UC-NRLF 
 
 LITTLE JAISS 
 
 yvND 
 
 Stony 
 
 & C2 
 
EDOCATIOU IIBB, 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Louise Farrow Barr 
 
r 
 
 \ 
 
 NURSE HEV 
 
 H 
 
 5RD ALE'S STORY 
 
EDUC.- 
 PSrCH. 
 
 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY 
 
 AND 
 
 LITTLE MISS PEGGY 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MOLESWORTH 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CARROTS," "GRANDMOTHER DEAR," "TELL ME A STORY " 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY LESLIE BROOKE AND WALTER CRANE 
 
 gorfe 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND LONDON 
 1893 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1893, 
 BY MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 New uniform edition set up and electrotyped October, 1893. 
 
 Education 
 
 GIFT 
 
 Norfoooi 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. Berwick & Smith. 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
1*13 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. - 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT ..... 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL 15 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 TRELUAN .... ..... 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A NURSERY TEA ! . .44 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES . 70 
 
 315 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A RAINY DAY 82 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR 94 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 UPSET PLANS 106 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE NEW BABY . 117 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 IN DISGRACE AGAIN 129 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 LOST 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 "OLD SIR DAVID'S" SECRET . 157 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A BREAKFAST PARTY 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL ... .16 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 " THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK " 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 "REAL" FANCIES 42 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE LITTLE RED SHOES 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS . . 71 
 
CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A BUN TO THE GOOD .... 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA . . . . IQQ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE OPPOSITE HOUSE 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " SOAP-BUBBLING " 127 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 UP FERNLEY ROAD . . . . 142 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN ..... 156 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 SHE WAS SITTING IN THE DAMF/S OLD-FASH- 
 IONED ARMCHAIR, IN THE WINDOW OF 
 THE LITTLE ROOM ; THE BRIGHT SUMMER 
 SUNSHINE STREAMING IN BEHIND HER . Frontispiece 
 
 "HASN'T HER A NICE FACE?" . . To face page 12 
 
 THEN THERE BURST UPON THE VIEW A WON- 
 DERFUL SURPRISE "63 
 
 Miss BESS AND MASTER FRANCIS WERE TALK- 
 ING EAGERLY WITH OLD PRIDEAUX . "70 
 
 " POOR F'ANCIE," SHE SAID PITIFULLY. " So 
 
 TIRED, BABY WANTS TO KISS THOO " . " 96 
 
 " AUNTIE ! " HE SAID, SMILING A VERY LITTLE ; 
 
 " HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK ! " . . " 110 
 
 SlR HULBERT, HOLDING MASTER FRANCIS 
 WITH ONE ARM, AND THE SIDE OF THE 
 LADDER WITH THE OTHER, FOLLOWED . " 153 
 
 ix 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 
 
 " WHAT is THE MATTER, LITTLE GIRLS ? " 
 
 SAID THE LADY Frontispiece 
 
 HE HAD TO DRUM WITH A ^5POON, FIRST IN 
 ONE FAT HAND AND THEN IN THE 
 OTHER To face page I 
 
 THEY WERE SETTLED ON THE HEARTH-RUG 
 
 BABY ON PEGGY'S LAP .... "14 
 
 " SEE, HAL," SHE SAID, " OVER THERE, FAR, 
 FAR AWAY, NEELY IN THE SKY, DOES YOU 
 SEE THAT BLUEY HILL?" .... "23 
 
 SHE WAS RATHER A TERRIBLE-LOOKING OLD 
 WOMAN ; SHE ALWAYS WORE A SHORT BED- 
 GOWN . . . AND SHE WAS GENERALLY TO 
 
 BE SEEN WITH A PlPE IN HER MOUTH . " 31 
 
 " TELL ME WHAT THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 IS REELY LIKE " " 45 
 
 PEGGY STOOD STILL, HER EYES FIXED ON THE 
 
 BABY SHOES "60 
 
 " HERE'S THE OTHER SHOE, I'VE JUST FOUNDED 
 
 IT" " 80 
 
 xi 
 
Xll LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 SUDDENLY A WINDOW ABOVE OPENED, AND 
 MOTHER WHELAN'S BEFRILLED FACE WAS 
 THRUST OUT To face page 93 
 
 AN UMBRELLA ROLLING ITSELF ABOUT ON 
 
 THE PAVEMENT " 111 
 
 " To BE SURE," SHE SAID, IN HER MOST GRA- 
 CIOUS TONE. "'Tis THE BEAUTIFUL PIPES 
 I HAVE " 121 
 
 THE BOYS, BOY-LIKE, THOUGHT LITTLE BUT 
 OF WHO COULD BLOW THE BlGGEST BUB- 
 
 BLES 130 
 
 HUSHED LIGHT SMILEY TO SLEEP, HER ARM 
 
 CLASPED ROUND PEGGY .... " 155 
 
SlIE WAS SITTING IN THE DAME'S OLD-FASHIONED ARMCHAIR, IN THE WINDOW 
 
 OF THE LITTLE ROOM ; THE BRIGHT SUMMER SUNSHINE STREAMING 
 
 IN BEHIND HER. page 27. 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
NURSE/HEATHER' 
 DALE'S-STOKY'BY 
 MR5-MOLE5WORTH 
 
 ffflLLU5TRATED-BY 
 L-LESLIE-BflOOKELff 
 MACMILLAN-S-COf 
 LONDON-MDCCCXCm; 
 
TO 
 
 imt Jaitfjful Jrfenti 
 GISELA 
 
 LIKDFIELD, August 22, 1891 
 
NURSE HEATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 
 
 I COULD fancy it was only yesterday ! That first 
 time I saw them. And to think how many years 
 ago it is really ! And how many times I have told 
 the story or, perhaps, I should say the stories, for 
 after all it is only a string of simple day-by-day 
 events I have to tell, though to me and to the 
 children about me they seem so interesting and, in 
 some ways, I think I may saj r , rather out of the 
 common. So that now that I am getting old, or 
 " beginning to think just a tiny bit about some day 
 getting old," which is the only way Miss Erica will 
 let me say it, and knowing that nobody else can 
 know all the ins and outs which make the whole just 
 as I do, and having a nice quiet time to myself most 
 days (specially since dear tiresome little Master 
 Ramsey is off to school with his brothers), I am going 
 to try to put it down as well as I can. My " as well 
 as I can " won't be anything very scholarly or fine, I 
 
 1 
 
2 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 know well ; but if one knows what one wants to say 
 it seems to me the words will come. And the story 
 will be there for the dear children, who are never 
 sharp judging of old Heather and for their children 
 after them, maybe. 
 
 I was standing at our cottage door that afternoon 
 a beautiful summer afternoon it was, early in June. 
 I was looking idly enough across the common, for 
 our cottage stood stands still, perhaps I have not 
 been there for many a year just at the edge of 
 Brayling Common, where it skirts the pine woods, 
 when I saw them pass. Quite a little troop they 
 looked, though they were scarcely near enough for 
 me to see them plainly. There was the donkey, old 
 Larkins's donkey, which they had hired for the time, 
 with a tot of a girl riding on it, the page-boy leading 
 it, and a nursemaid walking on one side, and on the 
 other an older little lady somewhere about ten 
 years old she looked, though she was really only 
 eight. What an air she had, to be sure ! What a 
 grand way of holding herself and stepping along like 
 a little princess, for all that she and her sisters were 
 dressed as simple as simple. Pink cotton frocks, if I 
 remember right, a bit longer in the skirts than our 
 young ladies wear them now, and nice white cotton 
 stockings, it was long before black silk ones were 
 the fashion for children, and ankle-strap shoes, and 
 white sun-bonnets, made with casers and cords, nice 
 and shady for the complexions, though you really had 
 
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. O 
 
 to be close to before you could see a child's face 
 inside of them. And some way behind, another little 
 lady, a good bit shorter than Miss Bess I meant to 
 give all their names in order later on, but it seems 
 strange-like not to say it and looking quite three 
 years younger, though there was really not two be- 
 tween them. And alongside of her a boy, thin and 
 pale and darkish-haired that, I could see, as he had 
 no sun-bonnet of course, only a cap of some kind. 
 
 He too was a good bit taller than Miss , the 
 
 middle young lady I mean, though short for his age, 
 which was eleven past. They were walking together, 
 these two they were mostly always together, and I 
 saw that the boy was a little lame, just a touch, but 
 enough to take the spring out of his step that one 
 likes to see in a young thing. And though I couldn't 
 see her face, only some long fair curls, long enough 
 to come below the cape of her bonnet, a feeling came 
 over me that the child beside him was walking slow, 
 keeping back as it were, on purpose to bear him 
 company. There was something gentle and pitying- 
 like in her little figure, in the way she went closer 
 to the boy and took his hand when the nurse turned 
 round and called back something I couldn't hear 
 the words but I fancied the tone was sharp to the 
 two children behind, which made them press forward 
 a little. The other young lady turned as they came 
 nearer and said something with a sort of toss-up of 
 her proud little head to the nurse. And then I saw 
 
4 NURSE HEATHERDALES STORY. 
 
 that she held out her hand to her younger sister, who 
 kept hold all the same of the boy's hand on the other 
 side. And that was how they were walking when they 
 went in among the trees and were lost to my sight. 
 
 But I still stood looking after them, even when 
 there was nothing more of them to be seen. Not 
 even the dog oh, I forgot about him he was the 
 very last of the party a brisk, shortish haired, wiry- 
 looking rough terrier, who, just as he got to the 
 entrance of the wood, turned round and stood for a 
 moment barking, for all the world as if he might be 
 saying, " My young ladies have gone a-walking in 
 the wood now, and nobody's to come a-troubling 
 of them. So I give you fair notice." He did think, 
 did Fusser, that was his name, that he managed all 
 the affairs of the family. Many a time we've laughed 
 at him for it. 
 
 " Dear me," thought I to myself, " I could almost 
 make a story out of those young ladies and gentle- 
 man, though I've only seen them for a minute, or 
 two at the most." 
 
 For I was very fond of children even then, and 
 knew a good deal about their ways, though not so 
 much no, nor nothing like what I do now ! 
 But I was in rather a dreamy sort of humour. I had 
 just left my first place, that of nursery-maid with 
 the family where my mother had been before me, and 
 where I had stayed on older than I should have done 
 by rights, because of thinking I was going to be 
 
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 5 
 
 married. And six months before, my poor Charles 
 had died suddenly, or so at least it had seemed to us 
 all. For he caught cold, and it went to his chest, 
 and he was gone in a fortnight. The doctor said for 
 all he looked strong, he was really sadly delicate, and 
 it was bound to be sooner or later. It may have been 
 true, leastways the doctor meant to comfort me by 
 saying so, though I don't know that I found much 
 comfort in the thought. Not so much anyhow as "in 
 mother's simple words that it was God's will, and so 
 it must be right. And in thinking how happy we 
 had been. Never a word or a coldness all the four 
 years we were plighted. But it was hard to bear, 
 and it changed all my life for me. I never could 
 bring myself to think of another. 
 
 Still I was only twenty-one, and after I'd been at 
 home a bit, the young ladies would have me back to 
 cheer me up, they said. I travelled with them that 
 spring ; but when they all went up to London, and 
 Miss Marian was to be married, and the two little 
 ones were all day with the governess, I really couldn't 
 for shame stay on when there was no need of me. 
 So, though with many tears, I came home, and was 
 casting about in my mind what I had best do 
 mother being hale and hearty, and no call for dress- 
 making of a plain kind in our village that afternoon, 
 when I stood watching the stranger little gentry and 
 old Larkins's donkey and the dog, as they crossed the 
 common into the fir-wood. 
 
6 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 It was mother's voice that woke me up, so to say. 
 
 " Martha," she called out in her cheery way, 
 "what's thee doing, child? I'm about tidied up; 
 come and get thy work, and let's sit down a bit 
 comfortable. I don't like to see thee so down-like, 
 and such bright summer weather, though mayhap the 
 very sunshine makes it harder for thee, poor dear." 
 
 And she gave a little sigh, which was a good deal 
 for her, for she was not one as made much talk of 
 feelings and sorrows. It seemed to spirit me up 
 somehow. 
 
 " I wasn't like that just now, mother," I said cheer- 
 fully. "I've been watching some children gentry 
 going over the common three little young ladies 
 and a boy, and Larkins's donkey. They made me 
 think of Miss Charlotte and Miss Marian when first 
 I went there, though plainer dressed a good deal than 
 our young ladies were. But real gentry, I should 
 say." 
 
 " And you'd say right," mother answered. " They 
 are lodging at Widow Nutfold's, quite a party of 
 them. Their father's Sir ; dear, dear, I've for- 
 got the name, but he's a barrowk night, and the 
 family's name is Penrose. They come from some- 
 where far off, near by the sea quite furrin parts, 
 I take it." 
 
 "Not out of England, you don't mean, do you?" 
 I asked. For mother, of course, kept all her old 
 country talk, while I, with having been so many 
 
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 7 
 
 years with Miss Marian and her sisters, and treated 
 more like a friend than a servant, and great pains 
 taken with my reading and writing, had come to 
 speak less old-fashioned, so to say, and to give the 
 proper meaning to my words. " Foreign parts really 
 means out of this country, where they talk French or 
 Italian, you know, mother." 
 
 But mother only shook her head. 
 
 " Nay," she said, " I mean what I say. Furrin 
 parts is furrin parts. I wouldn't say as they come 
 from where the folks is nigger blacks, or from old 
 Boney's country neither, as they used to frighten us 
 about when I was a child. But these gentry come 
 from furrin parts. Why, I had it from Sarah Nut- 
 fold's own lips, last Saturday, as never was, at 
 Brayling market, and old neighbours of forty years ; 
 it's not sense to think she go for to deceive me." 
 
 Mother was just a little offended, I could see, and 
 I thought to myself I must take care of seeming to 
 set her right. 
 
 " Of course not," I said. " You couldn't have it 
 surer than from Mrs. Nutfold. I dare say she's 
 pleased to have them to cheer her up a bit. They 
 seem nice little ladies to look at, though they're on 
 the outside of plain as to their dress." 
 
 " And more sense, too," said mother. " I always 
 thought our young ladies too expensive, though 
 where money's no consideration, 'tis a temptation to 
 a lady to dress up her children, I suppose." 
 
8 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " But they were never over-dressed," I said, in my 
 turn, a little ruffled. "Nothing could be simpler 
 than their white frocks to look at." 
 
 " Ay, to look at, I'll allow," said mother. " But 
 when you come to look into them, Martha, it was 
 another story. Embroidery and tucks and real 
 Walansian ! " and she held up her hands. " Still 
 they've got it, and they've a right to spend it, seein' 
 too as they're generous to those who need. But 
 these little ladies at Sarah's are not rich, I take it. 
 There was a deal of settlin' about the prices when 
 my lady came to take the rooms. She and the 
 gentleman's up in London, but one or two of the 
 children got ill and needed country air. It's a heavy 
 charge on Sarah Nutfold, for the nurse is not one of 
 the old sort, and my lady asked Sarah, private-like, 
 to have an eye on her." 
 
 " There now," I cried, " I could have said as much ! 
 The way she turned just now so sharp on the poor 
 boy and the middle little lady. I could see she 
 wasn't one of the right kind, though I didn't hear 
 what she said. No one should be a nurse, or have 
 to do with children, mother, who doesn't right down 
 love them in her heart." 
 
 " You're about right there, Martha," mother 
 agreed. 
 
 Just then father came in, and we sat round, the 
 three of us, to our tea. 
 
 "It's a pleasure to have thee at home again, my 
 
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 9 
 
 girl, for a bit," he said. And the kind look in his 
 eyes made me feel both cheered and sad together. 
 It was the first day I had been with them at tea- 
 time, for I had got home pretty late the night before. 
 "And I hope it'll be a longish bit this time," he went 
 on. 
 
 I gave a little sigh. 
 
 " I'd like to stay a while ; but I don't know that 
 it would be good for me to stay very long, father, 
 thank you," I said. " I'm young and strong and fit 
 for work, and I'd like to feel I was able to help you 
 and mother if ever the time comes that you're 
 laid by." 
 
 " Please God we'll never need help of that kind, 
 my girl," said father. " But it's best to be at work, 
 I know, when one's had a trouble. The day'll maybe 
 come, Martha, when you'll be glad to have saved a 
 little more for a home of your own, after all. So 
 I'd not be the one to stand in your way, a few 
 months hence nor mother neither if a good place 
 offers." 
 
 " Thank you, father," I said again; u but the only 
 home of my own I'll ever care for will be here by 
 mother and you." 
 
 And so it proved. 
 
 I little thought how soon father's words about not 
 standing in my way if a nice place offered would be 
 put to the test. 
 
 I saw the children who were lodging at Mrs. Nut- 
 
10 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 fold's several times in the course of the next week or 
 two. They seemed to have a great fancy for the pine- 
 woods, and from where they lived they could not, to 
 get to them, but pass across the common within sight 
 of our cottage. And once or twice I met them in 
 the village street. Not all of them together once 
 it was only the two youngest with the nurse ; they 
 were waiting at the door of the post-office, which was 
 also the grocer's and the baker's, while she was inside 
 chattering and laughing a deal more than she'd any 
 call to, it seemed to me. (I'm afraid I took a real 
 right-down dislike to that nurse, which isn't a proper 
 thing to do before one has any certain reason for it.) 
 And dear little ladies they looked, though the elder 
 one that was the middle one of the three had 
 rather an anxious expression in her face, that struck 
 me. The baby she was nearly three, but I heard 
 them call her baby was a little fat bundle of smiles 
 and dimples. I don't think even a cross nurse would 
 have had power to trouble her much. 
 
 Another time it was the two elder girls and the 
 lame boy I met. It was a windy day, and the eldest 
 Missy's big flapping bonnet had blown back, so I had 
 a good look at her. She was a beautiful child blue 
 eyes, very dark blue, or seeming so from the clear 
 black eyebrows and thick long eyelashes, and dark 
 almost black hair, with just a little wave in it ; not 
 so long or curling as her sister's, which was out-of- 
 the-way beautiful hair, but seeming somehow just to 
 
LOVE AT FIKST SIGHT. 11 
 
 suit her, as everything about her did. She came 
 walking along with the proud springing step I had 
 noticed that first day, and she was talking away to 
 the others as if to cheer and encourage them, even 
 though the boy was full three years older than she, 
 and supposed to be taking charge of her and her 
 sister, I fancy. 
 
 " Nonsense, Franz," she was saying in her decided 
 spoken way, " nonsense. I won't have you and Lally 
 treated like that. And I don't care I mean I can't 
 help if it does trouble mamma. Mammas must be 
 troubled about their children sometimes ; that's what 
 being a mamma means." 
 
 I managed to keep near them for a bit. I hope 
 it was not a mean taking-advantage. I have often 
 told them of it since it was really that I did feel 
 such an interest in the dear children, and my mind 
 misgave me from the first about that nurse it did 
 so indeed. 
 
 "If only " said the boy with a tiny sigh. But 
 again came that clear-spoken little voice, "Nonsense, 
 Franz." 
 
 I never did hear a child of her age speak so well 
 as Miss Bess. It's pretty to hear broken talking in 
 a child sometimes, lisping, and some of the funny 
 turns they'll give their words ; but it's even prettier 
 to hear clear complete talk like hers in a young 
 child. 
 
 Then came a gentle, pitiful little voice. 
 
12 NURSE HEATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 " It isn't nonsense, Queen, darling. It's howid for 
 Franz, but it wasn't nonsense he was going to say. 
 I know what it was," and she gave the boy's hand a 
 little squeeze. 
 
 " It was only if aunty was my mamma, Bess, 
 but you know she isn't. And aunts aren't forced to 
 be troubled about not their own children." 
 
 "Yes they are," the elder girl replied. "At least 
 when they're instead of own mammas. And then, you 
 know, Franz, it's not only you, it's Lally too, and " 
 
 That was all I heard. I couldn't pretend to be 
 obliged to walk slowly just behind them, for in 
 reality I was rather in a hurry, so I hastened past ; 
 but just as I did so, their little dog, who was with 
 them, looked up at me with a friendly half-bark, 
 half-growl. That made the children smile at me 
 too, and for the life of me, even if 'twas not good 
 manners, I couldn't help smiling in return. 
 
 " Hasn't her a nice face ? " I heard the second 
 little young lady say, and it sent me home with 
 quite a warm feeling in my heart. 
 
 It was about a week after that, when one evening 
 as we were sitting together father, mother, and I 
 and father was just saying there'd be daylight enough 
 to need no candles that night we heard the click of 
 the little garden gate, and a voice at the door that 
 mother knew in a moment was Widow Nutfold's. 
 
 "Good-evening to you, Mrs. Heatherdale," she said, 
 " and many excuses for disturbing of you so late, but 
 
; HASN'T HER A NICE FACE?" p. 12. 
 
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 13 
 
 I'm that put about. Is your Martha at home ? 
 thank goodness, my dear," as I come forward out of 
 the dusk to speak to her. u It's more you nor your 
 good mother I've come after ; you'll be thinking I'm 
 joking when you hear what it is. Can you slip on 
 your bonnet and come off with me now this very 
 minute to help with my little ladies ? Would you 
 believe it that their good-for-nothing girl is off 
 gone packed up this very evening and left me 
 with 'em all on my hands, and Miss Baby beginning 
 with a cold on her chest, and Master Francis all but 
 crying with the rheumatics in his poor leg. And 
 even the page-boy, as was here at first, was took back 
 to London -last week." 
 
 The good woman held up her hands in despair, 
 and then by degrees we got the whole story how 
 the nurse had not been meaning to stay longer than 
 suited her own convenience, but had concealed this 
 from her lady ; and having heard by a letter that 
 afternoon of another situation which she could have 
 if she went at once, off she had gone, in spite of all 
 poor Widow Nutfold could say or do. 
 
 " She took a dislike to me seein' as I tried to look 
 after her a bit and to stop her nasty cross ways, and 
 she told me that impertinent, as I wanted to be 
 nurse, I might be it now. She has a week or two's 
 money owing her, but she was that scornful she said 
 she'd let it go ; she had been a great silly for taking 
 the place." 
 
14 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " But she might be had up and made to give back 
 some of her wages," said father. 
 
 " Sir Hulbert and my lady are not that sort, and 
 she knows it," said Mrs. Nutfold. " The wages was 
 pretty fair it was the dulness of the life down in 
 Cornwall the girl objected to most, I fancy." 
 
 " Cornwall," repeated mother. " There now, Mar- 
 tha, if that isn't furrin parts, I don't know what is." 
 
 But I hadn't time to say any more. I hurried on 
 my shawl and bonnet, and rolled up an apron or two, 
 and slipped a cap into a bandbox, and there I was. 
 
 "Good-night, mother," I said. "I'll look round in 
 the morning and I don't suppose I'll be wanted to 
 stay more than a day or two. My lady's sure to find 
 some one at once, being in London too." 
 
 " I should think so," said old Sarah, but there was 
 something in her tone I did not quite understand. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 
 
 WE hurried across the common it was still day- 
 light, though the sun had set some little time. The 
 red and gold were still lingering in the sky and cast- 
 ing a beautiful glow on the heather and the gorse 
 bushes. For Brayling Common is not like what the 
 word makes most people think of there's no grass 
 at all it's all heather and gorse, and here and there 
 clumps of brambles, and low down on the sandy soil 
 all sorts of hardy, running, clinging little plants that 
 ask for nothing but sunshine and air. For of moist- 
 ure there's but scanty supply; it no sooner rains 
 than it dries up again. But oh it is beautiful the 
 colours of it I've never seen equalled not even 
 in Italy or Switzerland, where I went with my first 
 ladies, as I said before. The heather seems to change 
 its shade a dozen times a day, as well as with every 
 season according as the sky is cloudy or bright, or 
 the sun overhead or on his way up or down. I can- 
 not say it the right way, but I know that many far 
 cleverer than me would feel the same; you may 
 travel far before you'd see a sweeter piece of nature 
 
 15 
 
16 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 than our common, with its wonderful changefulness 
 and yet always beautiful. 
 
 There's little footpaths in all directions, as well as 
 a few wider tracks. It takes strangers some time to 
 learn their way, I can tell you. The footpaths are 
 seldom wide enough for two, so it's a queer sort of 
 backwards and forwards talking one has to be con- 
 tent with. And we walked too fast to have breath 
 for much, only Widow Nutfold would now and then 
 throw back to me, so to say, some odds and ends of 
 explaining about the children that she thought I'd 
 best know. 
 
 " They're dear young ladies," she said, " though 
 Miss Elisabeth is a bit masterful and Miss Baby 
 Augusta's her proper name a bit spoilt. Take 
 them all together, I think Miss Lally's my favourite, 
 or would be if she was a little happier, poor child ! 
 I can't stand whiney children." 
 
 I smiled to myself I knew that the good woman's 
 experience of children was not great she had mar- 
 ried late and never had one of her own. It was real 
 goodness -that made her take such an interest in the 
 little Penroses. 
 
 " Poor child," I said, " perhaps the cross nurse has 
 made her so," at which Sarah gave a sort of grunt. 
 " What is her real name the middle young lady's, 
 I mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, bless you, I couldn't take upon me to say it 
 it's too outlandish. Miss Lally we call her 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 17 
 
 and I could hear that Mrs. Nutfold's breath was 
 getting short she was stout in her later years 
 and that she was a little cross. " You must ask for 
 yourself, Martha." 
 
 So I said no more, though I had wanted to hear 
 about the boy, who had spoken of their mother as 
 his aunty, and how he had come to be so delicate 
 and lame. And in a few moments more we found 
 ourselves at the door of Clover Cottage ; that was 
 Mrs. Nutfold's house, though " Bramble Cottage " 
 would have suited it better, standing where it did. 
 
 She took the key out of her pocket. 
 
 "I locked them in," she said, nodding her head, 
 " though they didn't know it." 
 
 " Gracious," says I, " you don't mean as the children 
 are all alone ? " 
 
 "To be sure who'd be with them? I wasn't 
 going to make a chatter all over the place about that 
 impident woman a-goin' off. And Bella, my girl, 
 goes home at five. 'Twas after she left there was all 
 the upset." 
 
 I felt rather startled at hearing this. Suppose 
 they had set themselves on fire ! But old Sarah 
 seemed quite easy in her mind, as she opened 'the 
 door and went in, me following. 
 
 'Twas a nice roomy cottage, and so clean. Be- 
 sides the large kitchen at one side, with a good 
 back-kitchen behind it, and a tidy bedroom for Mrs. 
 Nutfold, there was a fair-sized parlour, with casement 
 
18 NURSE HEATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 windows and deep window-seats all old-fashioned, 
 but roomy and airy. And upstairs two nice bed- 
 rooms and a small one. I knew it well, having 
 been there off and on to help Mrs. Nutfold with her 
 lodgers at the busy season before I went away to a 
 regular place. So I was a little surprised when she 
 turned to the kitchen, instead of opening the parlour 
 door. And at first, what with coming out of the 
 half-light and the red glow still in my eyes, and 
 what with that there Fusser setting upon me with 
 such a barking and jumping all meant for a wel- 
 come, I soon found as never was, I scarce could 
 see or hear. But I soon got myself together again. 
 
 " Down Fusser, naughty Fuss," said the children, 
 and, " he won't bite, it's only meant for ' How do you 
 do ? ' " said the eldest girl. And then she turned to 
 me as pretty as might be. "Is this Martha?" says 
 she, holding out her little hand. " I am pleased to 
 see you. It's very good of you, and oh, Mrs. Nut- 
 fold, I'm so glad you've come back. Baby is getting 
 so sleepy." 
 
 Poor little soul so she was. They had set her 
 up on Sarah's old rocking-chair near the fire as well 
 as they could, to keep her warm because of her cold, 
 and it was a chilly evening rather. But it was past 
 her bed-time, and she was fractious with all the 
 upset. I just was stooping down to look at her 
 when she gave a little cry and held out her arms to 
 me. "Baby so tired," she said, "want to go to bed." 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 19 
 
 "And so you shall, my love," I said. "I'll have 
 off my bonnet in a moment, and then Martha will 
 put Miss Baby to bed all nice and snug." 
 
 " Marfa," said a little voice beside me. It was the 
 middle young lady. "I like that name, don't you, 
 Francie?" 
 
 That was the boy they were all there, poor 
 dears. Old Sarah had thought they'd be cosier in 
 the kitchen while she was out. I smiled back at 
 Miss Lally, as they called her. She was standing 
 by Master Francis; both looking up at me, with a 
 kind of mixture of hope and fear, a sort of asking, 
 " Will she be good to us ? " in their faces, which 
 touched me very much. Master Francis was not a 
 pretty child like the others. He was pale and thin, 
 and his eyes looked too dark for his face. He was 
 small too, no taller than Miss Bess, and with none 
 of her upright hearty look. But when he smiled 
 his expression was very sweet. He smiled now, 
 with a sort of relief and pleasure, and I saw that he 
 gave a little squeeze to Miss Lally 's hand, which he 
 was holding. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "it's a nice name. The other 
 nurse was called 4 Sharp ; ' it suited her too," with a 
 twinkle in his eyes I was pleased to see. " Lally 
 can't say her c th's ' properly," he went on, as if he 
 was excusing her a little, " nor her ' r's ' sometimes, 
 though Bess and I are trying to teach her." 
 
 " It's so babyish at her age, nearly six, not to speak 
 
20 tfUftsE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 properly," said Miss Bess, with her little toss of the 
 head, at which Miss Lally's face puckered up, and 
 the corners of her mouth went down, and I saw 
 what Sarah Nutfold meant by saying she was rather 
 a " whiney " child. I didn't give her time for more 
 just then. I had got Miss Baby up in my arms, 
 where she was leaning her sleepy head on my 
 shoulder in her pretty baby way. I felt quite in my 
 right place again. 
 
 " Come along, Miss Lally, dear," I said. " It must 
 be your bed-time too, and if you'll come upstairs with 
 Miss Baby and me, you'll be able to show me all the 
 things the baths, and the sponges, and everything 
 won't that be nice ? " 
 
 She brightened up in a moment dear child, it's 
 always been like that with her. Give her a hint of 
 anything she could do for others, and she'd forget her 
 own troubles fancy or real ones that minute. 
 
 "The hot water's all ready," said Mrs. Nutfold. 
 " I kep' the fire up, so as you shouldn't have no 
 trouble I could help, Martha, my dear." 
 
 And then the three of us went upstairs to the big 
 room at the back, where I was to sleep with Miss 
 Baby in her cot, and which we called the night 
 nursery. Miss Lally was as bright as a child could 
 be, and that handy and helpful. But more than 
 once I heard a sigh come from the very depths of 
 her little heart, it seemed. 
 
 " Sharp never lettened me help wif Baby going to 
 bed, this nice way," she said, and sighed again. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 21 
 
 "Never mind about Sharp, my dear," I said. "She 
 had her ways, and Martha has hers. What are you 
 sighing about?" 
 
 " I'm so f wightened her'll come back and you go, 
 Marfa," she said, nestling up to me. Baby was safe 
 in bed by now, prayers said and all. "And I'm 
 sleepy, but I don't like going to bed till Queen 
 comes." 
 
 " Who may she be, my dear ? " I asked, and then 
 I remembered their talking that day in the street. 
 " Oh, it's Miss Bess, you mean." 
 
 " Yes it's in the English history," said the child, 
 making a great effort over the " r." " There was a 
 queen they called ' Good Queen Bess,' so I made 
 that my name for Bess. But mamma laughed one 
 day and said that queen wasn't 'good.' I was so 
 sorry. So I just call Bess ' Queen ' for short. And 
 I say 4 good ' to myself, for my Bess is good ; only I 
 wish she wouldn't be vexed when I don't speak 
 words right," and again the little creature sighed as 
 if all the burdens of this weary world were on her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " It's that Miss Bess wants you to speak as cleverly 
 as she does, I suppose. It'll come in time, no fear. 
 When I was a little girl I couldn't say the letter 
 4 1,' try as I might. I used to leave it out altogether 
 I remember one day telling mother I had seen 
 such a sweet 4 ittie 'amb ' I meant 4 little lamb.' " 
 
 " Oh, how funny," said Miss Lally laughing. She 
 
22 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 was always ready to laugh. " It's a good thing I can 
 say ' 1's,' isn't it ? My name wouldn't be nothing 
 - would it? without the ' IV " 
 
 " But it's only a short, isn't it, Missy? " I said. 
 
 " Yes, my we&\ name is 4 Lalage.' Do you fink it's 
 a pretty name ? " she said. She was getting sleepy, 
 and it was too much trouble to worry about her 
 speaking. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I think it's a sweet name. So soft and 
 gentle like," I said, which pleased her, I could see. 
 
 " Papa says so too but mamma doesn't like it so 
 much. It was Francie's mamma's name, but she's 
 dead. And poor Francie's papa's dead too. He was 
 papa's brother," said Miss Lally, in her old-fashioned 
 way. There was a funny mixture of old-fashioned- 
 ness and simple, almost baby ways about all those 
 children. I've never known any quite like them. 
 No doubt it came in part from their being brought 
 up so much by themselves, and having no other 
 companions than each other. But from the first I 
 always felt they were dear children, and more than 
 common interesting. 
 
 A few days passed very quiet and peaceful, and 
 yet full of life too they seemed to me. I felt more 
 like myself again, as folks say, than since my great 
 trouble. It was sweet to have real little ones to see 
 to again if Miss Baby had only known it, that first 
 evening's bathing her and tucking her up in bed 
 brought tears of pleasure to my eyes. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 23 
 
 " Come now,' ' I said to myself, " this'll never do. 
 You mustn't let yourself go for to get so fond of 
 these young ladies and gentlemen that you're only 
 with for a day or two at most," but I knew all the 
 same I couldn't help it, and I settled in my own 
 mind that as soon as I could I would look out for a 
 place again. I wasn't afraid of what some would 
 count a hardish place indeed, I rather liked it. 
 I've always been that fond of children that whatever 
 I have to do for them comes right what does try 
 my temper is to see things half done, or left undone 
 by silly upsetting girls who haven't a grain of the 
 real nurse's spirit in them. 
 
 My lady wrote at once on hearing from Mrs. 
 Nutfold. She was very angry indeed about Sharp's 
 behaviour, and at first was by way of coming down 
 immediately to see to things. But by the next day, 
 when she had got a second letter saying how old 
 Sarah had fetched me, and that I was willing to stay 
 for the time, she wrote again, putting off for a few 
 days, and glad to do so, seeing how cleverly her good 
 Mrs. Nutfold had managed. That was how she put 
 it my lady always had a gracious way with her, 
 I will say and I was to be thanked for my oblig- 
 ingness ; she was sure her little dears would be happy 
 with any one so well thought of by the dame. They 
 were very busy indeed just then, she and Sir Hulbert, 
 she said, and very gay. But when I came to know 
 her better I did her justice, and saw she was not the 
 
24 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 butterfly I was inclined to think her. She was just 
 frantic to get her husband forward, so to speak, and 
 far more ambitious for him than caring about any- 
 thing for herself. He had had a trying and disap- 
 pointing life of it in some ways, had Sir Hulbert, 
 and it had not soured him. He was a right-down 
 high-minded gentleman, though not so clever as my 
 lady, perhaps. And she adored him. They adored 
 each other seldom have I heard of a happier couple : 
 only on one point was there ever disunion between 
 them, as I shall explain, all in good time. 
 
 A week therefore fully a week had gone by 
 before my little ladies' mother came to see them. 
 And when she did come it was at short notice 
 enough a letter by the post and Mayne, the post- 
 man, never passed our way much before ten in the 
 morning. So the dame told as how she'd be down by 
 the first train, and get to Clover Cottage by eleven, 
 or soon after. We were just setting off on our 
 morning walk when Sarah came calling after us to 
 tell. She was for us not going, and stopping in till 
 her ladyship arrived ; but when I put it to her that 
 the children would get so excited, hanging about and 
 nothing to do, she gave in. 
 
 "I'll bring them back before eleven," I said. 
 " They'll be looking fresh and rosy, and with us 
 out of the way you and the girl can get the rooms 
 all tidied up as you'd like for my lady to find them." 
 
 And Sarah allowed it was a good thought. 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 25 
 
 " You've a head on your shoulders, my girl," was 
 how she put it. 
 
 So off we set our usual way, over the common 
 to the fir-woods. There's many a pretty walk about 
 Brayling, and a great variety; but none took the 
 young ladies' and Master Francie's fancy like the fir- 
 woods. They had never seen anything of the kind 
 before, their home being by the seashore was maybe 
 the reason or one reason. For I feel much the 
 same myself about loving fir-woods, though, so to say, 
 I was born and bred among them. There's a charm 
 one can't quite explain about them the sameness 
 and the stillness and the great tops so high up, and 
 yet the bareness and openness down below, though 
 always in the shade. And the scent, and the feel of 
 the crisp crunching soil one treads on, soil made of 
 the millions of the fir-needles, with here and there the 
 cones as they have fallen. 
 
