flower-beds. He
dared not run, but dragged his heavy feet along the
gravel ; and then, all at once, from the rhododendron
bushes rose a wild, unearthly yell. He could bear it no
longer ; he would make one last effort, even if they
tomahawked him on the very verandah.

Somehow he never knew how he found himself
in the midst of that quiet musical party, wild with
terror, scarcely able to speak.

' The Eed Indians ! ' he gasped. ' Don't let them
get me ! Save me hide me somewhere ! ' and he
remembered afterwards that he made a mad endea-
vour to get inside the piano.

He was instantly surrounded by the astonished
family. ' My dear Clarence,' said Mrs. Jolliffe,
' you're perfectly safe you've been frightening your-
self with your own game. There are no Indians
here.'

PALEFACE AND KEDSKIN 231

Another howl from the shrubbery seemed to con-
tradict her. ' There, didn't you hear that ? ' he cried.
' Oh, you won't believe me till it's too late ! There
are hundreds of them round the stockade. They may
have scalped Jack and Guy by this time ! '

' And why ain't you being scalped too ? ' inquired
Uncle Lambert.

' I'm sure you needn't talk ! ' he retorted ; ' you
weren't any more anxious to fight than I am.'

' But isn't that different ? I thought you had
fought them before, and conquered ? '

' Then you thought wrong ! Those those weren't
real Indians I made them up, then ! '

' Now we've got it ! ' said Uncle Lambert. * Well,
Master Clarence, you've made your little confes-
sion, and now it's my turn I made Yellow Vulture
up!'

'Are you sure really sure on your honour?'
he asked eagerly.

' Honest Injun ! ' said Lambert. ' You see, I
began to think the military business was getting
rather overdone ; the army, like Wordsworth's world,
was " too much with us," and it occurred to me to
see whether the General's courage would stand an
outside test so I composed that little challenge.
Yes, you see before you the only Wah Na Sa Pash
Boo no others are genuine ! '

Tinling felt that those girls were laughing at him ;
they had probably been in the secret for some time ;

232 PALEFACE AND EEDSKIN

but he could not care much just then the relief was
so delicious !

'It was too bad of you, Lambert,' said Mrs.
Jolliffe. ' He was really horribly frightened, and
there are those other two down in the stockade all
alone you might have thought of that they will be
half out of their minds by this time ! '

' My dear Cecilia,' was the reply, ' don't be uneasy,
I did think of it. The moment they begin to feel at
all uncomfortable they have directions to open a
certain packet which explains the whole thing. If
the gallant General had not been in quite such a
hurry, he would have spared himself this unpleasant
experience.'

' Let's all go down, and see how they're getting
on,' said Hazel.

* I know this,' said the General sullenly, ' they
were in quite as big a funk as I was ! '

'Then why didn't they run in, and ask to be
hidden too ? ' inquired Hilary.

' Why ? Because they didn't dare ! ' retorted
Tinling, boldly.

' You know,' he remarked to Cecily, as they were
going down together through the warm darkness,
'it's not fair of your uncle to play these tricks on
fellows.'

' Perhaps it isn't quite,' said Cecily, impartially ;
' but then he didn't begin, did he ? '

' Ahoy ! ' shouted Uncle Lambert, as they neared

PALEFACE AND REDSKIN 233

the stockade, and he was answered by a ringing cheer
from the fortress.

* Come on we ain't afraid of you ! Don't skulk
there see what you'll get ! ' And a volley of peas,
corks, and small shot flew about their ears.

Lambert Jolliffe ran forward : ' Hi, stop that !
spare our lives ! ' he cried, laughing. ' Jack, you young
rascal, put down that confounded popgun can't you
see we're not Eed Indians ? '

' What, is it you, uncle ? ' said Guy, in a rather
crestfallen tone. ' Where are the Ked Indians then ? '

' They had to go up to town to see their dentist.
But do you mean to say you haven't opened my
envelope after all ? '

' I thought you told us it was only in case we got
frightened ? ' said Jack.

' What does the General say to that ? ' cried
Lambert but Clarence Tinling was nowhere to be
found. He had slipped off to his bedroom, and the
next morning he announced at breakfast that he
' thought his people would be wanting him at home.'

So the army was disbanded, for there was a
general disarmament, and on the afternoon after
Tinling' s departure the entire Jolliffe family engaged
in a grand cricket match, when lazy Uncle Lambert
came out unexpectedly strong as an overhand bowler.

234

SHUT OUT

IT is towards the end of an afternoon in December,
and Wilfred Kolleston is walking along a crowded
London street with his face turned westward. A few
moments ago and he was scarcely conscious of where
he was or where he meant to go : he was walking on
mechanically in a heavy stupor, through which there
stole a haunting sense of degradation and despair that
tortured him dully. And suddenly, as if by magic,
this has vanished : he seems to himself to have
waked from a miserable day dream to the buoyant
consciousness of youth and hope. Temperaments
which are subject to fits of heavy and causeless
depression have their compensations sometimes in
the reaction which follows ; the infesting cares, as in
Longfellow's poem, ' fold their tents, like the Arabs,
and as silently steal away,' and with their retreat
comes an exquisite exhilaration which more equable
dispositions can never experience.

Is this so with Rolleston now ? He only knows
that the cloud has lifted from his brain, and that in
the clear sunshine which bursts upon him now he can

SHUT OUT 235

ook his sorrows in the face and know that there is
nothing so terrible in them after all.

It is true that he is not happy at the big City day
school which he has just left. How should he be ?
He is dull and crabbed and uncouth, and knows too
well that he is an object of general dislike ; no one there
cares to associate with him, and he makes no attempt
to overcome their prejudices, being perfectly aware
that they are different from him, and hating them for
it, but hating himself, perhaps, the most.

And though all his evenings are spent at home
there is little rest for him even there, for the work
for the next day must be prepared ; and he sits over it
till late, sometimes with desperate efforts to master the
difficulties, but more often staring at the page before
him with eyes that are almost wilfully vacant.

All this has been and is enough in itself to account
for the gloomy state into which he had sunk. But
and how could he have forgotten it? it is over for
the present.

To-night he will not have to sit up struggling with
the tasks which will only cover him with fresh disgrace
on the morrow ; for a whole month he need not think
of them, nor of the classes in which the hand of
everyone is against him. For the holidays have
begun ; to-day has been the last of the term. Is there
no reason for joy and thankfulness in that ? What a
fool he has been to let those black thoughts gain such
a hold over him !

236 SHUT OUT

Slowly, more as if it had all happened a long time
ago instead of quite recently, the incidents of the
morning come back to him, vivid and clear once more
morning chapel and the Doctor's sermon, and after-
wards the pretence of work and relaxed discipline in
the class rooms, when the results of the examinations
had been read out, with the names of the boys who
had gained prizes and their remove to the form above.
He had come out last of course, but no one expected
anything else from him ; a laugh had gone round the
desks when his humble total closed the list, and he
had joined in it to show them he didn't care. And
then the class had been dismissed, and there had been
friendly good-byes, arrangements for walking home
in company or for meeting during the holidays for
all but him; he had gone out alone and the dull
blankness had come over him from which he has only
just recovered.

But, for the present at all events, he has got rid
of it completely ; he is going home, where at least he
is not despised, where he will find a sanctuary from
gibes and jostlings and impositions ; and the longer
he thinks of this the higher his spirits rise, and he
steps briskly, with a kind of exultation, until the
people he passes in the streets turn and look at him,
struck by his expression. 'They can see how jolly
I'm feeling,' he thinks with a smile.

The dusk is falling, and the shops he passes are
brilliant with lights and decorations, but he does not

SHUT OUT 237

stop to look at any of them ; his mind is busy with
settling how he shall employ himself on this the first
evening of his liberty, the first for so long on which
he could feel his own master.

At first he decides to read. Is there not some
book he had begun and meant to finish, so many days
ago now that he has even forgotten what it was all
about, and only remembers that it was exciting ?

And yet, he thinks, he won't read to-night not on
the very first night of the holidays. Quite lately
yesterday or the day before his mother had spoken to
him, gently but very seriously, about what she called
the morose and savage fits which would bring misery
upon him if he did not set himself earnestly to over-
come them.

And there were times, he knew, when it seemed
as if a demon possessed him and drove him to
wound even those who loved him and whom he
loved times when their affection only roused
in him some hideous spirit of sullen contradiction.

He feels softened now somehow, and has a new
longing for the love he has so often harshly repulsed.
He will overcome this sulkiness of his ; he will begin
this very evening ; as soon as he gets home he will
tell his mother that he is sorry, that he does love
her really, only that when these fits come on him he
hardly knows what he says or does.

And she will forgive him, only too gladly ; and his
mind will be quite at ease again. No, not quite ;

238 SHUT OUT

there is still something he must do before that : he
has a vague recollection of a long-standing coolness
between himself and his younger brother, Lionel.
They never have got on very well together ; Lionel is
so different much cleverer even already, for one
thing ; better looking too, and better tempered.
Whatever they quarrelled about Wilfred is very sure
that he was the offender ; Lionel never begins that
kind of thing. But he will put himself in the right
at once, and ask Lionel to make friends again; he
will consent readily enough he always does.

And then he has a bright idea : he will take his
brother some little present to prove that he really
wishes to behave decently for the future. What shall
he buy ?

He finds himself near a large toy shop at the time,
and in the window are displayed several regiments
of brightly coloured tin warriors the very thing !
Lionel is still young enough to delight in them.

Feeling in his pockets, Eolleston discovers more
loose silver than he had thought he possessed, and so
he goes into the shop and asks for one of the boxes of
soldiers. He is served by one of two neatly dressed
female assistants, who stare and giggle at one another
at his first words, finding it odd, perhaps, that a
fellow of his age should buy toys as if, he thinks
indignantly, they couldn't see that it was not for himself
he wanted the things.

But he goes on, feeling happier after his purchase.

SHUT OUT 239

They will see now that he is not so bad after all. It
is long since he has felt such a craving to be thought
well of by somebody.

A little farther on he comes to a row of people,
mostly women and tradesmen's boys, standing on the
curb stone opposite a man who is seated in a little
wooden box on wheels drawn up close to the pave-
ment. He is paralytic and blind, with a pinched
white face framed in an old-fashioned fur cap with
big ear lappets ; he seems to be preaching or
reading, and Eolleston stops idly enough to listen
for a few moments, the women making room for him
with alacrity, and the boys staring curiously round
at the new arrival with a grin.

He hardly pays much attention to this ; he is
listening to the poem which the man in the box
is reciting with a nasal and metallic snuffle in his
voice :

There's a harp and a crown,

For you and for me,
Hanging on the boughs

Of that Christmas tree 1

He hears, and then hurries on again, repeating the
stanza mechanically to himself, without seeing
anything particularly ludicrous about it. The words
have reminded him of that Christmas party at the
Gordons', next door. Did not Ethel Gordon ask him
particularly to come, and did he not refuse her
sullenly ? What a brute he was to treat her like that !

240 SHUT OUT

If she were to ask him again, he thinks he would not
say no, though he does hate parties.

Ethel is a dear girl, and never seems to think him
good-for-nothing, as most people do. Perhaps it is
sham though no, he can't think that when he
remembers how patiently and kindly she has borne
with his senseless fits of temper and tried to laugh
away his gloom.

Not every girl as pretty as Ethel is would care to
notice him, and persist in it in spite of everything ;
yet he has sulked with her of late. Was it because
she had favoured Lionel ? He is ashamed to think
that this may have been the reason.

Never mind, that is all over now ; he will start
clear with everybody. He will ask Ethel, too, to
forgive him. Is there nothing he can do to please
her ? Yes some time ago she had asked him to
draw something for her. (He detests drawing
lessons, but he has rather a taste for drawing
things out of his own head.) He had told her, not
too civilly, that he had work enough without doing
drawings for girls. He will paint her something
to-night as a surprise; he will begin as soon as
tea is cleared away; it will be more sociable than
reading a book.

And then already he sees a vision of the warm
little panelled room, and himself getting out his
colour-box and sitting down to paint by lamp-light
for any light does for his kind of colouring while

SHUT OUT 241

his mother sits opposite and Lionel watches the
picture growing under his hand.

What shall he draw ? He gets quite absorbed in
thinking over this ; his own tastes run in a gory
direction, but perhaps Ethel, being a girl, may not
care for battles or desperate duels. A compromise
strikes him ; he will draw a pirate ship : that will
be first rate, with the black flag flying on the main-
mast, and the pirate captain on the poop scouring
the ocean with a big glass in search of merchantmen ;
all about the deck and rigging he can put the crew,
with red caps, and belts stuck full of pistols and
daggers.

And on the right there shall be a bit of the pirate
island, with a mast and another black flag he knows
he will enjoy picking out the skull and cross-bones in
thick Chinese white and then, if there is room, he
will add a cannon, and perhaps a palm tree. A
pirate island always has palm trees.

He is so full of this projected picture of his that
he is quite surprised to find that he is very near the
square where he lives ; but here, just in front of him,
at the end of the narrow lane, is the public-house
with the coach and four engraved on the ground
glass of the lower part of the window, and above it
the bottles full of coloured water.

And here is the greengrocer's. How long is it
since it was a barber's? surely a very little time.
And there is the bootmaker's, with its outside display

242 SHUT OUT

of dangling shoes, and the row of naked gas jets
blown to pale blue specks and whistling red tongues
by turns as a gust sweeps across them.

This is his home, this little dingy, old-fashioned
red-brick house at an angle of the square, with a
small paved space railed in before it. He pushes
open the old gate with the iron arch above, where
an oil-lamp used to hang, and hurries up to the
door with the heavy shell- shaped porch, impatient
to get to the warmth and light which await him
within.

The bell has got out of order, for only a faint
jangle comes from below as he rings ; he waits a
little and then pulls the handle again, more sharply
this time, and still no one comes.

When Betty does think proper to come up and
open the door he will tell her that it is too bad
keeping a fellow standing out here, in the fog and
cold, all this time. . . . She is coming at last no,
it was fancy; it seems as if Betty had slipped out
for something, and perhaps the cook is upstairs, and
his mother may be dozing by the fire, as she has
begun to do of late.

Losing all patience, he gropes for the knocker,
and, groping in vain, begins to hammer with bare
fists on the door, louder and louder, until he is in-
terrupted by a rough voice from the railings behind
him.

' Now then, what are you up to there, eh ? ' says

SHUT OUT 243

the voice, which belongs to a burly policeman who
has stopped suspiciously on the pavement.

'Why,' says Eolleston, 'I want to get in, and I
can't make them hear me. I wish you'd try what
you can do, will you ? '

The policeman comes slowly in to the gate. ' I
dessay,' he says jocularly. ' Is there any think else ?
Come, suppose you move on.'

A curious kind of dread of he knows not what
begins to creep over Wilfred at this.

' Move on ? ' he cries, ' why should I move on ?
This is my house ; don't you see ? I live here.'

* Now look 'ere, my joker, I don't want a job
over this,' says the constable, stolidly. ' You'll bring
a crowd round in another minute if you keep on that
'ammering.'

' Mind your own business,' says the other with
growing excitement.

' That's what you'll make me do if you don't look
out,' is the retort. ' Will you move on before I make
you?'

' But, I say,' protests Kolleston, ' I'm not joking ;
I give you my word I'm not. I do live here. Why,
I've just come back from school, and I can't get in.'

* Pretty school you come from ! ' growls the police-
man ; ' 'andles on to your lesson books, if I knows
anything. 'Ere, out you go ! '

Eolleston's fear increases. ' I won't ! I won't ! '
he cries frantically, and rushing back to the door

B 2

244 SHUT OUT

beats upon it wildly. On the other side of it are
love and shelter, and it will not open to him. He
is cold and hungry and tired after his walk ; why do
they keep him out like this ?

' Mother ! ' he calls hoarsely. ' Can't you hear
me, mother ? It's Wilfred ; let me in ! '

The other takes him, not roughly, by the shoulder.
' Now you take my advice,' he says. * You ain't quite
yourself; you're making a mistake. I don't want
to get you in trouble if you don't force me to it,
Drop this 'ere tomfool game and go home quiet to
wherever it is you do live.'

' I tell you I live here, you fool ! ' shrieks Wilfred,
in deadly terror lest he should be forced away before
the door is opened.

' And I tell you you don't do nothing of the sort,'
says the policeman, beginning to lose his temper.
' No one don't live 'ere, nor ain't done not since I've
bin on the beat. Use your eyes if you're not too far
gone.'

For the first time Kolleston seems to see things
plainly as they are ; he glances round the square that
is just as it always is on foggy winter evenings, with
its central enclosure a shadowy black patch against a
reddish glimmer, beyond which the lighted windows
of the houses make yellow bars of varying length and
tint.

But this house, his own why, it is all shuttered
and dark ; some of the window panes are broken ;

SHUT OUT 245

there is a pale grey patch in one that looks like a dingy
bill ; the knocker has been unscrewed from the door,
and on its scraped panels someone has scribbled
words and rough caricatures that were surely not
there when he left that morning.

Can anything any frightful disaster have come
in that short time ? No, he will not think of it ; he
will not let himself be terrified, all for nothing.

* Now, are you goin' ? ' says the policeman after a
pause.

Eolleston puts his back against the door and
clings to the sides. * No ! ' he shouts. * I don't care
what you say ; I don't believe you : they are all in
there they are, I tell you, they are they are \ '

In a second he is in the constable's strong grasp
and being dragged, struggling violently, to the gate,
when a soft voice, a woman's, intercedes for him.

'What is the matter? Oh, don't don't be so
rough with him, poor creature ! ' it cries pitifully.

* I'm only exercisin' my duty, mum,' says the
officer ; ' he wants to create a disturbance 'ere.'

' No,' cries Wilfred, < he lies ! I only want to
get into my own house, and no one seems to hear
me. You don't think anything is the matter, do
you?'

It is a lady who has been pleading for him ; as he
wrests himself from his captor and comes forward she
sees his face, and her own grows white and startled.

* Wilfred ! ' she exclaims.

246 SHUT OUT

* Why, you know my name ! ' he says. ' Then
you can tell him it's all right. Do I know you ? You
speak like is it Ethel ? '

' Yes,' she says, and her voice is low and trembling,
' I am Ethel.'

He is silent for an instant ; then he says slowly,
' You are not the same nothing is the same : it is
all changed changed and oh, my God, what am I? '

Slowly the truth is borne in upon his brain,
muddled and disordered by long excess, and the last
shred of the illusion which had possessed him drifts
away.

He knows now that his boyhood, with such possi-
bilities of happiness as it had ever held, has gone for
ever. He has been knocking at a door which will
open for him never again, and the mother by whose
side his evening was to have been passed died long
long years ago.

The past, blotted out completely for an hour by
some freak of the memory, comes back to him, and he
sees his sullen, morbid boyhood changing into some-
thing worse still, until by slow degrees he became what
he is now dissipated, degraded, lost.

At first the shock, the awful loneliness he awakes
to, and the shame of being found thus by the woman
for whom he had felt the only pure love he had known,
overwhelm him utterly, and he leans his head upon
his arms as he clutches the railings, and sobs with a
grief that is terrible in its utter abandonment.

SHUT OUT 247

The very policeman is silent and awed by what he
feels to be a scene from the human tragedy, though
he may not be able to describe it to himself by any
more suitable phrase than ' a rum start.'

' You can go now, policeman,' says the lady, put-
ting money in his hand. * You see I know this this
gentleman. Leave him to me ; he will give you no
trouble now.'

And the constable goes, taking care, however, to
keep an eye occasionally on the corner where this has
taken place. He has not gone long before Kolleston
raises his head with a husky laugh : his manner has
changed now ; he is no longer the boy in thought and
expression that he was a short time before, and speaks
as might be expected from his appearance.

' I remember it all now, 5 he says. * You are Ethel
Gordon, of course you are, and you wouldn't have
anything to do with me and quite right too and
then you married my brother Lionel. You see I'm
as clear as a bell again now. So you came up and
found me battering at the old door, eh ? Do you
know, I got the fancy I was a boy again and coming
home to bah, what does all that matter ? Odd sort
of fancy though, wasn't it ? Drink is always playing
me some cursed trick now. A pretty fool I must have
made of myself ! '

She says nothing, and he thrusts his hands deep
in his ragged pockets. ' Hallo ! what's this I've got?'
he says, as he feels something at the bottom of one of

248 SHUT OUT

them, and, bringing out the box of soldiers he had
bought half an hour before, he holds it up with a harsh
laugh which has the ring of despair in it.

' Do you see this ? ' he says to her. ' You'll laugh
when I tell you it's a toy I bought just now for guess
whom for your dear husband ! Must have been
pretty bad, mustn't I ? Shall I give it to you to take
to him no ? Well, perhaps he has outgrown such
things now, so here goes ! ' and he pitches the box
over the railings, and it falls with a shiver of broken
glass as the pieces of painted tin rattle out upon the
flag-stones.

' And now I'll wish you good evening,' he says,
sweeping off his battered hat with mock courtesy.

She tries to keep him back. ' No, Wilfred, no ;
you must not go like that. We live here still, Lionel
and I, in the same old house,' and she indicates the
house next door ; ' he will be home very soon. Will
you ' (she cannot help a little shudder at the thought
of such a guest) 'will you come in and wait for
him?'

' Throw myself into his arms, eh ? ' he says.
' How delighted he would be ! I'm just the sort of
brother to be a credit to a highly respectable young
barrister like him. You really think he'd like it ?
No ; it's all right, Ethel ; don't be alarmed : I was
only joking. I shall never come in your way,
I promise you. I'm just going to take myself off.'

' Don't say that,' she says (in spite of herself she

SHUT OUT 249

feels relieved) ; ' tell me is there nothing we can do
no help we can give you ? '

'Nothing,' he answers fiercely; 'I don't want
your pity. Do you think I can't see that you wouldn't
touch me with the tongs if you could help it ? It's
too late to snivel over me now, and I'm well enough
as I am. You leave me alone to go to the devil my
own way; it's all I ask of you. Good-bye. It's
Christmas, isn't it ? I haven't dreamed that at all
events. Well, I wish you and Lionel as merry a
Christmas as I mean to have. I can't say more than
that in the way of enjoyment.'

He turns on his heel at the last words and
slouches off down the narrow lane by which he had
come. Ethel Kolleston stands for a while, looking
after his receding form till the fog closes round it and
she can see it no more. She feels as if she had seen
a ghost ; and for her at least the enclosure before the
deserted house next door will be haunted evermore-
haunted by a forlorn and homeless figure sobbing
there by the railings.

As for the man, he goes on his way until he finds
a door which alas ! is not closed against him.

250

TOMMYS HERO

A STORY FOR SMALL BOYS

IT was the night after Tommy had been taken to his
first pantomime, and he had been lying asleep in
his little bedroom (for now that he was nine he slept
in the night nursery no longer) ; he had been asleep,
when he was suddenly awakened by a brilliant red
glare. At first he was afraid the house was on fire,
but when the red turned to a dazzling green, he gave
a great gasp of delight, for he thought the transfor-
mation scene was still going on. 'And there's all
the best part still to come,' he said to himself.

But as he became wider awake, he saw that it
was out of the question to expect his bedroom to
hold all those wonders, and he was almost surprised
to see that there was even so much as a single fairy
in it. A fairy there was, nevertheless ; she stood
there with a star in her hair, and her dress shimmer-
ing out all around her, just as he had seen her a
few hours before, when she rose up, with little jerks,
inside a great gilded shell, and spoke some poetry,
which he didn't quite catch.

TOMMY'S HERO 251

She spoke audibly enough now, nor was her voice
so squeaky as it had sounded before. * Little boy,'
she began, 'I am the ruling genius of Pantomime
Fairyland. You entered my kingdom for the first
time last night how did you enjoy yourself ? '

'Oh,' said Tommy, 'so much; it was splendid,
thank you ! '

She smiled and seemed well pleased. ' I always
call to inquire on a new acquaintance,' she said.
' And so you liked our realms, as every sensible boy
does ? Well, Tommy, it is in my power to reward
you ; every night for a certain time you shall see
again the things you liked best. What did you like
best?'

* The clown part,' said Tommy, promptly.

For it ought to be said here that he was a boy
who had always had a leaning to the kind of practical
fun which he saw carried out by the clown to a pitch
of perfection which at once enchanted and humbled
him. Till that harlequinade, he had thought himself
a funny boy in his way, and it had surprised him that
his family had not found him more amusing than
they did ; but now he felt all at once that he was only
a very humble beginner, and had never understood
what real fun was.

For he had not soared much above hiding behind
doors, and popping out suddenly on a passing servant,
causing her to 'jump' delightfully ; once, indeed, he
used to be able to ' sell ' his family by pretending all

252 TOMMY'S HEKO

manner of calamities, but they had grown so stupid
lately that they never believed "a single word he
said.

No, the clown would not own him as a follower :
he would despise his little attempts at practical jokes.
4 Still,' thought Tommy, ' I can try to be more like
him ; perhaps he will come to hear of me some
day!'

For he had never met anyone he admired half so
much as that clown, who was always in a good temper
(to be sure he had everything his own way but then
he deserved to), always quick and ready with his
excuses ; and if he did run away in times of danger,
it was not because he was really afraid ! Then how
deliciously impudent he was to shopkeepers ! Who
but he would have dared to cheapen a large fish by
making a door mat of it, or to ask the prices of
cheeses on purpose to throw mud at them ? Not that
he couldn't be serious when he chose for once he
unfurled a Union Jack and said something quite
noble, which made everybody clap their hands for two
minutes ; and he told people the best shops to go to
for a quantity of things, and he could not have been
joking then, for they were the same names that were
to be seen on all the hoardings.

This will explain how it was natural that Tommy,
on being asked which part of the pantomime he
preferred, should say, without the slightest hesitation,
' Oh, the clown part ! '

TOMMY'S HEKO 253

The fairy seemed less pleased. ' The clown part ! '
she repeated. 'What, those shop scenes tacked on
right at the end without rhyme or reason ? '

1 Yes,' said Tommy, ' those ones ! '

' And the great wood with the shifting green and
violet lights, and the white bands of fairies dancing
in circles didn't you like them ? '

' Oh yes,' said the candid Tommy ; * pretty welL
I didn't care much for them.'