 "It's like fairy stories," Miss Lally used to say, 
 with her funny little sigh. 
 
 But we couldn't linger long in the woods that 
 morning, though a beautiful morning it was. Miss 
 Bess and Miss Baby were in the greatest delight 
 about " mamma " coming, and always asking me if I 
 didn't think it must be eleven o'clock. Miss Lally 
 was pleased too, in her quiet way, only I noticed 
 that she was a good deal taken up with Master 
 Francie, who seemed to have something on his 
 mind, and at last they both called to Miss Bess, and 
 
26 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 said something to her which I didn't hear, evidently 
 asking her opinion. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Miss Bess, in her quick decided 
 way; "I have no patience with you being so silly. 
 As if mamma would be so unjust." 
 
 "But," said Master Francis hesitatingly, "you 
 know, Bess sometimes " 
 
 " Yes," put in Miss Lally, " she might think it had 
 been partly Francie's fault." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Miss Bess again ; " mamma 
 knows well enough that Sharp was horrid. I am 
 sure Francie has been as good as good for ever so 
 long, and old Mrs. Nutfold will tell mamma so, even 
 if possibly she did not understand." 
 
 Their faces grew a little lighter after this, and by 
 the time we had got home and I had tidied them all 
 up, I really felt that my lady would be difficult to 
 please if she didn't think all four looking as bright 
 and well as she could wish. 
 
 I kept myself out of the way when I heard the 
 carriage driving up, though the children would have 
 dragged me forward. But I was a complete stranger 
 to Lady Penrose, and things having happened as they 
 had, I felt that she might like to be alone with the 
 children, at first, and that no doubt Sarah Nutfold 
 would be eager to have a talk with her. I sat down 
 to my sewing quietly there was plenty of mending 
 on hand, Sharp's service having been but eye-service 
 in every way and I won't deny but that my heart 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 27 
 
 was a little heavy thinking how soon, how very soon, 
 most likely, I should have to leave these children, 
 whom already, in these few days, I had grown to love 
 so dearly. 
 
 I was not left very long to my meditations, how- 
 ever ; before an hour had passed there came a clear 
 voice up the old staircase, " Martha, Martha, come 
 quick, mamma wants you," and hastening out I 
 met Miss Bess at the door. She turned and ran 
 down again, I following her more slowly. 
 
 How well I remember the group I saw as I 
 opened the parlour door ! It was like a picture. 
 Lady Penrose herself was more than pretty beauti- 
 ful, I have heard her called, and I think it was no 
 exaggeration. She was sitting in the dame's old- 
 fashioned armchair, in the window of the little room ; 
 the bright summer sunshine streaming in behind her 
 and lighting up her fair hair hair for all the world 
 like Miss Lally's, though perhaps a thought darker. 
 Miss Baby was on her knee and Miss Bess on a stool 
 at her feet, holding one of her hands. Miss Lally 
 and Master Francie were a little bit apart, close 
 together as usual. 
 
 " Come in," said my lady. " Come in, Martha," as 
 I hesitated a little in the doorway. "I am very 
 pleased to see you and to thank you for all your 
 kindness to these little people." 
 
 She half rose from her chair as I drew near, and 
 shook hands with me in the pretty gracious way she had. 
 
28 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " I am sure it has been a pleasure to me, my lady," 
 I said. " I've been used to children for so long that 
 I was feeling quite lost at home doing nothing." 
 
 " And you are very fond of children, truly fond of 
 them," my lady went on, glancing up at me with a 
 quick observant look, that somehow reminded me of 
 Miss Bess ; " so at least Mrs. Nutfold tells me, and I 
 think I should have known it for myself even if she 
 had not said so. I have to go back to town this after- 
 noon supposing you all run out into the garden for 
 a few minutes, children ; I want to talk to Martha a 
 little, and it will soon be your dinner time." 
 
 She got up as she spoke, putting Miss Baby down 
 gently ; the child began grumbling a little but, 
 " No, no, Baby, you must do as I tell you," checked 
 her in a moment. 
 
 " Take her out with you, Bess," she added. I could 
 see that my lady was not one to be trifled with. 
 
 When they had all left the room she turned to 
 me again. " Sit down, Martha, for a minute or two. 
 One can always talk so much more comfortably 
 sitting," she said pleasantly. " And I have no doubt 
 the children have given you plenty of exercise lately, 
 though you don't look delicate," she added, with 
 again the little look of inquiry. 
 
 " Thank you, my lady ; no, I am not delicate ; as a 
 rule I am strong and well, though this last year has 
 brought me troubles and upsets, and I haven't felt 
 quite myself." 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 29 
 
 " Naturally," she said. " Mrs. Nutfold has told me 
 about you. I was talking to her just now when I 
 first arrived." Truly my lady was not one to let the 
 grass grow under the feet. " She says you will be 
 looking for a situation again before long. Is there 
 any chance of your being able to take one at once, 
 that is to say if mine seems likely to suit you." 
 
 She spoke so quick and it was so unexpected that 
 I felt for a moment half stupid and dazed-like. 
 
 " Are you sure, my lady, that I should suit you ? " 
 I managed to say at last. "I have only been in 
 one place in my life, and you might want more 
 experience." 
 
 "You were with Mrs. Wyngate, in shire, I 
 
 believe? I know her sister and can easily hear 
 any particulars I want, but I feel sure you would 
 suit me." 
 
 She went on to give me a good many particulars, 
 all in the same clear decided way. " The Wyngates 
 are very rich," she said, as she ended. " You must 
 have seen a great deal of luxury there. Now we are 
 not rich not at all rich though we have a large 
 country place that has belonged to the family for 
 many hundreds of years ; but we are obliged to live 
 plainly and the place is rather lonely. I don't want 
 you to decide all at once. Think it all over, and 
 consult your parents, and let me have your answer 
 when I come down again." 
 
 "That will be the difficulty," I replied; "my 
 
30 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 parents wanted me to stay on some time with them. 
 There is nothing about the work or the wages I 
 should object to, and though Mrs. Wyngate was 
 very kind, I have never cared for much luxury in 
 the nursery indeed, I should have liked plainer 
 ways ; and I love the country, and as for the young 
 ladies and gentleman, my lady, if it isn't taking a 
 liberty to say so, I love them dearly already. But it 
 is father and mother 
 
 " Well, well," said my lady, " we must see. The 
 children are very happy with you, and I hope it may 
 be arranged, but of course you must consult your 
 parents." 
 
 She went back to London that same afternoon, 
 and that very evening, when they were all in bed, I 
 slipped on my bonnet and ran home to talk it over 
 with father and mother. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TRELUAN. 
 
 THERE were fors and againsts, as there are with 
 most things in this world. Father was sorry for me 
 to leave so soon and go so far, and he scarce thought 
 the wages what I might now look for. Mother felt 
 with him about the parting, but mother was a far- 
 seeing woman. She thought the change would be 
 the best thing for me after my trouble, and she 
 thought a deal of my being with real gentry. Not 
 but that Mrs. Wyngate's family was all one could 
 think highly of, but Mr. Wyngate's great fortune 
 had been made in trade, and there was a little more 
 talk and thought of riches and display among them 
 than quite suited mother's ideas, and she had some- 
 times feared it spoiling me. 
 
 " The wages I wouldn't put first," she said. " A 
 good home and simple ways among real gentlefolk 
 that's what I'd choose for thee, my girl. And 
 the children are good children and not silly spoilt 
 things, and straightforward and well-bred, I take it ? " 
 
 " All that and more," I answered. " If anything, 
 they've been a bit too strict brought up, I'd say. If 
 I go to them I shall try to make Miss Lally brighten 
 
 31 
 
32 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 up not that she's a dull child, but she has the look 
 of taking things to heart more than one likes to see 
 at her age. And poor Master Francis I'm sure 
 he'd be none the worse of a little petting so deli- 
 cate as he is and his lameness." 
 
 " You'll find your work to do, if you go no fear," 
 said mother. " Maybe it's a call." 
 
 I got to think so myself and when my lady 
 wrote that all she heard from Mrs. Wyngate was 
 most satisfactory, I made up my mind to accept her 
 offer, and told her so when she came down again for 
 a few hours the end of the week. 
 
 We stayed but a fortnight longer at Brayling 
 and a busy fortnight it was. I had my own things 
 to see to a little, and would fain have finished the 
 set of shirts I had begun for father. The days 
 seemed to fly. I scarce could believe it was not a 
 dream when I found myself with all the family in a 
 second-class railway carriage, starting from Paddirig- 
 ton on our long journey. 
 
 It was a long journey, especially as, to save ex- 
 pense, we had come up from Brayling that same 
 morning. We were not to reach the little town 
 where we left the railway till nearly midnight, to 
 sleep there, I was glad for the poor children's sake 
 to hear, and start again the next morning on a nine- 
 teen miles' journey by coach. 
 
 " And then," said Miss Lally, with one of her deep 
 sighs, " we shall be at home," 
 
TRELTJAN. 33 
 
 I thought there was some content in her sigh this 
 time. 
 
 " Shall you be glad, dearie, to be at home again ? " 
 I said. 
 
 " I fink so," she answered. " And oh, I am glad 
 you've corned wif us, 'stead of Sharp. And Francie's 
 almost more gladder still, aren't you, dear old 
 Francie ? " 
 
 " I should just think I was," said the boy. 
 
 " Sharp," - - and the little girl lowered her voice 
 and glanced around ; we were, so to speak, alone at 
 one end of the carriage, Miss Lally, her cousin and 
 I, for Miss Baby was already asleep in my arms and 
 Miss Bess talking, like a grown-up young lady, 
 at the other end, with her papa and mamma 
 " Sharp," said Miss Lally, " really hated poor Francie, 
 because she thought he told mamma about her 
 tempers. And she made mamma think he was 
 naughty when he wasn't. Francie and I were 
 frightened when Sharp went away that mamma 
 would think it was his fault. But she didn't. 
 Queen spoke to her, and Mrs. Dame " (that was her 
 name for old Sarah) " did too. And you didn't get 
 scolded, did you, Francie ? " 
 
 " No," said Master Francie quietly, " I didn't." 
 
 He looked as if he were going to say more, but 
 just then Miss Bess, who had had enough for the 
 time, of being grown up and indeed she was but a 
 complete child at heart got up from her seat and 
 
84 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 came to our end of the carriage. Sir Hulbert was 
 reading his newspaper, and my lady was making 
 notes in a little memorandum book. 
 
 "What are you talking about?" said the eldest 
 little sister, sitting down beside me. " You all look 
 very comfortable, Baby especially." 
 
 " We are talking about Sharp going away," re- 
 plied Miss Lally, "and Francie thinking he'd be 
 scolded for it." 
 
 " Oh ! do leave off about that and talk of some- 
 thing nicer. Franz is really silly. If you'd only 
 speak right out to mamma," she went on, "things 
 would be ever so much better." 
 
 The boy shook his head rather sadly. 
 
 " Now you know," said Miss Bess, " they would 
 be. Mamma is never unjust." 
 
 She was speaking in her clear decided way, and 
 
 feeling a little afraid lest their voices should reach 
 
 to the other end I wouldn't have liked my lady to 
 
 think I encouraged the children in talking her over 
 
 I tried to change the conversation. 
 
 " Won't you tell me a little about your home ? " I 
 said. " You know it'll all be quite new to me ; I've 
 only seen the sea once or twice in my life, and never 
 lived by it." 
 
 " Treluan isn't quite close to the sea," said Master 
 Francis, evidently taking up my feeling. " We can 
 see it from some of the top rooms, and from one end 
 of the west terrace at high tides, and we can hear it 
 
TEELUAK. 35 
 
 too when it's stormy. But it's really two miles to 
 the coast." 
 
 " There are such dear little bays, lots of them," 
 said Miss Bess. " We can play Robinson Crusoe and 
 smugglers and all sorts of things, for the bays are 
 quite separated from each other by the rocks." 
 
 " There's caves in some," said Miss Lally, " rather 
 f'ightening caves, they're so dark ; " but her eyes 
 sparkled as if she were quite able to enjoy some 
 adventures. 
 
 " We shall be at no loss for nice walks, I see ; but 
 how do you amuse yourselves on wet days ? " 
 
 " Oh ! we've always plenty to do," said Miss Bess. 
 " Miss Kirstin comes from the Vicarage every morn- 
 ing for our lessons, and twice a week papa teaches 
 Franz and me Latin in the afternoon, and the house 
 is very big, you know. When we can't go out, we 
 may race about in the attics over the nurseries. 
 There's a stair goes up to the tower, just by the nurs- 
 ery door, and you pass the attics on the way. 
 They're called the tower attics, because there are 
 lots more over the other end of the house. Francie's 
 room is in the tower." 
 
 It was easy to see by this talk that Treluan was a 
 large and important place. 
 
 " I suppose the house is very, very old? " I said. 
 
 " Oh yes ! thousands I mean hundreds of 
 years old. Centuries mean hundreds, don't they, 
 Franz ? " said she, turning to her cousin. 
 
36 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Yes, dear," he answered gently, though I could 
 see he was inclined to smile a little. " If you know 
 English history,'* he went on to me, "I could tell 
 you exactly how old Treluan is. The first bit of it 
 was built in the reign of King Henry the Tfiird, 
 though it's been changed ever so often since then. 
 About a hundred years ago the Penroses were very 
 rich, very rich indeed. But when one of them died 
 our great, great grand-uncle, I think it was and 
 his nephew took possession, it was found the old man 
 had sold a lot of the land secretly it wasn't to be 
 told till his death and no one has ever been able 
 to find out what he did with the money. It was the 
 best of the land too." 
 
 " And they were so surprised," said Miss Bess, 
 " for he'd been a very saving old man, and they 
 thought there'd be lots of money over, anyway. 
 Wasn't it too bad of him horrid old thing ? " 
 
 " Queen," said Miss Lally gravely. " You know 
 we fixed never to call him that, 'cos he's dead. He 
 was a oh, what's that word ? something like 
 those things in the hall at home helmet was it 
 that? No do tell me, Queen." 
 
 " You're muddling it up with crusaders, you silly 
 little thing," said Miss Bess. " How could he have 
 been a crusader only a hundred years ago ? " 
 
 " No, no, it isn't that I said it was like it," said 
 Miss Lally, ready to cry. " What's the other word 
 for helmet ? " 
 
TKELUAN. 37 
 
 " I know," said Master Francis, " vizor and " 
 
 " Yes, yes and the old man was a miser, that's 
 it," said the child. " Papa said so, and he said it's 
 like a' illness, once people get it they can't leave 
 off.' f 
 
 Miss Bess and Master Francis could not help 
 laughing at the funny way the child said it, nor 
 could I myself, for that matter. And then they 
 went on to tell me more of the strange old story 
 how their great grandfather and their grandfather 
 after him had always gone on hoping the missing 
 money would sooner or later turn up, though it never 
 did, till putting what the children told me together 
 with my lady's own words it became clear that 
 poor Sir Hulbert had come into a sadly impoverished 
 state of things. 
 
 " Perhaps the late baronet and his father were not 
 of the 4 saving ' sort," I said to myself, and from what 
 I came to hear afterwards, I fancy I was about right. 
 
 After a while my lady came to our end of the 
 carriage. She was afraid, she said, I'd find Miss 
 Baby too heavy wouldn't I lay her comfortably on 
 the seat, there was plenty of room ? my lady was 
 always thoughtful for others and then when we 
 had got the child settled, she sat down and joined in 
 our talk a little. 
 
 "We've been telling Martha about Treluan and 
 about the old uncle that did something with the 
 money," said Miss Bess. 
 
38 NUKSE HEATHEKDALE'S STORY. 
 
 My lady did not seem to mind. 
 
 " It is a queer story, isn't it ? " she said. " Worse 
 than queer, indeed " and she sighed. " Though 
 even with it, things would not be as they are, if other 
 people had not added their part to them." 
 
 She glanced round in a half impatient way, and 
 somehow her glance fell on Master Francis, and I 
 almost started as I caught sight of the expression 
 that had come over her face it was a look of real 
 dislike. 
 
 "Sit up, Francis do, for goodness' sake," she said 
 sharply ; " you make yourself into a regular hump- 
 back." 
 
 The boy's pale, almost sallow face reddened all 
 over. He had been listening with interest to the 
 talking, and taking his part in it. Now he straight- 
 ened himself nervously, murmuring something that 
 sounded like, "I beg your pardon, Aunt Helen," and 
 sat gazing out of the window beside him as if lost in 
 his own thoughts. I busied myself with pulling the 
 rugs better over Miss Baby, so that my lady should 
 not see my face just then. But I think she felt sorry 
 for her sharp tone, for when she spoke again it was 
 even more pleasantly than usual. 
 
 " Have you told nurse other things about Treluan, 
 children ? " she said. " It is really a dear old place," 
 she went on to me ; " it might be made quite delight- 
 ful if Sir Hulbert could spend a little more upon it. 
 I had set my heart on new furnishing your room this 
 
TBELTTAK. 39 
 
 year, Bess darling, but I'm afraid it will have to 
 wait." 
 
 " Never mind, dear," said Miss Bess comfortingly, 
 in her old-fashioned way, " there's no hurry. If I 
 could have fresh covers to the chairs, the furniture 
 itself I mean the wood part is quite good." 
 
 " I did get some nice chintz in London," said her 
 mamma ; " there was some selling off rather cheap. 
 But it's the getting things made everything down 
 with us is so difficult and expensive," and my lady 
 sighed. Her mind seemed full of the one idea, and I 
 began to think she should try to take a cheerier view 
 of things. 
 
 "If you'll excuse me mentioning it," I said, "I 
 have had some experience in the cutting out of 
 chair-covers and such things. It would be a great 
 pleasure to me to help to make the young ladies' 
 rooms nice." 
 
 " That would be very nice indeed," said my lady ; 
 " I really should like to do what we can to brighten 
 up the old house. I expect it will look very gloomy 
 to you, nurse, till you get used to it. I do want 
 Bess's room to look better. Of course Lally is in the 
 nursery still, and won't need a room of her own for 
 a long time yet." 
 
 Miss Lally was sitting beside me, and as her 
 mamma spoke, I heard a very tiny little sigh. 
 
 " Never mind, Miss Lally dear," I whispered. 
 " We'll brighten up the nurseries too, nicely." 
 
40 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 These little scraps of talk come back to my mind 
 now, when I think of that first journey down to 
 Treluari so many years ago. I put them down such 
 as they are, as they may help better than words of 
 my own to give an idea of the dear children and all 
 about them, as they then were. 
 
 We reached Treluan the afternoon of the next 
 day. It was a dull day unfortunately, though the 
 very middle of summer rainy and gray. Of course 
 every one knows that there's much weather of that 
 kind in the west country, but no doubt it added to 
 the impression of gloom with which the first sight of 
 the old house struck me, I must confess. Gloom, 
 perhaps, is hardly the word to use ; it was more a 
 feeling of desertedness, almost of decayed grandeur, 
 quite unlike anything I had ever se,en before. For 
 in my former place everything had been bright and 
 new, fresh and perfect of its kind. Afterwards, 
 when I came to see into things better, I found 
 there was no neglect or mismanagement ; every- 
 thing that could be done was done by Sir Hulbert 
 outside, and my lady in her own department 
 uphill and trying work though it must often have 
 been for them. 
 
 But that first evening, when I looked round the 
 great lofty hall into which my lady had led the way, 
 dusky and dim already with the rain pattering against 
 the high arched windows and a chilly feeling in the 
 air, the half dozen servants or so, who had come out 
 
TRELUAN. 41 
 
 to meet us evidently the whole establishment 
 standing round, I must own that in spite of the 
 children's eager excitement and delight at finding 
 themselves at home again, my heart went down. I 
 did feel so very far away from home and father and 
 mother, and everything I had ever known. The first 
 thing to cheer me was when the old housekeeper 
 cook-housekeeper she really was Mrs. Brent, came 
 forward after speaking to my lady, and shook me 
 kindly by the hand. 
 
 " Welcome to Treluan, Nurse Heatherdale," she 
 said. And here I should explain that as there was 
 already a Martha in the house, my lady had expressed 
 her wish that I should be called " nurse," or " Heath- 
 erdale," from which came my name of "Heather," 
 that I have always been called by. "Welcome to 
 Treluan, and don't go for to think that it's always as 
 dull as you see it just now, as like as not to-morrow 
 will be bright and sunny." 
 
 She was a homely-looking body with a very kind 
 face, not Cornish bred I found afterwards, though she 
 had lived there many years. Something about her 
 made me think of mother, and I felt the tears rise to 
 my eyes, though no one saw. 
 
 " Shall I show nurse the way upstairs, my lady ? " 
 she said. For Mrs. Brent was like her looks, simple 
 and friendly like. She had never known Treluan in 
 its grand days of course, though she had known it 
 when things were a good deal easier than at present ; 
 
42 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 and that evening, when the children were asleep, she 
 came up to sit with me a bit, and, though with perfect 
 respect to her master and mistress and no love of 
 gossip in her talk (for of that she was quite free), she 
 explained to me a few things which already had 
 puzzled me a little. No praise was too high for Sir 
 Hulbert with her, and my lady was a really good, 
 high-minded woman. " But she takes her troubles 
 too heavy," said Mrs. Brent ; " she's like to break her 
 heart at having no son of her own, and that and other 
 things make her not show her best self to poor little 
 Master Francis, though, considering he's been here 
 since he was four, 'tis a wonder he doesn't seem to 
 her like a child of her own. And Sir Hulbert feels 
 it ; it's a real grief to him, for he loved Master 
 Francis's father dearly through all the troubles he 
 caused them, and anyway 'tis not fair to visit the 
 father's sin on the innocent child." 
 
 Then she told me how Master Francis's father had 
 made things worse by his extravagance, half-breaking 
 his young wife's heart and leaving debts behind him, 
 when he was killed by an accident; and that Sir 
 Hulbert, for the honour of the family, had taken 
 these debts upon himself. 
 
 " His wife was a pretty young creature, half a 
 foreigner. Sir Hulbert had her brought here with 
 the boy, and here she died, not long before Miss 
 Lalage was born, and so, failing a son, Master Francis 
 is the heir, and a sweet, good young gentleman he is, 
 
TEELUAN. 43 
 
 though nothing as to looks. 'Tis a pity he's so shy 
 and timid in his way ; it gives my lady the idea he's 
 not straightforward, though that I'm very sure he is, 
 and most affectionate at heart, though he hasn't the 
 knack of showing it." 
 
 " Except to Miss Lally, I should say," I put in ; 
 " how those two do cling together, to be sure." 
 
 " He loves them all dearly, my lady too, though 
 he's frightened of her. Miss Lally's the one he's 
 most at home with, because she's so little, and none 
 of Miss Bess's masterful ways about her. Poor dear 
 Miss Lally, many's the trouble she's got into for 
 Master Francis's sake." 
 
 All this was very interesting to me, and helped to 
 clear my mind in some ways from the first, which was, 
 I take it, a good thing. Mrs. Brent said little about 
 Sharp, but I could see she had not approved of her ; 
 and she was so kind as to add some words about 
 myself, and feeling sure I would make the children 
 happy, especially the two whom it was easy to see 
 were her own favourites, Miss Lally and her cousin. 
 This made me feel the more earnest to do my very 
 best in every way for the young creatures under my 
 care. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A NURSERY TEA. 
 
 WRITING down that talk with good Mrs. Brent 
 made me put aside the account of our arrival at 
 Treluan, clearly though I remember it. Even to 
 this day I never go up the great staircase of 
 course it is not often that I pass that way without 
 recalling the feelings with which I stepped up it for 
 the first time Mrs. Brent in front, carrying a small 
 hand-lamp, the passages being so dark, though it was 
 still early in the evening ; the children running on 
 before me, except Miss Baby, who was rather sleepy 
 and very cross, poor dear, so that half-way up I had 
 to lift her in my arms. All up the dark wainscoted 
 walls, dead and gone Penroses looked down upon us, 
 in every sort of ancient costume. They used to give 
 me a half eerie feeling till I got to know them better 
 and to take a certain pride in them, feeling myself, 
 as I came to do, almost like one of the family, though 
 in a humble way. 
 
 At the top of the great staircase we passed along 
 the gallery, which runs right across one side of the 
 hall below; then through a door on the right and 
 down a long passage ending in a small landing, from 
 
 44 
 
A NUKSEEY TEA. 45 
 
 which a back staircase ran down again to the ground 
 floor. The nurseries in those days were the two 
 large rooms beyond, now turned into a billiard-room, 
 my present lady thinking them scarcely warm enough 
 for the winter. It is handy too to have the billiard- 
 room near the tower, where the smoking-room now 
 is, and the spare rooms for gentlemen visitors. A 
 door close beside the nurseries opened on to the tower 
 stair ; some little way up this stair another door leads 
 into the two or three big attics over the nurseries, 
 which the children used as playrooms in the wet 
 weather. Master Francis's room was the lowest door 
 on the tower staircase, half-way as it were, as to level, 
 between the nurseries and the attics. The ground- 
 floor rooms of the tower were entered from below, as 
 the separate staircase only began from the nursery 
 floor. All these particulars, of course, I learnt by 
 degrees, having but a very general idea of things 
 that first night ; but plans of houses and buildings 
 have always had an interest for me, and as a girl I 
 think I had a quick eye for sizes and proportions. I 
 do remember the first time I saw the ground-floor 
 room of the tower, under Master Francis's, so to say, 
 wondering to myself how it came to be so low in the 
 ceiling, seeing that the floor of his room was several 
 feet higher than that of the nurseries. No doubt 
 others would have been struck by this also, had the 
 lowest room in the tower been one in regular use, 
 but as long as any one could remember it had only 
 
46 
 
 been a sort of lumber-room. It was only by accident 
 that I went into it one day, months after I had come 
 to Treluan. 
 
 The nurseries were nice airy rooms ; the school- 
 room was underneath the day nursery, down on the 
 ground floor ; and Miss Bess's room was off the little 
 landing I spoke of before you came to the nursery 
 passage. But all seemed dim and dusky in the half 
 light, that first evening. It was long before the days 
 of gas, of course, except in towns, though that, I am 
 told, is now thought nothing of compared to this new 
 electric light, which Sir Bevil is thinking of estab- 
 lishing here, to be made on the premises in some 
 wonderful way. And even lamps at that time were 
 very different from what they are now, when every 
 time my lady goes up to town she brings back some 
 beautiful new invention for turning night into day. 
 
 I was glad, I remember, June though it was, to see 
 a bright fire in the nursery grate Mrs. Brent was 
 always thoughtful and the tea laid out nice and 
 tidy on the table. Miss Baby brightened up at sight 
 of it, and the others gathered round to see what good 
 things the housekeeper had provided for them by 
 way of welcome home. 
 
 "I hope there's some clotted cream," said Miss 
 Bess ; " yes, that's right ! Nurse has never seen it 
 before, I'm sure. Fancy, Mrs. Brent, mamma says 
 the silly people in London call it Devonshire cream, 
 and I'm sure it's far more Cornish. And honey and 
 
A NURSERY TEA. 47 
 
 some of your own little scones and saffron cakes, that 
 is nice ! Mayn't we have tea immediately ? " 
 
 "I must wash my hands," said Master Francis, 
 " they did get so black in the carriage." 
 
 " And mine too," said Miss Lally. " Oh, nurse, 
 mayn't Francis wash his for once in the night nurs- 
 ery, to be quick?" 
 
 " Why didn't you both keep your gloves on, you 
 dirty children?" said Miss Bess in her masterful 
 way. "My hands are as clean as clean, and of 
 course Francis mustn't begin muddling in the nurs- 
 ery. You'd never have asked Sharp that, Lally. 
 It's just the sort of thing mamma doesn't like. I 
 shall take my things off in my own room at once." 
 And she marched to the door as she spoke, stopping 
 for a moment on the way to say to me " Heather- 
 dale, you'll come into my room, won't you, as soon as 
 ever you can, to talk about the new chair-covers ? " 
 
 "I won't forget about them, Miss Bess," I said 
 quietly ; " but for a few days I am sure to be busy, 
 unpacking and looking over the things that were left 
 here." 
 
 The child said nothing more, but I saw by the lift 
 of her head that she was not altogether pleased. 
 
 " Now Master Francis," I went on, " perhaps you 
 had better run off to your own room to wash your 
 hands. It's always best to keep to regular ways." 
 
 The boy obeyed at once. I had, to tell the truth, 
 been on the point of letting him do as Miss Lally 
 
48 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 had wanted, but Miss Bess's speech had given me a 
 hint, though I was not sorry for her not to have seen 
 it. I should be showing Master Francis no true 
 kindness to begin by any look of spoiling him, and I 
 saw by a little smile on Mrs. Brent's face that she 
 thought me wise, even though it was not till later 
 in the evening that I had the long talk with her that 
 I have already mentioned. 
 
 Our tea was bright and cheery, Miss Baby's spirits 
 returned, and she kept us all laughing by her funny 
 little speeches. My lady came in when we had 
 nearly finished, just to see how all the children were 
 perhaps too, for she was full of kind thoughtful- 
 ness, to make me feel myself more at home. She sat 
 down in the chair by the fire, with a little sigh, and 
 I was sorry to see the anxious, harassed look on her 
 beautiful face. 
 
 "You all look very comfortable," she said; "please 
 give me a cup of tea, nurse. I found such a lot of 
 things to do immediately, that I've not had time to 
 think of tea yet, and poor Sir Hulbert is off in the 
 rain to see about some broken fences. Oh dear! 
 what a contrary world it seems," she added half 
 laughingly. 
 
 44 How did the fences get broken, mamma?" said 
 Miss Bess ; " and why didn't Garth get them mended 
 at once without waiting to tease papa the moment he 
 got home ? " 
 
 " Some cattle got wild and broke them, and if they 
 
A NURSERY TEA. 49 
 
 are not put right at once, more damage may be done. 
 But all these repairs are expensive. It only happened 
 two days ago ; poor Garth was obliged to tell papa 
 before doing it. Dear me," she said again, " it really 
 does seem sometimes as if money would put every- 
 thing in life right." 
 
 "Oh! my lady," I exclaimed hastily, and then I 
 got red with shame at my forwardness and stopped 
 short. I felt very sorry for her ; the one thought 
 seemed never out of her mind, and bid fair to poison 
 her happy home. I felt too that it was scarcely the 
 sort of talk for the children to hear, Miss Bess being 
 already in some ways so old for her years, and the 
 two others scarce as light-hearted as they should 
 have been. 
 
 My lady smiled at me. 
 
 " Say on, Heatherdale ; I'd like to hear what you 
 think about it." 
 
 I felt my face getting still redder, but I had 
 brought it on myself. 
 
 " It was only, my lady," I began, " that it seems to 
 me that there are so many troubles worse than want 
 of money. There's my last lady's sister, for instance, 
 Mrs. Vernon, everything in the world has she that 
 money can give, but she's lost all her babies, one 
 after the other, and she's just heart-broken. Then 
 there's young Lady Mildred Parry, whose parents 
 own the finest place near my home, and she's their 
 only child; but she had a fall from her horse two 
 
50 NURSE HEATHEEDALE'S STORY. 
 
 years ago and her back is injured for life ; she often 
 drives past our cottage, lying all stretched-out-like, 
 in a carriage made on purpose." 
 
 My lady was silent. Suddenly, to my surprise, 
 Master Francis looked up quickly. 
 
 " I don't think I'd mind that so very much," he 
 said, " not if my back didn't hurt badly. I think it 
 would be better than walking with your leg always 
 aching, and I dare say everybody loves that girl 
 dreadfully." 
 
 He stopped as suddenly as he had begun, giving a 
 quick frightened glance round, and growing not red 
 but still paler than usual, as was his way. 
 
 " Poor little Francie," said Miss Lally, stretching 
 her little hand out to him and looking half ready 
 to cry. 
 
 " Don't be silly, Lally ; if . Francis's leg hurts him 
 he has only to say so, and it will be attended to as 
 it has always been. If everybody loves that young 
 Lady Mildred, no doubt it is because she is sweet and 
 loving to everybody." 
 
 Then she grew silent again and seemed to be 
 thinking. 
 
 " You are right, nurse," she said. " I am very 
 grateful when I see my dear children all well and 
 happy." 
 
 " And good" added Miss Bess with her little toss 
 of the head. 
 
 " Well, yes, of course," said her mother smiling. 
 
A NURSERY TEA. 51 
 
 I't was seldom, if ever, Miss Bess was pulled up for 
 anything she took it into her head to say, whether 
 called for or not. 
 
 " But," my lady went on in a lower voice, turning 
 to rue, as if she hardly wished the children to hear, 
 " want of money isn't my only, nor indeed my worst 
 trouble. I must go," and she got up as she spoke ; 
 "there are twenty things waiting for me to attend 
 to downstairs. Good-night, children dear ; I'll come 
 up and peep at you in bed if I possibly can, but I'm 
 not sure if I shall be able. If not, nurse must do 
 instead of me for to-night," and she turned towards 
 the door, moving in the quick graceful way she 
 always did. 
 
 " Franz ! " said Miss Bess reprovingly ; the poor 
 boy was already getting off his chair, but he was too 
 late to open the door. I doubt if his aunt noticed 
 his moving at all. 
 
 " You're always so slow and clumsy," said his 
 eldest cousin. The words sounded unkind, but it 
 was greatly that Miss Bess wanted him to please her 
 mamma, for the child had an excellent heart. 
 
 There was plenty to do after that first evening for 
 all of us. I got sleepy Miss Baby to bed as soon as 
 might be. The poor dear, she was sleepy ! I remem- 
 ber how, when she knelt down in her little white 
 nightgown to say her prayers, she could only just 
 get out, " T'ank God for b'inging us safe home ; " as 
 she had evidently been taught to say after a journey. 
 
52 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STOKY. 
 
 " Baby thinks that's enough, when she's been ter- 
 a- veiling," explained Miss Lally. 
 
 Then I set to work to unpack, and it was quite 
 surprising how handy the two elder girls and not 
 they only, but Blaster Francis too were in helping 
 me, and explaining where their things were kept and 
 all the nursery ways. Then I had to be shown Miss 
 Bess's room, and nearly offended her little ladyship 
 by saying I hadn't time just then to settle about the 
 new covers. For I was determined to give some 
 attention to Master Francis also. 
 
 His room was very plain, not to say bare ; not 
 that I hold with pampering boys, but he being deli- 
 cate, it did seem to me he might have had a couch 
 or easy-chair to rest his poor leg. He was very eager 
 to make the best of things, telling me I had no idea 
 what a beautiful view there was from his windows, 
 of which there were three. 
 
 " I love the tower," he said. " I wouldn't change 
 my room here for any other in the house." 
 
 And I must say I thought it was very nice of him 
 to put things in that way, considering too the sharp 
 tone in which I had heard his aunt speak to him that 
 very evening. 
 
 When I woke the next morning I found that 
 Mrs. Brent's words had come true, for the sun was 
 pouring in at the window, and when I drew up the 
 blind and looked out I would scarce have known the 
 place to be the same. The outlook was bare, to be 
 
A NURSERY TEA. 53 
 
 sure, compared with the well-wooded country about 
 my home; but the grounds just around the house 
 were carefully kept, though in a plain way, no 
 bedding-out plants or rare foreign shrubs, such as 
 I had been used to see at Mr. Wyngate's country 
 place. But all about Treliian there was the charm 
 which no money will buy the charm of age, 
 very difficult to put into words, though I felt it 
 strongly. 
 
 A little voice just then came across the room. 
 
 " Nurse, dear." It was Miss Lalage. " It's a very 
 fine day, isn't it? I have been watching the sun 
 getting up ever so long. When I first wokened, it 
 was nearly quite dark." 
 
 I looked at the child. She was sitting up in her 
 cot ; her face looked tired, and her large gray eyes 
 had dark lines beneath them, as if she had not slept 
 well. Miss Baby was still slumbering away in happy 
 content she was a child to sleep, to be sure! A 
 round of the clock was nothing for her. 
 
 "My dear Miss Lally," I said, "you have never 
 been awake since dawn, surely. Is your head ach- 
 ing, or is something the matter ? " 
 
 She gave a little sigh. 
 
 "No, fank you, it's nothing but finking, I mean 
 th-inking. Oh ! I wish I could speak quite right, 
 Bess says it's so babyish." 
 