' Well,' she said, ' but you liked the grand proces-
sions, with all their gorgeous dresses and monstrous
figures, surely you liked them ? '

1 There was such a lot of it,' said Tommy. ' The
clown was the best.'

'And if you could, you'd rather see those last
scenes again than all the rest ? ' she said, frowning a
little.

' Oh, wouldn't I just ! ' said Tommy ; ' but may I
really and truly ? '

' I see you are not one of my boys,' said the Genius
of Pantomime, rather sadly. 'It so happens that
those closing scenes are the very ones I have least
control over they are a part of my kingdom which
has fallen into sad decay and rebellion. But one
thing, Tommy, I can do for you. I will give you
the clown for a friend and companion and much
good may he do you ! '

' But would he come ? ' he asked, hardly daring to
believe in such condescension.

254 TOMMY'S HERO

' He must, if / bid him ; it is for you to make
him feel comfortable and at home with you; the
longer you can keep him the better I shall be
pleased.'

' Oh, how kind of you ! ' he cried ; ' he shall stay
all the holidays. I'd rather have him than anybody
else. What fun we shall have what fun ! '

The green fire faded out and the fairy with it.
He must have fallen asleep again, for, when he opened
his eyes, there was the clown at the foot of his bed
making a face.

' 'Ullo ! ' said the clown ; ' I say, are you the nice
little boy I was told to come and stay with ? '

1 Yes, yes,' said Tommy ; ' I am so glad to see you.
I'm just going to get up.'

' I know you are,' said the clown, and upset him
out of bed into the cold bath.

This he could not help thinking a little bit unkind
of the clown on such a cold morning, particularly as
he followed it up by throwing a hair-brush, two pieces
of soap, and a pair of shoes at him before he could
get out again.

But it woke him, at all events, and he ventured
(with great respect) to throw one of the shoes back ;
it just grazed the clown's top-knot.

To Tommy's alarm, the clown set up a hullaballoo
as if he was mortally injured.

' You cruel, unkind little boy,' he sobbed, ' to play
so rough with a poor clown ! '

TOMMY'S HERO 255

' But you threw them at me first,' pleaded Tommy,
4 and much harder, too ! '

' I'm the oldest,' said the clown, ' and you've got
to make me feel at home, or I shall go away again.'

' I won't do it again, and I'm very sorry,' pleaded
Tommy ; but the clown wouldn't be friends with him
for ever so long, and was only appeased at last by
being allowed to put Tommy upside down in a tall
wicker basket which stood in a corner.

Then he helped Tommy to dress by buttoning all
his clothes the wrong way, and hiding his stockings
and necktie. While he was doing this, Sarah, the
under-nurse, came in, and he strutted up to her and
began to dance quietly. ' Go away, imperence,' said
Sarah.

* Beautiful gal,' said the clown (though Sarah was
extremely plain), ' I love yer ! ' and he put out his
tongue and wagged his head at her until she ran out
of the room in terror.

He looked so absurd that Tommy was delighted
with him again, and yet, when the bell rang for
breakfast, he felt obliged to give his new friend a
hint.

' I say,' he said, ' you don't mind my telling you
but mother's very particular about manners at table ; '
but the clown relieved him instantly by saying that
so was he very particular ; and he slid down the
banisters and turned somersaults in the hall until
Tommy joined him.

256 TOMMY'S HEKO

' I do hope father and mother won't be unkind to
him,' he thought, as he went in, ' because he does
seem to feel things so.'

But nothing could be more polite than the welcome
Tommy's parents gave the stranger, as he came in,
bowing very low, and making a queer little skipping
step. Tommy's mother said she was always glad to
see any friend of her boy's, while his father begged
the clown to make himself quite at home. All he said
was, ' I'm disgusted to make your acquaintance ; ' but
he certainly made himself at home in fact, he was
not quite so particular. about his manners as he had
led Tommy to expect.

He volunteered to divide the sausages and bacon
himself, and did so in such a way that everybody else
got very little and he himself got a great deal. If it
had been anybody else, Tommy would certainly have
called this ' piggish ' ; as it was, he tried to think it
was all fun, and that he himself had no particular
appetite.

His cousin Barbara, a little girl of about his own
age, was staying with them just then, and came down
presently to breakfast. ' Oh, my ! ' said the clown,
laying a great red hand on his heart, ' what a nice
little gal you are, ain't yer? Come and sit by me,
my dear ! '

' No, thank you ; I'm going to sit by Aunt
Mary,' she replied, looking rather shy and sur-
prised.

TOMMY'S HERO 257

' Allow me, missy,' he persisted, ' to pass you the
strawberry -jam and the muffins ! '

* I'll have some jam, thank you,' she replied.

He looked round and chuckled. ' Oh, I say ; that
little gal said " thank you" before she got it ! ' he
exclaimed. * There ain't no muffins, and I've eaten
all the jam ! ' which made Tommy choke with laughter.

Barbara flushed. * That's a very stupid joke,' she
pronounced severely, ' and rude, too ; it's a pity you
weren't taught to behave better when you were
young.'

* So I was ! ' said the clown, with his mouth full.

4 Then you've forgotten it,' she said; 'you're
nothing but a big baby, that you are ! '

' Yah ! ' retorted the clown ; ' so are you a big
baby ! ' which, as even Tommy saw, was not a very
brilliant reply. It was a singular fact about the
clown that the slightest check seemed to take away
all his brilliancy.

' You know you're not telling the truth now,' said
Barbara, so contemptuously, that the clown began to
weep bitterly. ' She says I don't speak the truth ! '
he complained, ' and she knows it will be my aunt's
birthday last Toosday ! '

' You great silly thing, what has that to do with
it ? ' cried Barbara, indignantly. ' What is there to
cry about ? ? which very nearly made Tommy quarrel
with her, for why couldn't she be polite to his
friend ?

258 TOMMY'S HERO

However, the clown soon dried his eyes on the
tablecloth, and recovered his cheerfulness ; and pre-
sently he noticed the Times lying folded by Tommy's
papa's plate.

' Oh, I say, mister,' he said, ' shall I air the news-
paper for yer ? '

' Thank you, if you will,' was the polite reply.

He shook it all out in one great sheet and wrapped
it round him, and waddled about in it until Tommy
nearly rolled off his seat with delight.

' When you've quite done with it ' his father

was saying mildly, as the clown made a great hole in
the middle and thrust his head out of it with a bland
smile.

* I'm only just looking through it,' he explained ;
' you can have it now,' and he rolled it up in a tight
ball and threw it at his host's head.

Breakfast was certainly not such a dull meal as
usual that morning, Tommy thought ; but he wished
his people would show a little more appreciation,
instead of sitting there all stiff and surprised ; he was
afraid the clown would feel discouraged.

When his papa undid the ball, the paper was
found to be torn into long strips, which delighted
Tommy ; but his father, on the other hand, seemed
annoyed, possibly because it was not so easy to read
in that form. Meanwhile, the clown busied himself
in emptying the butter-dish into his pockets, and this
did shock the boy a little, for he knew it was not

TOMMY'S HERO 259

polite to pocket things at meals, and wondered how
he could be so nasty.

Breakfast was over at last, and the clown took
Tommy's arm and walked upstairs to the first floor
with him.

' Who's in there ? ' he asked, as they passed the
spare bedroom.

' Granny,' said the boy; 'she's staying with us;
only she always has breakfast in her room, you
know.'

* Why, you don't mean to say you've got a
granny ! ' cried the clown, with joy ; ' you are a nice
little boy ; now we'll have some fun with her.' Tommy
felt doubtful whether she could be induced to join
them so early in the morning, and said so. * You
knock, and say you've got a present for her if she'll
come out,' suggested the clown.

' But I haven't,' objected Tommy ; ' wouldn't that
be a story ? ' He had unaccountably forgotten his
old fondness for ' sells.'

' Of course it would,' said the clown ; ' I'm always
a tellin' of 'em, I am.'

Tommy was shocked once more, as he realised
that his friend was not a truthful clown. But he
knocked at the door, nevertheless, and asked his
grandmother to come out and see a friend of his.

* Wait one minute, my boy,' she answered, ' and
I'll come out.'

Tommy was surprised to see his companion

s 2

260 TOMMY'S HERO

preparing to lie, face downwards, on the mat just
outside the door.

' Get up,' he said ; ' you'll trip grandma up if you
stay there.'

1 That's what I'm doing it for, stoopid,' said the
clown.

'But it will hurt her,' he cried.

* Nothing hurts old women,' said the clown ; ' I've
tripped up 'undreds of 'em, and I ought to know.'

'Well, you shan't trip up my granny, anyhow,'
said Tommy, stoutly ; for he was not a bad-hearted
boy, and his grandmother had given him a splendid
box of soldiers on Christmas Day. ' Don't come out,
granny; it's a mistake,' he shouted.

The clown rose with a look of disgust.

' Do you call this actin' like a friend to me ? ' he
demanded.

' Well,' said Tommy, apologetically, ' she's my
granny, you see.'

' She ain't my granny, and, if she was, I'd let you
trip her up, I would ; I ain't selfish. I shan't stop
with you any longer.'

'Oh, do,' said Tommy; 'we'll go and play some-
where else.'

( Well,' said the clown, relenting, ' if you're a good
boy you shall see me make a butter- slide in the hall.'

Then Tommy saw how he had wronged him in
thinking he had pocketed the butter out of mere
greediness, and he felt ashamed and penitent ; the

TOMMY'S HERO 261

clown made a beautiful slide, though Tommy wished
he would not insist upon putting all the butter that
was left down his back.

' There's a ring at the bell,' said the clown ; 'I'll
open the door, and you hide and see the fun.'

So Tommy hid himself round a corner as the door
opened.

' Walk in, sir,' said the clown, politely.

' Master Tommy in ? ' said a jolly, hearty voice.
It was dear old Uncle John, who had taken him to the
pantomime the night before. ' I thought I'd look in
and see if he would care to come with me to the

Crystal oh ! ' And there was a scuffling noise

and a heavy bump.

Tommy ran out, full of remorse. Uncle John was
sitting on the tiles rubbing his head, and, oddly
enough, did not look at all funny.

' Oh, uncle,' cried the boy, ' you're not hurt ? I
didn't know it was you ! '

' I'm a bit shaken, my boy, that's all,' said his
uncle ; ' one doesn't come down like a feather at my
age.' And he picked himself slowly up. ' Well, I
must get home again,' he said; 'no Crystal Palace
to-day, Tommy, after this. Good-bye.'

And he went slowly out, leaving Tommy with the
feeling that he had had enough of slides. He even
wiped the flooring clean again with a waterproof and
the clothes-brush, though the clown (who had been
hiding) tried to prevent him.

262 TOMMY'S HEKO

' We ain't 'ad 'arf the fun out of it yet ! ' he com-
plained (he always spoke in rather a common way, as
Tommy began to notice with pain).

' I've had enough,' said Tommy. * It was my
Uncle John who slipped down that time, and he's
hurt, and he'd come to take me to the Crystal
Palace ! '

' Well, he hadn't come to take me,' said the clown ;
* you are stingy about your relations, you are ; you
ain't 'arf a boy for a bit o' fun.'

Tommy felt this rebuke very much, he had hoped
so to gain the clown's esteem ; but he would not give
in, he only suggested humbly that they should go up
into the play-room.

The play-room was at the top of the house, and
Barbara and two little sisters of Tommy's were play-
ing there when they came in, the clown turning in
his toes and making awful faces.

The two little girls ran into a corner, and seemed
considerably frightened by the stranger's appearance,
but Barbara reassured them.

' Don't take any notice,' she said, ' it's only a
horrid friend of Tommy's. He won't interfere with
us.'

1 Oh, Barbara,' the boy protested, ' he's awfully nice
if you only knew him. He can make you laugh. Do
let us play with you. He wants to, and he won't be
rough.'

' Do,' pleaded the clown, * I'll behave so pretty ! '

TOMMY'S HERO 263

' Well,' said Barbara, ' mind you do, then, or you
shan't stop.'

And for a little while he did behave himself.
Tommy showed him his new soldiers, and he seemed
quite interested ; and then he had a ride on the rock-
ing horse, and was sorry when it broke down under
him ; and after that he came suddenly upon a beauti-
ful doll which belonged to the youngest sister.

'Do let me nurse it,' he said, and the little girl
gave it up timidly. Of course he nursed it the wrong
way up, and at last he forgot, and sat down on it, the
head, which was wax, being crushed to pieces !

Tommy was in fits of laughter at the droll face he
made as he held out the crushed doll at arm's length,
and looked at it with one eye shut, exclaiming, * Poor
thing ! what a pity ! I do 'ope I 'aven't made its
'ead ache ! '

But the two little girls were crying bitterly in one
another's arms, and Barbara turned on the clown with
tremendous indignation.

' You did it on purpose, you know you did ! ' she
said.

' Go away, little girl ; don't talk to me ! ' said the
clown, putting Tommy in front of him.

* Tommy,' she said, ' what did you bring your
friend up here for ? He only spoils everything he's
allowed to touch. Take him away ! '

'Barbara,' pleaded Tommy, 'he's a visitor, you
know ! '

264 TOMMY'S HERO

' I don't care,' she replied. ' Mr. Clown, you
shan't stay here ; this is our room, and we don't want
you. Go away ! ' She walked towards him looking
so fierce that he backed hastily. ' Go downstairs,'
she said, pointing to the door. ' You, too, Tommy,
for you encouraged him ! '

' Nyah, nyah, nyah ! ' said the clown, a sound by
which he intended to imitate her anger. ' Oh, please,
I'm going ; remember me to your mother.' And he
left the room, followed rather sadly by Tommy, who
felt that Barbara was angry with him. ' That's a
very disagribble little girl,' remarked the clown, con-
fidentially, when they were safe outside, and Tommy
thought it wiser to agree.

' What have you got in your pockets ? ' he asked,
presently, seeing a hard bulge in his friend's white
trunks.

1 Only some o' your nice soldiers,' said the clown,
and walked into the schoolroom, where there was a
fire burning. * Are they brave ? ' he asked.

' Very,' said Tommy, who had quite persuaded
himself that this was so. ' Look here, we'll have a
battle.' He thought a battle would keep the clown
quiet. ' Here's two cannon and peas, and you shall
be the French and I'll be English.'

' All right,' said the clown, and took his share of
the soldiers and calmly put them all in the middle
of the red-hot coals. ' I want to be quite sure they
can stand fire first,' he explained; and then, as

TOMMY'S HERO 265

they melted, he said, ' There, you see, they're all
running away. I never see such cowards.'

Tommy was in a great rage, and could almost
have cried, if it had not been babyish, for they were
his best regiments which he could see dropping down
in great glittering stars on the ashes below. * That's
a caddish thing to do,' he said, with difficulty ; ' I
didn't give them to you to put in the fire ! '

' Oh, I thought you did,' said the clown, ' I beg
your pardon ; ' and he threw the rest after them as he
spoke.

* You're a beast ! ' cried Tommy, indignantly ; ' I've
done with you, after this.'

' Oh, no, yer ain't,' he returned.

' I have, though,' said Tommy ; ' we're not friends
any longer.'

' All right,' said the clown; ' when I'm not friends
with anyone, I take and use the red-'ot poker to 'em,'
and he put it in the fire to heat as he spoke.

This terrified the boy. It was no use trying
to argue with the clown, and he had seen how he
used a red-hot poker. ' Well, I'll forgive you this
time,' he said hastily; 'let's come away from
here.'

' I tell you what,' said the clown, ' you and me'll
go down in the kitchen and make a pie.'

Tommy forgot his injuries at this delightful idea ;
he knew what the clown's notion of pie-making would
be. ' Yes,' he said eagerly, * that will be jolly ; only

266 TOMMY'S HERO

I don't know,' he added doubtfully, ' if cook will
let us.'

However, the clown soon managed to secure the
kitchen to himself ; he had merely to attempt to kiss
the cook once or twice and throw the best dinner
service at the other servants, and they were left quite
alone to do as they pleased.

What fun it was, to begin with! The clown
brought out a large deep dish, and began by putting
a whole turkey and an unskinned hare in it out of the
larder ; after that he put in sausages, jam, pickled
walnuts, and lemons, and, in short, the first thing
that came to hand.

' It ain't 'arf full yet,' he said at last, as he looked
gravely into the pie.

' No,' said Tommy, sympathetically, ' can't we get
anything else to put in ? '

' The very thing,' cried the clown, ' you're just
about the right size to fill up my ! what a pie it's
going to be, eh ? ' And he caught up his young friend,
just as he was, rammed him into the pie, and poured
sauce on him.

But he kicked and howled until the clown grew
seriously displeased. * Why carn't you lay quiet,' he
said angrily, ' like the turkey does ? you don't deserve
to be put into such a nice pie ! '

'If you make a pie of me,' said Tommy, artfully,
' there'll be nobody to look on and laugh at you, you
know ! '

TOMMY'S HERO 267

' No more there won't,' said the clown, and allowed
him to crawl out, all over sauce. ' It was a pity,' he
declared, ' because he fitted so nicely, and now they
would have to look about for something else ; ' but he
contrived to make a shift with the contents of the
cook's work-basket, which he poured in reels, pin-
cushions, wax, and all. He had tried to put the
kitchen cat in too, but she scratched his hands and
could not be induced to form the finishing touch to
the pie.

How the clown got the paste and rolled it, and
made Tommy in a mess with it, and how the pie was
finished at last, would take too long to tell here ; but
somehow it was not quite such capital fun as he had
expected it seemed to want the pantomime music or
something ; and then Tommy was always dreading
lest the clown should change his mind at the last
minute, and put him in the pie after all.

Even when it was safely in the oven he had
another fear lest he should be made to stay and eat
it, for it had such very peculiar things in it that it
could not be at all nice. Fortunately, as soon as it
was put away the clown seemed to weary of it him-
self.

'Let me and you go and take a walk,' he sug-
gested.

Tommy caught at the proposal, for he was
fast becoming afraid of the clown, and felt really
glad to get him out of the house ; so he got his

268 TOMMY'S HEKO

cap, and the clown put on a brown overcoat and a
tall hat, under which his white and red face
looked stranger than ever, and they sallied forth
together.

Once Tommy would have thought it a high privi-
lege to be allowed to go out shopping with a clown ;
but, if the plain truth must be told, he did not enjoy
himself so very much after all. People seemed to stars
at them so, for one thing, and he felt almost ashamed
of his companion, whose behaviour was outrageously
ridiculous. They went to all the family tradesmen,
to whom Tommy was, of course, well known, and the
clown ivould order the most impossible things, and
say they were for Tommy ! Once he even pushed
him into a large draper's shop, full of pretty and con-
temptuous young ladies, and basely left him to explain
his presence as he could.

But it was worse when they happened to meet
an Italian boy with a tray of plaster images on his
head.

' Here's a lark ! ' said the clown, and elbowed
Tommy against him in such a way that the tray
slipped and all the images fell to the ground with
a crash.

It was certainly amusing to see all the pieces
rolling about ; but, while Tommy was still laughing,
the boy began to howl and denounce him to the
crowd which gathered round them. The crowd
declared that it was a shame, and that Tommy ought

TOMMY'S HERO 269

to be made to pay for it ; and no one said so more
loudly and indignantly than the clown !

Before he could escape he had to give his father's
name and address, and promise that he would pay for
the damage, after which he joined the clown (who had
strolled on) with a heavy heart, for he knew that that
business would stop all his pocket-money for years
after he was grown up ! He even ventured to re-
proach his friend : ' I shan't sneak of you, of course,
he said, ' but you know you did it ! ' The clown's
only answer to this was a reproof for telling wicked
stories.

At last they passed a confectioner's, and the clown
suddenly remembered that he was hungry, so they
went in, and he borrowed sixpence from Tommy,
which he spent in buns.

He ate them all himself slowly, and was so very
quiet and well-behaved all the time that Tommy
hoped he was sobering down. They had gone a little
way from the shop when he found that the clown was
eating tarts.

* You might give me one,' said Tommy; and the
clown, after looking over his shoulder, actually gave
him all he had left, filling his pocket with them, in fact.

' I never saw you buy them,' he said wonderingly,
which the clown said was very peculiar ; and just then
an attendant came up breathlessly.

' You forgot to pay for those tarts,' she said.

The clown replied that he never took pastry. She

270 TOMMY'S HERO

insisted that they were gone, and he must have taken
them.

'It wasn't me, please,' said the clown; 'it was
this little boy done it. Why, he's got a jam tart in
his pocket now. Where's a policeman ? '

Tommy was so thunderstruck by this treachery
that he could say nothing. It was only what he
might have expected, for had not the clown served the
pantaloon exactly the same the night before ? But
that did not make the situation any the funnier now,
particularly as the clown made such a noise that two
real policemen came hurrying up.

Tommy did not wait for them. No one held him,
and he ran away at the top of his speed. What a
nightmare sort of run it was ! the policemen chasing
him, and the clown urging them on at the top of his
voice. Everybody he passed turned round and ran
after him too.

Still he kept ahead. He was surprised to find
how fast he could run, and all at once he remembered
that he was running the opposite way from home.
Quick as thought he turned up the first street he came
to, hoping to throw them off the scent and get home
by a back way.

For the moment he thought he had got rid of
them ; but just as he stopped to take breath, they all
came whooping and hallooing round the corner after
him ; and he had to scamper on, panting, and
sobbing, and staggering, and almost out of his mind

TOMMY'S HERO 271

with fright. If he could only get home first, and tell
his mother ! But they were gaining on him, and the
clown was leading and roaring with delight as he
drew closer and closer. He came to a point where
two roads met. It was round another corner, and
they could not see him. He ran down one, and, to
his immense relief, found they had taken the other.
He was saved, for his house was quite near now.

He tried to hasten, but the pavement was all
slushy and slippery, and his boots felt heavier and
heavier, and, to add to his misery, the pursuers had
found out their mistake. As he looked back, he
could see the clown galloping round the corner and
hear his yell of discovery.

' Oh, fairy, dear fairy,' he gasped, ' save me this
time. I do like your part best, now ! '

She must have heard him and taken pity, for in a
second he had reached his door, and it flew open
before him. He was not safe even yet, so he rushed
upstairs to his bedroom, and bounced, just as he was,
into his bed.

' If they come up I'll pretend I'm ill,' he thought,
as he covered his head with the bedclothes.

They were coming up, all of them. There was a
great trampling on the stairs. He heard the clown
officiously shouting : ' This way, Mr. Policeman, sir ! '
and then a tremendous battering at his door.

He lay there shivering under the blankets.

' Perhaps they'll think the door's locked, and go

272 TOMMY'S HERO

away,' he tried to hope, and the battering went on not
quite so violently.

' Master Tommy ! Master Tommy ! ' It was
Sarah's voice. They had got her to come up and
tempt him out. Well, she wouldn't, then !

And then oh ! horror ! the door was thrown
open. He sprang out of bed in an agony.

' Sarah ! Sarah ! keep them out,' he gasped. ' Don't
let them take me away ! '

* Lor', Master Tommy ! keep who out ? ' said Sarah,
wonder ingly.

' The the clown and the policemen,' he said. * I
know they're behind the door.'

' There, there ! ' said Sarah ; ' why, you ain't done
dreaming yet. That's what comes of going out to these
late pantomimes. Eub your eyes ; it's nearly eight
o'clock.'

Tommy could have hugged her. It was only a
dream after all, then. As he stood there, shiver-
ing in his nightgown, the nightmare clown began
to melt away, though even yet some of the adventures
he had gone through seemed too vivid to be quite
imaginary.

Singularly enough, his Uncle John actually did call
that morning, and to take him to the Crystal Palace,
too ; and as there was no butter- slide for him to fall
down on, they were able to go. On the way Tommy
told him all about his unpleasant dream.

TOMMY'S HEEO 273

' I shall always hate a clown after this, uncle,' he
said, as he concluded.

' My good Tommy,' said his uncle, 'when you are
fortunate enough to dream a dream with a moral in
it, don't go and apply it the wrong way up. The real
clown, like a sensible man, keeps his fun for the
place where it is harmless and appreciated, and away
from the pantomime conducts himself like any
other respectable person. Now, your dream clown,
Tommy '

' I know,' said Tommy, meekly. ' Should you
think the pantomime was good here, Uncle John ? '

274

A CANINE ISHMAEL
(FEOM THE NOTES OF A DINER-OUT)

' TELL me,' she said suddenly, with a pretty imperi-
ousness that seemed to belong to her, ' are you fond
of dogs?' How we arrived at the subject I forget
now, but I know she had just been describing how
a collie at a dog- show she had visited lately had
suddenly thrown his forepaws round her neck in a
burst of affection a proceeding which, in my own
mind (although I prudently kept this to myself),
I considered less astonishing than she appeared to do.

For I had had the privilege of taking her in to
dinner, and the meal had not reached a very advanced
stage before I had come to the conclusion that she
was the most charming, if not the loveliest, person
I had ever met.

It was fortunate for me that I was honestly able
to answer her question in a satisfactory manner, for,
had it been otherwise, I doubt whether she would
have deigned to bestow much more of her conversation
upon me.

1 Then I wonder,' she said next, meditatively, ' if

A CANINE ISHMAEL 275

you would care to hear about a dog that belonged
to to someone I know very well ? Or would it bore
you?'

I am very certain that if she had volunteered to
relate the adventures of Telemachus, or the history
of the Thirty Years' War, I should have accepted the
proposal with a quite genuine gratitude. As it was,
I made it sufficiently plain that I should care very
much indeed to hear about that dog.

She paused for a moment to reject an unfortunate
entree (which I confess to doing my best to console),
and then she began her story. I shall try to set it
down as nearly as possible in her own words, although
I cannot hope to convey the peculiar charm and
interest that she gave it for me. It was not, I need
hardly say, told all at once, but was subject to the
inevitable interruptions which render a dinner -table
intimacy so piquantly precarious.

* This dog,' she began quietly, without any air of
beginning a story, ' this dog was called Pepper. He
was not much to look at rather a rough, mongrelly
kind of animal ; and he and a young man had kept
house together for a long time, for the young man
was a bachelor and lived in chambers by himself.
He always used to say that he didn't like to gee
engaged to anyone, because he was sure it would put
Pepper out so fearfully. However, he met somebody
at last who made him forget about Pepper, and he
proposed and was accepted and then, you know,'

276 A CANINE ISHMAEL

she added, as a little dimple came in her cheek, * he
had to go home and break the news to the dog.'