 "Thinking! and what have you been thinking 
 about, dearie? You should have none but happy 
 
54 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 thoughts. Isn't it nice to be at home again? and 
 this beautiful summer weather ! We can go such 
 nice walks. You've got to show me all the pretty 
 places about." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Lally. " I'd like that, but we'll 
 be having lessons next week, not all day long, we 
 can go beautiful walks in the afternoons." 
 
 " Was it about lessons you were troubling your 
 little head?" 
 
 " No," she said, though not very heartily. " I 
 don't like them much, at least not those very high up 
 sums up you know to the very top of the slate 
 that won't never come right. But I wasn't finking 
 of them ; it was about poor mamma, having such ter- 
 oubles. Francie and I do fink such a lot about it. 
 Bess does too, but she's so clever, she's sure she'll do 
 something when she's big to get a lot of money for 
 papa and mamma. But I'm not clever, and Francie 
 has got his sore leg; we can't fink of anything we 
 could do, unless we could find some fairies ; but 
 Francie's sure there aren't any, and he's past ten, so 
 he must know." 
 
 " You can do a great deal, dear Miss Lally," I said. 
 "Don't get it into your head you can't. Rich or poor, 
 there's nothing helps papas and mammas so much as 
 their children being good, and loving, and obedient ; 
 and who knows but what Master Francis may be a 
 very clever man some day, whether his poor leg gets 
 better or not." 
 
A NUKSERY TEA. 55 
 
 The little girl seemed pleased. It needed but a 
 kind word or two to cheer her up at any time. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad Sharp has gone away and you 
 corned," she said. 
 
 She was rather silent while I was dressing her, 
 but when she had had her bath, and I was putting 
 on her shoes and stockings, she began again. 
 
 " Nurse," she asked, " do stockings cost a lot of 
 money to buy ? " 
 
 " Pretty well," I said. " At my home, mother 
 always taught us to knit our own. I could show 
 you a pair I knitted before I was much bigger than 
 you." 
 
 How the child's face did light up ! 
 
 "I've seen a little girl knitting who's not much 
 bigger than me. Couldn't you show me how to make 
 some stockings, and then mamma wouldn't have to 
 buy so many ? " 
 
 " Certainly I could ; I have plenty of needles with 
 me, and I dare say we could get some wool," I re- 
 plied. " I'll tell you what, Miss Lally ; you might 
 knit some for Master Francis ; that would be pleas- 
 ing him as well as your mamma. There's a village 
 not far off, I suppose you can generally buy wool 
 at a village shop." 
 
 "There's our village across the park, and there's 
 two shops. I'll ask Bess ; she'll know if we could 
 get wool. Oh ! nurse, how pleased I am ; I wonder 
 if we could go to-day. I've got some pennies and a 
 
56 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 shilling. I do like to have nice things to think of. 
 I wish Francie would be quick, I do so want to tell 
 him, or do you think I should keep it a surprise for 
 him?" 
 
 And she danced about in her eager delight, which 
 at last woke Miss Baby, who opened her eyes and 
 stared about her, with a sleepy smile of content on 
 her plump rosy face. She was a picture of a child, 
 and so easy minded. It is wonderful, to be sure, 
 how children brought up like little birds in one nest 
 yet differ from each other. I began to feel very 
 satisfied that I should never regret having come to 
 Treluan. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 
 
 BEFORE many days had passed I felt quite settled 
 down. The weather was most lovely for some time 
 just then, and this I think always helps to make one 
 feel more at home in a strange place. That first day, 
 and for two or three following, we could not go long 
 walks, as I had really so much to see to indoors, 
 Miss Bess had to make up her mind to wait as pa- 
 tiently as she could, till other things were attended to, 
 for the doing up of her room, and, what I was more 
 sorry for, poor Miss Lally had also to wait about 
 beginning the knitting she had so set her heart on. 
 
 I think it was the fourth day after our arrival 
 that I began at last to feel pretty clear. All the nurs- 
 ery drawers and cupboards tidied up and neatly ar- 
 ranged; the children's clothes looked over and planned 
 about for the rest of the summer. My lady went 
 over them with me, and I could see that it was a 
 comfort to her to feel assured that I understood the 
 need for economy, and prided myself, thanks to my 
 good old mother, on neat patches and darns quite 
 as much as on skill on making new things. My 
 poor lady it went to my heart to see how often 
 
 67 
 
58 
 
 she would have liked to get fresh and pretty frocks 
 and hats for the young ladies, for she had good taste 
 and great love of order. But after all there is often 
 a good deal of pleasure in contriving and making 
 the best of what one has. 
 
 " You must take nurse a good walk to-day, chil- 
 dren," said my lady as she left the room. " I shall 
 be busy with your papa, but you might get as far as 
 the sea, I think, if you took old Jacob and the little 
 cart for Baby if she gets tired, and for Francis if his 
 leg hurts him. How has it been, by the bye, for the 
 last day or two, Francis ? " 
 
 Her tone was rather cold, but still I could see a 
 little flush of pleasure come over the boy's face. 
 
 " Oh ! much better, thank you, auntie," he said 
 eagerly. " It's only just after the day in the railway 
 that it seems to hurt more." 
 
 " Then try to be bright and cheerful," she said. 
 44 Remember you are not the only one in the world 
 that has troubles to bear." 
 
 The boy didn't answer, but I could see his thin 
 little face grow pale again, and I just wished that my 
 lady had stopped at her first kindly inquiry. A deal 
 of mischief is done, it seems to me, by people not 
 knowing when it is best to stop. 
 
 Jacob, the donkey, was old and no mistake. 
 Larkins's " Peter " was young compared to him, and 
 the cart was nothing but a cart such as light luggage 
 might be carried in. It had no seats, but we took a 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 59 
 
 couple of footstools with us, which served the pur- 
 pose, and many a pleasant ramble we had with the 
 shabby little old cart and poor Jacob. 
 
 " Which way shall we go ? " said Miss Bess, as we 
 started down the drive. " You know, nurse, there's 
 ever so many ways to the sea here. It's all divided 
 into separate little bays. You can't get from one to 
 the other except at low tide, and with a lot of scram- 
 bling over the rocks, so we generally fix before we 
 start which bay we'll go to." 
 
 u Oh! do let's go to Polwithan Bay!" said Miss 
 Lally. 
 
 "It's not nearly so pretty as Trewan," said Miss 
 Bess, " and there are the smugglers' caves at Trewan. 
 We often call it the Smugglers' Bay because of that. 
 We've got names of our own for the bays as well as 
 the proper ones." 
 
 " There's one we call Picnic Bay," said Master 
 Francis, "because there are such beautiful big flat 
 stones for picnic tables. But I think the Smugglers' 
 Bay is the most curious of all. I'm sure nurse would 
 like to see it. Why do you want to go to Polwithan, 
 Lally ? It is rather a stupid little bay." 
 
 " Can we go to the Smugglers' Bay by the vil- 
 lage ? " asked Miss Lally, and then I understood her, 
 though I did not know that tightly clutched in her 
 hot little hand were the shilling and the three or four 
 pennies she had taken out of her money box on the 
 chance of buying the wool for her stockings. 
 
60 NUBSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " It would be ever such a round," said Miss Bess ; 
 but then she added politely she was very particu- 
 lar about politeness, when she wasn't put out " but 
 of course if nurse wants to see the village that wouldn't 
 matter. We've plenty of time. Would you like to 
 see it, nurse ? " 
 
 A glance at Miss Lally's anxious little face decided 
 me. 
 
 " Well, I won't say but what it would interest me 
 to see the village," I replied. " Of course it's just as 
 well and might be handy for me to know my way 
 about, so as to be able to find the post-office or fetch 
 any little thing from the shop if it were wanted." 
 
 This was quite true, though I won't deny but that 
 another reason was strongest and Miss Lally knew it, 
 for she crept up to me and slid her little hand into 
 mine gratefully. 
 
 " Very well, then," said Miss Bess, " we'll go round 
 by the village. But remember if you're tired, Lally, 
 you mustn't grumble, for it was you that first spoke 
 of going that way." 
 
 " There's the cart if Miss Lally's tired," I said. 
 " Three could easily get into it, and Jacob can't be 
 knocked up if only Miss Baby goes in it all the way 
 there." 
 
 " Nurse," said Miss Lally suddenly I don't think 
 she had heard what we were saying " there's two 
 shops in the village." 
 
 "Are there, my dear," I said; "and is one the 
 post-office? And what do they sell?" 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 61 
 
 " Yes, one is the post-office, but they sell other 
 things 'aside stamps," Miss Lally replied. " They are 
 both everything shops." 
 
 " But the not the post-office one is much the nicest," 
 said Master Francis. " It's kept by old Prideaux 
 he's an old sailor and Here the boy looked 
 round, but there was no one in sight. Still he low- 
 ered his voice. " People do say that after he left off 
 being a proper sailor he was a smuggler. It runs in 
 the family, Mrs. Brent says," he went on in the old- 
 fashioned way I noticed in all the children. " His 
 father was a regular smuggler. Brent says she's seen 
 some queer transactions when she was a girl in the 
 kitchen behind the shop." 
 
 "I thought Mrs. Brent was a stranger in these 
 parts by her birth and upbringing," I said. 
 
 " So she is," said Master Francis, " but she came 
 here on a visit when she was a girl to her uncle at 
 the High Meadows Farm, and that's how she came 
 first to Treluan. Grandfather was alive then, and 
 papa and Uncle Hulbert were boys. Even then 
 Prideaux was an old man. Uncle Hulbert says he 
 knows lots of queer stories he does tell them some- 
 times, but not as if they had happened here, and you 
 have to pretend to think he and his father had noth- 
 ing to do with them themselves." 
 
 " It was he that told us first about the smugglers' 
 caves, wasn't it?" said Miss Bess. "Fancy, nurse, 
 some treasures were found in one of the caves, not 
 
62 NDRSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 so very long ago, hid away in a dark corner far in. 
 There was lace and some beautiful fine silk stockings 
 and some bottles of brandy " 
 
 " And a lot of cigars and tobacco, but they had 
 gone all bad, and some of the brandy hadn't any 
 taste in it, though some was quite good. But grand- 
 papa was a dreadfully honest man; he would send 
 all the things up to London, just as they were found, 
 for he said they belonged to the Queen." 
 
 " I wonder if the Queen wored the silk stockings 
 her own self?" said Miss Lally. 
 
 " If we found some treasures," said Miss Bess, " do 
 you think we'd have to send them to the Queen too ? 
 It would be very greedy of her to keep them, when 
 she has such lots and lots of everything." 
 
 " That's just because she's queen ; she can't help 
 it. It's part of being a queen, and I dare say she 
 gives away lots too. Besides, you wouldn't care for 
 brandy or cigars, Bess?" said Master Francis. 
 
 "We could sell them," answered Miss Bess, "if 
 they were good." 
 
 " P'raps the Queen would send us a nice present 
 back," said Miss Lally. "Fancy, if she sent us a 
 wh.ole pound, what beautiful things we could buy." 
 
 " It would be great fun to find treasures, whatever 
 they were," said Miss Bess. "If we see old Pri- 
 deaux to-day, I'll ask him if he thinks possibly 
 there's still some in the caves. Only it wouldn't do 
 to go into his shop on purpose to ask him he'd 
 think it funny." 
 
THEN THERE BURST UPON THE VIEW A WONDERFUL SURPRISE. p. 63. 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 63 
 
 " And you'll have to be very careful how you ask 
 him," said Master Francis. " Besides, I'm quite sure 
 if there were any to be found, he'd have found them 
 before this." 
 
 " Does he sell wool in his shop, do you think, Miss 
 Bess?" I inquired, and I felt Miss Lally's hand 
 squeeze mine. " Wool, or worsted for knitting 
 stockings, I mean. I want to get some, and that 
 would be a reason for speaking to him." 
 
 " I dare say he does ; at least his daughter's always 
 knitting, and she must get wool somewhere. Any- 
 way we can ask," answered Miss Bess, quite pleased 
 with the idea. 
 
 "Now, nurse," said Master Francis suddenly, 
 " keep your eyes open. When we turn into the field 
 at the end of this little lane we've come by a short- 
 cut to the village, for the cart can go through the 
 field quite well you'll have your first good view 
 of the sea. We can see it from some of the windows 
 at Treluan and from the end of the terrace, but 
 nothing like as well." 
 
 I was glad he had prepared me, for we had been 
 interested in our talking, and I hadn't paid much 
 attention to the way we were going. Now I did 
 keep my eyes open, and I was well rewarded. The 
 field was a sloping one sloping upwards, I mean, 
 as we entered it and till we got to the top of the 
 rising ground we saw nothing but the clear sky above 
 the grass, but then there burst upon the view a won- 
 
64 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 derful surprise. The coast-line lay before us for a 
 considerable distance at each side. Just below us 
 were the rocky bays or creeks the children had told 
 me of. the sand gleaming yellow and white in the 
 sunshine, for the tide was half-way out, though near 
 enough still for us to see the glisten of the foam and 
 the edge of the little waves, as they rippled in 
 sleepily. And further out the deep purple-blue of 
 the ocean, softening into a misty gray, there, where 
 the sky and the water met or melted into each other. 
 A little to the right rose the smoke of several houses 
 lazily, for it was a very still day. These houses 
 lay nestled in together, on the way to the shore, and 
 seemed scarcely enough to be called a village ; but 
 as we left the field again to rejoin the road, I saw 
 that these few houses were only the centre of it, so 
 to speak, as others straggled along the road in both 
 directions for some way, the church being one of the 
 buildings the nearest to Treluan house. 
 
 " It is a beautiful view," said I, after a moment's 
 silence, as we all stood still at the top of the slope, 
 the children glancing at me, as if to see what I 
 thought of it. u I've never seen anything approach- 
 ing to it before, and yet it's a bare sort of country 
 many wouldn't believe it could be so beautiful with 
 so few trees, but I suppose the sea makes up for 
 a good deal." 
 
 " And it's such a lovely day," said Master Francis. 
 " 1 should say the sun makes up for a good deal. 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 65 
 
 We've lots of days here when it's so gray and dull 
 that the sea and the sky seem all muddled up 
 together. I'm not so very fond of the sea myself. 
 People say it's so beautiful in a storm, and I suppose 
 it is, but I don't care for that kind of beauty, there's 
 something so furious and wild about it. I don't 
 think raging should be counted beautiful. Shouldn't 
 we only call good things beautiful ? " 
 
 He looked up with a puzzle in his eyes. Master 
 Francis always had thoughts beyond his age and far 
 beyond me to answer. 
 
 " I can't say, I'm sure," I replied. " It would take 
 very clever people indeed to explain things like that, 
 though there's verses in the Bible that do seem to 
 bear upon it, especially in the Psalms." 
 
 " I know there are, but when it tells of Heaven, 
 it says ' there shall be no more sea,' " said Master 
 Francis very gravely. "And I think I like that 
 best." 
 
 " Dear Francie," said Miss Lally, taking his hand, 
 as she always did when she saw him looking extra 
 grave, though of course she could not understand 
 what he had been saying. 
 
 We were out of the field by this time, and Miss 
 Bess caught hold of Jacob's reins, for up till now 
 the old fellow had been droning along at his own 
 pace. 
 
 " Come along, Jacob, waken up," she said, as she 
 tugged at him, " or we'll not get to Polwithan Bay 
 
66 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 to-day, specially if we're going to gossip with old 
 Prideaux on the way." 
 
 We passed the church in a moment, and close 
 beside it the Vicarage. 
 
 " That's where Miss Kirstin lives," said Miss Bess. 
 " Come along quick, I don't want her to see us." 
 
 "Don't you like her, my dear?" I said, a little 
 surprised. 
 
 " Oh yes ! we like her very well, but she makes us 
 think of lessons, and while it is holidays we may as 
 well forget them," and by the way in which Master 
 Francis and Miss Lally joined her in hurrying past 
 Mr. Kirstin's house, I could see they were of the 
 same mind. 
 
 Miss Kirstin, when I came to know her, I found 
 to be a good well-meaning young lady, but she hadn't 
 the knack of making lessons very interesting. It 
 wasn't perhaps altogether her fault; in those days 
 books for young people, both for lessons and amuse- 
 ment, were very different from what they are now. 
 School-books were certainly very dry and dull, and 
 there was a sort of feeling that making lessons 
 pleasant or taking to children would have been 
 weak indulgence. 
 
 The church was a beautiful old building. I am 
 not learned enough to describe it, and perhaps after 
 all it was more beautiful from age than from any- 
 thing remarkable in itself. I came to love it well; 
 it was a real grief to me and to others besides me 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 67 
 
 when it had to be partly pulled down a few years 
 ago, and all the wonderful growth of ivy spoilt. 
 Though I won't say but what our new vicar the 
 third from Mr. Kirstin our present one is is well 
 fitted for his work, both with rich and poor, and one 
 whom it is impossible not to respect as well as love, 
 though Mr. Kirstin was a worthy and kind old man 
 in his way. 
 
 A bit farther along the road we passed the post- 
 office, which the children pointed out to me. The 
 mistress came to the door when she saw us, and 
 curtsied to the little ladies, with a smile and a word 
 of " Welcome home again, Miss Penrose ! " She took 
 a good look at me out of the corner of her eye, I 
 could see. For having lived so much in small 
 country places, I knew how even a fresh servant at 
 the big house will set all the village talking. 
 
 Miss Lally glanced in at the shop window as we 
 passed. There was indeed, as she had said, a mixture 
 of "everything," from tin pails and mother-of-pearl 
 buttons to red herrings and tallow-candles. 
 
 " Nurse," she whispered, " in case we can't get the 
 wool at Prideaux', we might come back here, but 
 I'm afraid Bess wouldn't like to turn back. Oh ! I 
 do hope" with one of her little sighs "they'll 
 have it at the other shop." 
 
 And so they had, though when we got there a 
 little difficulty arose. The two elder children both 
 wanted to come in, having got their heads full of 
 
68 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 asking the old man about the smugglers' caves, and 
 thinking it was for myself I wanted the wool. Never 
 a word said poor Miss Lally, when her sister told 
 her to stay outside with Miss Baby and the cart; 
 but I was getting to know the look of her little face 
 too well by this time not to understand the puckers 
 about her eyes, and the droop at the corners of her 
 mouth. 
 
 "We may as well all go in," I said, lifting Miss 
 Baby out of the cart. " There's no one else in the 
 shop, and I want Miss Lally's opinion about the 
 wool." 
 
 " Lally's ! " said Miss Bess rather scornfully ; " she 
 doesn't know anything about wool, or knitting stock- 
 ings, nurse." 
 
 " Ah ! well, but perhaps she's going to know some- 
 thing about it," I said. "It's a little secret we've 
 got, Miss Bess ; you shall hear about it all in good 
 time." 
 
 " Oh, well, if it's a secret," said Miss Bess good- 
 naturedly she was a nice-minded child, as they all 
 were " Franz and I will keep out of the way while 
 you and Lally get your wool. We'll talk to old 
 Prideaux." 
 
 He was in the shop, &s well as his daughter, who 
 was knitting away as the children had described her, 
 and the old wife came hurrying out of the kitchen, 
 when she heard it was the little gentry from Treluan 
 that were in the shop. They did make a fuss over 
 
THE SHOP IN THE VILLAGE. 69 
 
 the children, to be sure ; it wasn't easy for Miss Lally 
 and me to get our bit of business done. But Sally 
 Prideaux found us just what we wanted the same 
 wool that she was knitting stockings of herself, only 
 she had not much of it in stock, and might be some 
 little time before she could get more. But I told 
 Miss Lally there'd be enough for a short pair of socks 
 for her cousin boys didn't wear knickerbockers and 
 long stockings in those days adding that it was 
 best not to undertake too big a piece of work for the 
 first. 
 
 The wool cost one-and-sixpence. It was touching 
 to see the little creature counting over the money 
 she had been holding tightly in her hand all the way, 
 and her look of distress when she found it only came 
 up to one-and-fourpence-halfpenny. 
 
 " Don't you trouble, my dear," I said, " I have some 
 coppers in my pocket." 
 
 She thanked me as if I had given her three pounds 
 instead of three halfpence, saying in a whisper 
 " I'll pay you back, nursie, when I get my twopence 
 next Saturday ; " and then as happy as a little queen 
 she clambered down off the high stool, her precious 
 parcel in her hand. 
 
 "Won't Francie be pleased?" she said. "They 
 must be ready for his birthday, nurse. And won't 
 mamma be pleased when she finds I can knit stock- 
 ings, and that she won't have to buy any more ? " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 
 
 THE others seemed to have been very well enter- 
 tained while Miss Lally and I were busy. Mrs. 
 Prideaux had set Miss Baby on the counter, where 
 she was admiring her to her heart's content Miss 
 Baby smiling and chattering, apparently very well 
 pleased. Miss Bess and Master Francis were talking 
 eagerly with old Prideaux ; they turned to us as we 
 came near. 
 
 " Oh, nurse ! " said Miss Bess, " Mr. Prideaux says 
 that he shouldn't wonder if there were treasures 
 hidden away in the smugglers' caves, though it 
 wouldn't be safe for us to look for them. He says 
 they'd be so very far in, where it's quite, quite 
 dark." 
 
 "And one or two of the caves really go a tre- 
 mendous way underground. Didn't you say there's 
 one they've never got to the end of?" asked Master 
 Francis. 
 
 " So they say," replied the old man, with his queer 
 Cornish accent. It did sound strange to me then, 
 their talk though I've got so used to it now that I 
 scarce notice it at all. " But I wouldn't advise you 
 
 70 
 
Miss BESS AND MASTER FRANCIS WERE TALKING EAGERLY WITH OLD 
 PRIDEAUX. p. 70. 
 
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 71 
 
 to begin searching for treasures, Master Francis. If 
 there's any there, you'd have to dig to get at them. 
 I re member when I was a boy a deal of talk about 
 the caves, and some of us wasted our time seeking 
 and digging. But the only one that could have told 
 for sure where to look was gone. He met his death 
 some distance from here, one terrible stormy winter, 
 and took his secret with him. I have heard tell as 
 he ' walks ' in one of the caves, when the weather's 
 quite beyond the common stormy. But it's not 
 much use, for at such times folk are fain to stay at 
 home, so there's not much chance of any one ever 
 meeting him." 
 
 " Then how has he ever been seen ? " asked Miss 
 Bess in her quick way ; " and who was he, Mr. Pri- 
 deaux ? do tell us." 
 
 But the old man didn't seem inclined to say much 
 more. Perhaps indeed Miss Bess was too sharp for 
 him, and he did not know how to answer her first 
 question. 
 
 " Such things is best not said much about," he 
 replied mysteriously ; " and talking of treasures, by 
 all accounts you'd have a better chance of finding 
 some nearer home." 
 
 He smiled, as if he could have said more had he 
 chosen to do so. The children opened their eyes in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " exclaimed the two elder 
 ones. Miss Lally's mind was running too much 
 
72 NURSE HEATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 on her stockings for her to pay much attention. 
 Prideaux did not seem at all embarrassed. 
 
 "Well, sir, it's no secret hereabouts," he said, 
 addressing Master Francis in particular, "that the 
 old, old Squire, Sir David, the last of that name 
 there were several David Penroses before him, but 
 never one since it's no secret, as I was saying, that 
 a deal of money or property of some kind disap- 
 peared in his last years, and it stands to reason that, 
 being as great a miser as was ever heard tell of, he 
 couldn't have spent it. Why, more than half of 
 the lands changed hands in his time, and what did 
 he do with what he got for them ? " 
 
 " That was our great, great grand-uncle," said Mas- 
 ter Francis to me ; " you remember I told you about 
 him, but I never thought " he stopped short. " It 
 is very queer," he went on again, as if speaking to 
 himself. 
 
 But just then, Miss Baby having had enough of 
 Mrs. Prideaux' pettings, set up a shout. 
 
 " Nurse, nurse," she said, " Baby wants to go back 
 to Jacob. Poor Jacob so tired waiting. Dood-bye, 
 Mrs. Pideaux," and she began wriggling to get off 
 the counter, so that I had to hurry forward to lift 
 her down. 
 
 " We'd best be going on," I said, " or we'll be 
 losing the finest part of the afternoon." 
 
 I didn't feel quite sure that Prideaux' talk was 
 quite what my lady would approve of for the children. 
 
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 73 
 
 They had a way of taking things up more seriously 
 than is common with such young creatures, and cer- 
 tainly they had got in the way and I couldn't but 
 feel but what my lady was to blame for this of 
 thinking too much of the family troubles, especially 
 the want of wealth, which seemed to them a greater 
 misfortune than it need have done. Still, being quite 
 a stranger, and them seeming at liberty to talk to the 
 people about as they did, I didn't feel that it would 
 have been my place to begin making new rules or 
 putting a stop to things, as likely as not quite harm- 
 less. I resolved, however, to find out my lady's 
 wishes in such matters at the first opportunity. 
 
 Another half hour brought us close to the shore ; 
 the road was a good one, being used for carting 
 gravel and sea-weed in large quantities to the vil- 
 lage and round about from the little bay Treluan 
 Bay, that is to say it led directly to. But as we 
 were bound for Polwithan Bay, where the smugglers' 
 caves were, and had made a round for the sake of 
 coming through the village, we had to cross several 
 fields and follow a rough track instead of going 
 straight down to the sands. Jacob didn't seem to 
 mind, I must say, nor Miss Baby neither, though she 
 must have been pretty well jolted, but it was worth 
 the trouble. 
 
 " Isn't it lovely, nurse ? " said Miss Bess, when at 
 last we found ourselves in the bay on the smooth 
 firm sand, the sea in front of us, and so encircled on 
 
74 NUKSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 three sides by the rocks that even the path by which 
 we had come was hidden. 
 
 " This bay is so beautifully shut in," said Master 
 Francis. " You could really fancy that there was no 
 one in the world but us ourselves. I think it's such 
 a nice feeling." 
 
 " It's nice when we're all together," said Miss 
 Lally ; " it would be rather frightening if anybody 
 was alone." 
 
 " Alone or not," said Miss Bess, " it wouldn't be at 
 all nice when tea-time came if we had nothing to eat. 
 And fancy, what should we do at night we couldn't 
 sleep out on the sand ? " 
 
 " We'd have to go into the caves," said Master 
 Francis. " It would be rather fun, with a good fire 
 and with lots of blankets." 
 
 " And where would you get blankets from, or wood 
 for a fire, you silly boy ? " said Miss Bess. 
 
 " Can we see the caves?" I asked, for having heard 
 so much talk about them, I felt curious to see them. 
 
 " Of course," said Master Francis. " We always 
 explore them every time we come to this bay. Do 
 you see those two or three dark holes over there 
 among the rocks, nurse ? Those are the caves ; come 
 along and I'll show them to you." 
 
 I was a little disappointed. I had never seen a 
 cave in my life, but I had a confused remembrance 
 of pictures in an old book at home of some caves 
 " The Mammoth Caves of Kentucky," I afterwards 
 
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 75 
 
 found they were which looked very large and 
 wonderful, and somehow I suppose I had all the 
 time been picturing to myself that these ones were 
 something of the same kind. I didn't say anything 
 to the children though, as they took great pride in 
 showing me all the sights. And after all, when we 
 got to the caves, they turned out much more curious 
 and interesting than I expected from the outside. 
 The largest one, though its entrance was so small, 
 was really as big as a fair-sized church, and narrow- 
 ing again far back into a dark mysterious-looking 
 passage, from which Master Francis told me two or 
 three smaller chambers opened out. 
 
 "And then," he said, "after that the passage goes 
 on again ever so far. In the old days the smug- 
 glers blocked it up with pieces of rock, and it isn't so 
 very long ago that this was found out. It was some- 
 where down along that passage that they found the 
 things I told you of." 
 
 We went a few yards along the passage, but it 
 soon grew almost quite dark, and we turned back 
 again. 
 
 " I can quite see it wouldn't be safe to try explor- 
 ing down there," I said. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so," said Master Francis, with a 
 sigh. "I wish I could find some treasure, all the 
 same. I wonder " he went on, then stopped short. 
 "Nurse," he began again, "did you hear what old 
 Prideaux said of our great grand-uncle the miser? 
 
76 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 Could it really be true, do you think, that he hid 
 away money or treasures of some kind ? " and he 
 lowered his voice mysteriously. 
 
 " I shouldn't think it was likely," I replied. For 
 I had a feeling that it would not be well for the 
 children to get any such ideas into their heads. It 
 sounded to me like a sort of fairy tale. I had never 
 come across anything so romantic and strange in real 
 life. Though for that matter, Treluan itself, and 
 the kind of old-world feeling about the place, was 
 quite unlike anything I had ever known before. 
 
 We were outside the cave again by this time ; the 
 sunshine seemed deliciously warm and bright after 
 the chill and gloom inside. Miss Bess had been 
 listening eagerly to what Master Francis was saying. 
 
 "I can't see but what old Sir David might have 
 hidden treasures away, as he was a real miser," she 
 said. 
 
 " And you know that misers are so suspicious, that 
 even when they're dying they won't trust anybody. 
 I know I've read a story like that," said the boy. 
 " Oh ! Bess, just fancy if we could find a lot of 
 money or diamonds ! Wouldn't uncle and aunt be 
 pleased?" 
 
 His whole face lighted up at the very idea. 
 
 " I dare say he hid it all away in a stocking," put 
 in Miss Lally, whose head was still full of her knit- 
 ting. "I've heard a story of an old woman miser 
 that did that." 
 
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 77 
 
 "And where would the stocking be hid?" said 
 Miss Bess. " Besides, if a stocking was ever so full, 
 it couldn't hold enough money to be a real treasure." 
 
 " It might be stuffed with bank notes," said Master 
 Francis. " There's bank notes worth ever so much ; 
 aren't there, nurse ? " 
 
 "I remember once seeing one of a thousand 
 pounds," I said. " That was at my last place. Mr. 
 Wyngate had to do with business in the city, and he 
 once brought one home to show the young ladies." 
 
 " Well, then, you see, Queen," said Miss Lally, 
 "there might be a stocking with enough money to 
 make papa and mamma as rich as rich." 
 
 "I'm quite sure Sir David's money wasn't put in 
 a stocking," said Miss Bess decidedly. " You've got 
 rather silly ideas, Lally, considering you're getting 
 on for six." 
 
 Miss Lally began to look rather doleful. She had 
 been so bright and cheerful all day that I didn't like 
 to see her little face overcast. We had left Jacob 
 outside the cave, of course ; there was one satisfaction 
 with him he was not likely to run away. 
 
 " Miss Baby, dear," I said, " aren't you getting 
 hungry? Where's the basket you were holding in 
 the cart?" 
 
 " Nice cakes in basket," said the little girl. " Baby 
 looked, but Baby didn't eaten them." 
 
 The basket was still in the cart, and I think they 
 were all very pleased when they saw what I had 
 
78 NUKSE HE ATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 brought for them. Some of Mrs. Brent's nice little 
 saffron buns and a bottle of milk. I remember that 
 I didn't like the taste of the saffron buns at first, and 
 now I might be Cornish born and bred, I think it 
 such an improvement to cakes ! 
 
 " Another time," I said, " we might bring our tea 
 with us. I dare say my lady wouldn't object." 
 
 "I'm sure she wouldn't mind," said Miss Bess. 
 " We used to have picnic teas sometimes, when our 
 quite, quite old nurse was with us the one that's 
 married over to St. Iwalds." 
 
 "Bess," said Master Francis, u you should say 
 ' over at,' not ' over to.' ' : 
 
 "Thank you," said Miss Bess, "I don't want you to 
 teach me grammar. That isn't parson's business." 
 
 Master Francis grew very red. 
 
 "Did you know, nurse," said Miss Lally, "Francie's 
 going to be a clergy-gentleman ? " 
 
 They couldn't help laughing at her, and the laugh 
 brought back good humour. 
 
 "I want to be one," said Master Francis, "but I'm 
 afraid it costs a great lot to go to college." 
 
 Poor children, through all their talk and plans 
 the one trouble seemed always to keep coming up. 
 
 "I fancy that's according a good deal to how 
 young gentlemen take it. There's some that spend 
 a fortune at college, I've heard, but some that are 
 very careful ; and I expect you'd be that kind, Master 
 Francis." 
 
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 79 
 
 " Yes," he said, in his grave way. " I wouldn't 
 want to cost Uncle Hulbert more than I can help. 
 I wish one could be a clergyman without going to 
 college though." 
 
 " You've got to go to school first," said Miss Bess. 
 "You needn't bother about college for a long time 
 yet." 
 
 Miss Lally sighed. 
 
 " I don't like Francie having to go to school," she 
 said. " And the boys are so rough there ; I hope 
 they won't hurt your poor leg, Francie." 
 
 " It isn't that I mind," said Master Francie the 
 boy had a fine spirit of his own though he was so 
 delicate " what I mind is the going alone and being 
 so far away from everybody." 
 
 " It's a pity," I said without thinking, " but what 
 one of you young ladies had been a young gentleman, 
 to have been a companion for Master Francis, and to 
 have gone to school together, maybe.' 7 
 
 " Oh ! " said Miss Bess quickly, " you must never 
 say that to mamma, nurse. You don't know what a 
 trouble it is to her not to have a boy. She'd have 
 liked Lally to be a boy most of all. She wanted her 
 to be a boy ; she always says so." 
 
 Here Master Francis gave a deep sigh in his turn. 
 
 " Oh ! how I wish," he said, " that I could turn 
 myself into a girl and Lally into a boy. I wouldn't 
 like to be a girl at all, and I dare say Lally wouldn't 
 like to be a boy. But to please Aunt Helen I'd do it." 
 
80 NUKSE HE AT HERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 " No," said Miss Lally, " I don't think I would 
 not even to please mamma. I couldn't bear to be a 
 boy." 
 
 I was rather sorry I had led to this talk. 
 
 " Isn't it best," I said, " to take things as they are ? 
 Master Francis is just like your brother the same 
 name and everything." 
 
 " I'd like it that way," said Master Francis, with a 
 pleased look in his eyes. But I heard Miss Bess, 
 who was walking close beside me, say in a low voice, 
 " Mamma will never think of it that way ! " 
 
 This talk made some things clearer to me than 
 before, and that evening, after the children were in 
 bed, I went down to the housekeeper's room and 
 eased my mind by telling her about it, I felt so 
 afraid of having said anything uncalled for. But 
 Mrs. Brent comforted me. 
 
 " It's best for you to know," she said, " that my 
 lady does make a great trouble, too great a trouble, 
 to my thinking, of not having a son. And no doubt 
 it has to do with her coldness to Master Francis, 
 though I doubt if she really knows this herself, for 
 she's a lady that means to do right and justly to all 
 about her ; I will say that for her." 
 
 It was really something to be thankful for to 
 have such a good and sensible woman to ask advice 
 from, for a stranger, as I still was. The more I knew 
 her, the more she reminded me of my good mother. 
 Plain and homely in her ways, with no love of 
 

 THE SMUGGLERS' CAVES. 81 
 
 gossip about her, yet not afraid to speak out her 
 mind when she saw it right to do so. Many things 
 would have been harder at Treluan, the poor dear 
 children would have had less pleasure in their lives, 
 but for Mrs. Brent's kind thought for them. That 
 very evening I had had a reason, so to say, for 
 paying a special visit to the housekeeper's room; 
 for when we had got in from our long walk, rather 
 tired and certainly very hungry, a nice surprise was 
 waiting for us in the nursery. The tea-table was 
 already set out most carefully. There was a pile of 
 Mrs. Brent's hot scones and a beautiful dish of 
 strawberries. 
 
 " Oh, nurse ! " cried Miss Bess, who had run on 
 first, " quick, quick, look what a nice tea. I'm sure 
 it's Mrs. Brent ! Isn't it good of her ? " 
 
 " It's like a birfday," said Miss Lally. 
 
 And Miss Baby, who had been grumbling a good 
 deal and crying, " I want my tea," nearly jumped out 
 of my arms I had had to carry her upstairs at 
 the sight of it. 
 
 For I'm afraid there's no denying that in those 
 days breakfast, dinner, and tea filled a large place in 
 Miss Augusta's thoughts. I hope she'll forgive me 
 for saying so, if she ever sees this. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A RAINY DAY. 
 
 THAT lovely weather lasted on for about a fort- 
 night without a break, and many a pleasant ramble 
 we had, for though lessons began again, Miss Kirstin 
 always left immediately after luncheon, which was 
 the children's dinner, for the three elder ones always 
 joined Sir Hulbert and my lady in the dining-room. 
 
 Two afternoons in the week, as I think I have 
 said, Master Francis and Miss Bess had Latin les- 
 sons from Sir Hulbert. Miss Bess, by all accounts, 
 did not take very kindly to the Latin grammar, and 
 but for Master Francis helping her many a time 
 indeed sitting up after his own lessons were done 
 to set hers right she would often have got into 
 trouble with her papa. For indulgent as he was, 
 Sir Hulbert could be strict when strictness was 
 called for. 
 