She had just got to this point, when, taking
advantage of a pause she made, the man on her other
side (who was, I daresay, strictly within his rights,
although I remember at the time considering him
a pushing beast) struck in with some remark which
she turned to answer, leaving me leisure to reflect.

I was feeling vaguely uncomfortable about this
story ; something, it would be hard to say what, in
her way of mentioning Pepper's owner made me
suspect that he was more than a mere acquaintance
of hers.

Was it she, then, who was responsible for ? It

was no business of mine, of course ; I had never met
her in my life till that evening but I began to be
impatient to hear the rest.

And at last she turned to me again : ' I hope you
haven't forgotten that I was in the middle of a story.
You haven't ? And you would really like me to go
on ? Well, then oh yes, when Pepper was told, he
was naturally a little annoyed at first. I daresay he
considered he ought to have been consulted previously.
But, as soon as he had seen the lady, he withdrew
all opposition which his master declared was a tre-
mendous load off his mind, for Pepper was rather
a difficult dog, and slow as a rule to take strangers
into his affections, a little snappy and surly, and very
easily hurt or offended. Don't you know dogs who

A CANINE ISHMAEL 277

are sensitive like that ? I do, and I'm always so
sorry for them they feel little things so much, and
one never can find out what's the matter, and have it
out with them ! Sometimes it's shyness ; once I had
a dog who was quite painfully shy self-consciousness
it was really, I suppose, for he always fancied every-
body was looking at him, and often when people were
calling he would come and hide his face in the folds
of my dress till they had gone it was too ridiculous !
But about Pepper. He was devoted to his new
mistress from the very first. I am not sure that she
was quite so struck with him, for he was not at all
a lady's dog, and his manners had been very much
neglected. Still, she came quite to like him in time ;
and when they were married, Pepper went with them
for the honeymoon.'

' When they were married ! ' I glanced at the card
which lay half-hidden by her plate. Surely Miss So-
and-so was written on it ? yes, it was certainly
' Miss.' It was odd that such a circumstance should
have increased my enjoyment of the story, perhaps
but it undoubtedly did.

' After the honeymoon,' my neighbour continued,
' they came to live in the new house, which was quite
a tiny one, and Pepper was a very important person-
age in it indeed. He had his mistress all to himself
for the greater part of most days, as his master had
to be away in town ; so she used to talk to him inti-
mately, and tell him more than she would have

278 A CANINE ISHMAEL

thought of confiding to most people. Sometimes,
when she thought there was no fear of callers coming,
she would make him play, and this was quite a new
sensation for Pepper, who was a serious-minded ani-
mal, and took very solemn views of life. At first he
hadn't the faintest idea what was expected of him ; it
must have been rather like trying to romp with a
parish beadle, he was so intensely respectable ! But
as soon as he once grasped the notion and understood
that no liberty was intended, he lent himself to it
readily enough and learnt to gambol quite creditably.
Then he was made much of in all sorts of ways ; she
washed him twice a week with her very own hands
which his master would never have dreamt of doing
and she was always trying new ribbons on his com-
plexion. That rather bored him at first, but it ended
by making him a little conceited about his appearance.
Altogether he was dearly fond of her, and I don't be-
lieve he had ever been happier in all his life than he
was in those days. Only, unfortunately, it was all too
good to last.'

Here I had to pass olives or something to some-
body, and the other man, seeing his chance, and, to
do him justice, with no idea that he was interrupting
a story, struck in once more, so that the history of
Pepper had to remain in abeyance for several minutes.

My uneasiness returned. Could there be a mis-
take about that name-card after all? Cards do get
re-arranged sometimes, and she seemed to know that

A CANINE ISHMAEL 279

young couple so very intimately. I tried to remem-
ber whether I had been introduced to her as a Miss
or Mrs. So-and-so, but without success. There is
some fatality which generally distracts one's attention
at the critical moment of introduction, and in this
case it was perhaps easily accounted for. My turn
came again, and she took up her tale once more. ' I
think when I left off I was saying that Pepper's hap-
piness was too good to last. And so it was. For his
mistress was ill, and, though he snuffed and scratched
and whined at the door of her room for ever so long,
they wouldn't let him in. But he managed to slip in
one day somehow, and jumped up on her lap and
licked her hands and face, and almost went out of his
mind with joy at seeing her again. Only (I told you
he was a sensitive dog) it gradually struck him that
she was not quite so pleased to see him as usual and
presently he found out the reason. There was an-
other animal there, a new pet, which seemed to take
up a good deal of her attention. Of course you
guess what that was but Pepper had never seen a
baby before, and he took it as a personal slight and
was dreadfully offended. He simply walked straight
out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen, where
he stayed for days.

'I don't think he enjoyed his sulk much, poor
doggie ; perhaps he had an idea that when they saw
how much he took it to heart they would send the
baby away. But as time went on and this didn't

280 A CANINE ISHMAEL

seem to occur to them, he decided to come out of the
sulks and look over the matter, and he came back
quite prepared to resume the old footing. Only every-
thing was different. No one seemed to notice that he
was in the room now, and his mistress never invited
him to have a game ; she even forgot to have him
washed and one of his peculiarities was that he had
no objection to soap and warm water. The worst of
it was, too, that before very long the baby followed
him into the sitting-room, and, do what he could, he
couldn't make the stupid little thing understand that
it had no business there. If you think of it, a baby
must strike a dog as a very inferior little animal : it
can't bark (well, yes, it can howl), but it's no good
whatever with rats, and yet everybody makes a tre-
mendous fuss about it ! The baby got all poor
Pepper's bows now; and his mistress played games
with it, though Pepper felt he could have done it ever
so much better, but he was never allowed to join in.
So he used to lie on a rug and pretend he didn't
mind, though, really, I'm certain he felt it horribly.
I always believe, you know, that people never give
dogs half credit enough for feeling things, don't you ?
' Well, at last came the worst indignity of all ;
Pepper was driven from his rug his own particular
rug to make room for the baby ; and when he had
got away into a corner to cry quietly, all by himself,
that wretched baby came and crawled after him and
pulled his tail !

A CANINE ISHMAEL 281

' He always had been particular about his tail, and
never allowed anybody to touch it but very intimate
friends, and even then under protest, so you can
imagine how insulted he felt'.

It was too much for him, and he lost the last scrap
of temper he had. They said he bit the baby, and
I'm afraid he did though not enough really to hurt
it ; still, it howled fearfully, of course, and from that
moment it was all over with poor Pepper he was
a ruined dog !

' When his master came home that evening he was
told the whole story. Pepper's mistress said she
would be ever so sorry to part with him, but, after his
misbehaviour, she should never know a moment's
peace until he was out of the house it really wasn't
safe for baby !

' And his master was sorry, naturally ; but I sup-
pose he was beginning rather to like the baby himself,
and so the end of it was that Pepper had to go. They
did all they could for him ; found him a comfortable
home, with a friend who was looking out for a good
house-dog, and wasn't particular about breed, and,
after that, they heard nothing of him for a long while.
And, when they did hear, it was rather a bad report :
the friend could do nothing with Pepper at all ; he had
to tie him up in the stable, and then he snapped at
everyone who came near, and howled all night they
were really almost afraid of him.

' So when Pepper's mistress heard that, she felt

282 A CANINE ISHMAEL

more thankful than ever that the dog had been sent
away, and tried to think no more about him. She
had quite forgotten all about it, when, one day, a new
nursemaid, who had taken the baby out for an airing,
came back with a terrible account of a savage dog
which had attacked them, and leaped up at the
perambulator so persistently that it was as much as
she could do to drive it away. And even then
Pepper's mistress did not associate the dog with him ;
she thought he had been destroyed long ago.

' But the next time the nurse went out with the
baby she took a thick stick with her, in case the dog
should come again. And no sooner had she lifted the
perambulator over the step, than the dog did come
again, exactly as if he had been lying in wait for them
ever since outside the gate.

* The nurse was a strong country girl, with plenty
of pluck, and as the dog came leaping and barking
about in a very alarming way, she hit him as hard as
she could on his head. The wonder is she did not
kill him on the spot, and, as it was, the blow turned
him perfectly giddy and silly for a time, and he ran
round and round in a dazed sort of way do you think
you could lower that candle-shade just a little ?
Thanks ! ' she broke off suddenly, as I obeyed. ' Well,
she was going to strike again, when her mistress
rushed out, just in time to stop her. For, you see, she
had been watching at the window, and although the
poor beast was miserably thin, and rough, and

A CANINE ISHMAEL 283

neglected-looking, she knew at once that it must be
Pepper, and that he was not in the least mad or
dangerous, but only trying his best to make his peace
with the baby. Very likely his dignity or his con-
science or something wouldn't let him come back
quite at once, you know ; and perhaps he thought he
had better get the baby on his side first. And then
all at once, his mistress I heard all this through
her, of course his mistress suddenly remembered
how devoted Pepper had been to her, and how fond she
had once been of him, and when she saw him stand-
ing, stupid and shivering, there, her heart softened to
him, and she went to make it up with him, and tell
him that he was forgiven and should come back and
be her dog again, just as in the old days ! '

Here she broke off for a moment. I did not venture
to look at her, but I thought her voice trembled a
little when she spoke again. ' I don't quite know why
I tell you all this. There was a time when I never
could bear the end of it myself,' she said ; ' but I
have begun, and I will finish now. Well, Pepper's
mistress went towards him, and called him ; but
whether he was still too dizzy to quite understand who
she was, or whether his pride came uppermost again,
poor dear ! I don't know but he gave her just one
look (she says she will never forget it never ; it went
straight to her heart), and then he walked very slowly
and deliberately away.

' She couldn't bear it ; she followed ; she felt she

284 A CANINE ISHMAEL

simply must make him understand how very, very sorry
she was for him ; but the moment he heard her he
began to run faster and faster, until he was out of
reach and out of sight, and she had to come back. I
know she was crying bitterly by that time.'

* And he never came back again ? ' I asked, after
a silence.

* Never again ! ' she said softly ; ' that was the
very last they ever saw or heard of him. And and
I've always loved every dog since for Pepper's sake ! '

* I'm almost glad he did decline to come back,' I
declared; 'it served his mistress right she didn't
deserve anything else ! '

' Ah, I didn't want you to say that ! ' she protested ;
' she never meant to be so unkind it was all for the
baby's sake ! '

I was distinctly astonished, for all her sympathy
in telling the story had seemed to lie in the other
direction.

' You don't mean to say,' I cried involuntarily,
4 that you can find any excuses for her ? I did not
expect you would take the baby's part ! '

' But I did,' she confessed, with lowered eyes ' I
did take the baby's part it was all my doing that
Pepper was sent away I have been sorry enough for
it since ! '

It was her own story she had been telling at
second-hand after all and she was not Miss So-and-
so ! I had entirely forgotten the existence of any

A CANINE ISHMAEL 285

other members of the party but our two selves, but
at the moment of this discovery which was doubly
painful I was recalled by a general rustle to the fact
that we were at a dinner-party, and that our hostess
had just given the signal.

As I rose and drew back my chair to allow my
neighbour to pass, she raised her eyes for a moment
and said almost meekly :

' I was the baby, you see ! '

286

MARJORY

INTBODUCTION

I HAVE thought myself justified in printing the folio wing
narrative, found among the papers of my dead friend,
Douglas Cameron, who left me discretion to deal with
them as I saw fit. It was written indeed, as its open-
ing words imply, rather for his own solace and relief
than with the expectation that it would be read by
any other. But, painful and intimate as it is in parts,
I cannot think that any harm will be done by printing
it now, with some necessary alterations in the names
of the characters chiefly concerned.

Before, however, leaving the story to speak for
itself, I should like to state, in justice to my friend,
that during the whole of my acquaintance with him,
which began in our college days, I never saw anything
to indicate the morbid timidity and weakness of
character that seem to have marked him as a boy.
Reserved he undoubtedly was, with a taste for solitude
that made him shrink from the society of all but a
small circle, and with a sensitive and shy nature
which prevented him from doing himself complete

MARJORY 287

justice ; but he was very capable of holding his own on
occasion, and in his disposition, as I knew it, there
was no want of moral courage, nor any trace of
effeminacy.

How far he may have unconsciously exaggerated
such failings in the revelation of his earlier self, or
what the influence of such an experience as he relates
may have done to strengthen the moral fibre, are
points on which I can express no opinion, any more
than I can pledge myself to the credibility of the
supernatural element of his story.

It may be that only in the boy's overwrought
imagination, the innocent Child-spirit came back to
complete the work of love and pity she had begun in
life ; but I know that he himself believed other-
wise, and, truly, if those who leave us are permitted
to return at all, it must be on some such errand as
Marjory's.

Douglas Cameron's life was short, and in it, so
far as I am aware, he met no one who at all replaced
his lost ideal. Of this I cannot be absolutely certain,
for he was a reticent man in such matters; but I
think, had it been so, I should have known of it, for
we were very close friends. One would hardly expect,
perhaps, that an ordinary man would remain faithful
all his days to the far-off memory of a child-love ; but
then Cameron was not quite as other men, nor were
his days long in the land.

And if this ideal of his was never dimmed for him

288 MARJORY

by some grosser, and less spiritual, passion, who shall
say that he may not have been a better and even a
happier man in consequence.