 Miss Bess was a curious mixture ; to see her and 
 hear her talk you'd have thought her twice as clever 
 as Miss Lally, and so in some ways she was. But 
 when it came to book learning, it was a different 
 story. Teaching Miss Lally and I had something 
 to do with her in this way, for I used to hear over the 
 
 82 
 
A RAINY DAY. 83 
 
 lessons she was getting ready for Miss Kirstin was 
 really like running along a smooth road, the child 
 was so eager and attentive, never losing a word of 
 what was said to her. Miss Bess used to say that 
 her sister had a splendid memory by nature. But in 
 my long life I've watched and thought about some 
 things a great deal, and it seems to me that a good 
 memory has to do with our own trying, more than 
 some people would say, above all, with the habit 
 of really giving attention to whatever you're doing. 
 And this habit Miss Bess had not been taught to 
 train herself to ; and being a lively impulsive child, 
 no doubt it came a little harder to her. 
 
 A dear child she was, all the same. Looking back 
 upon those days, I would find it hard to say which 
 of them all seemed nearest my heart. 
 
 The days of the Latin lessons we generally had a 
 short walk in the morning, as well as one after tea, 
 so as to suit Sir Hulbert's time in the afternoon ; and 
 those afternoons were Miss Lally's great time for her 
 knitting, which she was determined to keep a secret 
 till she had made some progress in it and finished 
 her first pair of socks. How she did work at it, poor 
 dear ! Her little face all puckered up with earnest- 
 ness, her little hot hands grasping the needles, as if 
 she would never let them go. And she mastered it 
 really wonderfully, considering she was not yet six 
 years old ! 
 
 She had more time for it after a bit, for the beauti- 
 
84 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 ful hot summer weather changed, as it often does, 
 about the middle of July, and we had two or three 
 weeks of almost constant rain. Thanks to her knit- 
 ting, Miss Lally took this quite cheerfully, and if 
 poor Master Francis had been left in peace, we 
 should have had no grumbling from him either. A 
 book and a quiet corner was all he asked, and though 
 he said nothing about it, I think he was glad now 
 and then of a rest from the long walks which my 
 lady thought the right thing, whenever the weather 
 was at all fit for going out. But dear, dear ! how 
 Miss Bess did tease and worry sometimes ! She was 
 a strong child, and needed plenty of exercise to keep 
 her content. 
 
 I remember one day, when things really came to a 
 point with her, and, strangely enough, it is curious 
 on looking back to see the thread, like a road wind- 
 ing along a hill, sometimes lost to view and some- 
 times clear again, unbroken through all, leading 
 from little things to big, in a way one could never 
 have pictured, strangely enough, as I was saying, 
 the trifling events of that very afternoon were the 
 beginning of much that changed the whole life at 
 Treluan. 
 
 It was raining that afternoon, not so very heavily, 
 but in a steady hopeless way, rather depressing to the 
 spirits, I must allow. It was not a Latin day I 
 think some of us wished it had been !. 
 
 " Now, Bess ! " said Master Francis, when the 
 
A KAINY DAY. 85 
 
 three children came up from their dinner, "before 
 we do anything else" there had been a talk of 
 a game of " hide-and-seek," or u I spy," to cheer them 
 up a bit " before we do anything else, let's get our 
 Latin done, or part of it, anyway, as long as we 
 remember what uncle corrected yesterday, and then 
 we'll feel comfortable for the afternoon." 
 
 "Very well," said Miss Bess, though her voice 
 was not very encouraging. 
 
 She was standing by the window, staring out at 
 the close-falling rain, and as she spoke she moved 
 slowly towards the table, where Master Francis was 
 already spreading out the books. 
 
 "I don't think it's a good plan to begin lessons 
 the very moment we've finished our dinner," she 
 added. 
 
 " It isn't the very minute after," put in Miss Lally, 
 not very wisely. " You forget, Queen, we went into 
 the 'servatory with mamma, while she cut some 
 flowers, for ever so long." 
 
 Being put in the wrong didn't sweeten Miss 
 Bess's temper. 
 
 " 'Servatory you baby ! " said she. " Nurse, can't 
 you teach Lally to spell 4 Constantinople ' ? " 
 
 Miss Lally's face puckered up, and she came close 
 to me. 
 
 " Nursie," she whispered, " may I go into the other 
 room with my knitting ; I'm sure Queen is going to 
 tease me." 
 
86 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 I nodded my head. I used to give her leave 
 sometimes to go into the night nursery by herself, 
 when she was likely to be disturbed at her work, and 
 that generally by Miss Bess. For though Master 
 Francis couldn't have but seen she had some secret 
 from him, he was far too kind and sensible to seem 
 to notice it. Whereas Miss Bess, who had been 
 taken into her confidence, never got into a contrary 
 humour without teasing the poor child by hints 
 about stockings, or wool, or something. And the 
 contrary humour was on her this afternoon, I saw 
 well. 
 
 " Now, Bess, begin, do ! " said Master Francis. 
 " These are the words we have to copy out and learn. 
 I'll read them over, and then we can write them out 
 and hear each other." 
 
 He did as he said, but it was precious little 
 attention he got from his cousin, though it was some 
 time before he found it out. Looking up, he saw 
 that she had dressed up one hand in her handkerchief, 
 like an old man in a nightcap, and at every word 
 poor Master Francis said, made him gravely bow. 
 It was all I could do to keep from laughing, though 
 I pretended not to see. 
 
 " O Bess ! " said the boy reproachfully, " I don't 
 believe you've been listening a bit." 
 
 " Well, never mind if I haven't. I'd forget it all 
 by to-morrow morning anyway. Show me the words, 
 and I'll write them out." 
 
A RAINY DAY. 87 
 
 She leant across him to get *the book, and in so 
 doing upset the ink. The bottle was not very full, 
 so not much damage would have been done if Master 
 Francis's exercise-book had not been lying open just 
 in the way. 
 
 " Oh ! Bess," he cried in great distress. " Just 
 look. It was such a long exercise and I had copied 
 it out so neatly, and you know uncle hates blots and 
 untidiness." 
 
 Miss Bess looked very sorry. 
 
 " I'll tell papa it was my fault," she said. But 
 Master Francis shook his head. 
 
 " I must copy it out again," I heard him say in a 
 low voice, with a sigh, as he pushed it away and 
 gave his attention to his cousin and the words she 
 had to learn. 
 
 She was quieter after that, for a while, and in 
 half an hour or so Master Francis let her go. He 
 set to work at his unlucky exercise again, and seeing 
 this, should really have sobered Miss Bess. But she 
 was in a queer humour that afternoon, it only seemed 
 to make her more fidgety. 
 
 "You really needn't do it," she said to Master 
 Francis crossly. " I told you I'd explain it to papa." 
 But the boy shook his head. He'd have taken any 
 amount of trouble rather than risk vexing his uncle. 
 
 " It was partly my own fault for leaving it about," 
 he said gently, which only seemed to provoke Miss 
 Bess more. 
 
88 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " You do so like to make yourself a martyr. It's 
 quite true what mamma says," she added in a lower 
 voice, which I did think unkind. 
 
 But in some humours children are best left alone 
 for the time, so I took no notice. 
 
 Miss Bess returned to her former place in the 
 window. Miss Baby was contentedly setting out her 
 doll's tea-things on the rug in front of the fire, at 
 Treluan even in the summer one needs a little fire 
 when there comes a spell of rainy weather. Miss 
 Bess glanced at her, but didn't seem to think she'd 
 find any amusement there. Miss Baby was too 
 young to be fair game for teasing. 
 
 " What's Lally doing ? " she said suddenly, turning 
 to me. " Has she hidden herself as usual ? I hate 
 secrets. They make people so tiresome. I'll just 
 go and tell her she'd better come in here." 
 
 She turned, as she spoke, to the night nursery. 
 
 " Now, Miss Bess, my dear," I couldn't help saying, 
 " do not tease the poor child. I'll tell you what you 
 might do. Get one of your pretty books and read 
 aloud a nice story to Miss Lally in the other room, 
 till Master Francis is ready for a game." 
 
 "I've read all our books hundreds of times. I'll 
 tell her a story instead ! " she replied. 
 
 " That would be very nice," I could not but say, 
 though something in her way of speaking made me 
 feel a little doubtful, as Miss Bess opened the night 
 nursery door and closed it behind her carefully. 
 
A RAINY DAY. 89 
 
 For a few minutes we were at peace. No sound to 
 be heard, except the scratching of Master Francis's 
 busy pen and Miss Augusta's pressing invitations to 
 the dollies to have " thome more tea " or "a bit 
 of this bootif ul cake," and I began to hope that in her 
 quiet way Miss Lally had smoothed down her elder 
 sister, when suddenly dear, dear ! my heart did leap 
 into my mouth there came from the next room the 
 most terrible screams and roars that ever I have 
 heard all the long years I have been in the nursery ! 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! " I cried, " what can be the 
 matter. There's no fire in there ! " and I rushed 
 towards the door. 
 
 To my surprise Master Francis and Miss Baby 
 remained quite composed. 
 
 "It's only Lally," said the boy. " She does scream 
 like that sometimes, though she hasn't done it for a 
 good while now. I dare say it's only Bess pulling 
 her hair a little." 
 
 It was not even that. When I opened the door, 
 Miss Bess, who was standing by her sister Miss 
 Lally still roaring, though not quite so loudly - 
 looked up quietly. 
 
 "I've been telling her stories, nurse," she said. 
 " But she doesn't like them at all." 
 
 Miss Lally ran to me sobbing. I couldn't but 
 feel sorry for her, as she clung to me, and yet I was 
 provoked, thinking it really too bad to have had 
 such a fright for nothing at all. 
 
90 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Queen has been telling me such Jiowid things," 
 she said among her tears, as she calmed down a little. 
 " She said it was going to be such a pretty story and 
 it was all about a little girl, who wasn't a little girl, 
 weally. They tied her sleeves with green ribbons, 
 afore she was christened, and so the naughty fairies 
 stealed her away and left a howid squealing pertence 
 little girl instead. And it was just, just like me, and, 
 Queen says, they did tie me in green ribbons. She 
 knows they did, she can 'amember ; " and here her 
 cries began again. " And Queen says p'raps I'll 
 never come right again, and I can't bear to be a 
 pertence little girl. Queen told it me once before, 
 but I'd forgot, and now it's all come back." 
 
 She buried her face on my shoulder. I had sat 
 down and taken her on my knees, and I could feel 
 her all shaking and quivering, though through it all 
 she still clutched her knitting and the four needles. 
 
 " Miss Bess," I said, in a voice I don't think I had 
 yet used since I had been with them, "I am sur- 
 prised at you ! Come away with me, my dear," I 
 said to Miss Lally. " Come into the other room. 
 Miss Bess will stay here till such time as she can 
 promise to behave better, both to you and Master 
 Francis." 
 
 Miss Bess had turned away when I began to 
 speak, and I think she had felt ashamed. But my 
 word about Master Francis had been a mistake. 
 
 " You needn't scold me about spilling the ink on 
 
A RAINY DAY. 91 
 
 Francis's book ! " she said angrily. " You know that 
 was an accident." 
 
 " There's accidents and accidents," I replied, which 
 I know wasn't wise ; but the child had tried my 
 temper too, I won't deny. 
 
 I took Miss Lally into a corner of the day nursery 
 and talked to her in a low voice, not to disturb Mas- 
 ter Francis, who was still busy writing. 
 
 " My dear," I said, " so far as I can put a stop to 
 it, I won't have Miss Bess teasing you, but all the 
 same I can't have you screaming in that terrible 
 way for really nothing at all. Your own sense 
 might tell you that there's no such things as fairies 
 changing babies in that way. Miss Bess only said it 
 to tease." 
 
 She was still sobbing, but all the same she had 
 not forgotten to wrap up her precious knitting in her 
 little apron, so that her cousin shouldn't catch sight 
 of it, and her heart was already softening to her 
 sister. 
 
 " Queen didn't mean to make me cry," she said. 
 " But I can't bear that story ; nobody would love me 
 if I was only a pertence little girl." 
 
 " But you're not that, my dear ; you're a very 
 real little girl," I said. "You're your papa's and 
 mamma's dear little daughter and God's own child. 
 That's what your christening meant." 
 
 Miss Lally's sobs stopped. 
 
 " I forgot about that," she said very gravely, seem- 
 
92 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 ing to find great comfort in the thought. "If I had 
 been a pertence little girl, I couldn't have been took 
 to church like Baby was. Could I ? And I know I 
 was, for I have got godfather and godmother and a 
 silver mug wif my name on." 
 
 " And better things than that, thank God, as you'll 
 soon begin to understand, my dear Miss Lally," I 
 answered, as she held up her little face to be kissed. 
 
 "May I go back to Queen now?" she asked, but I 
 don't think she was altogether sorry when I shook 
 my head. 
 
 " Not just yet, my dear, I think," I replied. 
 
 " Only where am I to do my knitting ? " she 
 whispered. " I can't do it here ; Francie would be 
 sure to see," and the corners of her mouth began to 
 go down again. " Oh ! I know," she went on in 
 another moment, brightening up. " I could work so 
 nicely in the attic, there's a little seat in the corner, 
 by the window, where Francie and I used to go 
 sometimes when Sharp told us to get out of the way." 
 
 " Wouldn't you be cold, my dear," I said doubt- 
 fully. But I was anxious to please her, so I fetched 
 a little shawl for her and we went up together to 
 the attic. 
 
 It did not feel chilly, and the corner by the win- 
 dow the kind they call a " storm window," with a 
 sort of little separate roof of its own was very 
 cosy. You have a peep of the sea from that window 
 too. 
 
A RAINY DAY. 98 
 
 " Isn't it a good plan ? " said Miss Lally joyfully. 
 " I can knit here so nicely, and I have been getting 
 on so well this afternoon. There's no stitches 
 dropped, not one, nursie. Mightn't I come here 
 every day ? " 
 
 " We'll see, my dear," I said, thinking to myself 
 that it might really be good for her being a ner- 
 vous child, and excitable too, for all she seemed so 
 quiet to be at peace and undisturbed now and then 
 by herself. " We'll see, only you must come down- 
 stairs at once if you feel cold or chilly." 
 
 I looked round me as I was leaving the attic. 
 There was a big cupboard, or closet rather, at the 
 end near the door. Miss Lally's window was at this 
 end too. The closet door stood half open, but it 
 seemed empty. 
 
 "That's where we wait when we're playing 'I 
 spy' up here," said Miss Lally. "Mouses live in 
 that cupboard. We've seen them running out of 
 their holes; but I like mouses, they've such dear 
 bright eyes and long tails." 
 
 I can't say that I agreed with Miss Lally's tastes. 
 Mice are creatures I've never been able to take to, 
 still they'd do her no harm, that was certain, so 
 seeing her quite happy at her work I went down 
 to the nursery again. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 
 
 MASTER FRANCIS was still writing busily when I 
 went back to the nursery. He looked pale and tired, 
 and once or twice I heard him sigh. I knew it was 
 not good for him to be stooping so long over his 
 lessons, especially as the children had not been out 
 all that day. 
 
 " Really," I said, half to myself, but his ears were 
 quick and he heard me, " Miss Bess has done noth- 
 ing but mischief this afternoon. I feel sometimes as 
 if I couldn't manage her." 
 
 The boy looked up quickly. 
 
 " O nurse ! " he said, " please don't speak like that. 
 I mean I wouldn't for anything have uncle or auntie 
 think I had put her out, or that there had been any 
 trouble. It just comes over her sometimes like that, 
 and she's very sorry afterwards. I suppose Lally 
 and I haven't spirits enough for her, she is so clever 
 and bright, and it must be dull for her, now and 
 then." 
 
 " I'm sure, Master Francis, my dear," I said, " no 
 one could be kinder and nicer with Miss Bess than 
 you; and as for cleverness, she may be quick and 
 
 94 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 95 
 
 bright, but I'd like to know where she'd be for her 
 lessons but for you helping her many a time." 
 
 I was still feeling a bit provoked with Miss Bess, 
 I must allow. 
 
 " I'm nearly three years older, you know," replied 
 Master Francis, though all the same I could see a 
 pleased look on his face. It wasn't that he cared for 
 praise boy or man, I have never in my life known 
 any human being so out and out humble as Mr. 
 Francis; it's that that gives him his wonderful 
 power over others, I've often thought, but he did 
 love to think he was of the least use to any of those 
 he was so devoted to. 
 
 " I'm so glad to help her," he said softly. "Nurse," 
 he added after a little silence, " I do feel So sad about 
 things sometimes. If I had been big and strong, I 
 might have looked forward to doing all sorts of 
 things for them all, but now I often feel I can never 
 be anything but a trouble, and such an expense to 
 uncle and aunt. You really don't know what my 
 leg costs," he added in a way that made me inclined 
 both to laugh and cry at once. 
 
 "Dear Master Francis," I said, "you shouldn't 
 take it so." I should have liked to say more, but I 
 felt I could scarcely do so without hinting at blame 
 where I had no right to do so. 
 
 He didn't seem to notice me. 
 
 "If it had to be," he went on in the same voice, 
 " why couldn't I have been a girl, or why couldn't 
 
96 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 x 
 
 one of them have been a boy? That would have 
 stopped it being quite so bad for poor auntie." 
 
 "Whys and wherefores are not for us to answer, 
 my dear, though things often clear themselves up 
 when least expected," I said. " And now I must see 
 what Miss Bess is after, that's to say if you've got 
 your writing finished." 
 
 " It's just about done," he said, " and I'm sure Bess 
 won't tease any more. Do fetch her in, nurse. Why, 
 Baby! what is it, my pet?" he added, for there was 
 Miss Augusta standing beside him, having deserted 
 her toys on the hearthrug. For, though without un- 
 derstanding anything we had been saying, she had 
 noticed the melancholy tone of her cousin's voice. 
 
 44 Poor F'ancie," she said pitifully. " So tired, 
 Baby wants to kiss thoo." 
 
 The boy picked her up in his arms, and I saw the 
 fair shaggy head and fat dimpled cheeks clasped 
 close and near to his thin white face, and if there 
 were tears in Master Francis's eyes I am sure it 
 wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Never was 
 a braver spirit, and no one that knows him now 
 could think him less a hero could they look back 
 over the whole of his life. 
 
 I found Miss Bess sitting quietly with the pin- 
 cushion on her lap, by the window, making patterns 
 with the pins, apparently quite content. She had 
 not been crying, indeed it took a great deal to get 
 a tear from that child, she had such a spirit of her 
 
; POOR F'ANCIE," SHE SAID PITIFULLY. " So TlUliJJ, BABY WANTS TO KISS 
 THOO." p. 96. 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 97 
 
 own. Still she was sorry for what she had done, 
 and she bore no malice, that I could see by the clear 
 look in her pretty eyes as she glanced up at me. 
 
 "Nurse," she said, though more with the air of 
 a little queen granting a favour than a tiresome 
 child asking to be forgiven, " I'm not going to tease 
 any more. It's gone now, and I'm going to be good. 
 I'm very sorry for making Lally cry, though she 
 is a little silly of course I wouldn't care to do 
 it if she wasn't, and I'm dreadfully sorry for poor 
 old Franz's exercise. Look what I have been doing 
 to make me remember," and I saw that she had 
 marked the words "Bess sorry " with the pins. "If 
 you leave it there for a few days, and just say 
 4 pincushion ' if you see me beginning again, it'll 
 remind me." 
 
 It wasn't very easy for me to keep as grave as I 
 wished, but I answered quietly 
 
 " Very well, Miss Bess, I hope you'll keep to what 
 you say," and we went back, quite friendly again, 
 to the other room. 
 
 Master Francis and she began settling what games 
 they would play, and I took the opportunity of 
 slipping upstairs to the attic to call Miss Lally 
 down. She came running out, as bright as could 
 be, and gave me her knitting to hide away for her. 
 
 "Nursie," she said, "I really think there's good 
 fairies in the attic. I've got on so well. Four 
 whole rows all round and none stitches dropped." 
 
98 NUKSE HEATHEKDALE'S STORY. 
 
 So that rainy day ended more cheerfully than it 
 had begun. 
 
 Unluckily, however, the worst of the mischief 
 caused by Miss Bess's heedlessness didn't show for 
 some little time to come. The next Latin lesson 
 passed off by all accounts very well, especially for 
 Miss Bess. For, thanks to her new resolutions, she 
 was in a most biddable mood, and quite ready to 
 take her cousin's advice as to learning her list of 
 words again, giving up half an hour of her playtime 
 on purpose. 
 
 She came dancing upstairs in the highest spirits. 
 
 " Nursie," she said, and when she called me so 
 I knew I was in high favour, "I'm getting so 
 good, I'm quite frightened at myself. Papa said I 
 had never known my lessons so well." 
 
 " I am very glad, I am sure, my love ; and I 
 hope," I couldn't help adding, " that Master Francis 
 got some of the praise of it." 
 
 For Master Francis was following her into the 
 room, looking not quite so joyful. Miss Bess seemed 
 a little taken aback. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, " I never thought of 
 it. I was so pleased at being praised." And as the 
 child was honesty itself, I was certain it was just 
 as she said. 
 
 " I'll run down now," she went on, " and tell papa 
 that it was Franz who helped me." 
 
 " No, please don't," said the boy, catching hold 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 99 
 
 of her. " I am as pleased as I can be, Bess, that 
 you got praised, and it's harder for you than for me, 
 or even for Lally, to try hard at lessons, for you've 
 always got such a lot of other things taking you 
 up; and I wouldn't like," he added slowly, "for 
 uncle to think I wanted to be praised. You see 
 I'm older than you." 
 
 "I'm sure you don't get too much praise ever, 
 poor Franz ! " said Miss Bess. " Your exercise was 
 as neat as neat, and yet papa wasn't pleased with it." 
 
 Then I understood better why Master Francis 
 looked a little sad. 
 
 " It was the one I had to copy over," he said. 
 
 All the same he wouldn't let Miss Bess go down 
 to her papa. Sir Hulbert was busy, he knew ; he 
 had several letters to write, he had heard him say, 
 so Miss Bess had to give in. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is," she said. " People who 
 are generally rather naughty, like me," Miss Bess 
 was in a humble mood! "get made a great fuss 
 about when they're good. But people who are 
 always good, like Franz, never get any praise for 
 it, and if ever they do the least bit wrong, they are 
 far worse scolded." 
 
 This made Master Francis laugh. It was some- 
 thing, as Miss Bess said, among the children them- 
 selves. Miss Lally, who was always loving and 
 gentle to her cousin, he just counted upon in a quiet 
 steady sort of way. But a word of approval from 
 
100 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 flighty Miss Bess would set him up as if she'd been 
 the Queen herself. 
 
 That was a Friday. The next Latin day was 
 Tuesday. Of course I don't know much about such 
 things myself, but the lessons were taken in turns. 
 One day they'd words and writing exercises out of a 
 book on purpose, and another day they'd have regu- 
 lar Latin grammar, out of a thick old book, which 
 had been Sir Hulbert's own when he was a boy, and 
 which he thought a great deal of. Lesson-books were 
 still expensive too, and even in small things money 
 was considered at Treluan. It was on that Tuesday 
 then that, to my distress, I saw that Master Francis 
 had been crying when he came back to the nursery. 
 It was the first time I had seen his eyes red, and he 
 had been trying to make them right again, I'm sure, 
 for he hadn't come straight up from the library. 
 Miss Bess was not with him ; it was a fine day and 
 she had gone out driving with her mamma, having 
 been dressed all ready and her lessons shortened for 
 once on purpose. 
 
 I didn't seem to notice Master Francis, sorry though 
 I felt, but Miss Lally burst out at once. 
 
 44 Francie, darling," she said, running up to him and 
 throwing her arms round him. " What's the matter ? 
 It isn't your leg, is it?" 
 
 44 1 wouldn't mind that, you know, Lally," he said. 
 
 44 But sometimes, when the pain's been dreadful 
 bad, it squeezes the tears out, and you can't help it," 
 she said. 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 101 
 
 " No," he answered, " it isn't my leg. I think I'd 
 better not tell you, Lally, for you might tell it to 
 Bess, and I just won't have her know. Everything's 
 been so nice with her lately, and it just would seem 
 as if I'd got her into trouble." 
 
 " Was papa vexed with you for something ? " the 
 child went on. " You'd better tell me, Francie, I 
 really won't tell Bess if you don't want me, and I'm 
 sure nursie won't. I'm becustomed to keeping se- 
 crets now. Sometimes secrets are quite right, nursie 
 says." 
 
 I could scarcely help smiling at her funny little air. 
 
 "It wasn't anything very much, after all," said 
 Master Francis. "It was only that uncle said " 
 and here his voice quivered and he stopped short. 
 
 " Tell it from the beginning," said Miss Lally in 
 her motherly way, " and then when you get up to the 
 bad part it won't seem so hard to tell." 
 
 It was a relief to him to have her sympathy, I 
 could see, and I think he cared a little for mine 
 too. 
 
 " Well," he began, " it's all about that Latin gram- 
 mar no, not the lesson," seeing that Miss Lally 
 was going to interrupt him, " but the book. Uncle's 
 fat old Latin grammar, you know, Lally. We didn't 
 use it last Friday, it wasn't the day, and we hadn't 
 needed to look at it ourselves since last Wednesday 
 that was the ink-spilling day. So it was not found 
 out till to-day ; and and uncle was so so vexed 
 
102 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 when he saw how spoilt it was, and the worst of it 
 was I began something about it having been Bess, 
 and that she hadn't told me, and that made uncle 
 much worse " Here Master Francis stopped, he 
 seemed on the point of crying again, and he was a 
 boy to feel very ashamed of tears, as I have said. 
 
 "I don't think Miss Bess could have known the 
 book had got inked," I said. " And I scarce see how 
 it happened, unless the ink got spilt on the table T and 
 it may have been lying open I've seen Miss Bess 
 fling her books down open on their faces, so to speak, 
 many a time, and it may have dried in and been 
 shut up when all the books were cleared away, and 
 no one noticed." 
 
 " Yes," said Master Francis eagerly, " that's how it 
 must have been. I never meant that Bess had done 
 it and hidden it. I said it in a hurry because I was 
 so sorry for uncle to think I hadn't taken care of his 
 book, and I was very sorry about the book too. But 
 I made it far worse. Uncle said it was mean of me 
 to try to put my carelessness upon another, a younger 
 child, and a girl ; O Lally ! you never heard him 
 speak like that ; it was dreadful" 
 
 " Was it worse than that time when big Jem put 
 the blame on little Pat about the dogs not being 
 fed ? " asked Miss Lally very solemnly. 
 
 Master Francis flushed all over. 
 
 " You needn't have said that, Lally," he said turn- 
 ing away. " I'm not so bad as that, anyway." 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 
 
 It was very seldom he spoke in that voice to Miss 
 Lally, and she hadn't meant to vex him, poor child, 
 though her speech had been a mistake. 
 
 "Come, come, Master Francis,'' I said, "you're 
 taking the whole thing too much to heart, I think. 
 Perhaps Sir Hulbert was worried this morning." 
 
 "No, no," said Master Francis, "he spoke quite 
 quietly. A sort of cold, kind way, that's much 
 worse than scolding. He said whatever Bess's faults 
 were, she was quite, quite open and honest, and of 
 course I know she is ; but he said that this sort of 
 thing made him a little afraid that my being delicate 
 and not not like other boys, was spoiling me, and 
 that I must never try to make up for not being strong 
 and manly by getting into mean and cunning ways to 
 defend myself." 
 
 Young as she was, Miss Lally quite understood; 
 she quite forgot all about his having been vexed with 
 her a moment before. 
 
 " O Francie ! " she cried, running to him and fling- 
 ing her arms round him, in a way she sometimes 
 did, as if he needed her protection ; " how could 
 papa say so to you ? Nobody could think you mean 
 or cunning. It's only that you're too good. I'll tell 
 Bess as soon as she comes in, and she'll tell papa all 
 about it, then he'll see." 
 
 " No, dear," said Master Francis, " that's just what 
 you mustn't do. Don't you remember you promised ? " 
 
 Miss Lally 's face fell. 
 
104 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Don't you see," Master Francis went on, " that 
 would look mean ? As if I had made Bess tell on 
 herself to put the blame off me. And I do want 
 everything to be happy with Bess and me ourselves 
 as long as I am here. It won't be for so very long," 
 he added. " Uncle says it will be a very good thing 
 indeed for me to go to school." 
 
 This was too much for Miss Lally, she burst out 
 crying, and hugged Master Francis tighter than 
 before. I had got to understand more of her ways 
 by now, and I knew that once she was started on a 
 regular sobbing fit, it soon got beyond her own power 
 to stop. So I whispered to Master Francis that he 
 must help to cheer her up, and between us we 
 managed to calm her down. That was just one of 
 the things so nice about the dear boy, he was always 
 ready to forget about himself if there was anything 
 to do for another. 
 
 Miss Bess came back from her drive brimming 
 over with spirits, and though it would have been 
 wrong to bear her any grudge, it vexed me rather to 
 see the other two so pale and extra quiet, though 
 Master Francis did his best, I will say, to seem as 
 cheerful as usual. 
 
 Miss Bess's quick eyes soon saw there had been 
 something amiss. But I passed it off by saying Miss 
 Lally had been troubled about something, but we 
 weren't going to think about it any more. 
 
 Think about it I did, however, so far as it con- 
 
THE OLD LATIN GRAMMAR. 105 
 
 cerned Master Francis, especially. Till now I had 
 been always pleased to see that his uncle was really 
 much attached to the boy, and ready to do him 
 justice. But this notion, which seemed to have 
 begun in Sir Hulbert's mind, that just because the 
 poor child was delicate and in a sense infirm, he 
 must be mean spirited and unmanly in mind, seemed 
 to me a very sad one, and likely to bring much un- 
 happiness. Nor could I feel sure that my lady was 
 not to blame for it. She was frank and generous 
 herself, but inclined to take up prejudices, and not 
 always careful enough in her way of speaking of 
 those she had any feeling against. 
 
 I did what I could, whenever I had any oppor- 
 tunity, to stand up for the boy in a quiet way, and 
 with all respect to those who were his natural 
 guardians. But, on the whole, much as I knew we 
 should miss him in the nursery, I was scarcely sorry 
 to hear not many weeks after the little events I have 
 been telling about, that Master Francis's going to 
 school was decided upon. It was to be immediately 
 after the Christmas holidays, and we were now in 
 the month of October. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UPSET PLANS. 
 
 BUT, as everybody knows, things in this world 
 seldom turn out as they are planned. 
 
 There was a great deal of writing and considering 
 about Master Francis's school, and I could see that 
 both Sir Hulbert and my lady had it much on their 
 minds. They would never have thought of sending 
 him anywhere but of the best, but in those days 
 schools, even for little boys, cost, I fancy, quite as 
 much or more than now. And I can't say but what 
 I think that the worry and the difficulty about it 
 rather added to his aunt's prejudice against the boy. 
 
 However, before long, all was settled, the school 
 was chosen and the very day fixed, and in our 
 different ways we began to get accustomed to the 
 idea. Master Francis, I could see, had two quite 
 opposite ways of looking at it : he was bitterly sorry 
 to go, to leave the home and those in it whom he 
 loved so dearly, more dearly, I think, than any one 
 understood. And he took much to heart also the 
 fresh expenses for his uncle. But, on the other 
 hand, he was eager to get on with his learning ; he 
 
 106 
 
UPSET PLANS. 107 
 
 liked it for its own sake, and, as he used to say to me 
 sometimes when we were talking alone 
 
 " It's only by my mind, you know, nurse, that I 
 can hope to be good for anything. If I had been 
 strong and my leg all right, I'd have been a soldier 
 like papa, I suppose." 
 
 " There's soldiers and soldiers, you must remem- 
 ber, Master Francis," I would reply. " There's vic- 
 tories to be won far greater than those on the 
 battlefield. And many a one who's done the best 
 work in this world has been but feeble and weakly 
 in health." 
 
 His eyes used to brighten up when I spoke like 
 that. Sometimes, too, I would try to cheer him by 
 reminding him there was no saying but what he 
 might turn out a fairly strong man yet. Many a 
 delicate boy got improved at school, I had heard. 
 
 But alas ! or " alas " at least it seemed at the 
 time everything was changed by what happened 
 that winter. 
 
 It was cold, colder than is usual in this part of 
 the world, and I think Master Francis had got it in 
 his head to try and harden himself by way of pre- 
 paring for school life. My lady used to say little 
 things sometimes, with a good motive, I dare say, 
 about not minding the cold and plucking up a spirit, 
 and what her brothers used to do when they were 
 young, all of which Master Francis took to heart in 
 a way she would not have then believed if she had 
 
108 NUESE HEATHEEDALE'S STOEY. 
 
 been told it. Dear me ! it is strange to think of it, 
 when I remember how perfectly in later years those 
 two came to understand each other, and how nobody 
 after she lost her good husband was such a staff 
 and support to her, such a counsellor and comfort, 
 as the nephew she had so little known her " more 
 than son," as I had often heard her call him. 
 
 But I am wandering away from my story. I was 
 just getting to Master Francis's illness. How it came 
 about no one could really tell. It is not often one 
 can trace back illnesses to their cause. Most often I 
 fancy there are more than one. But just after Christ- 
 mas Master Francis began with rheumatic fever. We 
 couldn't at first believe it was going to be anything 
 so bad. For my lady's sake, and indeed for every- 
 body's, I tried to cheer up and be hopeful, in spite 
 of the doctor's gloomy looks. It was a real dis- 
 appointment to myself and took down my pride a 
 bit, for I had done my best by the child, hoping to 
 start him for school as strong and well as was 
 possible for him. And any one less just and fair 
 than my lady might have had back thoughts, such 
 as damp feet, or sheets not aired enough, or chills of 
 some kind, that a little care might have avoided. 
 
 It was my belief that he had been feeling worse 
 than usual for some time, but never a complaint had 
 he made, perhaps he wouldn't own it to himself. 
 
 It wasn't till two nights after Christmas that, sit- 
 ting by the nursery fire, just after Miss Augusta had 
 been put to bed, he said to me 
 
UPSET PLANS. 109 
 
 * "Nurse, I can't help it, my leg is so dreadfully 
 bad, and not my leg only, the pain of it seems all 
 over. I'm all bad legs to-night," and he tried to 
 smile. " May I go to bed now, and perhaps it will 
 be all right in the morning ? " 
 
 I was frightened ! Sir Hulbert and my lady were 
 dining out that evening, which but seldom hap- 
 pened, and when I got over my start a little I wasn't 
 sorry for it, hoping that a good night might show it 
 was nothing serious. 
 
 We got him to bed as fast as we could. There 
 was no going down to dessert that evening, so Miss 
 Bess and Miss Lalage set to work to help me, like 
 the womanly little ladies they were; one of them 
 running downstairs to see about plenty of hot water 
 for a good bath and hot bottles, and the other fetch- 
 ing the under housemaid to see to a fire in his 
 room. I doubt if he had ever had one before. Bed- 
 room fires were not in my lady's rule, and I don't 
 hold with them myself, except in illness or extra 
 cold weather. 
 
 He cheered up a little, and even laughed at the 
 fuss we made. And before his uncle and aunt 
 returned he was sound asleep, looking quiet and 
 comfortable, so that I didn't think it needful to say 
 anything to them that night. But long before morn- 
 ing, for I crept upstairs to his room every hour or 
 two, I saw that it was not going off as I had hoped. 
 He started and moaned in his sleep, and once or 
 
110 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 twice when I found him awake, he seemed almost 
 lightheaded, and as if he hardly knew me. Once I 
 heard him whisper : " Oh ! it hurts so," as if he could 
 scarcely bear it. 
 
 About five o'clock I dressed myself and took up 
 my watch beside him. My lady was an early riser ; 
 by eight o'clock, in answer to a message from me, 
 she was with us herself in her dressing-gown. Mas- 
 ter Francis was awake. 
 
 " O my lady ! " I said, " I'd no thought of bringing 
 you up so early, and you were late last night too." 
 For they had had a long drive. " It was only that I 
 dursn't take upon me to send for the doctor without 
 asking." 
 
 "No, no, of course not," she said. And indeed 
 that was a liberty my lady would not have been 
 pleased with any one's taking. " Do you really think 
 it necessary ? " 
 
 The poor child was looking a little better just 
 then, the pain was not so bad. He seemed quiet and 
 dreamy-like, though his face was flushed and his eyes 
 very bright. 
 
 " Auntie ! " he said, smiling a very little ; " how 
 pretty you look ! " 
 
 And so she did in her long white dressing-gown, 
 with her lovely fair hair hanging about, for all the 
 world like Miss Lally's. 
 