It is not without an effort that I have resolved to
break, in the course of this narrative, the reserve
maintained for nearly twent} 7 years. But the chief
reason for silence is removed now that all those are
gone who might have been pained or harmed by what
I have to tell, and, though I shrink still from reviving
certain memories that are fraught with pain, there
are others associated therewith which will surely bring
consolation and relief.

I must have been about eleven at the time I am
speaking of, and the change which for good or ill
comes over most boys' lives had not yet threatened
mine. I had not left home for school, nor did it seem
at all probable then that I should ever do so.

When I read (I was a great reader) of Dotheboys
Hall and Salem House a combination of which
establishments formed my notion of school-life it
was with no more personal interest than a cripple
might feel in perusing the notice of an impending
conscription ; for from the battles of school-life I was
fortunately exempted.

I was the only son of a widow, and we led a
secluded life in a London suburb. My mother took
charge of my education herself, and, as far as mere
acquirements went, I was certainly not behind other

MAEJORY 289

l>oys of my age. I owe too much to that loving and
careful training, Heaven knows, to think of casting
any reflection upon it here, but my surroundings were
such as almost necessarily to exclude all bracing and
hardening influences.

My mother had few friends ; we were content with
our own companionship, and of boys I knew and
cared to know nothing ; in fact, I regarded a strange
boy with much the same unreasoning aversion as
many excellent women feel for the most ordinary cow.

I was happy to think that I should never be called
upon to associate with them ; by-and-by, when I
outgrew my mother's teaching, I was to have a tutor,
perhaps even go to college in time, and when I became
a man I was to be a curate and live with my mother
in a clematis -covered cottage in some pleasant village.

She would often dwell on this future with a tender
prospective pride ; she spoke of it on the very day
that saw it shattered for ever.

For there came a morning when, on going to her
with my lessons for the day, I was gladdened with an
unexpected holiday. I little knew then though I
was to learn it soon enough that my lessons had
been all holidays, or that on that day they were to end
for ever.

My mother had had one or two previous attacks
of an illness which seemed to prostrate her for a short
period, and as she soon regained her ordinary health,
I did not think they could be of a serious nature.

290 MARJORY

So I devoted ray holiday cheerfully enough to the
illumination of a text, on the gaudy colouring of
which I found myself gazing two days later with a
dull wonder, as at the work of a strange hand in a
long dead past, for the boy who had painted that was
a happy boy who had a mother, and for two endless
days I had been alone.

Those days, and many that followed, come back
to me now but vaguely. I passed them mostly in
a state of blank bewilderment caused by the double
sense of sameness and strangeness in everything
around me ; then there were times when this gave
way to a passionate anguish which refused all attempts
at comfort, and times even but very, very seldom
when I almost forgot what had happened to me.

Our one servant remained in the house with me,
and a friend -and neighbour of my mother's was
constant in her endeavours to relieve my loneliness ;
but I was impatient of them, I fear, and chiefly
anxious to be left alone to indulge my melancholy
unchecked.

I remember how, as autumn began, and leaf after
leaf fluttered down from the trees in our little garden,
I watched them fall with a heavier heart, for they
had known my mother, and now they, too, were
deserting me.

This morbid state of mind had lasted quite long
enough when my uncle, who was my guardian, saw
fit to put a summary end to it by sending me to-

MAKJOKY 291

school forthwith ; he would have softened the change
for me by taking me to his own home first, but there
was illness of some sort there, and this was out of the
question.

I was neither sorry nor glad when I heard of it,
for all places were the same to me just then ; only,
as the time drew near, I began to regard the future
with a growing dread.

The school was at some distance from London,
and my uncle took me down by rail ; but the only
fact I remember connected with the journey is that
there was a boy in the carriage with us who cracked
walnuts all the way, and I wondered if he was going
to school too, and concluded that he was not, or he
would hardly eat quite so many walnuts.

Later we were passing through some wrought-iron
gates, and down an avenue of young chestnuts, which
made a gorgeous autumn canopy of scarlet, amber,
and orange, up to a fine old red-brick house, with a.
high-pitched roof, and a cupola in which a big belL
hung, tinted a warm gold by the afternoon sun.

This was my school, and it did not look so very
terrible after all. There was a big bow-window by the
pillared portico, and, looking timidly in, I saw a girl
of about my own age sitting there, absorbed in the
book she was reading, her long brown hair drooping
over her cheek and the hand on which it rested.

She glanced up at the sound of the door-bell, and
I felt her eyes examining me seriously and critically,

u 2

292 MARJOKY

and then I forgot everything but the fact that I was
about to be introduced to my future schoolmaster, the
Eev. Basil Dering.

This was less of an ordeal than I had expected ;
he had a strong, massively-cut, leonine face, free and
abundant white hair, streaked with dark grey, but
there was a kind light in his eyes as I looked up
at them, and the firm mouth could smile, I found,
pleasantly enough.

Mrs. Bering seemed younger, and was handsome,
with a certain stateliness and decision of manner
which put me less at my ease, and I was relieved to
be told I might say good-bye to my uncle, and wander
about the grounds as I liked.

I was not surprised to pass through an empty
schoolroom, and to descend by some steep stairs to
a deserted playground, for we had been already told
that the Michaelmas holidays were not over, and
that the boys would not return for some days to come.

It gave me a kind of satisfaction to think of my
resemblance, just then, to my favourite David Copper-
field, but I was to have a far pleasanter companion
than poor lugubrious, flute-tootling Mr. Mell, for as I
paced the damp paths paved with a mosaic of russet
and yellow leaves, I heard light footsteps behind me,
and turned to find myself face to face with the girl I
had seen at the window.

She stood there breathless for an instant, for she
had hurried to overtake me, and against a background

MAKJOKY 293

of crimson creepers I saw the brilliant face, with its
soft but fearless brown eyes, small straight nose,
spirited mouth, and crisp wavy golden-brown hair,
which I see now almost as distinctly as I write.

* You're the new boy,' she said at length. 'I've
come out to make you feel more at home. I suppose
you don't feel quite at home just yet ? '

' Not quite, thank you,' I said, lifting my cap with
ceremony, for I had been taught to be particular
about my manners ; ' I have never been to school
before, you see, Miss Dering.'

I think she was a little puzzled by so much polite-
ness. ' I know,' she said softly ; ' mother told me
about it, and I'm very sorry. And I'm called Marjory,
generally. Shall you like school, do you think ? '

' I might,' said I, * if if it wasn't for the boys ! '

' Boys aren't bad,' she said ; * ours are rather
nice, I think. But perhaps you don't know many ? '

' I know one,' I replied.

' How old is he ? ' she wished to know.

' Not very old about three, I think,' I said. I
had never wished till then that my only male ac-
quaintance had been of less tender years, but I felt
now that he was rather small, and saw that Marjory
was of the same opinion.

' Why, he's only a baby ! ' she said ; ' I thought
you meant a real boy. And is that all the boys you
know ? Are you fond of games ? '

' Some games very,' said I.

294 MAKJOKY

* What's your favourite game ? ' she demanded.

' Bezique,' I answered, ' or draughts.'

' I meant outdoor games ; draughts are indoor
games is indoor games, I mean no, are an indoor
game and that doesn't sound grammar ! But haven't
you ever played cricket ? Not ever, really ? I like it
dreadfully myself, only I'm not allowed to play with
the boys, and I'm sure I can bat well enough for the
second eleven Cartwright said I could last term
and I can bowl round-hand, and it's all no use, just
because I was born a girl ! Wouldn't you like a game
at something? They haven't taken in the croquet
hoops yet ; shall we play at that ? '

But again I had to confess my ignorance of what
was then the popular garden game.

'What do you generally do to amuse yourself,
then ? ' she inquired.

'I read, generally, or paint texts or outlines.
Sometimes ' (I thought this accomplishment would
surely appeal to her) ' sometimes I do woolwork ! '

' I don't think I would tell the boys that,' she
advised rather gravely ; she evidently considered
me a very desperate case. ' It's such a pity, your not
knowing any games. Suppose I taught you croquet,
now ? It would be something to go on with, and
you'll soon learn if you pay attention and do exactly
what I tell you.'

I submitted myself meekly to her direction, and
Marjory enjoyed her office of instructress for a time,

MARJOEY 295

until my extreme slowness wore out her patience, and
she began to make little murmurs of disgust, for
which she invariably apologised. ' That's enough for
to-day ! ' she said at last, ' I'll take you again to-
morrow. But you really must try and pick up games,
Cameron, or you'll never be liked. Let me see, I
wonder if there's time to teach you a little football.
I think I could do that.'

Before she could make any further arrangements
the tea-bell rang, but when I lay down that night in
my strange cold bed, hemmed round by other beds,
which were only less formidable than if they had been
occupied, I did not feel so friendless as I might have
done, and dreamed all night that Marjory was teaching
me something I understood to be cricket, which, how-
ever, was more like a bloated kind of backgammon.

The next day Marjory was allowed to go out walk-
ing with me, and I came home feeling that I had
known her for quite a long time, while her manner to
me had acquired a tone even more protecting than
before, and she began to betray an anxiety as to my
school prospects which filled me with uneasiness.

' I am so afraid the boys won't like the way you
talk,' she said on one occasion.

' I used to be told I spoke very correctly,' I said,
verdantly enough.

'But not like boys talk. You see, Cameron, I
ought to know, with such a lot of them about. I tell
you what I could do, though I could teach you most

296 MAKJOKY

of their words only I must run and ask mother first
if I may. Teaching slang isn't the same as using it
on my own account, is it ? '

Marjory darted off impulsively to ask leave, to-
return presently with a slow step and downcast face.
* I mayn't,' she announced. ' Mother says " Certainly
not," so there's an end of that ! Still, I think myself
it's a decided pity.'

And more than once that day she would observe,,
as if to herself, * I do wish they had let him come to
school in different collars ! '

I knew that these remarks, and others of a similar
tendency, were prompted by her interest in my welfare,
and I admired her too heartily already to be offended
by them : still, I cannot say they added to my peace of
mind.

And on the last evening of the holidays she said
' Good-night ' to me with some solemnity. * Every-
thing will be different after this,' she said ; * I shan't
be able to see nearly so much of you, because I'm not
allowed to be much with the boys. But I shall be
looking after you all the time, Cameron, and seeing
how you get on. And oh ! I do hope you will try to
be a popular kind of boy ! '

I'm afraid I must own that this desire of Marjory's
was not realised. I do not know that I tried to be
and I certainly was not a popular boy.

The other boys, I now know, were by no means

MARJORY 297

bad specimens of the English schoolboy, as will be
evident when I state that, for a time, my deep
mourning was held by them to give me a claim to
their forbearance.

But I had an unfortunate tendency to sudden
floods of tears (apparently for no cause whatever,
really from some secret spring of association, such as-
I remember was touched when I first found myself
learning Latin from the same primer over which my
mother and I had puzzled together), and these out-
bursts at first aroused my companions' contempt, and
finally their open ridicule.

I could not conceal my shrinking dislike to their
society, which was not calculated to make them more
favourably disposed towards me ; while my tastes,
my expressions, my ways of looking at things, were
all at total variance with their own standards.

The general disapproval might well have shown
itself in a harsher manner than that of merely
ignoring my existence and it says much for the tone
of the school that it did not ; unfortunately, I felt
their indifference almost as keenly as I had dreaded
their notice.

From my masters I met with more favour, for
I had been thoroughly well grounded, and found,
besides, a temporary distraction in my school-work ;
but this was hardly likely to render me more beloved
by my fellows, and so it came to pass that every day
saw my isolation more complete.

298 MARJORY

Something, however, made me anxious to hide
this from Marjory's eyes, and whenever she happened
to be looking on at us in the school grounds or the
playing fields, I made dismal attempts to appear on
terms of equality with the rest, and would hang
about a group with as much pretence of belonging to
it as I thought at all prudent.

If she had had more opportunities of questioning
me, she would have found me out long before ; as it
was, the only occasion on which we were near one
another was at the weekly drawing lesson, when,
although she drew less and talked more than the
Professor quite approved of, she was obliged to re-
strict herself to a conversation which did not admit
of confidences.

But this negative neutral-tinted misery was not
to last ; I was harmless enough, but then to some
natures nothing is so offensive as inoffensiveness.
My isolation was certain to raise me up an enemy in
time, and he came in the person of one Clarence
Orrnsby.

He was a sturdy, good-locmng fellow, about two
years older than myself, good at games, and, though
not brilliant in other respects, rather idle than dull.
He was popular in the school, and I believe his general
disposition was by no means bad ; but there must
have been some hidden flaw in his nature which
might never have disclosed itself for any other but
me.

MAEJORY 299

For me he had displayed, almost from the first,
one of those special antipathies that want but little
excuse to ripen into hatred. My personal appearance
I had the misfortune to be a decidedly plain boy-
happened to be particularly displeasing to him, and,
as he had an unsparing tongue, he used it to cover
me with ridicule, until gradually, finding that I did
not retaliate, he indulged in acts of petty oppression
which, though not strictly bullying, were even more
harassing and humiliating.

I suspect now that if I had made ever so slight
a stand at the outset, I should have escaped further
molestation, but I was not pugnacious by nature, and
never made the experiment ; partly, probably, from a
theory on which I had been reared, that all violence
was vulgar, but chiefly from a tendency, unnatural
in one of my age and sex, to find a sentimental
satisfaction in a certain degree of unhappiness.