 I think myself the fever was on his brain a little 
 already, else he would scarce have dared speak so to 
 his aunt. 
 
AUNTIE ! " HE SAID, SMILING A VERT LITTLE ; " HOW PRETTY you 
 LOOK! " p. 110. 
 
UPSET PLANS. Ill 
 
 She took no notice, but drew me out of the room. 
 
 " What in the world's the matter with him ? " she 
 said, anxious and yet irritated at the same time. 
 " Has he been doing anything foolish that can have 
 made him ill ? " 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " It's seldom one can tell how illness comes, but I 
 feel sure the doctor should see him," I replied. 
 
 So he was sent for, and before the day was many 
 hours older, there was little doubt left though, as I 
 said before, I tried for a bit to hope it was only a 
 bad cold that Master Francis was in for something 
 very serious. 
 
 Almost from the first the doctor spoke of rheu- 
 matic fever. There was a sort of comfort in this, 
 bad as it was the comfort of knowing there was no 
 infection to fear. It was a great comfort to Master 
 Francis himself, whenever he felt the least bit easier, 
 now and then to see his cousins for a minute or two 
 at a time, without any risk to them. For one of his 
 first questions to the doctor was whether his illness 
 was anything the others could catch. 
 
 After that for a few days he was so bad that he 
 could really think of nothing but how to bear the 
 pain patiently. Then when he grew a shade better, 
 he began about going to school. 
 
 " What was the day of the month? Would he be 
 well, quite well, by the 20th, or whatever day school 
 began ? Uncle would be so disappointed if it had to 
 
112 NTJESE HEATHERDALE'S STOKY. 
 
 be put off " and so on, over and over again, till at 
 last I had to speak, not only to the doctor, but to Sir 
 Hulbert himself, about the way the boy was worrying 
 in his mind. 
 
 The doctor tried to put him off by saying he was 
 getting on famously, and such-like speeches. A few 
 quiet words from Sir Hulbert had far more effect. 
 
 " My dear boy," he said gravely, " what you have 
 to do is to try to get well and not fret yourself. If 
 it is God's will that your going to school should be 
 put off, you must not take it to heart. You're not 
 in such a hurry to leave us as all that, are you ? " 
 
 The last few words were spoken very kindly and 
 he smiled as he said them. I was glad of it, for I 
 had not thought his uncle quite as tender of the boy 
 as he had used to be. They pleased Master Francis, 
 I could see, and another thought came into his mind 
 which helped to quiet him. 
 
 " Anyway, nurse," he said to me one day, " there'll 
 be a good deal of expense saved if I don't go to 
 school till Easter." 
 
 It never struck him that there are few things more 
 expensive than illness, and as I had no idea till my 
 lady told me that the term had to be paid for, 
 whether he went to school or not, I was able to agree 
 with him. 
 
 I was deeply sorry for my lady in those days. 
 Some might be hard upon her, for not forgetting all 
 else in thankfulness that the child's life was spared, 
 
UPSET PLANS. 113 
 
 and I know she tried to do so, but it was difficult. 
 And when she spoke out to me one day, and told me 
 about the schooling having to be paid all the same, I 
 really did feel for her ; knowing through Mrs. Brent, 
 as I have mentioned, all the past history of the 
 troubles brought about by poor Master Francis's 
 father. 
 
 " I hope he'll live to be a comfort to you yet, if I 
 may say so, my lady, and I've a strong feeling that 
 he will," I said (she reminded me of those words long 
 after), " and in the meantime you may trust to Mrs. 
 Brent and me to keep all expense down as much 
 as possible, while seeing that Master Francis has all 
 he needs. I'm sure we can manage without a sick- 
 nurse now." 
 
 For there had been some talk of having one sent 
 for from London, though in those days it was less 
 done than seems the case now. 
 
 And after a while things began to mend. It was 
 not a very bad attack, less so than we had feared at 
 first. In about ten days' time Mrs. Brent and Susan 
 the housemaid and I, who had taken it in turns to 
 sit up all night, were able to go to bed as usual, only 
 seeing to it that the fire was made up once in the 
 night, so as to last on till morning, and the day's 
 work grew steadily lighter. 
 
 Once they had finished their lessons, the little 
 girls were always eager to keep their cousin com- 
 pany. He was only allowed to have them one at a 
 
114 NUBSE HEATHERDALE'S STOKY. 
 
 time. Miss Bess used to take the first turn, but it 
 was hard work for her, poor child, to keep still, 
 though it grew easier for her when it got the length 
 of his being able for reading aloud. But Miss Lally 
 from the first was a perfect model of a little sick- 
 nurse. Mouse was no word for her, so still and 
 noiseless and yet so watchful was she, and" if ever 
 she was left in charge of giving him his medicine at 
 a certain time, I could feel as sure as sure that it 
 wouldn't be forgotten. When he was inclined to 
 talk a little, she knew just how to manage him 
 how to amuse him without exciting him at all, and 
 always to cheer him up. 
 
 The weather was unusually bad just then, though 
 we did our best to prevent Master Francis feeling it, 
 by keeping his room always at an even heat, but 
 there were many days on which the young ladies 
 couldn't get out. Altogether it was a trying time, 
 and for no one more than for my lady. 
 
 I couldn't help thinking sometimes how different 
 it would have been if Master Francis had been her 
 own child, when the joy of his recovering would 
 have made all other troubles seem nothing. I felt 
 it both for her and for him, though I don't think 
 he noticed it himself; and after all, now that I 
 can look back on things having come so perfectly 
 right, perhaps it is foolish to recall those shadows. 
 Only it makes the pictures of their lives more 
 true. 
 
UPSET PLANS. 115 
 
 Through it all I could see my lady was trying her 
 best to have none but kind and nice feelings. 
 
 " The doctor says that though Francis will really 
 be almost as well as usual in three or four weeks 
 from now, there can be no question of his going 
 to school for ever so long perhaps not at all this 
 year." 
 
 " Dear, dear," I said. " But you won't have to go 
 on paying for it all the same, my lady ? " 
 
 She smiled at this. 
 
 " No, no, not quite so bad as that, only this one 
 term, which is paid already. Sir Hulbert might have 
 got off paying it if he had really explained how 
 difficult it was. But that's just the sort of thing it 
 would really be lowering for him to do," and she 
 sighed. " The doctor says too," she went on again, 
 "that by rights the boy should have a course of 
 German baths, that might do him good for all his 
 life ; but how we could manage that I can't see, 
 though Sir Hulbert is actually thinking of it. I 
 doubt if he would think of it as much if it were for 
 one of our own children," she added rather bitterly. 
 
 " He feels Master Francis a sort of charge, I sup- 
 pose," I said, meaning to show my sympathy. 
 
 " He is a charge indeed," said his aunt. " And to 
 think that all this time he might have been really 
 improving at school." 
 
 I could say nothing more, but I did grieve that she 
 couldn't take things in a different spirit. 
 
116 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good." 
 Miss Lally had a fine time for her knitting just then, 
 with Master Francis out of the way. Of course if he 
 had been at school there would have been no diffi- 
 culty, and she had planned to have his socks ready 
 to send him on his birthday, the end of March. Now 
 she had got on so fast one sock finished and the 
 heel of the other turned, though not without many 
 sighs and even a few tears that she hoped to have 
 them as a surprise the first day he came down to the 
 nursery. 
 
 " I'll have to begin working in the attic again, 
 after that," she said to me, " for I'm going to make 
 a pair for baby." 
 
 " That's to say if the weather gets warmer," I said 
 to her. " You certainly couldn't have sat up in the 
 attic these last few weeks, Miss Lally." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE NEW BABY. 
 
 THE weather did improve. The winter having 
 been so unusually severe was made up for, as I think 
 often happens, by a bright and early spring. By the 
 beginning of April Master Francis was able to be out 
 again, though of course only for a little in the middle 
 of the day, and we had to be very careful lest he 
 should catch the least cold. I was exceedingly glad, 
 really more glad than I can say, that his getting 
 well went through without any backcasts. For 
 himself he was really better than the doctor had 
 dared to hope, but as he began to move about more 
 freely I was grieved to see that the stiffness of his 
 leg seemed worse than before his illness. I don't think 
 it pained him much, at least he didn't complain. 
 
 In the meantime I thought it would be best to 
 say nothing about it, half hoping that he didn't 
 notice it himself, but I heard no talk of his going to 
 school. 
 
 I shall never forget one morning in April it was 
 towards the end of the month, a most lovely sunny 
 morning it was, as I went up the winding staircase 
 leading to Master Francis's room in the tower. The 
 
 117 
 
118 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 sunshine came pouring in through the narrow win- 
 dows as brilliant as if it had been midsummer, and 
 the songs of the birds outside seemed to tell how 
 they were enjoying it, yet it was only half -past six ! 
 The little ladies below were all sleeping soundly, but 
 Master Francis, I knew, always woke very early, and 
 somehow I had a feeling that he must be the first to 
 hear the good news. 
 
 As I knocked at the door I heard him moving 
 inside. He had got up to open the window; the 
 room seemed flooded with light as I went in. Master 
 Francis was sitting up in bed reading, or learning 
 some of his lessons more likely, for he was well 
 enough now to have gone back to regular ways. He 
 looked up very brightly. 
 
 " Isn't it a most beautiful morning, nurse ? " he 
 said. "The sunshine woke me even earlier than 
 usual, so I'm looking over my Latin. Auntie doesn't 
 mind my reading in bed in the morning. It isn't 
 like at night with candles." 
 
 " No, of course not," I said. " But, Master Francis, 
 I want you to leave off thinking about your lessons 
 for a minute. I rather fancy you'll have a holiday 
 to-day. I've got a piece of news for you ! I wonder 
 if you can guess what has happened ? " 
 
 He opened his eyes wide in surprise. 
 
 "It must be something good," he said, "or you 
 wouldn't look so pleased. What can it be? It 
 can't be that Uncle Hulbert's got a lot of money." 
 
THE NEW BABY. 119 
 
 " There are some things better than money," I 
 said. " What would you think if a dear little baby 
 boy had come in the night ? " 
 
 His whole face flushed pink with pleasure. 
 
 " Nurse ! " he said. " Is it really true ? Oh ! how 
 pleased I am. Just the very thing auntie has 
 wanted so a little boy of her own. I may count 
 him like a brother, mayn't I? Won't Bess and 
 Lally be pleased ! Do they know ? Mayn't I get up 
 at once, and when do you think I may see him? " 
 
 "Some time to-day, I hope," I answered. "No, 
 the young ladies don't know yet. They're fast 
 asleep. But I thought you'd like to know." 
 
 " How good of you ! " he said. " I'm just so 
 pleased that I don't know what to do." 
 
 What a morning of excitement it was, to be sure ! 
 The children were all half off their heads with de- 
 light. All, that is to say, except Miss Baby, who 
 burst out crying in the middle of her breakfast, 
 sobbing that she " wouldn't have no something " 
 We couldn't make out what for ever so long, till we 
 found it was her name she was crying about, as of 
 course we were all talking of the new little brother 
 as " the baby." We comforted her by saying that 
 anyway he would not be "Miss Baby"; and perhaps 
 from that it came about that her old name clung to 
 her till she was quite a big girl, and almost from the 
 first Master Bevil got his real name. 
 
 He was a great darling so strong and hearty too 
 
120 NURSE HEATHERDAL^'S STORY. 
 
 and so handsome even as an infant. Everything 
 seemed to go right with him from the very beginning. 
 
 " Surely," I often said to myself, " he will bring a 
 blessing with him. And now that my lady's great 
 wish has been granted, I do hope she will feel more 
 trustful and less anxious." 
 
 I hoped too that she would now have happier 
 feelings to poor Master Francis, especially when she 
 saw his devotion to the baby boy. For of all the 
 children I must say he was the one who loved the 
 little creature the most. 
 
 And for a while all seemed tending in the right 
 way, but when the baby was a few weeks old, I 
 began to fear that something of the old trouble was 
 in the air again. Fresh money difficulties happened 
 about that time, though of course I didn't know 
 exactly what they were. But it was easy to see that 
 my lady was fretted, she was not one to hide any- 
 thing she was feeling. 
 
 One day, it was in June, as far as I remember, my 
 lady was in the nursery with Miss Lally and Miss 
 Baby and the real baby. The two elder children 
 were downstairs at their lessons with Sir Hulbert. 
 Master Bevil was looking beautiful that afternoon. 
 We had laid him down on a rug on the floor, and he 
 was kicking and crowing as if he had been six months 
 old, his little sisters chattering and laughing to him, 
 while my lady sat by in the rocking-chair, looking 
 for once as if she had thrown all her cares aside. 
 
THE NEW BABY. 121 
 
 " He really is getting on beautifully," she said to 
 me. " Doesn't he look a great big boy ? " 
 
 I was rather glad of the remark, for it gave me a 
 chance to say something that had been on my mind. 
 
 " We'll have to be thinking of short-coating him, 
 before we know where we are, my lady," I said with 
 a smile. " And there's another thing I've been think- 
 ing of. He's such a heavy boy to carry already, and 
 as time gets on it would be a pity for our walks to be 
 shortened in the fine weather. We had a beautiful 
 basket for the donkey at Mrs. Wingate's, it was made 
 so that even a little baby could lie quite comfortably 
 in it." 
 
 " That would be very nice," my lady answered. 
 "I'll speak to Sir Hulbert about it. Only " and 
 again a rather worried look came into her face. I 
 could see that she had got back to the old thought, 
 "everything costs money." "We must do something 
 about it before long," she added. 
 
 Just then Miss Bess ran into the room, followed 
 more slowly by her cousin. 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " she said. 
 
 " About how dear fat baby is to go walks with us 
 when he gets still fatter and heavier," said Miss 
 Lally. " Poor nurse couldn't carry him so very far, 
 you know, and mamma says perhaps 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense," interrupted Miss Bess ; " we'd 
 carry him in turns, the darling." 
 
 My lady looked up quickly at this. 
 
122 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 "Don't talk so foolishly, child," she said sharply. 
 For, fond as she was of Miss Bess, she could put her 
 down sometimes, and just now the little girl scarcely 
 deserved it, it seemed to me. " I won't allow any- 
 thing of that kind," she went on. " You are far too 
 young, all of you Francis especially, must never 
 attempt to carry baby. Do you hear, children? 
 Nurse, you must be strict about this." 
 
 " Certainly, my lady," I replied. " Master Francis 
 and the young ladies have never done more than just 
 hold Master Bevil in their arms for a moment, me 
 standing close by." 
 
 Then they went on to talk about getting a basket 
 for the donkey, which they were very much taken 
 up about. I didn't notice at the time that Master 
 Francis had only looked in for an instant and gone 
 off again ; but that evening at tea time, when Miss 
 Bess and Miss Lally said something about old Jacob, 
 Master Francis asked what they meant, which I 
 remembered afterwards as showing that he had not 
 heard his aunt's strict orders. 
 
 It was a week or two after that, that one lovely 
 afternoon we all set out on a walk together. We 
 had planned to go rather farther than we had yet 
 been with the baby, resting here and there on the 
 way, it was so warm and sunny and he was not yet 
 so very heavy, of course. 
 
 All went well, and we found ourselves close to 
 home again in nice time. For of course I knew that 
 
THE KBW BABY. 123 
 
 if we stayed out too long it would be only natural 
 for my lady to be anxious. 
 
 " It's rather too soon to go in and it's such a 
 beautiful afternoon," said Miss Bess as we were 
 coming up the drive. " Do let us go into the little 
 wood, for half an hour or so, nurse, and you might 
 tell us a story." 
 
 The little wood skirts the drive at one side. It is 
 a sweet place, in the early summer especially, so 
 many wild flowers and ferns, and lots of squirrels 
 overhead among the branches, and little rabbits 
 scudding about down below. 
 
 We found a cosy nook, where we settled ourselves. 
 The little brother was fast asleep, the three elder 
 ones sat round me, while Miss Baby toddled off a 
 little way, busy about some of her own funny little 
 plays by herself, though well within sight. 
 
 I was in the middle of a long story of having been 
 lost in the fir-woods at home as a child, when a loud 
 scream made us all start, and looking up I saw to my 
 alarm that Miss Baby was no longer to be seen. 
 
 "Dear, dear," I cried, jumping up in a fright. 
 " She must have hurt herself. Here, Master Francis, 
 hold the baby for a moment, don't get up ; " and I 
 put his little cousin down safely in his arms. 
 
 I meant him not to stir till I came back, but he 
 didn't understand this. Miss Bess was already off 
 after her little sister, and after a minute or two we 
 found her, not hurt at all, but crying loudly at 
 
124 NURSE HEATHERBALE'S STORY. 
 
 having fallen down and dirtied her frock in running 
 away from what she called a " bear," coming out of 
 the wood most likely only a branch of a tree 
 swaying about. 
 
 It took a little time to quiet her and to set her to 
 rights again, and when we got back to the other 
 children I was surprised to see that the baby was 
 now in Miss Lally's arms, Master Francis kneeling 
 beside them wiping something with his handker- 
 chief. 
 
 " There's nothing wrong, I hope," I said, rather 
 startled again. 
 
 " Oh no ! " said Miss Lally. " It's only that little 
 brother cried and Francie walked him up and down 
 and somefing caught Francie's foot and he felled, but 
 baby didn't fall. Francie held him tight, only a 
 twig scratched baby's nose a tiny little bit. But he 
 doesn't mind, he's laughing." 
 
 So he was, though sure enough there was a thin 
 red line right across his plump little nose, and the 
 least little mark of blood on the handkerchief with 
 which his cousin had been tenderly dabbing it. 
 Master Francis himself was so pale that I hadn't the 
 heart to say more to him than just a word. 
 
 "I had meant you to sit still with him, my dear." 
 
 "But he cried so," said the boy. 
 
 However, there was no harm done, though I 
 thought to myself I'd be more careful than ever, 
 but unluckily just as we were within a few steps of 
 
THE HEW BABY. 125 
 
 the house whom should we see but ray lady coming 
 to meet us. I'm never one for hiding things, 
 but I did wish she had not happened to come just 
 then. 
 
 She noticed the scratch in a moment, as she 
 stooped to kiss the baby, though really there was 
 nothing to mind, seeing the dear child so rosy and 
 happy looking. 
 
 " What's the matter with his nose ? " she said 
 quickly. " You haven't any pins about you, nurse, 
 surely?" 
 
 Pins were not in my way, certainly, but I could 
 have found it in my heart to wish I could own to 
 one just then, for Master Francis started forward. 
 
 " Oh no ! Aunt Helen," he said, "it was my fault. 
 I was walking him about for a minute or two, while 
 nurse went after Baby, and my foot slipt, but I only 
 came down on my knees and he didn't fall. It was 
 only a twig scratched his nose, a tiny bit." 
 
 My lady grew first red then white. 
 
 " He might have been killed," she said ; and she 
 caught the baby from me and kissed him over and 
 over again. Then she turned to Master Francis, and 
 I could see that she was doing her best to keep in 
 her anger. 
 
 " Francis, how dared you, after what I said the 
 other day so very strongly about your never carrying 
 the baby? Your own sense might have told you 
 you are not able to carry him, but besides that, what 
 
126 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 I said makes it distinct disobedience. Nurse, did 
 you know of it ? " 
 
 " It was I myself gave Master Bevil to Master 
 Francis to hold," I said, flurried like at my lady's 
 displeasure. " I hadn't meant him to walk about 
 with him." 
 
 " Of course not," said my lady. " There now, you 
 see, Francis, double disobedience ! I must speak to 
 your uncle. Take back baby, nurse, he must have 
 some pomade divine on his nose when he gets in ; " 
 and before any of us had time to speak again she 
 had turned and hurried back to the house. My 
 lady had always a quick way with her, pleased or 
 displeased. 
 
 "She's gone to tell papa," said the young ladies, 
 looking very distressed. 
 
 Master Francis was quite white and shaking like. 
 
 " Nurse," he said at last, when he had got voice 
 enough to speak, " I really don't know what auntie 
 meant about something she said the other day." 
 . " O Franz ! you can't have forgotten," said Miss 
 Bess, who often spoke sharply when she was really 
 very sorry. " Mamma did say most plainly that none 
 of us were to carry baby about." 
 
 But the boy still looked quite puzzled, and when 
 we talked it over, we were all satisfied that he hadn't 
 been in the room at the time. 
 
 " I must try to put it right with my lady," I said, 
 feeling that if any one had been to blame in the 
 
THE NEW BABY. 127 
 
 matter it was certainly me much more than Master 
 Francis, for not having kept my eye better on Miss 
 Baby in the wood. 
 
 But we were a very silent and rather sad party 
 as we made our way back slowly to the house. 
 
 I couldn't see my lady till late that evening, and 
 then, though I did my best, I didn't altogether suc- 
 ceed. She had already spoken to Sir Hulbert, and 
 nothing would convince her that Master Francis had 
 not heard at least some part of what she said. 
 
 Sir Hulbert was always calm and just; he sent 
 for the boy the next morning, and had a long talk 
 with him. Master Francis came back to the nursery 
 looking pale and grave, but more thoughtful than 
 unhappy. 
 
 " Uncle has been very good and kind," was all he 
 said. " And I will try never to vex him and auntie 
 again." 
 
 Later that evening, when he happened to be alone 
 with me, after the young ladies had gone to bed, he 
 said a little more. I was sitting by the fire with 
 Master Bevil on my knee. Master Francis knelt 
 down beside me and kissed the little creature ten- 
 derly. Then he stroked his tiny nose the mark of 
 the scratch had almost gone already. 
 
 " You darling ! " he said. " Oh ! how glad I am 
 you weren't really hurt. Nurse," he went on, " I'd 
 do anything for this baby, I do love him so. I only 
 wish I could say it to auntie the way I can to you. 
 
128 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 If only I were big and strong, or very clever, and 
 could work for him, to get him everything he should 
 have, and then it would make up a little for all the 
 trouble I've been always to them." 
 
 He spoke quite simply. There wasn't a thought 
 of himself as if he had anything to complain of, or 
 put up with, I mean in what he said. But all the 
 more it touched me very much, and I felt the tears 
 come into my eye, but I wouldn't have Master 
 Francis see it, and I began laughing and playing 
 with the baby. 
 
 " See his dear little feet," I said. " They're almost 
 the prettiest part of him. He kicks so, he wears out 
 his little boots in no time. It would be nice if Miss 
 Lally could knit some for him." 
 
 Master Francis looked surprised. 
 
 " Why," he said, " do you call those little white 
 things boots? And are they made the same way 
 as my socks? I've got them on now; aren't they 
 splendid? I really think it was very clever of 
 Lally." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN DISGRACE AGAIN. 
 
 HE held out one foot to be admired. 
 
 " Yes," I said, " they are very nice indeed, and 
 Miss Lally was so patient about them. I'll have to 
 think of some other knitting for her." 
 
 " O nurse ! " said Master Francis quickly, then he 
 stopped. " I must ask Lally first," he went on ; and 
 I heard him say, as if speaking to himself "it would 
 be nice to please auntie." 
 
 For a day or two after that I saw there was some 
 mystery going on. Master Francis and Miss Lally 
 were whispering together and looking very impor- 
 tant, and one fine afternoon the secret was confided 
 to me. 
 
 Miss Bess was out with her mamma, and Master 
 Francis had disappeared when we came in from our 
 walk, a rather short one that day. Suddenly, just as 
 we were sitting down to tea, and I was wondering 
 what had become of him, he hurried in, and threw a 
 small soft white packet on to Miss Lally's lap. 
 
 " O Francie ! " she said, " have you really got it ? " 
 
 Then she undid the parcel and showed it to me ; 
 it was white wool. 
 
 129 
 
130 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Francie has bought it with his own money," she 
 said, " for me to knit a pair of boots for baby, and 
 oh ! nursie, will you show me how ? They're to be a 
 present from Francie and me ; me the knitting and 
 Francie the wool, and we want it to be quite a secret 
 till they're ready. It's so warm now I can knit up 
 in the attic. Won't mamma be pleased?" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," I said. " I'll do my best to 
 teach you. They'll be rather difficult, for we'll have 
 to put in some fancy stitches, but I think you can 
 manage it now." 
 
 Master Francis stood by, looking as interested and 
 pleased as Miss Lally herself. 
 
 " That was all the wool Prideaux' daughter had," 
 he said. " Do you think there'll be enough, nurse ? 
 She'll have some more in a few days." 
 
 " I doubt if there'll be enough," I said, " but I can 
 tell better when we've got them begun." 
 
 Begun they were, that very evening. Miss Lally 
 and Master Francis set to work to wind the wool, 
 having first spent some time at an extra washing of 
 their hands, for fear of soiling it in the very least. 
 
 " It's so beautifully white," said Miss Lally, " like 
 it says in the Bible, isn't it, nursie ? It would be a 
 pity to dirty it." 
 
 Dear me ! how happy those two were over their 
 innocent secret, and how little I thought w T hat would 
 come of Master Bevil's white wool bootikins ! 
 
 The knitting got on nicely, though there were 
 
IN DISGRACE AGAIN. 131 
 
 some difficulties in the way. The weather was 
 getting warmer, and it is not easy for even little 
 ladies to keep their hands quite spotlessly clean. 
 The ball of wool had to be tied up in a little bag, as 
 it would keep falling on the floor, and besides this, 
 Miss Lally spread out a clean towel in the corner 
 where she sat to work in the attic. 
 
 I gave Miss Bess a hint that there was a new 
 secret and got her to promise not to tease the 
 children, and she was really good about it, as was 
 her way if she felt she was trusted. Altogether, for 
 some little time things seemed to be going smoothly. 
 Master Francis was most particular to do nothing 
 that could in the least annoy his uncle and aunt, or 
 could seem like disobedience to them. 
 
 After the long spell of fine weather, July set in 
 with heavy rain. I had now been a whole year with 
 the dear children. I remember saying so to them 
 one morning when we were all at breakfast. 
 
 It was about a week since the baby's boots had 
 been in hand. One was already finished, in great 
 part by Miss Lally herself, though I had had to do 
 a little to it in the evenings after they were all in bed, 
 setting it right for her to go on with the next day. 
 
 With the wet weather there was less walking out, 
 of course, and all the more time for the knitting. On 
 the day I am speaking of the children came down 
 from the attic in the afternoon with rather doleful 
 faces. 
 
132 NURSE HEATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Nursie," said Miss Lally, " I have been getting 
 on so nicely," and indeed I had not required to do 
 more than glance at her work for two or three days. 
 "I thought I would have had it ready for you to 
 begin the lace part round the top, only, just fancy, 
 the wool's done ! " 
 
 "They'll have more at the shop by now>" said 
 Master Francis. " If only it would clear up I could 
 go to the village for it." 
 
 " It may be finer to-morrow," I said, " but there's 
 no chance of you going out to-day ; even if it left off 
 raining, the ground's far too wet for you with your 
 rheumatism. Now, Miss Lally, my dear, don't you 
 begin looking so doleful about it ; you've got on far 
 quicker than you could have expected." 
 
 She did look rather doleful all the same, and the 
 worst of it was that though Master Francis would 
 have given up anything for himself, he never could 
 bear Miss Lally to be disappointed. 
 
 "I'm so much better now, nurse," he said. "I 
 don't believe even going out in the rain would hurt 
 me." 
 
 " It's possible it mightn't hurt you, but "I was 
 beginning, when I heard Master Bevil crying -out in 
 the other room. Miss Lally had now a little room 
 of her own on the other side of the nursery, and we 
 had saved enough of Miss Bess's chintz to smarten it 
 up. This had been done some months ago. I hadn't 
 too much time now, and the young girl who helped 
 
IK DISGRACE AGAIN. 133 
 
 me was no hand at sewing at all. Off I hurried to 
 the baby without finishing what I was saying to 
 Master Francis, and indeed I never gave another 
 thought to what he'd said about fetching the wool 
 till tea-time came, and he didn't answer when we 
 called him, thinking he was in his own room. 
 
 Just then, unluckily, my lady came up to the nurs- 
 ery to say good-bye to the children, or good-night 
 rather, for she and Sir Hulbert were going to dine 
 at Carris Court, which is a long drive from Treluan, 
 and the roads were just then very heavy with the rain. 
 She came in looking quite bright and cheery. I can 
 see her now in her black lace dress it was far from 
 new it was seldom my lady spent anything on her- 
 self but it suited her beautifully, showing off her 
 lovely hair and fair complexion. One little diamond 
 star was her only ornament. I forget if I mentioned 
 that as well as the strange disappearance of money 
 at the death of old Sir David, a great many valuable 
 family jewels, worth thousands of pounds, were also 
 missing, so it was but little that Sir Hulbert had been 
 able to give his wife, and what money she had of her 
 own she wouldn't have spent in such ways, knowing 
 from the first how things were with him. 
 
 She came in, as I said, looking so beautiful and 
 bright that I felt grieved when almost in a moment 
 her look changed. 
 
 " Where is Francis ? " she asked quickly. 
 
 " He must be somewhere downstairs, my lady," I 
 
134 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 said. " He's not in his room, but no doubt he'll be 
 coming directly." 
 
 Esther, the nursery-maid, was just then coming 
 in with some tea-cakes Mrs. Brent had sent us up. 
 
 " Go and look for Master Francis, and tell him to 
 come at once," said my lady. " Surely he can't have 
 gone out anywhere," she added to me ; " it's pouring, 
 besides he isn't allowed to go out without leave." 
 
 " He'd never think of such a thing," I said quickly, 
 " after being so ill too." But even as I spoke the 
 words, there came into my mind what the boy had 
 said that afternoon, and I began to feel a little 
 anxious, though of course I didn't let my lady see it, 
 and I did my best to smooth things when Esther 
 came back to say that he was nowhere to be found. 
 It was little use, however, my lady began to be thor- 
 oughly put out. 
 
 She hurried off to Sir Hulbert, feeling both anx- 
 ious and angry, and a good half -hour was spent in 
 looking for the boy before Sir Hulbert could per- 
 suade her to start. He was vexed too, and no won- 
 der, just when my lady had been looking so happy. 
 
 " Really," I thought to myself, " Master Francis 
 is tiresome after all." And I was thankful when 
 they at last drove off, there being no real cause for 
 anxiety. 
 
 No sooner had the sound of the carriage-wheels 
 died away than the nursery door opened and Master 
 Francis burst in, looking for once like a regular 
 
IN DISGRACE AGAIN. 135 
 
 pickle of a boy. His eyes bright and his cheeks rosy, 
 though he was covered with mud from head to foot, 
 his boots really not to be thought of as fit to come 
 up a tidy staircase. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " he cried, shaking a little parcel over 
 his head. "I've got it, Lally. And I'm not a bit 
 wet after all, nurse ! " 
 
 " Oh no ! " said Miss Bess, who did love to put in 
 her word, " not at all. Quite nice and dry and tidy 
 and fit to sit down to tea, after worrying mamma 
 out of her wits and nearly stopping papa and her 
 going to Carris." 
 
 Master Francis's face fell at once. I w^as sorry for 
 him and yet that provoked I couldn't but join in 
 with Miss Bess. 
 
 " Go upstairs to your room at once, Master Fran- 
 cis, and undress and get straight into your bed. I'll 
 come up in a few minutes with some hot tea for you. 
 How you could do such a thing close upon getting 
 better of rheumatic fever, and the trouble and worry 
 it gave, passes me ! And considering, too, what I 
 said to you this very afternoon." 
 
 " You didn't actually say I wasn't to go," he said 
 quickly. " You know quite well why I went, and 
 I'm not a bit wet really. I'm all muffled up in 
 things to keep me dry. I'm nearly suffocating." 
 
 "All the worse," I said. "If you're overheated 
 all the more certain you'll get a chill. Don't stand 
 talking, go at once." 
 
136 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 He went off, and I was beginning to pour out the 
 tea, which had been kept back all this time, when, 
 as I lifted the teapot in my hand I almost dropped 
 it, nearly scalding Miss Baby who was sitting close 
 by me, so startled was I by a sudden terrible scream 
 from Miss Lally ; and, as I have said before, anything 
 like Miss Lally's screams I never did hear in any 
 nursery. Besides which, once she was started, there 
 was never any saying when she'd leave off. 
 
 "Now, whatever's the matter with you, my dear?" 
 I said, but it was little use talking quietly to her. 
 She only sobbed something about " poor Francie and 
 nursie scolding him," and then went on with her 
 screaming till I was obliged to put her in the other 
 room by herself to get quiet. 
 
 Of all the party Miss Bess and Miss Baby were 
 the only ones who did justice to Mrs. Brent's tea- 
 cakes that evening. They did take Miss Lally's 
 screaming fits quietly, I must say, which was a good 
 thing, and even Master Bevil had strong nerves, I 
 suppose, for he slept on sweetly through it all, poor 
 dear. For myself, I was out and out upset for once, 
 provoked and yet sorry too. 
 
 I went up to Master Francis and did the best I 
 could for him to prevent his taking cold. He was as 
 sorry as could be by this time, and he had really not 
 meant to be disobedient, but though I was ready 
 to believe him, I felt much afraid that this new 
 scrape wouldn't be passed over very lightly by his 
 
IN DISGKACE AGAIN. 137 
 
 uncle and aunt. After a while Miss Lally quieted 
 down, partly, I think, because I promised her she 
 might go up to her cousin if she would leave off 
 crying, and the two passed the evening together very 
 soberly and sadly, winding the fresh skein of white 
 woolSvhich had been the cause of all the trouble. 
 
 After all Master Francis did not take cold. He 
 came down to breakfast the next morning looking 
 pretty much as usual, though I could see he was 
 uneasy in his mind. Miss Lally too was feeling 
 rather ashamed of her screaming fit the night before, 
 for she was growing a big girl now, old enough to 
 understand that she should have more self-command. 
 Altogether it was rather a silent nursery that morn- 
 ing, for Miss Bess was concerned for her cousin 
 too. 
 
 I had quite meant to try to see my lady before 
 anything was said to Master Francis. But she was 
 tired and later of getting up than usual, and I didn't 
 like to disturb her. Sir Hulbert, I found, had gone 
 out early and would not be in till luncheon-time, so 
 I hoped I would still have my chance. 
 
 I hardly saw the elder children till their dinner 
 time. It was an extra long morning of lessons with 
 Miss Kirstin, for it was still raining, and on wet days 
 she sometimes helped them with what they had to 
 learn by themselves. 
 
 The three hurried up together to make themselves 
 tidy before going down to the dining-room, and I 
 
138 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 just saw them for a moment. Master Bevil was 
 rather fractious, and I was feeling a little worried 
 about him, so that what had happened the night 
 before was not quite so fresh in my mind as it had 
 been; but I did ask Miss Lally, who came to me to 
 have her hair brushed, if she had seen her mamma, 
 and if my lady was feeling rested. 
 
 "She's getting up for luncheon," was the child's 
 answer, " but I haven't seen her. Mrs. Brent told us 
 she was very tired last night. Mrs. Brent waited up 
 to tell mamma Francie had come in." 
 
 After luncheon the two young ladies came up 
 together. I looked past them anxiously for Master 
 Francis. 
 
 "No," said Miss Lally, understanding my look, 
 "he's not coming. He's gone to papa's room, and 
 papa and mamma are both there." 
 
 My heart sank at the words. 
 
 "Mamma's coming up to see baby in a little 
 while," said Miss Bess. " She was so tired, poor 
 little mamma, she only woke in time to dress for 
 luncheon, and papa said he was very glad." 
 
 Miss Lally came round and whispered to me. 
 
 " Nurse," she said, *' may I go up to the attic ? I 
 want to knit a great lot to-day, and if I stayed down 
 here mamma would see." 
 
 " Very well, my dear," I said. " Only be sure to 
 come downstairs if you feel chilly." 
 
 There was really no reason, now that she had a 
 
IN DISGRACE AGAIN. 139 
 
 room of her own, for her ever to sit in the attic, but 
 she had taken a fancy to it, I suppose, and off she 
 went. 
 
 Miss Bess stood looking out of the window, in a 
 rather idle way she had. 
 
 u Oh dear!" she said impatiently; "is it never 
 going to leave off raining? I am so tired of not 
 getting out." 
 
 " Get something to do, my dear," I said. " Then 
 the time will pass more quickly. It won't stop 
 raining for you watching it, you know. Weren't 
 you saying something about the schoolroom books 
 needing arranging, and that you hadn't had time to 
 do them?" 
 
 Miss Bess was in a very giving-in mood. 
 
 " Very well," she said, moving off slowly. " I sup- 
 pose I may as well do them. But I need somebody 
 to help me ; where's Lally ? " 
 
 " Don't disturb her yet awhile, poor dear," I said. 
 " She does so want to get on with the work I've told 
 you about." 
 