So that I can neither pity myself nor expect pity
from others for woes which were so essentially my
own creation, though they resulted, alas ! in misery
that was real enough.

It was inevitable that quick- sighted Marjory should
discover the subjection into which I had fallen, and
her final enlightenment was brought about in this
manner. Ormsby and I were together alone, shortly
before morning school, and he came towards me with
an exercise of mine from which he had just been
copying his 'own, for we were in the same classes,

300 MAEJOKY

despite the difference in our ages, and he was in the
habit of profiting thus by my industry.

' Thanks, Cameron,' he said, with a sweetness
which I distrusted, for he was not as a rule so lavish
in his gratitude. 'I've copied out that exercise of
yours, but it's written so beastly badly that you'd
better do it over again.'

With which he deliberately tore the page he had
been copying from to scraps, which he threw in my
face, and strolled out down to the playground.

I was preparing submissively to do the exercise
over again as well as I could in the short time that
was left, when I was startled by a low cry of in-
dignation, and, looking round, saw Marjory standing
in the doorway, and knew by her face that she had
seen all.

'Has Ormsby done that to you before?' she
inquired.

' Once or twice he has,' said I.

' And you let him ! ' she cried. ' Oh, Cameron ! '

' What can I do ?' I said.

' I know what I would do,' she replied. ' I would
slap his face, or pinch him. . I wouldn't put up with
it!'

'Boys don't slap one another, or pinch,' I said,
not displeased to find a weak place in her knowledge
of us.

' Well, they do something \ ' she said ; ' a real boy
would. But I don't think you are a real boy, Cameron.

MABJOBY 301

Til show you what to do. Where's the exercise that
that pig copied ? Ah ! I see it. And now look ! '
(Here she tore his page as he had torn mine.)

' Now for an envelope ! ' and from the Doctor's
own desk she took an envelope, in which she placed
the fragments, and wrote on the outside in her round,
childish hand : ' With Marjory's compliments, for
being a bully.'

' He won't do that again,' she said gleefully.

' He'll do worse,' I said in dismay ; ' I shall
have to pay for it. Marjory, why didn't you leave
things alone ? I didn't complain you know I
didn't.'

She turned upon me, as well she might, in
supreme disdain. ' Oh ! what a coward you are ! I
wouldn't believe all Cartwright told me about you
when I asked but I see it's all true. Why don't
you stick up for yourself ? '

I muttered something or other.

'But you ought to. You'll never get on unless,'
said Marjory, very decidedly. ' Now, promise me
you will, next time.'

I sat there silent. I was disgusted with myself,
and meanly angry with her for having rendered
me so.

'Then, listen,' she said impressively. 'I pro-
mised I would look after you, and I did mean to, but
it's no use if you won't help yourself. So, unless
you say you won't go on being a coward any more, I

302 MAEJORY

shall have to leave you to your own way, and not take
the least interest in you ever again.'

' Then, you may,' I said stolidly ; ' I don't care/
I wondered, even while I spoke the words, what could
be impelling me to treat spirited, warm-hearted
Marjory like that, and I hate myself still at the
recollection.

' Good-bye, then,' she said very quietly ; ' I'm
sorry, Cameron.' And she went out without another
word.

When Ormsby came in, I watched him apprehen-
sively as he read the envelope upon his desk and saw
its contents. He said nothing, however, though he
shot a malignant glance in my direction; but the
lesson was not lost upon him, for from that time he
avoided all open ill-treatment of me, and even went
so far as to assume a friendliness which might have
reassured me had I not instinctively felt that it
merely masked the old dislike.

I was constantly the victim of mishaps, in the
shape of missing and defaced books, ink mysteriously
spilt or strangely adulterated, and, though I could
never trace them to any definite hand, they seemed
too systematic to be quite accidental ; still I made no
sign, and hoped thus to disarm my persecutor if
persecutor there were.

As for my companions, I knew that in no case
would they take the trouble to interfere in my behalf ;
they had held aloof from the first, the general opinion

MARJORY 30$

(which I now perceive was not unjust) being that
* I deserved all I got.'

And my estrangement from Marjory grew wider
and wider ; she never spoke to me now when we sat
near one another at the drawing- class ; if she looked
at me it was by stealth, and with a glance that I
thought sometimes was contemptuously pitiful, and
sometimes half fancied betrayed a willingness to-
return to the old comradeship.

But I nursed my stupid, sullen pride, though my
heart ached with it at times. For I had now come
to love Marjory devotedly, with a love that, though I
was a boy and she was a child, was as genuine as
any I am ever likely to feel again.

The chance of seeing her now and then, of hear-
ing her speak though it was not to me gave me
the one interest in my life, which, but for her, I could
hardly have borne. But this love of mine was a very
far-off and disinterested worship after all. I could
not imagine myself ever speaking of it to her, or pic-
ture her as accepting it. Marjory was too thorough
a child to be vulgarised in that way, even in thought.

The others were healthy, matter-of-fact youths^
to whom Marjory was an ordinary girl, and who cer-
tainly did not indulge in any strained sentiment
respecting her ; it was left for me to idealise her ;
but of that, at least, I cannot feel ashamed, or believe
that it did me anything but good.

And the days went on, until it wanted but a

304 MARJOKY

fortnight to Christmas, and most of us were thinking
of the coming holidays, and preparing with a not un-
pleasant excitement for the examinations, which were
all that barred the way to them now. I was to spend
my Christmas with my uncle and cousins, who would
by that time be able to receive me ; but I felt no very
pleasurable anticipations, for my cousins were all
boys, and from boys I thought I knew what to
expect.

One afternoon Ormsby came to me with the re-
quest that I would execute a trifling commission for
him in the adjoining village ; he himself, he said, was
confined to bounds, but he had a shilling he wanted
to lay out at a small fancy- shop we were allowed to
patronise, and he considered me the best person to
be entrusted with that coin. I was simply to spend
the money on anything I thought best, for he had
entire confidence, he gave me to understand, in my
taste and judgment. I think I suspected a design of
some sort, but I did not dare to refuse, and then
his manner to some extent disarmed me,

I took the shilling, therefore, with which I bought
some article I forget what and got back to the
school at dusk. The boys had all gone down to tea
except Ormsby, who was waiting for me up in the
empty schoolroom.

' Well ? ' he said, and I displayed my purchase,
only to find that I had fallen into a trap.

When I think how easily I was the dupe of that

MARJORY 305

not too subtle artifice, which was only half malicious,
I could smile, if I did not know how it ended.

' How much was that ? ' he asked contemptuously,
' twopence-halfpenny ? Well, if you choose to give a
shilling for it, I'm not going to pay, that's all. So
just give me back my shilling ! '

Now, as my weekly allowance consisted of three-
pence, which was confiscated for some time in advance
(as I think he knew), to provide fines for my mysteri-
ously-stained dictionaries, this was out of the ques-
tion, as I represented.

* Then go back to the shop and change it,' said
he ; ' I won't have that thing ! '

' Tell me what you would like instead, and I will/
I stipulated, not unreasonably.

He laughed ; his little scheme was working so
admirably. ' That's not the bargain,' he said ;
* you're bound to get me something I like. I'm not
obliged to tell you what it is.'

But even I was driven to protest against such
flagrant unfairness. * I didn't know you meant that/
I said, ' or I'm sure I shouldn't have gone. I went
to oblige you, Ormsby.'

' No, you didn't/ he said, ' you went because I told
you. And you'll go again.'

' Not unless you tell me what I'm to get/ : I
said.

' I tell you what I believe/ he said ; 4 you never
spent the whole shilling at all on that ; you bought

306 MAKJOEY

something for yourself with the rest, you young
swindler ! No wonder you won't go back to the
shop.'

This was, of course, a mere taunt flung out by
his inventive fancy; but as he persisted in it, and
threatened exposure and a variety of consequences, 1
became alarmed, for I had little doubt that, innocent
as I was, I could be made very uncomfortable by accu-
sations which would find willing hearers.

He stood there enjoying my perplexity and idly
twisting a piece of string round and round his fingers.
At length he said, ' Well, I don't want to be hard on
you. You may go and change this for me even now,
if you like. I'll give you three minutes to think it
over, and you can come down into the playground
when I sing out, and tell me what you mean to do.
And you had better be sharp in coming, too, or it will
be the worse for you.'

He took his cap, and presently I heard him going
down the steps to the playground. I would have
given worlds to go and join the rest at tea, but I did
not dare, and remained in the schoolroom, which was
dim just then, for the gas was lowered ; and vrhile I
stood there by the fireplace, trembling in the cold air
which stole in through the door Ormsby had left open,
Marjory came in by the other one, and was going
straight to her father's desk, when she saw me.

Her first impulse seemed to be to take no notice,
but something in my face or attitude made her alter

MARJORY 807

her mind and come straight to me, holding out her
hand.

' Cameron,' she said, ' shall we be friends again ? '

' Yes, Marjory,' I said ; I could not have said any
more just then.

'You look so miserable, I couldn't bear it any
longer,' she said, ' so I had to make it up. You know,
I was only pretending crossness, Cameron, all the
time, because I really thought it was best. But it
doesn't seem to have done you much good, and I did
promise to take care of you. What is it ? Ormsby
again ? '

' Yes,' I said, and told her the story of the com-
mission.

' Oh, you stupid boy ! ' she cried, ' couldn't you
see he only wanted to pick a quarrel ? And if you
change it now, he'll make you change it again, and
the next time, and the next after that I know he
will ! '

Here Ormsby's voice shouted from below, 'Now
then, you, Cameron, time's up ! '

1 What is he doing down there ? ' asked Marjory,
and her indignation rose higher when she heard.

' Now, Cameron, be brave ; go down and tell him
once for all he may just keep what he has, and be
thankful. Whatever it is, it's good enough for him,
I'm sure ! '

But I still hung back. ' It's no use, Marjory, he'll
tell everyone I cheated him he says he will ! '

x 2

308 MARJORY

' That he shall not ! ' she cried ; c I won't have it.
I'll go myself, and tell him what I think of him, and
make him stop treating you like this.'

Some faint glimmer of manliness made me ashamed
to allow her thus to fight my battles. ' No, Marjory,
not you ! ' I said ; ' I will go : I'll say what you want
me to say ! '

But it was too late. I saw her for just a second
at the door, my impetuous, generous little Marjory,
as she flung back her pretty hair in a certain spirited
way she had, and nodded to me encouragingly.

And then I can hardly think of it calmly even
now there came a sharp scream, and the sound of a
fall, and, after that, silence.

Sick with fear, I rushed to the head of the steps,
and looked down into the brown gloom.

' Keep where you are for a minute ! ' I heard
Ormsby cry out. ''It's all right she's not hurt;
now you can come down.'

I was down in another instant, at the foot of the
stairs, where, in a patch of faint light that fell from
the door above, lay Marjory, with Ormsby bending
over her insensible form.

' She's dead ! ' I cried in my terror, as I saw her
white face.

* I tell you she's all right,' said he, impatiently ,-
' there's nothing to make a fuss about. She slipped
coming down and cut her forehead that's all.'

' Marjory, speak to me don't look like that ; tell

MAKJOEY 309

me you're not much hurt ! ' I implored her ; but
she only moaned a little, and her eyes remained fast
shut.

'It's no use worrying her now, you know,' said
Ormsby, more gently. ' Just help me to get her
round to the kitchen door, and tell somebody.'

We carried her there between us, and, amidst a
scene of terrible confusion and distress, Marjory, still
insensible, was carried into the library, and a man
sent off in hot haste for the surgeon.

A little later Ormsby and I were sent for to the
study, where Dr. Dering, whose face was white and
drawn as I had never seen it before, questioned us
closely as to our knowledge of the accident.

Ormsby could only say that he was out in the
pjayground, when he saw somebody descending the
steps, and heard a fall, after which he ran up and
found Marjory.

' I sent her into the schoolroom to bring my paper-
knife,' said the Doctor ; ' if I had but gone myself !
But why should she have gone outside on a frosty
night like this ? '

' Oh, Dr. Dering ! ' I broke out, ' I'm afraid I'm
.afraid she went for me ! '

I saw Ormsby's face as I spoke, and there was a
look upon it which made me pity him.

' And you sent my poor child out on your errand,
Cameron ! Could you not have done it yourself ? '

' I wish I had ! ' I exclaimed ; ' oh, I wish I had !

310 MAEJORY

I tried to stop her, and then and then it was too late.
Please tell me, sir, is she badly hurt ? '

' How can I tell ? ' he said harshly ; ' there, I can't
speak of this just yet : go, both of you.'

There was little work done at evening preparation
that night ; the whole school was buzzing with curiosity
and speculation, as we heard doors opening and
shutting around, and the wheels of the doctor's gig as
it rolled up the chestnut avenue.

I sat with my hands shielding my eyes and ears,
engaged to all appearance with the books before me,
while my restless thoughts were employed in making
earnest resolutions for the future.

At last I saw my cowardice in its true light,
and felt impatient to tell Marjory that I did so, to
prove to her that I had really reformed ; but when
would an opportunity come? I might not see her
again for days, perhaps not at all till after the
holidays ; but I would not let myself dwell upon such
a contingency as that, and, to banish it, tried to-
picture what Marjory would say, and how she would
look, when I was allowed to see her again.