 Miss Bess stood looking uncertain. Suddenly an 
 idea struck her. 
 
 " May I have Baby then ? " she asked. " She could 
 hold up the books to me, and that's about all the 
 help I need, really." 
 
 I saw no objection, and Miss Baby trotted off very 
 proud, Miss Bess leading her by the hand. 
 
 The nursery seemed very quiet the next half-hour 
 
140 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 or so, or maybe longer. I was beginning to wonder 
 when my lady would be coming, and feeling glad 
 that Master Bevil, who had just wakened up from 
 a nice sleep, was looking quite like himself again 
 before she saw him, when suddenly the door burst 
 open and Master Francis looked in. He was not 
 crying, but his face* had the strained white look I 
 could not bear to see on it. 
 
 " Is there no one here ? " he said. 
 
 Somehow I didn't like to question him, grieved 
 though I felt at things going wrong again. 
 
 " No," I replied. " Miss Bess is in the schoolroom 
 with " then it suddenly struck me that my lady 
 might be coming in at any moment, and that it 
 might be better for Master Francis not to be there. 
 " Miss Lally," I went on quickly, " is at her knitting 
 in the attic, if you like to go to her there." 
 
 He turned and went. Afterwards he told me that 
 he caught sight of my lady coming along the passage 
 as he left the room, and that he hurried upstairs to 
 avoid her. He didn't find Miss Lally in the attic as 
 he expected, but her knitting was there lying on the 
 floor, thrown down hurriedly, and though she had 
 not forgotten to spread out the clean towel as usual, 
 in her haste she hadn't noticed that the newly-wound 
 ball of white wool had rolled some distance away 
 from the half-finished boot and the pins. 
 
 Afterwards I will tell what happened to Master 
 Francis, up there by himself in the attic. 
 
IN DISGRACE AGAIN. 141 
 
 
 
 To make all clear, I may here explain why he 
 had not found Miss Lally in her nook. The book- 
 tidying in the schoolroom had gone on pretty well, 
 but after a bit, though Miss Baby did her best, Miss 
 Bess found the want of some one who could read the 
 titles, and she ran upstairs to beg Miss Lally to come 
 for a few minutes. The few minutes turned into an 
 hour or more, for the young ladies, just like children 
 as they were, came across some old favourites in their 
 tidying, and began reading out bits here and there 
 to each other. And then to please Miss Baby they 
 made houses and castles of the books on the floor, 
 which she thought a beautiful new game, so that 
 Miss Lally forgot about her knitting, while feeling, 
 so to say, at the back of her mind quite easy about it, 
 thinking she had left it safely lying on the clean 
 cloth. 
 
 They were both so much taken up with what they 
 were about, that it never struck them to wonder 
 what Master Francis was doing with himself all the 
 afternoon. 
 
 My lady and I meanwhile were having a long 
 talk in the nursery. It had been as I feared, Sir 
 Hulbert having spoken most severely to the boy, and 
 my lady having said some bitter things, which already 
 she was repenting, more especially when I was able 
 to explain that Master Francis had really not been 
 so distinctly disobedient as had seemed the case. 
 
 " We must try and put it right again, I suppose," 
 
142 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 she said rather sadly, as she was leaving the room. 
 " I wish I didn't take up things so hotly at the time, 
 but I was really frightened as well as angry. Still 
 Sir Hulbert would not have spoken so strongly if it 
 hadn't been for me." 
 
 This was a great deal for my lady to say, and I 
 felt honoured by her confidence. I began to be more 
 hopeful again, and tried to set out the tea rather 
 nicer than usual to cheer them up a little. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LOST. 
 
 THE three young ladies came in together, Miss 
 Baby looking very important, but calling out for her 
 tea. 
 
 " It's quite ready, my dear," I said. " But where's 
 Master Francis ? " 
 
 "7 don't know," said Miss Bess. " I haven't seen 
 him all the afternoon." 
 
 I turned to Miss Lally. 
 
 " He went up to sit with you, my dear, in the 
 attic," I said. 
 
 "I didn't see him," said Miss Lally, and then she 
 explained how Miss Bess had fetched her down ever 
 so long ago. " I dare say Francie's in his own room," 
 she went on. " I'll run up and see, and I'll look in 
 the attic too, for I left my work lying about." 
 
 She ran off. 
 
 " Nurse," said Miss Bess, " do you think Francis 
 got a very bad scolding? You saw him, didn't you? 
 Did he seem very unhappy ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid so, my dear, but I think it will come 
 all right again. I've seen your mamma since, and 
 
 143 
 
144 
 
 she quite sees now that he didn't really mean to be 
 disobedient." 
 
 " I wish you had told mamma that before they 
 spoke to Francis," said Miss Bess, who I must say 
 was rather a Job's comforter sometimes. 
 
 We waited anxiously till we heard Miss Lally's 
 footsteps returning. She ran in alone, looking rather 
 troubled. 
 
 *' He's not there, not in his own room, or the attic, 
 or nowhere, but he must have been in the attic, for 
 my work's gone." 
 
 A great fear came over me. Could the poor boy 
 have run away in his misery at having again angered 
 his uncle and aunt? for the look on his face had 
 been strange, when he glanced in at the nursery door, 
 asking for Miss Lally. Was he meaning perhaps to 
 bid her good-bye before setting off in some wild way? 
 And what she said of the knitting having gone made 
 me still more uneasy. Had he perhaps taken it with 
 him as a remembrance ? for of all the queer mixtures 
 of old-fashionedness and childishness that ever I 
 came across, Master Francis was the strangest, 
 though, as I have said, there was a good deal of this 
 in all the children. 
 
 I got up at Miss Lally's words. Master Bevil was 
 asleep, luckily. 
 
 " You go on with your tea, my dears, there's good 
 children," I said. " I must see about Master Francis, 
 he must be somewhere about the house. He'd never 
 
LOST. 145 
 
 have thought of going out again in such weather," 
 for it was pouring in torrents. 
 
 I went downstairs, asking everybody I met if 
 they had seen him, but they all shook their heads, 
 and at last, after searching through the library and 
 the big drawing-rooms, and even more unlikely 
 places, I got so frightened that I made bold to knock 
 at Sir Hulbert's study door, where he was busy 
 writing, my lady working beside him. 
 
 They had been talking of Master Francis just 
 before I went in, and they were far more distressed 
 than annoyed at my news, my lady growing quite 
 pale. 
 
 " O Hulbert ! " she exclaimed, " if he has run away 
 it is my fault." 
 
 " Nonsense, Helen," he said, meaning to cheer her. 
 "The boy has got sense and good feeling, he'd never 
 risk making himself ill again. And where would he 
 run away to ? He couldn't go to sea. But certainly 
 the sooner we find him the better." 
 
 He went off to speak to some of the men, while 
 my lady and I, Mrs. Brent and some of the others, 
 started again to search through the house. We did 
 search, looking in really impossible corners, where he 
 couldn't have squeezed himself in. Then the baby 
 awoke, and I had to go to him, and Miss Bess and 
 Miss Lally took their turn at this melancholy game 
 of hide-and-seek, but it was all no use. The dull 
 gray afternoon darkened into night, the rain still 
 
146 NUKSE HEAT HERD ALE'S STOKY. 
 
 pouring down, and nothing was heard of the missing 
 boy. Sir Hulbert at last left off pretending not to 
 be anxious. He had his strongest horse put into the 
 dog-cart, and drove away to the town to give notice 
 to the police, stopping on the way at every place 
 where it was the least likely the boy could have 
 been seen. 
 
 He didn't get back till eleven o'clock. My lady 
 and Mrs. Brent and me were waiting up for him, for 
 Master Bevil was sleeping sweetly, and I had put 
 the nursery-maid to watch beside him. The young 
 ladies, poor dears, were in bed too, and, as is happily 
 the way with children, had fallen asleep in spite of 
 their tears and sad distress. 
 
 We knew the moment we saw Sir Hulbert that 
 he had no good tidings to give us. His sunburnt 
 face looked almost white, as he came into the hall 
 soaking wet and shook his head. 
 
 " I have done everything, Nelly," he said, " every- 
 thing that can be done, and now we must try to 
 be patient till some news comes. It is impossible, 
 everybody says, that a boy like him, so well known 
 in the neighbourhood too, could disappear without 
 some one seeing him, or that he could remain in 
 hiding for long. It is perfectly extraordinary that 
 we have not found him already, and somehow I can 
 scarcely believe he is doing it on purpose. He has 
 such good feeling, and must know how anxious we 
 should be." 
 
LOST. 147 
 
 Sir Hulbert was standing by the fire, which my 
 lady had had lighted in the hall, as he spoke. He 
 seemed almost thinking aloud. My lady crept up to 
 him with a look on her face I could not bear to see. 
 
 "Hulbert," she said in a low voice, "I said things 
 to him enough to make him doubt our caring at all." 
 And then she broke down into bitter though silent 
 weeping. 
 
 We got her to bed with difficulty. There was 
 really no use whatever in sitting up, and who knew 
 what need for strength the next day might bring ? 
 Then there were the other poor children to think of. 
 So by midnight the house was all quiet as usual. I 
 was thankful that the wind had fallen, for all through 
 the evening there had been sounds of wailing and 
 sobbing, such as stormy weather always brings at 
 Treluan, enough to make you miserable if there was 
 nothing the matter the rain pattering against the 
 window like cold tiny hands, tapping and praying to 
 be let in. 
 
 Sad as I was, and though I could scarcely have 
 believed it of myself, I had scarcely laid my head 
 down before I too, like the children, fell fast asleep. 
 I was dreaming, a strange confused dream, which I 
 never was able to remember clearly ; but it was 
 something about searching in the smugglers' caves 
 for Master Francis, followed by an old man, who I 
 somehow fancied was the miser baronet, Sir David. 
 His hair was snow white, and there was a confusion 
 
148 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 in my mind of thinking it like Miss Lally's wool. 
 Anyhow, I had got the idea of whiteness in my head, 
 so that, when something woke me afterwards I 
 knew it was the sound of my own name and I 
 opened my eyes to see by the glimmer of the night- 
 light what seemed at first a shining figure by my 
 bed-side, I did not feel surprised. And the first 
 words I said were " white as wool." 
 
 " No, no," said Miss Lally, for it was she, in her 
 little night-dress, her fair hair all tumbling over her 
 shoulders, " it isn't about my wool, nurse, please wake 
 up quite. It's something so strange such a queer 
 noise. Please get up and come to my room to see 
 what it is." 
 
 Miss Lally's room was a tiny place at the side of 
 the nursery nearest the tower, though not opening 
 on to the tower stair. 
 
 I got up at once and crossed the day nursery with 
 her, lighting a candle on the way. But when we got 
 into her room all was perfectly silent. 
 
 " What was it you heard, my dear ? " I asked. 
 
 " A sort of knocking," she said, " and a queer kind 
 of little cry, like a rabbit caught in a trap when you 
 hear it a long way off." 
 
 " It must have been the wind and rain again," I 
 was beginning to say, but she stopped me. 
 
 " Hush, listen ! " she said, holding up her little 
 hand, " there it is again." 
 
 It was just as she had said, and it seemed to come 
 from the direction of the tower. 
 
LOST. 149 
 
 " Isn't it like as if it was from Francie's room ? " 
 said Miss Lally, shivering a little ; " and yet we know 
 he's not there, nursie." 
 
 But something was there, or close by, and some- 
 thing living, I seemed to feel. 
 
 " Put on your dressing-gown," I said to the little 
 girl, " and your slippers, and we'll go up and see. 
 You're not frightened, dear ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! " she said. " If only it was Francie ! " 
 
 But she clung to my hand as we went up the stair, 
 leaving the nursery door wide open, so as to hear 
 Master Bevil if he woke up. 
 
 Master Francis's room was all dark, of course, and 
 it struck very chill as we went in, the candle flicker- 
 ing as we pushed the door open. It seemed so 
 strange to see the empty bed, and everything unused 
 about the room, just as if he was really quite away. 
 We stood perfectly still. All was silent. We were 
 just about leaving the room to go to the attic when 
 the faintest breath of a sound seemed to come again, 
 I couldn't tell from where. It was more like a sigh 
 in the air. 
 
 " Stop," said Miss Lally, squeezing my hand, and 
 then again we heard the muffled taps, much more 
 clearly than downstairs. Miss Lally 's ears were 
 very sharp. 
 
 " I hear talking," she whispered, and before I knew 
 what she was about she had laid herself down on the 
 floor and put her ear to the ground, at a part where 
 
150 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 there was no carpet. " Nursie," she went on, looking 
 up with a very white face and shining eyes, "it is 
 Francie. He must have felled through the floor. I 
 can hear him saying, ' O Lally ! O Bess ! Oh, some- 
 body come.' " 
 
 I stooped down as she had done. It was silent 
 again; but after a moment began the knocking and 
 a sort of sobbing cry ; my ears weren't sharp enough 
 to make it into words, but I seized the first thing 
 that came to hand, I think it was the candlestick, 
 and thumped it on the floor as hard as ever I could, 
 calling out, close down through the boarding, 
 " Master Francie, we hear you." 
 
 But there was nothing we could do by ourselves, 
 and we were losing precious time. 
 
 " Miss Lally," I said, " you won't be frightened to 
 stay here alone ; I'll leave you the candle. Go on 
 knocking and calling to him, to keep up his heart, in 
 case he can hear, while I go for your papa." 
 
 In less time than it takes to tell it, I had roused 
 Sir Hulbert and brought him back with me, my lady 
 following after. Nothing would have kept her be- 
 hind. We were met by eager words from Miss Lally. 
 
 " Papa, nursie," she cried, " I've made him hear, 
 and I can make out that he says something about the 
 window." 
 
 Without speaking Sir Hulbert strode across the 
 room and flung it open. Oh, how thankful we were 
 that the wind had fallen and all was still. 
 
LOST. 151 
 
 " Francis, my boy," we heard Sir Hulbert shout 
 he was leaning out as far as ever he could " Fran- 
 cis, my boy, can you hear me ? " 
 
 Something answered, but we inside the room 
 couldn't distinguish what it said, but in another 
 moment Sir Hulbert turned towards us. 
 
 " He says something about the cupboard in the 
 attic," he said. "What can he mean? But come at 
 once." 
 
 He caught up my lady's little hand-lamp and led 
 the way, we three following. When we reached the 
 attic he went straight to the big cupboard I have 
 spoken of. The doors were standing wide open. Sir 
 Hulbert went in, but came out again, looking rather 
 blank. 
 
 " I can see nothing," he said. " I fancied he said 
 the word 4 mouse,' but his voice had got so faint." 
 
 "If you knock on the floor," I began, but Miss 
 Lally stopped me by darting into the closet. 
 
 "Papa," she said, "hold the light here. I know 
 where the mouse-hole is." 
 
 What they had thought a mouse-hole was really 
 a hole with jagged edges cut out in one of the boards, 
 which you could thrust your hand into. Sir Hulbert 
 did so, beginning to see what it was meant for, and 
 pulled. A trap-door, cleverly made, for all that it 
 looked so roughly done, gave way, and by the light 
 of the lamp we saw a kind of ladder leading down- 
 wards into the dark. Sir Hulbert stooped down and 
 leaned over the edge. 
 
152 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 " Francis," he called, and a very faint v jice we 
 couldn't have heard it till the door was opened 
 answered 
 
 " Yes, I'm here. Take care, the ladder's broken." 
 
 Luckily there was another ladder in the attic. 
 Sir Hulbert and I dragged it out, and managed to 
 slip it down the hole, in the same direction as the 
 other. We were so afraid it would be too short, but 
 it wasn't. My lady and I held it steady at the top, 
 while Sir Hulbert went down with the lamp, Miss 
 Lally holding a candle beside us. 
 
 Sir Hulbert went down very slowly, not knowing 
 how or in what state Master Francis might be lying 
 at the foot. Our hearts were beating like hammers, 
 for all we were so quiet. 
 
 First we heard an exclamation of surprise. I 
 rather think it was " by Jove ! " though Sir Hulbert 
 was a most particular gentleman in his way of speak- 
 ing then came a hearty shout 
 
 " All right, he's here, no bones broken." 
 
 " Shall I come down ? " cried my lady. 
 
 "I think you may," Sir Hulbert answered, "if 
 you're very careful. I'll bring the light to the foot 
 of the ladder again." 
 
 When my lady got down, Miss Lally and I strained 
 our ears to hear. I knew the child was quivering to 
 go down herself, and it was like her to be so patient. 
 
 Strange were the words that first reached us. 
 
 " Auntie, auntie ! " we heard Master Francis say, in 
 
SlB HULBERT, HOLDING MASTER FRANCIS WITH ONE ARM AND THE SlDB 
 
 OP THE LADDER WITH THE OTHER, FOLLOWED. p. 153. 
 
LOST. 153 
 
 his poor weak voice. " It's Old Sir David's treasure ! 
 You won't be poor any more. Oh ! I'm so glad now 
 I fell down the hole, but I thought I'd die before I 
 could tell any one." 
 
 Miss Lally and I stared at each other. Could it 
 be true? or was Master Francis off his head? We 
 had not long to wait. 
 
 They managed to get him up after all it was not 
 so very far to climb, my lady coming first with the 
 lamp, and Sir Hulbert, holding Master Francis with 
 one arm and the side of the ladder with the other, 
 followed, for the boy had revived wonderfully, once 
 he knew he was safe. 
 
 My lady was crying, I saw it the moment the light 
 fell on her face, and as soon as Master Francis was 
 up beside us, she threw her arms round him and 
 kissed him as never before. 
 
 "Oh! my poor dear boy," she said, "I am so 
 thankful, but do tell us how it all happened." 
 
 She must have heard, and indeed seen something 
 of the strange discovery that had been made, but for 
 the moment I don't think there was a thought in her 
 heart except thankfulness that he was safe. 
 
 Before Master Francis could answer, Sir Hulbert 
 interrupted. 
 
 " Better not ask him anything for a minute or 
 two," he said. " Nurse, you will find my brandy-flask 
 downstairs in the study. He'd better have a little 
 mixed with water ; and ring the bell as you pass to 
 
154 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 waken Crooks, and some one must light the fire in 
 Francis's room." 
 
 I was back in five minutes with what was wanted ; 
 and then I found Miss Lally having her turn at 
 petting her cousin. As soon as he had had a little 
 brandy and water we took him down to the nursery, 
 where the fire was still smouldering, Sir Hulbert 
 carefully closing the trap-door as it had been before, 
 and then following us downstairs. 
 
 Once in the nursery, anxious though we were to 
 get him to bed, it was impossible not to let him tell 
 something of what had happened. It began by a cry 
 from Miss Lally. 
 
 " Why, Francie, you've got my knitting sticking 
 out of your pocket. But two of the needles has 
 dropped out," she went on rather dolefully. 
 
 " They'll be lying down in that room," said Master 
 Francis. " I was carrying it in my hand when I 
 went down the ladder after the ball of wool, and 
 when I fell I dropped it, and I found it afterwards. 
 It was the ball of wool that did it all," and then he 
 went on to explain. 
 
 He had not found Miss Lally in the attic, for Miss 
 Bess had already called her down, but seeing her 
 knitting lying on the floor, he had sat down to wait 
 for her, thinking she'd be sure to come back. Then 
 he noticed that the ball of wool must have rolled 
 away as she threw her work down, and disappeared 
 into the cupboard. The door was wide open, and he 
 
LOST. 155 
 
 traced it by the thread in his hand to the " mouse- 
 hole " in the corner, down which it had dropped, and 
 putting his hand through to see if he could feel it, to 
 his surprise the board yielded. Pulling a little more, 
 the trap-door opened, and he saw the steps leading 
 downwards. 
 
 It was not dark in the secret room in the daytime, 
 for it had two narrow slits of windows hardly to be 
 noticed from the outside, so, with a boy's natural 
 curiosity, he determined to go down. He hadn't 
 strength to lift the trap-door fully back, but he man- 
 aged to stick it open enough to let him pass through; 
 he had not got down many steps, however, before he 
 heard it bang to above him. The shock may have 
 jarred the ladder, which was a roughly-made rotten 
 old thing. Anyway, the next moment Master Fran- 
 cis felt it give way, and he fell several feet on to the 
 floor below. He was bruised, arid a little stunned 
 for a few minutes, but he soon came quite to himself, 
 and, still full of curiosity, began to look about him. 
 The place where he was was only a sort of entrance 
 to a larger room, which was really under his own 
 bedroom, and lighted, as I have said, by narrow deep 
 windows, without glass. And though there was no 
 door between the two, the large room was on a much 
 lower level, and another ladder led down to it. This 
 time he was very careful, and got to the bottom with- 
 out any accident. 
 
156 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 Looking about him, he saw standing along one side 
 of the room a collection of the queerest-shaped objects 
 of all sizes that could be imagined, all wrapped up 
 in some kind of linen or canvas, grown gray with age 
 and dust. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "OLD SIR DAVID'S" SECRET. 
 
 AT first he thought the queer-looking things he 
 saw must be odd-shaped pieces of stone, or petrifac- 
 tions, such as you see in old-fashioned rockeries in 
 gardens sometimes. But when he went close up to 
 them and touched one, he found that the covering 
 was soft, though whatever was inside it was hard. 
 He pulled the cloth off it, and saw to his surprise 
 that it was a heavy silver tea-urn, though so black 
 and discoloured that it looked more like copper or 
 iron. He examined two or three other things, stand- 
 ing by near it ; they also proved to be large pieces of 
 plate great heavy dinner-table centres, candelabra, 
 and such things, and, child though he was, Master 
 Francis could see they must be of considerable value. 
 But this was not what struck him the most. Like a 
 flash of lightning it darted into his mind that there 
 must be still more valuable things in this queer store- 
 room. 
 
 " I do believe," he said to himself, " that this is old 
 Sir David's treasure ! " 
 
 He was right. It would take too long to describe 
 how he went on examining into all these strange ob- 
 
 157 
 
158 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 jects. Several, that looked like well-stuffed sacks, 
 were tied up so tightly that he couldn't undo the 
 cord. He made a little hole in one of them with his 
 pocket-knife, and out rolled, to his delight, ever so 
 many gold pieces ! 
 
 " Then," said Master Francis to us, " I really felt 
 as if I could have jumped with joy ; but I thought 
 I'd better fetch Uncle Hulbert before I poked about 
 any more, and I went up the short ladder again, 
 meaning to go back the way I'd come. I had never 
 thought till that minute that I couldn't manage it, 
 but the long ladder was broken away so high above 
 my head that I couldn't possibly reach up to it, and 
 the bits of it that had fallen on to the floor were 
 quite rotten. And the trap-door seemed so close 
 shut, that I was afraid no one would hear me how- 
 ever I shouted." 
 
 He did shout though, poor boy; it was the only 
 thing he could do. The short ladder was a fixture 
 and he couldn't move it from its place, even if it had 
 been long enough to be of any use. After a while 
 he got so tired of calling out, that he seemed to have 
 no voice left, and I think he must have fallen into a 
 sort of doze, for the next thing he remembered was 
 waking up to find that it was quite dark. Then he 
 began to feel terribly frightened, and to think that 
 perhaps he would be left there to die of hunger. 
 
 " And the worst of it was," he said in his simple way, 
 " that nobody would ever have known of the treasure." 
 
"OLD SIR DAVID'S" SECRET. 159 
 
 He called out again from time to time, and then 
 a new idea struck him. He felt about for a bit of 
 wood on the floor and set to work, knocking as hard 
 as he could. Most likely he fell asleep by fits and 
 starts, waking up every now and then to knock and 
 call out again, and when the house was all shut up 
 and silent for the night, of course the sound he made 
 seemed much louder, only unluckily we were all 
 asleep and might never have heard it except for dear 
 little Miss Lally. 
 
 It was not till after Master Francis caught the 
 sound of our knocking back in reply that it came into 
 his head to make his way close up to the windows 
 luckily it was not a very dark night and call 
 through them, for there was no glass in them, as I 
 have said. If he had done that before it is just 
 possible we might have heard him sooner, as in our 
 searching we had been in and out of his room, above 
 where he was, several times. 
 
 There is not much more for me to tell. Master 
 Francis was ill enough to have to stay in bed for a 
 day or two, and at first we were a little afraid that 
 the cold and the terror, and the strange excitement 
 altogether, might bring on another illness. But it 
 was not so. I think he was really too happy to fall 
 ill again ! 
 
 In a day or two Sir Hulbert was able to tell him 
 all about the discovery. It was kept quite secret 
 till the family lawyer could be sent for, and then he 
 
160 NURSE HEATHERDALE'S STORY. 
 
 and my lady and Sir Hulbert all went down through 
 the trap-door again with Mr. Crooks, the butler, to 
 help them, and everything was opened out and ex- 
 amined. It was a real miser's hoard. 
 
 Besides the plate, which was really the least valu- 
 able, for it was so clumsy and heavy that a good deal 
 of it was only fit to be melted down, there were five 
 or six sacks filled with gold and some with silver 
 coin. Of course something was lost upon it with its 
 being so old, but taking it all in all, a very large 
 sum was realised, for a great many of the Penrose 
 diamonds had been hidden away also, some of which 
 
 the most valuable, though not the most beautiful 
 
 were sold. 
 
 Altogether, though it didn't make Sir Hulbert 
 into a millionaire, it made him a rich man, as rich, I 
 think, as he cared to be. And, strangely enough, as 
 the old proverb has it, " it never rains but it pours," 
 only two or three years after, money came to my lady 
 which she had never expected. So that to any one 
 visiting Treluan, as it now is, and seeing all that has 
 been done by the family, not only for themselves, but 
 for those about them, the church, the schools, the 
 cottages on the estate being perfect models of their 
 kind it would be difficult to believe there had ever 
 been want of money to be wisely and generously 
 spent. 
 
 Dear, dear, how many years ago it all is now ! 
 There's not many living, if any, to remember the ins 
 
"OLD sm DAVID'S" SECKET. 161 
 
 and outs as I do, which is indeed my excuse for 
 having put it down in my own way. 
 
 Miss Bess, Miss Penrose, as I should say, Miss 
 Lalage, and even Miss Augusta have been married 
 this many a day ; and Lady Helen, Miss Bess's eldest 
 daughter, is sixteen past, and it is she that has 
 promised to look over my writing and correct it. 
 
 Master Bevil, Sir Bevil now, for Sir Hulbert did 
 not live to be an old man, has two fine boys of his 
 own, whom I took care of from their babyhood, as I 
 did their father, and I'm feeling quite lost since 
 Master Ramsey has gone to school. 
 
 And of dear Master Francis. What words can I 
 say that would be enough? He is the only one of 
 the flock that has not married, and yet who could be 
 happier than he is ? He never thinks of himself, his 
 whole life has been given to the noblest work. His 
 writings, I am told, though they're too learned for 
 my old head, have made him a name far and wide. 
 And all this he has done in spite of delicate health 
 and frequent suffering. He seems older than his 
 years, and Sir Bevil is in hopes that before long he 
 may persuade his cousin to give up his hard London 
 parish and make his regular home where he is so 
 longed for, in Treluan itself, as our vicar, and indeed 
 I pray that it may be so while I am still here to see it. 
 
 Above all, for my dear lady's sake. I scarcely like 
 to own to myself that she is beginning to fail, for 
 though I speak of myself as an old woman and feel 
 
162 NUKSE HEATHEtiDALE's STOKY. 
 
 it is true, yet I can't bear to think that her years are 
 running near to the appointed threescore and ten, for 
 she is nine years older than I. She has certainly 
 never been the same, and no wonder, since Sir Hul- 
 bert's death, but she has had many comforts, and 
 almost the greatest of them has been, as I think I 
 have said before, Master Francis. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Mother and my aunts want me to add on a few 
 words of my own to dear old nurse's story. She 
 gave it me to read and correct here and there, more 
 than a year ago, and I meant to have done so at 
 once. But for some months past I hardly felt as if 
 I had the heart to undertake it, especially as I didn't 
 like bringing back the remembrance of their old 
 childish days to mother and my aunts, or to Uncle 
 Bevil and Uncle Francis, as we always call him, just 
 in the first freshness of their grief at dear grand- 
 mamma's death. And I needed to ask them a few 
 things to make the narrative quite clear for any who 
 may ever care to read it. 
 
 But now that the spring has come back again, 
 making us all feel bright and hopeful (we have all 
 been at Treluan together for Uncle Bevil's birthday), 
 I have enjoyed doing it, and they all tell me that 
 they have enjoyed hearing about the story and 
 answering my questions. 
 
 Dear grandmamma loved the spring so ! She was 
 so gentle arid sweet, though she never lost her quick 
 
"OLD sm DAVID'S" SECRET. 163 
 
 eager way either. And though she died last year, 
 just before the daffodils and primroses were coming 
 out, somehow this spring the sight of them again has 
 not made us feel sad about her, but happy in the best 
 way of all. 
 
 Perhaps I should have said before that I am 
 "Nelly," "Miss Bess's" eldest daughter. Aunt 
 Lalage has only one daughter, who is named after 
 mother, and / think very like what mother must have 
 been at her age. 
 
 There are five of us, and Aunt Augusta has two 
 boys, like Uncle Bevil. 
 
 What used to be " the secret room," where our 
 miser ancestor kept the hoard so strangely discovered, 
 has been joined, by taking down the ceiling, to what 
 in the old days was Uncle Francis's room, and enters 
 from a door lower down the tower stair, and Uncle 
 Bevil's boys have made it into what they call their 
 " Museum." We are all very fond of showing it to 
 visitors, and explaining how it used to be, and telling 
 the whole story. Uncle Francis always maintains 
 that Aunt Lally saved his life, and though she gets 
 very red when he says so, I do think it is true. She 
 really was very brave for such a little girl. If I 
 heard knockings in the night, I am afraid I should 
 hide my head under the clothes, and put my fingers 
 in my ears. 
 
 Uncle Francis and Aunt Lally always do seem 
 almost more brother and sister to each other than 
 
164 NURSE HE ATHERD ALE'S STORY. 
 
 any of the rest ; and her husband, Uncle Geoffrey, 
 whom next to Uncle Francis I think I like best of all 
 my uncles, was one of Ms I mean Uncle Francis's ; 
 what a confusion I'm getting into best friends at 
 college. 
 
 When I began this, after correcting nurse's manu- 
 script, I thought nothing would be easier than to 
 write a story in the most beautiful language, but I 
 find it so much harder than I expected that I am not 
 sorry to think that there is really nothing more of 
 importance to tell. And I must say my admiration 
 for the way in which nurse has performed her task 
 has increased exceedingly ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
'wLt ib tlit mextttr, little girls? ' Saiol 
 
 P . 158 
 
LITTLE MISS 
 
 PEGGY: 
 
 ONLY 
 
 A 
 SERY* 
 
 BY 
 
 MOLES WORTH 
 
 WITH PICTURES 
 BY 
 
 WALTBR.* CRANE/ 
 
 LND N' 
 MACMILLAN'&C9. 
 
First Edition printed (Crown 8vo) 1887. 
 Reprinted (Globe 8vo) 1888, 1891. 
 
tfje ffiemorg of 
 E. L. 
 
 THE DEAR YOUNG FRIEND 
 WHO SUGGESTED ITS NAME TO THIS LITTLE STORY 
 
 AND FROM WHOSE LATE HOME 
 
 SO INTIMATELY ASSOCIATED WITH HER 
 
 THIS DEDICATION IS MADE 
 
 BINDON, August, 1887 
 
Would I could paint the serious brow, 
 The eyes that look the world in face, 
 
 Half-questioning, doubting, wondering how 
 This happens thus, or that finds place." 
 
 My Opposite Neighbour. 
 
_^ 
 
 ~ tj^oy, who 
 to himsijf af 
 
 Hi \\*A so 
 
 pp I _* 
 
 *:aj of room 
 
 b^by tkoucgh h* was. 
 ling to do during TTIJA/, 
 
 hi 
 
 m 
 
 5ii, w/Kick <5rown -up children fhi 
 ry. Hz KAC! to drum wiHx A 
 cm f^t* Kand a.nol tKtn in thf 
 kaud to di[3 Ki5 crctst first* in nurjj's cup of 
 and m*t in H^IJ Jw^ of milk to 5u which 
 d thtn woulo. K^v* bun no fun 
 doin sJrhtr if ki kcvdn'f KaJ to stVztck ^ 
 < w^y Across; a^nd b^sidts all tkis hi fs.lt 
 oblicd now &nd tKtn to Jout hiy fstf u|?.- 
 for 
 
PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A BREAKFAST PARTY. 
 
 " Henry was every morning fed 
 With a full mess of milk and bread." 
 
 MARY LAMB. 
 
 " No," said Peggy to herself, with a little sigh, 
 "the naughty clouds has covered it up to-day. I 
 can't see it." 
 
 " Miss Peggy," came nurse's voice from the other 
 side of the room, "your breakfast's waiting. Come 
 to the table, my dear, and stand quiet while Master 
 Thor says the grace." 
 
 Nurse spoke kindly, but she meant what she said. 
 Peggy turned slowly from the window and took 
 her place among her brothers. She, and Thorold 
 and Terence, the two oldest boys, sat opposite nurse, 
 and beside nurse was Baby, who required a great 
 deal of room to himself at table, baby though he 
 was. He had so many things to do during the meal, 
 you see, which grown-up children think quite unnec- 
 essary. He had to drum with a spoon, first in one 
 
 1 
 
Z PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 fat hand and then in the other; he had to dip his 
 crust first in nurse's cup of tea and next in Hal's jug 
 of milk to see which tasted best, and there would 
 have been no fun in doing either if he hadn't had to 
 stretch a long way across ; and besides all this he 
 felt really obliged now and then to put his feet upon 
 the table for a change, one at a time, of course. For 
 even he, clever as he was, could not have got both 
 together out of the bars of his chair without toppling 
 over. Nurse had for some time past been speaking 
 about beginning " to break Master Baby in," but so 
 far it had not got beyond speaking, and she contented 
 herself with seating him beside her and giving him 
 a good quarter of the table to himself, the only objec- 
 tion to which was that it gave things in general a 
 rather lopsided appearance. 
 
 At the two ends sat Baldwin and Hal. Hal's real 
 name, of course, was Henry, though he was never 
 called by it. Baldwin, on the contrary, had no short 
 name, partly perhaps because mamma thought " Bal- 
 die " sounded so ugly, and partly because there was 
 something about Baldwin himself which made one not 
 inclined to shorten his name. It suited him so well, 
 for he was broad and comfortable and slow. He was 
 never in a hurry, and he gave you the feeling that 
 you needn't be in a hurry either. There was plenty 
 of time for everything, for saying the whole of his 
 name as well as for everything else. 
 
 That made a lot of brothers, didn't it? Five, 
 
A BREAKFAST PARTY. 3 
 
 counting baby, and to match them, or rather not to 
 match them for five and one are not a match at all 
 only one little girl! She wondered about it a 
 good deal, when she had nothing else more interest- 
 ing to wonder about. It seemed so very badly man- 
 aged that she should have five brothers, and that the 
 five brothers should only have one sister each. It 
 wasn't always so, she knew. The children at the 
 back had plenty of both brothers and sisters ; she 
 had found that out already. But I must not begin 
 just yet about the children at the back; you will 
 hear about them in good time. 
 
 There was a nice bowl of bread-and-milk at each 
 child's place, and as bread-and-milk is much better 
 hot than cold, it was generally eaten up quickly. 
 But this morning, even after the grace was said, and 
 the four brothers who weren't baby had got on very 
 well with theirs, Peggy sat, spoon in hand, gazing 
 before her and not eating at all. 
 
 "What's the matter, Miss Peggy?" said nurse, 
 when she had at last made Baby understand that he 
 really wasn't to try to put his toes into her tea-cup, 
 which had struck him suddenly as a very beautiful 
 thing to do ; " you've not begun to eat. Are you 
 waiting for the sugar or the salt, or can't you fix 
 which you want this morning ? " 
 
 For there was a very nice and interesting rule in 
 that nursery that every morning each child might 
 choose whether he or she would have salt or sugar 
 
4 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 in the bread-and-milk. The only thing was that they 
 had to be quick about choosing, and that was not 
 always very easy. 
 
 Peggy looked up when nurse spoke to her. 
 
 "Peggy wasn't 'toosing," she said. Then she 
 grew a little red. " I wasn't 'toosing," she went on. 
 For Peggy was five five a good while ago and 
 she wanted to leave off baby ways of talking. "I 
 was wondering." 
 
 " Well, eat your breakfast, and when you've got 
 half-way down the bowl you can tell us what you 
 were wondering about," said nurse. 
 