After evening prayers, read by one of the as-
sistant-masters, for the Doctor did not appear again,
we were enjoined to go up to our bedrooms with a&
little noise as possible, and we had been in bed some
time before Sutcliffe, the old butler, came up as
usual to put out the lights.

On this occasion he was assailed by a fire of

MARJORY 311

eager whispers from every door : ' Sutcliffe, hi ! old
Sutty, how is she?' but he did not seem to hear,
until a cry louder than the rest brought him to our
room.

' For God's sake, gentlemen, don't ! ' he said, in
a hoarse whisper, as he turned out the light .; ' they'll
hear you downstairs.'

' But how is she ? do you know better ? '

'Ay,' he said, 'she's better. She'll be over her
trouble soon, will Miss Marjory ! '

A low murmur of delight ran round the room,
which the butler tried to check in vain.

' Don't ! ' he said again, ' wait wait till morning.
... Go to sleep quiet now, and I'll come up first
thing and tell you.'

He had no sooner turned his back than the
general relief broke out irrepressibly ; Ormsby being
especially demonstrative. ' Didn't I tell you fellows
so ? ' he said triumphantly ; ' as if it was likely a
plucky girl like Marjory would mind a little cut like
that. She'll be all right in the morning, you see! '

But this confidence jarred upon me, who could
not pretend to share it, until I was unable to restrain
the torturing anxiety I felt.

' You're wrong all of you ! ' I cried, ' I'm sure
she's not better. Didn't you hear how Sutcliffe said
it ? She's worse she may even be dying ! '

I met with the usual treatment of a prophet of
evil. ' You young muff,' I was told on all sides, ' who

312 MAEJOEY

asked your opinion? Who are you,~to know better
than anyone else ? '

Ormsby attacked me hotly for trying to excite a
groundless alarm, and I was recommended to hold
my tongue and go to sleep.

I said no more, but I could not sleep ; the others
dropped off one by one, Ormsby being the last ; but
I lay awake listening and thinking, until the dread
and suspense grew past bearing. I must know the
truth. I would go down and find the Doctor, and
beg him to tell me ; he might be angry and punish
me but that would be nothing in comparison with
the relief of knowing my fear was unfounded.

Stealthily I slipped out of bed, stole through the
dim room to the door, and down the old staircase,
which creaked under my bare feet. The dog in the
yard howled as I passed the big window, through
which the stars were sparkling frostily in the keen
blue sky. Outside the room in which Marjory lay,
I listened, but could hear nothing. At least she was
sleeping, then, and, relieved already, I went on down
to the hall.

The big clock on a table there was ticking solemnly,
like a slow footfall ; the lamp was alight, so the
Doctor must be still up. With a heart that beat
loudly I went to his study door and lifted my hand
to knock, when from within rose a sound at which
the current of my blood stopped and ran backwards
the terrible, heartbroken grief of a grown man.

MAKJOKY 313

Boy as I was, I felt that an agony like that was
sacred ; besides, I knew the worst then.

I dragged myself upstairs again, cold to the bones,
with a brain that was frozen too. My one desire was
to reach my bed, cover my face, and let the tears
flow ; though, when I did regain it, no tears and no
thoughts came. I lay there and shivered for some
time, with a stony, stunned sensation, and then I
slept as if Marjory were well.

The next morning the bell under the cupola did
not clang, and Sutcliffe came up with the direction
that we were to go down very quietly, and not to
draw up the window-blinds ; and then we all knew
what had happened during the night.

There was a very genuine grief, though none
knew Marjory as I had known her ; the more emo-
tional wept, the older ones indulged in little semi-
pious conventional comments, oddly foreign to their
usual tone ; all even the most thoughtless felt the
same hush and awe overtake them.

I could not cry ; I felt nothing, except a dull rage
at my own insensibility. Marjory was dead and I
had no tears.

Morning school was a mere pretence that day ; we
dreaded, for almost the first time, to see the Doctor's
face, but he did not show himself, and the arrange-
ments necessary for the breaking-up of the school
were made by the matron.

Some, including Ormsby and myself, could not

314 MAE JOKY

be taken in for some days, during which we had to
remain at the school : days of shadow and monotony,
with occasional 'ghastly outbreaks of the high spirits
which nothing could repress, even in that house of
mourning.

But the time passed at last, until it was the
evening of the day on which Marjory had been left
to her last sleep.

The poor father and mother had been unable to
stay in the house now that it no longer covered even
what had been their child ; and the only two, besides
the matron and a couple of servants who still remained
there, were Ormsby and I, who were both to leave
on the following morning.

I would rather have been alone just then with
anyone but Ormsby, though he had never since that
fatal night taken the slightest notice of me ; he
looked worn and haggard to a degree that made
me sure he must have cared more for Marjory than
I could have imagined, and yet he would break at
times into a feverish gaiety which surprised and
repelled me.

He was in one of these latter moods that evening,
as we sat, as far apart as possible, in the empty, firelit
schoolroom.

' Now, Cameron,' he said, as he came up to me
and struck me boisterously on the shoulder, ' wake
up, man ! I've been in the blues long enough. We
can't go on moping always, on the night before the

MAKJORY 315

holidays, too ! Do something to make yourself
sociable talk, can't you ? '

* No, I can't,' I said ; and, breaking from him, went
to one of the windows and looked vacantly out into
blackness, which reflected the long room, with its
dingy greenish maps, and the desks and forms
glistening in the fire-beams.

The ice-bound state in which I had been so long
was slowly passing away, now that the scene by the
little grave that raw, cheerless morning had brought
home remorselessly the truth that Marjory was indeed
gone lost to me for ever.

I could see now what she had been to me ; how
she had made my great loneliness endurable ; how,
with her innocent, fearless nature, she had tried to
rouse me from spiritless and unmanly dejection.
And I could never hope to please her now by proving
that I had learnt the lesson ; she had gone from me
to some world infinitely removed, in which T was
forgotten, and my pitiful trials and struggles could be
nothing to her any more !

I was once more alone, and this second bereave-
ment revived in all its crushing desolation the first
bitter loss which it so closely followed.

So, as I stood there at the window, my unnatural
calm could hold out no longer ; the long-frozen tears
thawed, and 1 could weep for the first time since
Marjory died.

But I was not allowed to sorrow undisturbed ;

316 MABJOKY

I felt a rough grasp on my arm, as Ormsby asked me
angrily, ' What's the matter now ? '

1 Oh, Marjory, come to me ! ' I could only cry ;
< I can't bear it ! I can't ! I can't ! '

1 Stop that, do you hear ? ' he said savagely,
* I won't have it ! Who are you to cry about her,
when but for you '

He got no farther; the bitter truth in such a
taunt, coming from him, stung me to ungovernable
rage. I turned and struck him full in the mouth,
which I cut open with my clenched hand.

His eyes became all pupil. ' You shall pay me
for that ! ' he said through his teeth ; and, forcing me
against a desk, he caught up a large T-square which
lay near ; he was far the stronger, and I felt myself
powerless in his grasp. Passion and pain had made
him beside himself for the moment, and he did not
know how formidable a weapon the heavily-weighted
instrument might become in his hand.

I shut my eyes : I think I rather hoped he would
kill me, and then perhaps I might go where Marjory
was. I did not cry for help, and it would have been
useless if I had done so, for the schoolroom was a
long way from the kitchen and offices of that rambling
old house.

But before the expected blow was dealt I felt his
grasp relax, and heard the instrument fall with
a sudden clatter on the floor. ' Look,' he whispered,
in a voice I did not recognise, * look there ! '

MARJORY 317

And when I opened my eyes, I saw Marjory
standing between us !

She looked just as I had always seen her : I
suppose that even the after-life could not make
Marjory look purer, or more lovely than she was on
earth. My first feeling was a wild conviction that it
had all been some strange mistake that Marjory was
not dead.

' Marjory, Marjory ! ' I cried in my joy, ' is it
really you ? You have come back, after all, and it is
not true ! '

She looked at us both without speaking for
a moment ; her dear brown eyes had lost their old
childish sparkle, and were calm and serious as if with
a deeper knowledge.

Ormsby had cowered back to the opposite wall,
covering his face. ' Go away ! ' he gasped. * Cameron
you ask her to go. She she liked you. ... I never
meant it. Tell her I never meant to do it ! '

I could not understand such terror at the sight of
Marjory, even if she had been what he thought her ;
but there was a reason in his case.

* You were going to hurt Cameron,' said Marjory,
at length, and her voice sounded sad and grave and
far-away.

' I don't care, Marjory,' I cried, * not now you are
here ! '

She motioned me back : ' You must not come
nearer,' she said. ' I cannot stay long, and I must

318 MAR JOKY

speak to Ormsby. Ormsby, have you told any-
one?'

'No,' he said, shaking all over, ' it could do no
good. ... I thought I needn't.'

' Tell /iira,' said Marjory.

' Must I ? Oh, no, no ! ' he groaned, * don't make
me do that ! '

' You must,' she answered, and he turned to me
with a sullen fear.

' It was like this,' he began ; ' that night, when
I was waiting for you down there I had some string,
and it struck me, all in a moment, that it would be
fun to trip you up. I didn't mean to hurt you only
frighten you. I fastened the string across a little
way from the bottom. And then ' he had to
moisten his lips before he could go on ' then she
came down, and I tried to catch her and couldn't
no, I couldn't ! '

' Is that all ? ' asked Marjory, as he stopped short.

* I cut the string and hid it before you came.
Now you know, and you may tell if you like ! '

' Cameron, you will never tell, will you as long
as he lives ? ' said Marjory. ' You must promise.'

I was horrified by what I had heard ; but her eyes
were upon me, and I promised.

' And you, Ormsby, promise me to be kinder to
him after this.'

He could not speak ; but he made a sign of assent.

' And now,' said Marjory, ' shake hands with him
and forgive him.'

MAE JOEY 319

But I revolted : ' No, Marjory, I can't ; not now
-when I know this ! '

* Cameron, dear,' she said, ' you won't let me go
away sorry, will you ? and I must go so soon. For
my sake, when I wish it so ! '

I went to Ormsby, and took his cold, passive hand.
4 1 do forgive him, Marjory,' I said.

She smiled brightly at us both. ' And you won't
forget, either of you ? ' she said. ' And, Douglas, you
will be brave, and take your own part now. Good-
bye, good-bye.'

I tried to reach her. * Don't leave me ; take me
with you, Marjory dear, dear Marjory, don't go ! '
But there was only firelit space where she had stood,
though the sound of her pleading, pathetic voice was
still in the air.

Ormsby remained for a few minutes leaning against
a desk, with his face buried in his arms, and I heard
him struggling with his sobs. At last he rose, and
left the room without a word.

But I stayed there where I had last seen Marjory,
till the fire died down, and the hour was late, for I
was glad to be alone with the new and solemn joy that
had come to me. For she had not forgotten me where
she was ; I had been allowed to see her once more,
and it might even be that I should see her again.
And I resolved then that when she came she should
find me more worthy of her.

From that night my character seemed to enter

320 MAKJORY

upon a new phase, and when I returned to school it
was to begin my second term under better auspices.

My cousins had welcomed me cordially among them,
and as I mastered the lesson of give and take, of
respecting one's self in respecting others, which I
needed to learn, my early difficulties vanished with
the weakness that had produced them.

By Ormsby I was never again molested ; in word
and deed, he was true to the promise exacted from him
during that last strange scene. At first, he avoided me
as being too painfully connected with the past ; but by
degrees, as he recognised that his secret was safe in
my keeping, we grew to understand one another better,
although it would be too much to say that we ever
became intimate.

After he went to Sandhurst I lost sight of him,,
and only a few months since the news of his death in
the Soudan, where he fell gallantly, made me sorrow-
fully aware that we should never meet again.

I had a lingering fancy that Marjory might appear
to me once more, but I have long since given up all
hope of that in this life, and for what may come after
I am content to wait.

But the charge my child-friend had undertaken
was completed on the night she was allowed to return
to earth and determine the crisis of two lives ; there
is nothing now to call the bright and gracious little
spirit back, for her influence will remain always.

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LIFE AND WORKS OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE

(CURRER BELL) and her Sisters EMILY and ANNE BRONTE (ELLIS and
ACTON BELL). Seven small Fcp. 8vo. Volumes, each containing a Frontispiece,

bound in half-cloth, with cut or uncut edges, price is. 6d. per volume.
TITLES OF THE VOLUMES. JANE EYRE. SHIRLEY. VILLETTE. The
PROFESSOR and POEMS.-WUTHERING HEIGHTS and AGNES GREY.
TENANT of WILDFELL HALL. -LIFE of CHARLOTTE BRONTE.

MRS. GASKELL'S WORKS.

Eight Volumes, small fcp. 8vo. bound in half-cloth, with cut or uncut edges, price

is. 6d. per volume.

TITLES OF THE VOLUMES : -WIVES and DAUGHTERS. -NORTH and SOUTH.
-SYLVIA'S LOVERS. -CRANFORD, and other Tales. -MARY BARTON, and
other Tales.-RUTH, and other Tales.-A DARK NIGHT'S WORK, and
other Tales.-MY LADY LUDLOW, and other Tales.

"London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.

PR Guthrie, Thomas Anstey

4729 The talking horse 2d ed.

G5T3

1892

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