 Peggy's spoon, already laden, continued its journey 
 to her mouth. But when it got there, and its con- 
 tents were safely deposited between her two red lips, 
 she gave a little cry. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, " it doesn't taste good. There's 
 no salt or sugar." 
 
 " 'Cos you didn't put any in, you silly girl," said 
 Thor. " I saw, but I thought it'd be a good lesson. 
 People shouldn't wonder when they're eating." 
 
 " Peggy wasn't eating ; she was only going to eat," 
 said Terry. "Never mind, Peg-top. Thor shan't 
 tease you. Which'll you have ? Say quick," and he 
 pulled forward the sugar-basin and the salt-cellar in 
 front of his sister. 
 
 " Sugar, pelease," said Peggy. " It's so told this 
 morning." 
 
 At this Thor burst out laughing. 
 
A BREAKFAST PARTY. 5 
 
 "What a Peggy-speech," he said. "Sugar's no 
 warmer than salt." 
 
 " Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly, from the other end 
 of the table. "'Tis. There's sugar in toffee and 
 in jam, and they're hot, leastwise they're hot to be 
 made. And there's salt in ices, for mamma said 
 they're made with salt." 
 
 "What rubbish!" said Thor. "Nurse, isn't it 
 rubbish ? And when did you ever see ices, I'd like 
 to know, Baldwin ? " 
 
 "I did," Baldwin maintained. " Onst. But I'll 
 not tell you when, if you say rubbish." 
 
 " It is rubbish all the same, and I'll prove it," said 
 Thor. " You know that nice smooth white sugar on 
 the top of bridescake ? well, they ice that to put it 
 on I know they do. Don't they, nurse ? " 
 
 "They call it icing, to be sure," nurse replied. 
 " But that's no proof that ices themselves mayn't be 
 made with salt, Master Thor, for when you come to 
 think of it, ices have sugar in them." 
 
 " To be sure they have," Thor cried, triumphantly. 
 "Nurse has proved it that sugar's no warmer than 
 salt," which was not what nurse had intended to say 
 at all. 
 
 But now Peggy, who all this time had been steadily 
 eating, looked up again. 
 
 "Peggy was wondering," she said, "what's clouds. 
 Is clouds alive ? " 
 
 Thor was all ready with his " you silly girl " again, 
 but this time Teny was before him. 
 
6 PEGGY: A NURSEKY STORY. 
 
 " They can't be alive," he said. " They've got no 
 hands, or feet, or mouths, and noses, and eyes, 
 and" 
 
 " They has noses," said Peggy, eagerly. " Peggy's 
 seen them, and they has wings the little ones has 
 wings, they fly so fast. And p'raps they has got 
 proper faces on their other sides, to look at the sun 
 with. I've seen shiny bits of the other sides turned 
 over." 
 
 "Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly again, as if that 
 settled it, " so has I." 
 
 " But they're not alive, Peggy, they're really not. 
 They fly because the wind blows them," said Ter- 
 ence. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Peggy, with a deep-drawn breath, " I 
 see. Then if we all bio wed very hard at the win- 
 dow, if we all blowed together, couldn't we blow 
 them away ? I do so want to blow them away when 
 they come over my hills." 
 
 But when she had said this she grew very red, 
 just as if she had told something she had not meant 
 to tell, and if any one had looked at her quite close 
 they would have seen that there were tears in her 
 eyes. Fortunately, however, no one had noticed her 
 last words, for Thorold and Terence too had burst 
 out laughing at the beginning of her speech. 
 
 "Fancy us all blowing out of the window to- 
 gether," they said. And they began puffing out 
 their cheeks and pretending to blow very hard, which 
 
A BREAKFAST PARTY. 7 
 
 made them look so funny that Peggy herself burst 
 out laughing too. 
 
 " I'll tell you what,'' said Thor, when they were 
 tired of laughing, " that reminds me of soap-bubbles, 
 we haven't had any for such a time. Nurse, will 
 you remember to let us have them the first wet half- 
 holiday ? Mamma'll let us if you will." 
 
 "And the pipes?" said nurse. "There was six 
 new got the last time, and they were to last, certain 
 sure till the next time, and then " 
 
 " Oh I know," said Thor, " we took them to school 
 and never brought them back. Never mind we'll 
 get some more from old Mother Whelan. She always 
 keeps lots. We'll keep our halfpennies for two Sat- 
 urdays that'll do. But we must be going, Terry 
 and Baldwin. Tm all ready." 
 
 And he jumped up as he spoke, and pulled his 
 satchel of books from under his chair, where he had 
 put them to be all ready. Baldwin slowly got down 
 from his place, for he was not only broad, but his 
 legs were very short, and came up to nurse to be 
 helped on with his little overcoat, while Terence 
 began rushing about the room in a fuss, looking for 
 one of his books, which as usual couldn't be found at 
 the last minute. 
 
 "I had it just before breakfast, I'm sure I had," 
 he went on repeating. " I haven't finished learning 
 it, and I meant to look it over. Oh dear, what shall 
 I do?" 
 
8 PEGGY : A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 The nursery party was too accustomed to Terry's 
 misfortunes to be much upset by them. Peggy 
 sat still for a moment or two considering. Then she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Terry," she said, " look in Baby's cot." 
 
 Off flew Terence, returning in triumph, grammar 
 in hand. 
 
 " I'll learn it on the way to school. How did you 
 know it was there, Peggy?" 
 
 "I sawed you reaching over to kiss Baby when 
 you corned in to ask nurse for a new shoe-lace this 
 morning," said Peggy, with great pride. 
 
 " Good girl," said Terence, as he slammed the 
 door and rushed downstairs to overtake his two 
 brothers. 
 
 The nursery seemed very quiet when the three 
 big boys had gone. Quiet but not idle ; there was 
 always a great deal to do first thing of a morning, 
 and Peggy had her own share of the doing to see to. 
 She took off her own breakfast pinafore and put on 
 a quite clean one one that looked quite clean any- 
 way, just as if it had never been on, even though it 
 had really been used two or three times. Peggy 
 called it her "prayers pinafore," and it always lasted 
 a whole week, as it was only worn to go down to 
 the dining-room for five or ten minutes. Then she 
 washed her hands and stood still for nurse to give a 
 tidying touch to her soft fair hair, though it really 
 didn't need it, Peggy's hair never looked messy, 
 
A BREAKFAST PAETY. 9 
 
 and then she took off Hal's over pinafore which he 
 wore on the top of his blouse at meal times, and 
 helped him to wash his hands, by which time nurse 
 and baby were also ready, and the little procession 
 set off on their journey. If the prayers bell had not 
 sounded yet, or did not sound as they made their 
 way down, nurse would stop at mamma's door and 
 tap, and the answer was sure to be " Come in." 
 Then nurse would go on downstairs with Baby, and 
 Peggy and Hal would trot in to see mamma, and 
 wait a moment or two till she was ready. She was 
 almost always nearly ready, unless she was very, 
 very tired ; and in that case she would tell them to 
 go downstairs and come up and see her again after 
 prayers, as she was going to have breakfast in bed. 
 They rather liked these days, though of course they 
 were sorry for mamma to be so tired, but it was very 
 interesting to watch her having her breakfast, and 
 generally one or two dainty bits of toast and marma- 
 lade would find their way to the two little mouths. 
 
 It was only since last winter that mamma had 
 been so often tired and not able to get up early. 
 Before then she used always to come up to the 
 nursery to see her six children at breakfast, and 
 prayers were early enough for the three boys to stay 
 for them, instead of having them at school. For 
 mamma was not at all a " lazy " mother, as you 
 might think if I did not explain. But last winter 
 she had been very ill indeed, so ill that papa looked 
 
10 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 dreadfully unhappy, and the boys had to take off 
 their boots downstairs so as not to make any noise 
 when they passed her door, and the days seemed 
 very long to Peggy and Hal, worst to Peggy of 
 course, for Hal was still so little that almost all his 
 life belonged to the nursery. It was during that 
 time that Peggy first found out the white spot on 
 the hill, which I am going to tell you about, for she 
 used to climb up on the window-sill and sit there 
 looking out at whatever there was to see for hours 
 at a time. 
 
 This morning mamma was evidently not tired, 
 for just as the children got to the landing on to 
 which her door opened, out she came. 
 
 " Well, darlings," she said, " there you are ! Have 
 the boys got off to school all rightly, nurse ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, ma'am," nurse was beginning, but Peggy 
 interrupted her. 
 
 " Terry loosed his book, mamma dear, and Peg 
 /founded it; I knewed where it was 'cos I used my 
 eyes like you said." 
 
 " That was a very good thing," said mamma. She 
 had talked to Peggy about using her eyes a good 
 deal, for Peggy had rather a trick of going to sleep 
 with her eyes open, like many children, and it be- 
 comes a very tiresome trick if it isn't cured, and 
 makes one miss a great many chances of being useful 
 to others, and of enjoying pleasant things one's self. 
 " Poor Terry I wish he wasn't so careless. Where 
 was his book this time ? " 
 
A BREAKFAST PARTY. 11 
 
 "In such a funny place, mamma dear," said 
 Peggy. "In Baby's cot," and at the sound of his 
 name Baby crowed, which made both Peggy and 
 Hal burst out laughing, so that mamma had to hold 
 their hands firmly to prevent their tumbling down 
 stairs. 
 
 After prayers were over nurse took Baby and 
 Hal away, but papa said Peggy might stay for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 "I've scarcely seen you the last day or two, old 
 woman," he said ; " you were fast asleep when I 
 came home. What have you been about? " 
 
 " About," Peggy repeated, looking puzzled. 
 
 " Well what have you been doing with your- 
 self ? " he said again. 
 
 "I've been doing nothing with myself" Peggy 
 replied, gravely. " I've done my lessons and my 
 sewing, and I've used my eyes." 
 
 "Well, and isn't all that yourself?" asked papa, 
 who was rather a tease. " You've done your sewing 
 with your fingers and your lessons with your mind, 
 and you've used your eyes for both mind, fingers, 
 eyes those are all parts of yourself." 
 
 Peggy spread out her two hands on the table and 
 looked at the ten pink fingers. 
 
 " Them's my fingers," she said, " but I don't know 
 where that other thing is that what thinks. I'd 
 like to know where it is. Papa, can't you tell me ? " 
 
 There came a puzzled look into her soft gray 
 
12 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 eyes mamma knew that look ; when it stayed long 
 it was rather apt to turn into tears. 
 
 "Arthur," she said to Peggy's papa, "you're too 
 fond of teasing. Peggy dear, nobody can see that 
 part of you; there are many things we can't ever 
 see, or hear, or touch, which are real things all the 
 same." 
 
 Peggy's face lightened up again. She nodded her 
 head softly, as if to say that she understood. Then 
 she got down from her chair and went up to her 
 father to kiss him and say good-bye. 
 
 " Going already, Peg ! " he said. " Don't you like 
 papa teasing you ? " 
 
 " I don't mind," said Peggy, graciously ; " you're 
 only a big boy, papa. I'm going 'cos nurse wants 
 me to keep Baby quiet while she makes the beds." 
 
 But when she got round to the other side of the 
 table to her mother, she lingered a moment. 
 
 " Mamma," she whispered, " it's not there this 
 morning Peggy's fairy house. It's all hided up. 
 Mamma " 
 
 "Well, darling?" 
 
 " Are you sure it'll come back again ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, dear. It's only hidden by the clouds, 
 as I've told you before. You know you've often 
 been afraid it was gone, and it's always come again." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure," said Peggy. "What a silly 
 little girl I am, mamma dear." 
 
 And she laughed her own little gentle laugh. I 
 
A BKEAKFAST PARTY. 13 
 
 can't tell how it was that Peggy's little laugh used 
 sometimes to bring tears to her mother's eyes. 
 
 When she got up to the nursery again she found 
 she was very much wanted. Nurse was in the night 
 nursery which opened into the day one, and looked 
 out to the back of the house just as the other looked 
 to the front. And Baby was sitting on the hearth- 
 rug, with Hal beside him, both seeming far from 
 happy. 
 
 " Baby's defful c'oss, Peggy," said poor Hal. 
 
 And Baby, though he couldn't speak, pouted out 
 his lips and looked very savage at Hal, which of 
 course was very unreasonable and ungrateful of him, 
 as Hal had been doing everything he could to amuse 
 him, and had only objected to Baby pulling him 
 across the floor by his curls. 
 
 " Oh Baby," said Peggy, " that isn't good. Poor 
 Hal's hair see how you've tugged it." 
 
 For Baby was still grasping some golden threads 
 in his plump fists. 
 
 " Him sinks zem's feaders," said Hal, apologeti- 
 cally. He was so fond of Baby that he couldn't bear 
 any one to say anything against him except himself. 
 
 "But Baby must learn hairs isn't feathers," said 
 Peggy, solemnly. " And it isn't good to let him pull 
 the feathers out of his parrot either, Hal," she con- 
 tinued, " for some day he might have a live parrot, 
 and then it would be cooel, and the parrot would 
 bite him yes it would, Baby." 
 
14 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 This was too much for Baby. He drew the 
 corner of his mouth down, then he opened it wide, 
 very wide, and was just going to roar when Peggy 
 threw her arms round him and kissed him vigorously. 
 
 "He's sorry, Hal dear Baby he's so very 
 sorry. Kiss him, Hal. Let's all kiss together," and 
 the three soft faces all met in a bunch, which Baby 
 found so amusing that instead of continuing his 
 preparations for a good cry, he thought better of it, 
 and went of! into a laugh. 
 
 " That's right," said Peggy. " Now if you'll both 
 be very good boys I'll tell you a story. Just wait a 
 minute till I've tooked off my prayers pinafore." 
 
 She jumped up to do so. While she was un- 
 fastening it her eyes moved to the window; she 
 gave a little cry and ran forward. The day was 
 clearing up, the sun was beginning faintly to shine, 
 and the clouds were breaking. 
 
 "Mamma was right," exclaimed Peggy, joyfully; 
 " I can see it I can see it ! I can see my white 
 house again, my dear little fairy house." 
 
 She would have stayed there gazing out con- 
 tentedly half the morning if her little brothers had 
 not called her back. 
 
 " Feggy," said Hal, plaintively, " do turn. Baby's 
 pulling Hal's 'air adain." 
 
 " P e gg v ' s coming, dear," said the motherly little 
 voice. 
 
 And in another moment they were settled on the 
 
nd In csnothir moment 
 
 on <y5 lAp 
 off it' too, foT iP Was 
 
 to 
 of h'lvn ; Hf^l on tKf floor 
 
 ir, his curly ki&d 
 Kis 5i stirs ^noixlolir 
 andi trustful contmt 
 
A BREAKFAST PARTY. 15 
 
 hearth-rug Baby on Peggy's lap on, arid off it 
 too, for it was much too small to accommodate the 
 whole of him ; Hal on the floor beside her, his curly 
 head leaning on his sister's shoulder in blissful and 
 trustful content. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 
 
 " reader ! had you in your mind 
 Such stores as silent thought can bring, 
 gentle reader ! you would find 
 A tale in everything. 
 What more I have to say is short, 
 And you must kindly take it : 
 It is no tale ; but, should you think, 
 Perhaps a tale you'll make it." 
 
 W. WORDSWORTH. 
 
 " TELLING stories," when the teller is only five 
 and some months old, and the hearers one and a 
 quarter and three, is rather a curious performance. 
 But Peggy was well used to it, and when in good 
 spirits quite able to battle with the difficulties of 
 amusing Hal and Bab}?- at the same time. And these 
 difficulties were not small, for, compared with Baby, 
 Hal was really " grown-up." 
 
 It is all very well for people who don't know much 
 about tiny children to speak of them all together, up 
 to six or seven, let us say as " babies," but we 
 who think we do know something about them, can 
 assure the rest of the world that this is an immense 
 mistake. One year in nursery arithmetic counts for 
 ten or even more in real " grown-up " life. There 
 
 16 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 17 
 
 was a great difference between Peggy and Hal for 
 instance, but a still greater between Hal and Baby, 
 and had there been a new baby below him again, of 
 course it would have been the greatest of all. Peggy 
 could not have explained this in words, but she 
 knew it thoroughly all the same, and she had learnt 
 to take it into account in her treatment of the two, 
 especially in her stories telling. In reality the story 
 itself was all for Hal, but there was a sort of running 
 accompaniment for Baby which he enjoyed very 
 much, and which-, to tell the truth, I rather think 
 Hal found amusing too, though he pretended it was 
 for Baby's sake. 
 
 This morning her glance out of the window had 
 made Peggy feel so happy that the story promised to 
 be a great success. She sat still for a minute or two, 
 her arms clasped round Baby's waist, gently rocking 
 herself and him to and fro, while her gray eyes stared 
 before her, as if reading stories in the carpet or on 
 the wall. 
 
 " Peggy," said Hal at last, giving her a hug he 
 had been waiting what he thought a very long time 
 " Peggy, do on no, I mean begin, p'ease." 
 
 " Yes, Hal, d'reckly," said Peggy. " It's coming, 
 Hal, yes, now I think it's corned. Should we do 
 piggies first, to please Baby before we begin ? " 
 
 " Piggies is so silly," said Hal, disdainfully. 
 
 " Well, we'll kiss him instead another kiss all 
 together, he does so like that ; " and when the kiss- 
 
18 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 ing was over "now, Baby dear, listen, and p'raps 
 you'll understand some, and if you're good we'll have 
 piggies soon." 
 
 Baby gave a kind of grunt; perhaps he was think- 
 ing of the pigs, but most likely it was just his way 
 of saying he would be very good. 
 
 " There was onst," Peggy began, " a little girl who 
 lived in a big house all by herself." 
 
 " Hadn't she no mamma, or nurse, or or brud- 
 ders ? " Hal interrupted. 
 
 "No, not none," Peggy went on. "She lived 
 quite alone, and she didn't like it. The house was 
 as big as a as a church, and she hadn't no bed, and 
 no chairs or tables, and there was very, very high 
 stairs." 
 
 " Is there stairs in churches ? " asked Hal. 
 
 Peggy looked rather puzzled. 
 
 " Yes, I think there is," she said. " There's people 
 high up in churches, so there must be stairs. But I 
 didn't say it were a church, Hal ; I only said as big 
 as a church. And the stairs was for Baby you'll 
 h ear p'raps there wasn't redly stairs. Now, Baby, 
 one day a little piggy-wiggy came up the stairs 
 one, two, three," and Peggy's hand came creeping up 
 Baby's foot and leg and across his pinafore and up 
 his bare arm again, by way of illustrating piggy's 
 progress, "and when he got to the top he said 
 4 grumph,' and poked his nose into the little girl's 
 neck " h er e Peggy's own nose made a dive among 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 19 
 
 Baby's double chins, to his exceeding delight, setting 
 him off chuckling to himself for some time, which 
 left Peggy free to go on with the serious part of the 
 story for Hal's benefit " and there was a window in 
 the big house, and the little girl used to sit there 
 always looking out." 
 
 " Always ? " asked Hal again. " All night too ? 
 Didn't her ever go to bed ? " 
 
 "She hadn't no bed, I told you. No, she didn't 
 sit there all night, 'cos she couldn't have see'd in the 
 dark. Never mind about the night. She sat there 
 all day, always looking out, 'cos there was something 
 she liked to see. If I tell you you won't tell nobody 
 what it was, will you, Hal ? " 
 
 Hal looked very mystified, but replied obediently, 
 
 " No, won't tell nobody," he said. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll tell you what it was. It was 
 a " But at this moment Baby, having had enough 
 of his own meditations, began to put in a claim to 
 some special attention. The piggy had to be sum- 
 moned and made to run up and down stairs two or 
 three times before he would be satisfied and allow 
 Peggy to proceed. 
 
 "Well, Peggy?" said Hal eagerly. 
 
 " It was a " Oh dear, interrupted again ! But 
 this time the interruption was a blessing in disguise. 
 It was nurse come to fetch Baby for his morning 
 sleep. 
 
 " And thank you, Miss Peggy, my dear, for keep- 
 
20 PEGGY : A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 ing him so nice and good. I heard you come up, and 
 I knew they'd be all right with you," she said, as she 
 walked away with Baby, who was by no means sure 
 that he wanted to go. 
 
 " Now," said Hal, edging closer to Peggy, " we'll 
 be comfable. Go on, Peggy what she sawed." 
 
 " It was a hill far, far away, neely as far as the 
 sky," said Peggy, in a mysterious tone. " When the 
 sun corned she could see it plain the hill and what 
 was there, but when the sun goed she couldn't. 
 There was a white spot on the hill, Hal, and that 
 white spot was a lovely white cottage. She knowed 
 it, though she'd never see'd it." 
 
 " How did she know it? " 
 
 " Her mam no, that's wrong, she hadn't no 
 mamma well, never mind, somebody 'd told her." 
 
 " Were it G-od ? " asked Hal, in an awestruck 
 whisper. 
 
 " I don't know. No, I don't think so. I think 
 it's a little naughty to say that, Hal. No, dear, don't 
 cry," for signs of disturbance were visible in Hal's 
 round face. "You didn't mean, and it isn't never 
 naughty when we don't mean, you know. We'll go 
 on about the little girl. She knowed it was a lovely 
 cottage, and she wanted very much, as much as could 
 be, to go there, for the big house wasn't pretty, and it 
 was dark, nearly black, and the cottage was all white." 
 
 " Her house wasn't as nice as zit, were it ? Zit 
 house isn't b'ack," said Hal. 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 21 
 
 " No," said Peggy, doubtfully. "It wasn't as nice 
 as this, but the white house was much prettier than 
 this." 
 
 "How?" asked Hal. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Peggy, letting her eyes and her fancy 
 rove about together, " I think it was beautiful all 
 over. It was all shiny white ; the walls was white, 
 and the carpets was white, and the tables and the 
 chairs was white all shiny and soft like like " 
 
 " Baby's best sash," suggested Hal. 
 
 " Well, p'raps that'll do. And there was a cow 
 and chickens and sheep, and a kitchen where you 
 could make cakes, and a garden with lots of flowers 
 and strawberries " 
 
 " All white ? " asked Hal. 
 
 "No, of course not. Strawberries couldn't be 
 white, and flowers is all colours. 'Twas the droind- 
 room that was all white." 
 
 " And the milk and the eggs. Zem is white," said 
 Hal, triumphantly. 
 
 "Very well. I didn't say they wasn't. But the 
 story goes on that the little girl didn't know how to 
 get there ; it was so far and so high up. So she sat 
 and cried all alone at the window." 
 
 " All alone, poor little girl," said Hal, with deep 
 feeling. "Kick, Peggy, kick, I'm doing to cry; 
 make it come right kick. The crying's just coming." 
 
 " Make it wait a minute. I can't make it come 
 right all so quick," said Peggy. " It's going to come, 
 
22 PEGGY: A NUKSERY STORY. 
 
 so make the crying wait. One day she was crying 
 d'edful, worst than never, 'cos the sun had goned, 
 and she couldn't see the white cottage no more, and 
 just then she heard something saying, 4 mew, mew,' 
 and it was a kitten outside the window, and it was 
 just going to fall down and be killed." 
 
 " That's not coming right. I must cry," said Hal. 
 
 " But she opened the window there now, you 
 see and she pulled the kitten in, so it didn't fall 
 down, and it was so pleased it kissed her, and when 
 it kissed her it turned into a fairy, and it touched 
 her neck and made wings come, and then it opened 
 the window again and flewed away with the little 
 girl till they came to the white cottage, and then the 
 little girl was quite happy for always." 
 
 " Did the fairy stay with her always? " asked Hal. 
 
 " No ; fairies never does like that. They go back 
 to fairyland. But the little girl had nice milk and 
 eggs and cakes, and she made nosegays with the 
 flowers, and the sun was always shining, so she was 
 quite, quite happy." 
 
 " Her couldn't be happy all alone," said Hal. " I 
 don't like zat story, Peggy. You haven't made it 
 nice at all. It's a nonsense story." 
 
 Hal wriggled about and seemed very cross. Poor 
 Peggy was not so much indignant as distressed at 
 failing in her efforts to amuse him. What was the 
 matter? It couldn't be that he was getting sleepy 
 it was far too early for his morning sleep. 
 
Hii outlim. of 
 of Kills, 50 sofrty gray. 
 blu^ n fhi cfi 
 ^c\T but for H 
 uJa^r lint nivjr 
 chcxn<'n< in its form 
 ont could Easily 
 
 if WAS only flu 
 
 >f a auickf 
 
 y 
 
 way, mi y 
 
 ,' 5m 5aid, "ovir tiitri, Ikr, TAT 
 , dos you 5u ^Ka.^ 
 
 p<23 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 23 
 
 " It isn't a nonsense story," she said, and she 
 glanced towards the window as she spoke. Yes, the 
 sun was shining brightly, the morning clouds had 
 quite melted away; it was going to be a fine day 
 after all. And clear and white gleamed out the 
 spot on the distant hill which Peggy loved to gaze 
 at ! " Come here, Hal," she said, getting on to her 
 feet and helping Hal on to his, "come with me to 
 the window and you'll see if it's a nonsense story. 
 Only you've never to tell nobody. It's Peggy's own 
 secret." 
 
 Hal forgot his crossness in a minute, he felt so 
 proud and honoured. Peggy led him to the window. 
 It was not a very pretty prospect ; they looked out 
 on to a commonplace street, houses on both sides, 
 though just opposite there was a little variety in 
 the shape of an old-fashioned, smoke-dried garden. 
 Beyond that again, more houses, more streets, stretch- 
 ing away out into suburbs, and somewhere beyond all 
 that again the mysterious, beautiful, enchanting re- 
 gion which the children spoke of and believed in as 
 " the country," not really so far off after all, though 
 to them it seemed so. 
 
 And above the tops of all the houses, clear though 
 faint, was now to be seen the outline of a range of 
 hills, so softly gray-blue in the distance that but for 
 the irregular line never changing in its form, one 
 could easily have fancied it was only the edge of 
 a quickly passing ridge of clouds. Peggy, however, 
 knew better. 
 
24 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " See, Hal," she said, " over there, far, far away, 
 neely in the sky, does you see that bluey hill ? " 
 
 Of course he saw, agreeing so readily that Peggy 
 was sure he did not distinguish rightly, which was 
 soon proved to be the case by his announcing that 
 " The 'ill were sailing away." 
 
 " No, no, it isn't," Peggy cried. " You've mus- 
 tooked a cloud, Hal. See now," and by bringing her 
 own eyes exactly on a level with a certain spot on 
 the glass she was able to place his correctly, "just 
 over that little bubble in the window you can see it. 
 Its top goes up above the bubble and then down and 
 then up again, and it never moves like the clouds 
 does you see now, Hallie dear ? " 
 
 " Zes, zes," said Hal, " but it's a wenny little 'ill, 
 
 Peggy." 
 
 "No, dear," his sister explained. "It only looks 
 little 'cos it's so far away. You is too little to under- 
 stand, dear, but it's true that it's a big hill, neely a 
 mountain, Hal. Mamma told me." 
 
 " Oh," said Hal, profoundly impressed and quite 
 convinced. 
 
 " Mountings is old hills, or big hills," Peggy con- 
 tinued, herself slightly confused. " I don't know if 
 they is the papas and mammas of the little ones, but 
 I think it's something like that, for onst in church 
 I heard the clergymunt read that the little hills 
 jumped for joy, so they must be the children. I'll ask 
 mamma, and then I'll tell you. I'm not quite sure if 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 25 
 
 he mearied the same kind, for these hills never jumps 
 that's how mamma told me to know they wasn't 
 clouds." 
 
 " Zes," said Hal, "but go on about the secret, 
 Peggy. Hal doesn't care about the 'ills." 
 
 "But the secret's on the hills," replied Peggy. 
 " Look more, Hal does you see a teeny, teeny 
 white spot on the bluey hill ? Higher up than the 
 bubble, but not at the top quite ? " 
 
 Hal's eyes were good and his faith great. 
 
 " Zes, zes," he cried. " I does see it kite plain, 
 Peggy." 
 
 " Well, Hallie," Peggy continued, " that's my 
 secret." 
 
 " Is it the fairy cottage, and is the little girl zere 
 now ? " Hal asked, breathlessly. 
 
 Peggy hesitated. 
 
 " It is a white cottage," she said. " Mamma told 
 me. She looked at it through a seeing pipe." 
 
 " What's a seeing pipe ? " Hal interrupted. 
 
 " I can't tell you just now. Ask mamma to show 
 you hers some day. It's too difficult to understand, 
 but it makes you see things plain. And mamma 
 found out it was reely a cottage, a white cottage, 
 all alone up on the hill isn't it sweet of it to be 
 there all alone, Hallie ? And she said I might think 
 it was a fairy cottage and keep it for my own secret, 
 only I've telled you, Hal, and you mustn't tell 
 nobody." 
 
26 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " And is it all like Baby's best sash, and are there 
 cakes and f'owers and cows?" asked Hal. 
 
 " I don't know. I made up the story, you know, 
 Hal, to please you. I've made lots mamma said I 
 might. But I've never see'd the cottage, you know. 
 I dare say it's beautiful, white and gold like the story, 
 that's why I said it. It does so shine when the sun's 
 on it look, look, Hal!" 
 
 For as she spoke the sunshine had broken out 
 again more brilliantly ; and the bright, thin sparkle 
 which often dazzles one between the showers in 
 unsettled weather, lighted up that quarter of the 
 sky where the children were gazing, and, to their 
 fancy at least, the white spot caught and reflected 
 the rays. 
 
 " Oh zes, I see," Hal repeated. " But, Peggy, I'd 
 like to go zere and to see it. Can't we go, Peggy ? It 
 would be so nice, nicer than making up stories. And 
 do you think oh do you think, Peggy, that p'raps 
 there's pigs zere, real pigs ? " 
 
 He clasped his hands entreatingly as he spoke. 
 Peggy must say there were pigs. Poor Peggy it 
 was rather a comedown after her fairy visions. But 
 she was too kind to say anything to vex Hal. 
 
 " I thought you said pigs was silly," she objected, 
 gently. 
 
 " Playing pigs to make Baby laugh is silly," said 
 Hal, " and pigs going to market and stayin' at 'ome 
 and roast beeffin', is d'edful silly. But riot real pigs." 
 
THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 27 
 
 44 Oh well, then, you may think pigs if you like," 
 said Peggy. " I don't think I will, but that doesn't 
 matter. You may have them in the cottage if you 
 like, only you mustn't tell Thor and Terry and 
 Baldwin about it." 
 
 "I won't tell, on'y you might have them too," said 
 Hal discontentedly. "You're not kind, Peggy." 
 
 " Don't let's talk about the cottage any more, 
 then," said Peggy, though her own eyes were fixed 
 on the far-off white spot as she spoke. "I think 
 p'raps, Hallie, you're rather too little to care about 
 it." 
 
 "I'm not," said Hal, "and I do care. But I do 
 like pigs, real pigs. I sawed zem in the country." 
 
 "You can't remember," said Peggy. "It's two 
 whole years since we was in the real country, Hallie, 
 and you're only three and a half. I know it's two 
 years. I heard mamma say so to papa, so you wasn't 
 two then." 
 
 44 But I did see zem and I do 'amember, 'cos of 
 pictures," said Hal. 
 
 44 Oh yes, dear, there is pictures of pigs in your 
 scrap-book, I know," Peggy agreed. " You get it 
 now and we'll look for them." 
 
 Off trotted Hal, returning in a minute with his 
 book, and for a quarter of an hour or so his patient 
 little sister managed to keep him happy and amused. 
 At the end of that time, however, he began to be 
 cross and discontented again. Peggy did not know 
 
28 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 what to make of him this morning, he was not often 
 so difficult to please. She was very glad when nurse 
 came in to say it was now his time for his morning 
 sleep, and though Hal grumbled and scolded and 
 said he was not sleepy she carried him off, and Peggy 
 was left in peace. 
 
 She was not at a loss to employ herself. At half- 
 past eleven she usually went down to mamma for an 
 hour's lessons, and it must be nearly that time now. 
 She got her books together and- sat looking over the 
 one verse she had to learn, her thoughts roving 
 nevertheless in the direction they loved best away 
 over the chimneys and the smoke ; away, away, up, 
 up to the fairy cottage on the distant hill. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK." 
 
 "It seems to me if I'd money enough, 
 My heart would be made of different stuff ; 
 I would think about those whose lot is rough." 
 
 MRS. HAWTREY. 
 
 THESE children's home was not in a very pretty 
 place. In front, as I have told you, it looked out 
 on to a rather ugly street, and there were streets and 
 streets beyond that again streets of straight, stiff, 
 grim-looking houses, some large and some small, but 
 all commonplace and dull. And in and out between 
 these bigger streets were narrower and still uglier 
 ones, scarcely indeed to be called streets, so dark 
 and poky were they, so dark and poky were the poor 
 houses they contained. 
 
 The street immediately behind the children's 
 house, that on to which its back windows looked 
 out, was one of these poorer ones, though not by any 
 means one of the most miserable. And ugly though 
 it was, Peggy was very fond of gazing out of the 
 night nursery window on to this street, especially 
 on days when it was "no use," as she called it to 
 herself, looking out at the front; that meant, as I 
 dare say you can guess, days on which it was too 
 
 29 
 
30 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 dull and cloudy to see the distant hills, and above 
 all the white spot, which had taken such hold on her 
 fancy. For she had found out some very interesting 
 things in that dingy street. Straight across from the 
 night nursery window was a very queer miserable 
 sort of a shop, kept by an old Irishwoman whose 
 name was Mrs. Whelan. It is rather absurd to call 
 it a shop, though it was a place where things were 
 bought and sold, for the room in which these buyings 
 and sellings went on was Mrs. Whelan's kitchen, 
 and bedroom, and sitting-room, and wash-house, as 
 well as her shop ! It was on the first floor, and you 
 got up to it by a rickety staircase more like a 
 ladder indeed than a staircase, and underneath it on 
 the ground-floor lived a cobbler, with whom Mrs. 
 Whelan used to quarrel at least once a day, though 
 as he was a patient, much enduring man, the quarrels 
 never went farther than the old Irishwoman's open- 
 ing her window and shouting down all manner of 
 scoldings to the poor fellow, of which he took no 
 notice. 
 
 On Sundays the cobbler used to tidy himself up 
 and go off to church "like a gentleman," the boys 
 said. But Mrs. Whelan, alas, never tidied herself 
 up, and never went to church, and though she made 
 a great show of putting a shutter across that part of 
 the window which showed "the shop," nurse had 
 more than once shaken her head when the children 
 were dressing for church, and told them not to look 
 
nmr 
 
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 looktol clicxn , a^nd yif ^omtKov 
 to <gtt mucK dirtier, c\ l>lc\ck staff 
 snd A CAp witl^ ^I^|oj9in^ Drill 
 n j'ck auiti nia Kir 4<\c unli55 you vv^-U 
 ^r Ktr , iNviol ^hi wa^ ^inirally to 
 5itn with ^. b'^i i^ nir m<>u.tln . Her 
 
 you Could 
 
 almost kicxr wkcxt 
 window 
 
"THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK." 31 
 
 over the way, she was sadly afraid the shutting or 
 shuttering up was all a pretence, and that Mrs. 
 Whelan made a good penny by her Sunday sales of 
 tobacco and pipes to the men, or maybe of sugar, 
 candles, or matches to careless housekeepers who 
 had let their stock run out too late on Saturday 
 night. 
 
 She was rather a terrible-looking old woman ; she 
 always wore a short bed-gown, that is, a loose kind 
 of jacket roughly drawn in at the waist, of washed- 
 out cotton, which never looked clean, and yet some- 
 how never seemed to get much dirtier, a black stuff 
 petticoat, and a cap with flapping frills which quite 
 hid her face unless you were very near her, and she 
 was generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth. 
 Her voice was both loud and shrill, and when she 
 was in a temper you could almost hear what she 
 said, though the nursery window was shut. All the 
 neighbours were afraid of her, and in consequence 
 treated her with great respect. But like most people 
 in this world, she had some good about her, as you 
 will hear. 
 
 Good or bad, the children, Peggy especially, found 
 Mrs. Whelan very interesting. Peggy had never 
 seen her nearer than from the window, and though 
 she had a queer sort of wish to visit the shop and 
 make closer acquaintance with the old crone, she 
 was far too frightened of her to think of doing so 
 really. The boys, however, had been several times 
 
32 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 inside Mrs. Whelaii's dwelling, and used to tell 
 wonderful stories of the muddle of things it con- 
 tained, and of the old woman herself. They always 
 bought their soap-bubble pipes there, "three a penny," 
 and would gladly have bought some of the toffee- 
 balls and barley-sugar which were also to be had, if 
 this had not been strictly forbidden by mamma, in 
 spite of their grumbling. 
 
 " It isn't so very dirty, mamma," they said, " and 
 you get a lot more for a penny than in a proper 
 shop." 
 
 But mamma would not give in. She knew what 
 Mrs. Whelan was like, as she used sometimes to go 
 over herself to talk to the poor old woman, but that, 
 of course, was a different matter. 
 
 " I don't much like your going there at all," she 
 would say, u but it pleases her for us to buy some 
 trifles now and then." 
 
 But in her heart she wished very much that they 
 were not obliged to live in this dreary and ugly town, 
 where their poor neighbours were rarely the sort of 
 people she could let her children know anything of. 
 Mamma, in Tier childhood, had lived in that fairyland 
 she called " the country," and so had papa, and they 
 still looked forward to being there again, though for 
 the present they were obliged to make the best of 
 their home in a dingy street. 
 
 It seemed much less dull and dingy to the chil- 
 dren than to them, however. Indeed I don't think 
 
'THE CHILDiiEN AT THE BACK." 33 
 
 the children ever thought about it at all. The 
 boys were busy at school, and found plenty of both 
 work and play to make the time pass quickly, and 
 Peggy, who might perhaps have been a little dull 
 and lonely in her rather shut-up life, had her fancies 
 and her wonders her interesting things to look at 
 both at the front and the back of the house, and 
 mamma to tell all about them to ! And this reminds 
 me that I have not yet told you what it was she 
 was most fond of watching from the night nursery 
 window. It was not Mrs. Whelan or the cobbler ; it 
 was the tenants of the third or top story of the 
 rickety old house the family she always spoke of 
 to herself as " the children at the back." 
 
 Such a lot of them there were. It was long 
 before Peggy was able to distinguish them " all 
 from each other," as she said, and it took her longer 
 still to make names by which she could keep a clear 
 list in her head. The eldest looked to her quite 
 grown-up, though in reality she was about thirteen ; 
 she was a big red-cheeked girl, though she lived in a 
 town ; her arms were red too, poor thing, especially 
 in winter, for they were seldom or never covered, 
 and she seemed to be always at work, scrubbing or 
 washing, or running out to fetch two or three of the 
 little ones in from playing in the gutter. Peggy 
 called her " Reddy," and though it was the girl's red 
 cheeks and arms which made her first choose the 
 name, in a while she came to think of it as meaning 
 
34 PEGGY: A NUKSEBY STORY. 
 
 " ready " also, for Peggy did not know much about 
 spelling as yet, and the thought in her mind of the 
 look of the two words was the same. For a good 
 while Peggy fancied that Reddy was the nurse or 
 servant of the family, but one day when she said 
 something of the kind to her own nurse she was 
 quickly put right. 
 
 " Their servant, my dear ! Bless you, no. How 
 could they afford to keep a servant ; they've hard 
 enough work to keep themselves, striving folk 
 though they seem. There's such a many of them, 
 you see, and mostly so little save that big girl 
 and the sister three below her, there's none really to 
 help the mother. And the cripple must be a great 
 charge." 
 
 "What's the cripple, nursey?" Peggy asked. 
 
 " Why, Miss Peggy, haven't you noticed the 
 white-faced girl on crutches ? You must have seen 
 her dragging up and down in front of the house of a 
 fine day." 
 
 "Oh yes," said Peggy, "but I didn't know that 
 was called cripple. And she's quite little ; she's as 
 little as me, nurse ! " 
 
 " She's older than she looks, poor thing," said 
 nurse " maybe oldest of them all." 
 
 This, however, Peggy could not believe. She 
 fixed in her own mind that " Crippley " came after 
 the two boys who were evidently next to Reddy 
 she did not give the boys names, for they did not 
 
U THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK." 35 
 
 interest her as much as the girls. Having so many 
 brothers of her own and no sister, it seemed to her 
 as if a sister must be the very nicest thing in the 
 world, and of all the children at the back, the two 
 that she liked most to watch were a pair of little 
 girls about three years older than herself, whom she 
 named " The Smileys," " Brown Smiley " and " Light 
 Smiley " when she thought of them separately, for 
 though they were very like each other, the colour of 
 their hair was different. They were very jolly little 
 girls, poorly clad and poorly fed though they were, 
 taking life easily, it seemed too easily in the opin- 
 ion of their eldest sister Reddy, and the sister next 
 above them between them and Crippley, accord- 
 ing to Peggy's list. This sister was the only one 
 whose real name Peggy knew, by hearing it so fre- 
 quently shouted after her by the mother and Reddy. 
 For this child, " Maiy-Hann," was rather deaf, 
 though it was not till long afterwards that Peggy 
 found this out. 
 
 " Mary-Hann " was a ' patient stupid sort of girl, 
 a kind of second in command to Reddy, and she was 
 like Reddy in appearance, except that she was several 
 sizes smaller and thinner, so that even supposing 
 that her arms were as red as her sister's they did 
 not strike one in the same way. 
 
 Below the Smileys came another boy, who was 
 generally to be seen in their company, and who, 
 according to Peggy, rejoiced in the name of " Tip." 
 
36 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 And below Tip were a few babies, in reality I be- 
 lieve never more than three, during the years 
 through which their little over-the-way neighbour 
 watched them. But even she was obliged to give 
 up hopes of classifying the babies, for there always 
 seemed to be a baby about the same age, and one or 
 two others just struggling into standing or rather 
 tumbling alone, and for ever being picked up by 
 Reddy or her attendant sprite Mary-Hann. 
 
 Such were Peggy's " children at the back." And 
 many a dull day when it was too rainy to go a walk, 
 and too cloudy to be " any use " to gaze out at the 
 front of the house, did these poor children, little as 
 they guessed it, help to make pass more quickly and 
 pleasantly for the sisterless maiden. Many a morn- 
 ing when Hal and Baby were asleep and nurse was 
 glad to have an hour or so for a bit of ironing, or 
 some work of the kind down in the kitchen for 
 my Peggy's papa and mamma were not rich and 
 could not keep many servants, so that nurse, though 
 she was plain and homely in her ways, was of far 
 more use than a smarter young woman to them 
 many a morning did the little girl, left in the night 
 nursery in charge of her sleeping brothers, take up 
 her stand at the window which overlooked Mrs. 
 Whelan's and the cobbler and the Smileys with all 
 their brothers and sisters. There was always some- 
 thing new to see or to ask nurse to explain afterwards. 
 For ever so long it took up Peggy's thoughts, and 
 
37 
 
 gave much conversation in the nursery to " plan " 
 how the ten or eleven children, not to speak of the 
 papa and mamma, could all find place in two rooms. 
 It kept Peggy awake at night, especially if the 
 weather happened to be at all hot or close, to think 
 how very uncomfortable poor Reddy and Crippley 
 and Mary-Hann and the Smileys must be, all sleep- 
 ing in one bed as nurse said was too probably the 
 case. And it was the greatest relief to her mind, 
 and to nurse's too, I do believe, to discover by means 
 of some cautious inquiries of the cobbler when nurse 
 took him over some of the boys' boots to mend, that 
 the family was not so short of space as they had 
 feared. 
 
 " They've two other rooms, Miss Peggy, as doesn't 
 show to the front," said nurse, " two attics with slop- 
 ing windows in the roof to their back again. And 
 they're striving folk, he says, as indeed any one may 
 see for theirselves." 
 
 " Then how shall we plan it now, I wonder," said 
 Peggy, looking across to the Smileys' mansion with 
 new respect. But nurse had already left the room, 
 and perhaps, now she was satisfied their neighbours 
 were not quite so much to be pitied, would scarcely 
 have had patience to listen to Peggy's " wonder- 
 ings " about them. So the little girl went on to 
 herself 
 
 " I should think the downstairs room is the papa's 
 and mamma's and the teeniest baby's, and perhaps 
 
38 PEGGY: A NUKSERY STORY. 
 
 Crippley sleeps there, as she's ill, like me when I 
 had the hooping-cough and I couldn't sleep and 
 mamma kept jumping up to me. And then the big 
 boys and Tip has one room ; ticks,' nurse calls 
 the rooms with windows in the roof. I think I'd 
 like to sleep in a 'tick' room; you must see the 
 stars so plain without getting up ; and and 
 let me see, Reddy and Mary-Hann arid the Smileys 
 and the old babies no, that's too many and I 
 don't know how many old babies there is. We'll 
 say one if there's another it must be a boy and 
 go in the boys' tick and that makes Reddy and 
 Mary " 
 
 " Miss Peggy, your mamma's ready for your les- 
 sons," came the housemaid's voice at the door, and 
 Peggy hurried off. But she was rather in a brown 
 study at her lessons that morning. Mamma could 
 not make her out at all, till at last she shut up the 
 books for a minute and made Peggy tell her where 
 her thoughts were wool-gathering. 
 
 " Not so very far away, mamma dear," said Peggy, 
 laughing. She never could help laughing when 
 mamma said "funny things like that." "Not so 
 very far away. I was only wondering about the 
 children at the back." 
 
 She called them always " the children at the 
 back " when she spoke of them for even to mamma 
 she would have felt shy of telling her own names 
 for them. And then she went on to repeat what 
 
U THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK." 89 
 
 nurse had heard from the cobbler. Mamma agreed 
 that it was very interesting, and she too was pleased 
 to think "the children at the back's house," as 
 Peggy called it, was more commodious than might 
 have been expected. But still, even such interest- 
 ing things as that must not be allowed to interfere 
 with lessons, Peggy must put it all out of her 
 head till they were done with, and then mamma 
 would talk about it with her. 
 
 " Only, mamma," said Peggy, " I don't know what 
 com commo that long word you said, means." 
 
 " I should not have used it, perhaps," said mamma. 
 " And yet I don't know. If we only used the words 
 you understand already, you would never learn new 
 ones eh, Peggy ! Commodious just means large, 
 and not narrow and squeezed up." 
 
 Peggy nodded her head, which meant that she 
 quite understood, and then the lessons went on 
 smoothly again. 
 
 When they were over, mamma talked about poor 
 people, especially about poor children, to Peggy, 
 and explained to her more than she had ever done 
 before about what being poor really means. It made 
 Peggy feel and look rather sad, and once or twice 
 mamma was afraid she was going to cry, which, of 
 course, she did not wish her to do. But Peggy 
 choked down the crying feeling, because she knew it 
 would make her mother sorry and would not do the 
 poor people any good. 
 
40 PEGGY: A NUKSERY STORY. 
 
 "Mamma," she said, "it neely makes me cry, but 
 I won't. But when I'm big can't I do something 
 for the children at the back ? " 
 
 " They won't be children then, Peggy dear. You 
 may be able to do something for them without 
 waiting for that. I'll think about it. I don't fancy 
 they are so very poor. As I have been telling you, 
 there are many far poorer. But I dare say they have 
 very few pleasures in their lives. We might try to 
 think of a little sunshine for them now and then." 
 
 " The Smile " began Peggy, but she stopped 
 suddenly, growing red " the littler ones do play a 
 good deal in the gutter, mamma dear," she said, 
 anxious to state things quite fairly; "but I don't 
 think that's very nice play, and the sun very seldom 
 shines there. And Red the big ones, mamma dear, 
 and the one that goes on I can't remember the 
 name of those sticks." v 
 
 " Crutches," said mamma. 
 
 " Yes, crutches her never has no plays at all, I 
 don't think. She'd have more sunshine at the 'nother 
 side of our house, mamma dear." 
 
 Mamma smiled. Peggy did not understand that 
 mamma did not mean " sunshine " exactly as she 
 took it; she forgot, too, that of actual sunshine more 
 fell on the back street than she thought of. For it 
 was only on dull or rainy days that she looked out 
 much on the children at the back. On fine days her 
 eyes were busy in another direction. 
 
" THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK." 41 
 
 "I'll think about it," said mamma. So Peggy 
 for the present was satisfied. 
 
 This talk about the Smileys and the rest of them 
 had been a day or two before the morning on which 
 we first saw Peggy the morning that Thor tried 
 so to make fun of her about choosing sugar in her 
 bread and milk, because it was cold. Mamma had 
 not said any more about the children at the back, 
 and this particular morning Peggy herself was not 
 thinking very much about them. Her head was 
 running a good deal on the white cottage and all her 
 fancies about it, and she was feeling rather disap- 
 pointed that she had not succeeded better in amusing 
 Hal by her stories. 
 
 " It must be, I suppose," she said to herself, " that 
 he's rather too little for that kind of fancy stories. 
 I wonder if Baldwin would like them ; it would be 
 nice to have somebody to make fancies with me." 
 
 But somehow Baldwin and the fairy cottage did 
 not seem to match. And Thor and Terry were both 
 much too big Thor would laugh at her, and Terry 
 would think it waste of time ; he had so many other 
 things to amuse himself about. No, Peggy could 
 not think of any one who would "understand," she 
 decided, with a sigh ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Mine be a cot beside the hill." 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 JUST then came the usual summons to her lessons. 
 Mamma was waiting for her little girl in the corner 
 of the drawing-room, where she always sat when 
 she was teaching Peggy. It was a very nice corner, 
 near the fire, for though it was not winter it was 
 rather chilly, and mamma often felt cold. Thor 
 used to tell her that she should take a good run or 
 have a game of cricket to warm her ; it would be 
 much better than sitting near the fire. Peggy 
 thought it was rather unkind of Thor to say so, 
 but mamma only laughed at him, so perhaps it was 
 just his boy way of speaking. 
 
 Peggy said her lessons quite well, but she looked 
 rather grave; no smiles lighted up her face, and 
 when lessons were over she sat still without speak- 
 ing, and seemed as if she scarcely knew what she 
 wanted to do with herself. 
 
 " Is there anything the matter, dear ? " mamma 
 asked. 
 
 42 
 
"KEAL" FANCIES. 43 
 
 " I'm rather tired, I think, mamma," Peggy 
 replied. 
 
 " Tired ! " mamma repeated, in some surprise. It 
 wasn't often that Peggy talked of being tired. 
 " What is that with ? You've not been worrying 
 yourself about the children who live over Mrs. 
 Whelan's, I hope ? You mustn't do that, you know, 
 dear; it would do you harm and them no good." 
 
 For mamma knew that Peggy sometimes did 
 " worry " about things " Once she takes a thing in 
 her head she'll work herself up so, for all she seems 
 so quiet," nurse would say. 
 
 " No, mamma dear," Peggy replied ; " I'm not 
 tired because of that. I like thinking about the 
 children at the back. I wish " 
 
 " What ? " said mamma. 
 
 " I wish I'd sisters like them. I'm rather lonely, 
 mamma. I do think God might have gaved one 
 sister to Peggy, and not such a great lot to the 
 children at the back." 
 
 " But you have your brothers, my dear little girl. 
 You might have been an only child." 
 
 " The big ones is always neely at school, and Hal's 
 too little to understand. It's Hal that's tired me, 
 mamma dear. He was so d'edfully cross afore nurse 
 put him to bed." 
 
 " Cross, was he ? " said mamma. " I'm afraid he 
 must be getting those last teeth. He may be cross 
 for some time ; if so, it would not do to leave him." 
 
44 PEGGY: A NUKSERY STOKY. 
 
 She seemed to be speaking to herself, but when she 
 caught sight of Peggy's puzzled face she stopped. 
 " Tell me about Hal, dear," she went on. " What 
 was it that tired you so ? " 
 
 " I was trying to amuse him and tell him stories 
 about my white cottage up on the hill, and he was 
 so cross. He couldn't understand, and he said they 
 was ' nonsense ' stories." 
 
 " He is too little, perhaps, to care for fancies," said 
 her mother, consolingly. " You must wait till he is 
 a little older, Peggy dear." 
 
 " But when he's older he'll be a boy, mamma," 
 said Peggy ; " he'll be like Thor and Terry, who 
 don't care for things like that, or Baldwin, who 
 thinks stories stupid. Oh, mamma, I wish I had a 
 sister. That's what I want," she added, with con- 
 viction. 
 
 Mamma smiled. 
 
 " Poor Peggy," she said. " I'm afraid it can't be 
 helped. You can never have a sister near your own 
 age, and I'm afraid a baby sister, even if you had 
 one, would be no good." 
 
 " Oh no, we've had enough babies," said Peggy, 
 decidedly. " But, mamma, mightn't there be some 
 little girl who'd play with me like a sister? If there 
 is a fairy living in that cottage, mamma, how I do 
 wish she would find a little girl for me ! " 
 
 Mamma looked a very little bit troubled. 
 
 " Peggy dear," she said, " you mustn't let your 
 
' hous* 1$ nd lib 
 
 olonf" mind 
 anxi'ous not to 
 
 1\ Kurt Kir motlurs fu(m65, 
 i i . 7 
 
 don'i- think 1 lib 
 Ty muck. 
 
45 
 
 fancies run away with you too far. I told you they 
 would do you no harm if you kept plain in your head 
 that they were fancies, but you mustn't forget that. 
 You know there couldn't really be a fairy living in 
 that little white cottage." 
 
 " No," Peggy agreed, " I know that, mamma, be- 
 cause fairies really live in fairyland." ,. 
 
 She looked up gravely into her mother's face as 
 she said so. Mamma could not help laughing. 
 
 " Fairies really" she said, " live in Peggy's funny 
 little head, and in many other funny little heads, I 
 have no doubt. But nowhere " 
 
 " Mamma, mamma," Peggy interrupted, putting 
 her fingers in her ears as she spoke, " I won't listen. 
 You mustn't, mustn't say that. I must have my 
 fairies, mamma. I've no sisters." 
 
 " Well, keep them in fairyland then, or at least 
 only let them out for visits now and then. But don't 
 mix them up with real things too much, or you will 
 get quite a confusion, and never be sure if you're 
 awake or dreaming." 
 
 Peggy seemed to consider this over very seriously. 
 After a minute or two she lifted her face again, and 
 looked straight into her mother's with her earnest 
 gray eyes. 
 
 "Mamma dear," she began, "will you tell me 
 what the little white house is reely like, then? If 
 you will, I'll promise not to think there's fairies 
 there only - 
 
46 PEGGY: A NURSE KY STORY. 
 
 "Only what, dear?" 
 
 " If you don't mind," said Peggy, very anxious not 
 to hurt her mother's feelings, " I'd rather not have 
 pigs. I don't think I like pigs very much." 
 
 " Well, we needn't have pigs then. But remember 
 I can only 4 fancy ' it. I've never seen that particu- 
 lar cottage, you see, Peggy. But I have seen other 
 cottages in Brackenshire, and so I can fancy what it 
 most likely is. You see there are different kinds of 
 fancying there's fancying that is all fancy, like 
 fairy stories, and there's fancying that might be true 
 and real, and that very likely is true and real. Do 
 you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Peggy, drawing a deep breath. " Well, 
 mamma, go on real-fancying, please. What's that 
 place you've been at Brat what is it ? " 
 
 " Brackenshire," mamma replied. " That's the 
 name of that part of the country that we see far off, 
 from the windows upstairs." 
 
 " And is all the cottages white there, and is they 
 very pretty?" asked Peggy, with deep interest. " Oh, 
 mamma, do tell me, quick." 
 
 "I don't know if they're all white, but I think 
 they are mostly. And there are some pretty and 
 some ugly. Of course it depends a good deal upon 
 the people that live in them. If they're nice, clean, 
 busy people, who like their house to be neat and 
 pretty, and work hard to keep it so, of course it's 
 much more likely to be so than if they were careless 
 and lazy." 
 
47 
 
 " Oh," said Peggy, clasping her hands. " I do so 
 hope my cottage has nice people living in it. I think 
 it has, don't you, mamma ? It looks so white." 
 
 "My dear Peggy," said mamma, smiling, "we 
 can't tell, when it's so far away. But we may hope 
 so." 
 
 " Yes," said Peggy, " we'll hope so, and we'll think 
 so." But then a rather puzzled look came over her 
 face again, though she smiled too. " Mamma," she 
 went on, " there's such a funny thing come into my 
 head, only I don't know quite how to say it. I think 
 that the far-away helps to make it pretty why is 
 far-away so pretty, mamma ? " 
 
 Mamma smiled again. 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't tell you why. Wouldn't it 
 spoil some things if we knew the why of them, little 
 Peggy?" 
 
 Peggy did not answer. This was another new 
 thought for her, and rather a difficult one. She put 
 it away in her mind, in one of the rather far back 
 cupboards there, and locked it up, to think about it 
 afterwards. 
 
 " Mamma," she said, coaxingly, " I want you to tell 
 me a real fancy about the cottage. It will be so nice 
 when I look at it to think it's most likely reely like 
 that." 
 
 " Well, then, let us see," mamma began. 
 
 " Wait just one minute, mamma dear, till I've shut 
 my eyes. First I must get the bluey hills and the 
 
48 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 white spot into them, and then I'll shut them and see 
 what you tell. Yes that's all right now." 
 
 So mamma went on. 
 
 " I fancy a cottage on the side of a hill. The cot- 
 tage is white, of course, and the hill is green. Not 
 very green a kind of brown-green, for the grass is 
 short and close, nibbled by the sheep and cows that 
 find their living on the hill most of the year. The 
 cottage is very white, for last summer it had a nice 
 wash all over, and that lasts clean a good while in the 
 country. There is a little low wall round it shutting 
 it in from the hillside, and this wall is not very white, 
 though it once was so, for it is covered with creeping 
 plants, so that you can scarcely see what its own 
 colour is. At the front of the house there is a little 
 garden, quite a tiny one there are .potatoes and 
 gooseberry bushes and cabbages at one side, but in 
 front of them are some nice old-fashioned flowers, 
 and at the other side there are strawberry plants, 
 and behind them some rose-bushes. In summer I am 
 sure there will be some pretty roses." 
 
 " Oh how nice," 'said Peggy ; " go on, go on, 
 please." 
 
 " There is a funny little wooden shed behind the 
 house, leaning against the wall, which has a door big 
 enough for a child to go in by, or a big person if they 
 stooped down very much, and besides this it has a 
 very little door in the wall, leading on to the hillside. 
 Can you guess what the shed is for, Peggy, and what 
 the tiny door is for ? " 
 
"REAL" FANCIES. 49 
 
 Peggy thought and thought, but her country 
 knowledge was but scanty. 
 
 " I can't think," she said. " It couldn't be for 
 pigs, 'cos there isn't any in the cottage. Nor it 
 couldn't be for cows, 'cos cows is so big." 
 
 " What should you say to cocks and hens, Peggy ? 
 There are' to be fresh eggs there, aren't there ? And 
 chickens sometimes. I rather think they take eggs 
 and chickens to market, don't they ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I'm sure they do. How stupid I am ! 
 Of course the little wooden house is for cocks and 
 hens. You're making it lovelily, mamma. What is 
 it like inside, and who lives in it ? I do so want to 
 know." 
 
 " Inside ? " said mamma. " I'm almost afraid you 
 might be disappointed, Peggy, if you've never been 
 in a real cottage. There are so many that look very 
 pretty outside and are not at all pretty inside. But 
 at least we may think it is neat and clean. There 
 are only two rooms, Peggy a kitchen which you go 
 straight into, and another room which opens out of 
 it. The kitchen is very bright and pleasant ; there 
 is a table before the window with some flower-pots 
 on it, in which both winter and summer there are 
 plants growing. There is a large cupboard of dark 
 old wood standing against the wall, and a sort of sofa 
 that is called a settle with cushions covered with red 
 cotton, standing near the fireplace. There are shelves, 
 too, on which stand some dishes and two or three 
 
50 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 shining pots and pans, the ugly black ones are kept 
 in a little back kitchen where most of the cooking is 
 done, so that the front kitchen should be kept as nice 
 as possible." 
 
 " That makes another room, mamma dear. You 
 said there was only two." 
 
 " Oh, but it's so very tiny you couldn't call it a 
 room. The second room is a bedroom, but the best 
 pieces of furniture are kept there. There is a nice 
 chest of drawers and a rocking-chair, and there 
 is a very funny wooden cradle, standing right 
 down on the floor, not at all like Baby's cot. 
 And in this cradle is a nice, fat, bright-eyed little 
 baby." 
 
 " A baby," said Peggy, doubtfully. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure. There's always a baby in a 
 cottage, unless you'd rather have a very old couple 
 whose babies are grown-up men and women, out in 
 the world." 
 
 " No," said Peggy, " I don't want that. A very 
 old woman in a cottage would be razer like a witch, 
 or else it could make me think of Ked Riding-Hood's 
 grandmother, and that is so sad. No, I don't mind 
 the baby if it has a nice mamma but only one 
 baby, pelease, mamma dear. I don't want lots, like 
 the children at the back, they're always tumbling 
 about and sc'eaming so." 
 
 " Oh no, we won't have it like that. We'll only 
 have one baby a very contented nice baby, and its 
 
"REAL" FANCIES. 51 
 
 mamma is very nice too. She's got quite a pretty 
 rosy face, and she stands at the door every morning 
 to see her husband go oft' to his work, and every 
 evening to watch for him coming back again, and 
 she holds the baby up in her arms and it laughs and 
 crows." 
 
 "Yes," said Peggy, "that'll do. And the eggs 
 and the chickens, mamma ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, she takes great care of the cocks and 
 hens, and never forgets to go outside the garden to 
 feed them on the hill, and in the evening they all 
 come home of themselves through the little door in 
 the wall. There's a very nice cat in the cottage too ; 
 it sits purring on the front steps on fine days, as if it 
 thought the cottage and garden and everything else 
 belonged to it. And 
 
 But suddenly the clock struck. Up started 
 mamma. 
 
 "Peggy, darling, I had no idea it was so late. 
 And I have to go out the moment after luncheon, 
 and I have still two letters to write. I am a greater 
 baby than any of you ! Run off, dear, and tell nurse 
 I want to speak to her before I go out." 
 
 " And to-morrow," said Peggy, " to-morrow, will 
 you tell me some more about the white cottage, 
 mamma ? It is so nice I don't think you're a baby 
 at all, mamma. A baby couldn't make it up so 
 lovelily." 
 
 And Peggy set off upstairs in great content. The 
 
52 PEGGY: A NURSERY STOEY. 
 
 white spot would give her more pleasure than ever, 
 now that she knew what sort of real fancies to have 
 about it. 
 
 " And to-morrow," she said to herself, " to-morrow 
 mamma will tell me more, lots more. If I say my 
 lessons very goodly, p'raps mamma will tell me some 
 more every day. And p'raps Hallie would like those 
 kinds better than about fairies, and wouldn't call 
 them nonsense stories." 
 
 Poor little Peggy "to-morrow" brought news 
 which put her pretty fancies about the white cottage 
 out of her head for a while. 
 
 She gave her mother's message to nurse, and after 
 dinner nurse went downstairs. When she came up 
 again she looked rather grave, and Peggy thought 
 perhaps she was unhappy about Hal, who was still 
 cross and had bright red spots on his cheeks. 
 
 " Does you think poor Hallie is ill, nurse ? " 
 asked Peggy in a low voice, for Hal not to hear. 
 
 ".No, my dear, it's only his teeth. But they'll 
 make him fractious for a while, I'm afraid, and he's 
 not a very strong child, not near so strong as Baby 
 and the big boys." 
 
 " Poor Hallie," said Peggy, with great sympathy. 
 " I'll be very good to him even if he is very cross, 
 nurse." 
 
 Nurse did not answer for a minute, and she still 
 looked very grave. 
 
 " Why do you look so sad, nurse, if it isn't about 
 Hal ? " asked Peggy, impatiently. 
 
"REAL" FANCIES. 53 
 
 " Did I look sad, Miss Peggy ? I didn't know it. 
 I was thinking about some things your mamma was 
 speaking of to me." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Peggy, " was it about our new frocks ? 
 Mamma and you is always very busy when we need 
 new frocks, I know." 
 
 " Yes, dear," said nurse, but that was all. 
 
 Then Peggy and Hal and nurse and Baby went 
 out for a^ walk. They did not go very far, for it was 
 what nurse called a queer-tempered day. Between 
 the gleams of blue sky and sunshine there came 
 sharp little storms and showers. It was April 
 weather, though April had not yet begun. 
 
 "Which way are we going?" Peggy asked, as 
 they set off, she and Hal hand-in-hand, just in front 
 of nurse and the perambulator. She hoped nurse 
 would say " up Fernley Road," because Fernley Road 
 led straight on towards the hills so at least it 
 seemed to Peggy. Their street ran into Fernley 
 Road at one end, so that Fernley Road was what is 
 called at right angles with it, and Peggy felt sure 
 that if you walked far enough along the road you 
 could not but come to " the beginning of the hills." 
 
 But to-day Peggy was to be disappointed. 
 
 " We can't go far, Miss Peggy, and we must go to 
 Field's about Master Hal's new boots. It looks as 
 if it might rain, so perhaps we'd better go straight 
 there. You know the way, Miss Peggy? right on 
 to the end of this street and then turn to the left." 
 
54 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 g ave a little sigh, but trotted on quietly. 
 Hal began grumbling. 
 
 " What is I to have new boots for ? " he said. " I 
 doesn't want new boots." 
 
 u Oh, Hal," said Peggy, "I think it's very nice 
 indeed to have new boots. They shine so, and some- 
 times they do make such a lovely squeaking." 
 
 But Hal wasn't in a humour to be pleased with 
 anything, so Peggy tried to change the subject. 
 
 " Nurse says we are to turn to the left at the end 
 of this street," she said. " Does you know which is 
 the left, Hal ? I do, 'cos of my pocket in my frock. 
 First I feel for my pocket, and when it's there I say 
 'all right,' and then I know that's the right, and 
 when it isn't there I can't say 'all right,' and so I 
 know the side it isn't at is the left." 
 
 Hal listened with some interest, but a slight tinge 
 of contempt for feminine garments. 
 
 " Boys has pockets at each sides, so all boys' sides 
 is right," he said. 
 
 But Peggy was by this time in the midst of her 
 researches for her pocket, so she did not argue the 
 point. 
 
 " Here it is ! " she exclaimed, " all right, so the 
 nother side is left. This way, Hallie," and very 
 proud to show nurse that she had understood her 
 directions, she led her little brother down the street 
 into which they had now turned. 
 
 There were shops in this street, which made it 
 
"REAL" FANCIES. 55 
 
 more amusing than the one in which the children 
 lived, even though they had seen them so often that 
 they knew pretty well all that was worth looking at 
 in the windows that is to say, in the picture-shops 
 and the toy-shops, and perhaps in the confectioner's. 
 All others were passed by as a matter of course. 
 Field's, the shoemaker's, was not quite so stupid as 
 some, because under a glass shade, in the midst of 
 all the real boots and shoes, were half a dozen pairs 
 of dolls' ones, which Peggy thought quite lovely, 
 though apparently no one else was of her opinion, 
 as the tiny things stayed there day after day without 
 a single pair being sold. Peggy herself could re- 
 member them for what seemed to her a very long 
 time, and Baldwin, who owned to having admired 
 them when he was "little," assured her they had 
 been there since she was quite a baby; he could 
 remember having " run on " to look at them in the 
 days when he and Terry had trotted in front and 
 nurse had perambulated Peggy behind. 
 
 The little boots and shoes came into Peggy's mind 
 just now, partly perhaps because Hal was hanging 
 back so, and she was afraid he would be cross if she 
 asked him to walk quicker. 
 
 " Let's run on and look at the tiny shoes in Field's 
 window," she said. " We can * wait there till nurse 
 comes up to us. She'll see us." 
 
 This roused Hal to bestir himself, and they were 
 soon at the shoemaker's. 
 
56 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 "Isn't they sweet?" said Peggy. "If I had a 
 gold pound of my very own, Hal, I'd buy some of 
 them." 
 
 "Would you?" said Hal, doubtfully. "No, if I 
 had a gold pound I'd " 
 
 But just then nurse came up to them and they 
 were all marched into the shop. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 
 
 " Pif-paf Pottrie, what trade are you ? Are you a tailor ? " 
 ' * Better still ! " "A shoemaker ? ' ' 
 
 BROTHERS GRIMM. 
 
 THERE was another reason why the children liked 
 Field's shop. At the back of it was a sort of little 
 room railed off by a low wooden partition with cur- 
 tains at the top, into which customers were shown to 
 try on and be fitted with new boots or shoes. This 
 little room within a room had always greatly taken 
 Peggy's fancy ; she had often talked it over with her 
 brothers, and wished they could copy it in their 
 nursery. Inside it had comfortable cushioned seats 
 all round, making it look like one of the large, 
 square, cushioned pews still to be found in some old 
 churches, pews which all children who have ever sat 
 in them dearly love. 
 
 There was always some excitement in peeping 
 into this little room to see if any one was already 
 there ; if that were the case the children knew they 
 should have to be " tried on " in the outer shop. 
 To-day, however, there was no doubt about the 
 matter Miss Field, who acted as her father's 
 
 57 
 
58 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 shopwoman, marshalled them all straight into the 
 curtained recess without delay ; there was no one 
 there and when Peggy and Hal had with some 
 difficulty twisted themselves on to the seats with 
 as much formality as if they were settling them- 
 selves in church, and nurse had explained what 
 they had come for, the girl began operations by 
 taking off one of Hal's boots to serve as a pattern 
 for his size. 
 
 " The same make as these, I suppose ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 "No, miss, a little thicker, I think. They're to 
 be good strong ones for country wear," said nurse. 
 
 Peggy looked up with surprise. 
 
 " For the country, nursie," she said. " He'll have 
 weared them out before it's time for us to go to 
 the country. It won't be summer for a long while, 
 and last year we didn't go even when summer 
 corned." 
 
 Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, though 
 smiling and good-natured, was not a special favourite 
 of nurse's ; she was too fond of talking, and she 
 stood there now looking very much amused at 
 Peggy's remonstrance. 
 
 " If you didn't go to the country last year, Miss 
 Margaret," said nurse, "more reason that you'll go 
 this. But little girls can't know everything." 
 
 Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She was 
 just going to ask nurse what was the matter, which 
 
THE LITTLE KED SHOES. 59 
 
 would not have made things better, I am afraid, when 
 Baby changed the subject by bursting out crying. 
 Poor Baby he did not like the little curtained-off 
 room at all ; it was rather dark, and he felt fright- 
 ened, and as was of course the most sensible thing to 
 do under the circumstances, as he could not speak, 
 he cried. 
 
 " Dear, dear," said nurse, after vainly trying to 
 soothe him, " he doesn't like being in here, the poor 
 lamb. He's frightened. I'll never get him quiet 
 here. Miss Peggy, love," forgetting in her hurry 
 the presence of Miss Field, for before strangers 
 Peggy was always " Miss Margaret " with nurse, " I'll 
 have to put him back in his perambulator at the 
 door, and if you'll stand beside him he'll be quite 
 content." 
 
 And nurse got up as she spoke. Peggy slid her- 
 self down slowly and reluctantly from her seat ; she 
 would have liked to stay and watch Hal being fitted 
 with boots, and she would have liked still more to 
 ask nurse what she meant by speaking of the country 
 so long before the time, but it was Peggy's habit 
 to do what she was told without delay, and she 
 knew she could ask nurse what she wanted after- 
 wards. So with one regretful look back at the snug 
 corner where Hal was sitting comfortably staring at 
 his stockinged toes, she trotted across the shop to the 
 door where Baby, quite restored to good humour, 
 was being settled in his carriage. 
 
60 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " There now, he'll be quite happy. Nurse will 
 come soon, dear. Just let him stay here in the 
 doorway ; he can see all the boots and shoes in the 
 window that will amuse him." 
 
 " Yes," said Peggy, adding in her own mind that 
 she would have a good look at the dear, tiny dolls' 
 ones and fix which she would like to buy if she had 
 the money. 
 
 Baby did not interrupt her ; he was quite content 
 now he was out in the light and the open air, and 
 amused himself after his own fashion by crowing 
 and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood 
 still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes. They were 
 of all colours, black and red and bronze and blue 
 it was difficult to say which were the prettiest. 
 Peggy had almost decided upon a red pair, and was 
 wondering how much money it would take to buy 
 them, when some one touched her on the shoulder. 
 She looked up; a lady was standing behind her, 
 smiling in amusement. 
 
 "What are you gazing at so, my dear? Is this 
 your baby in the perambulator? You had better 
 wheel him a little bit further back, or may I do so 
 for you? he has worked himself too far into the 
 doorway." 
 
 Peggy looked up questioningly in the lady's face. 
 Like many children she did not like being spoken to 
 by strangers in any unceremonious way ; she felt as 
 if it were rather a freedom. 
 
~-\T 
 
 evb did not 
 
 n WAS cjuif 
 tint now V\i wvs 
 out in thi I i'o~kf" 
 and fhi obin air, 
 and &mix5id nim-- 
 
 silf cNftir riis own jAskion Ly crowing and 
 
 Stood sti'll, Intr tyis fixsol on ths bjxby 
 ty WLV of all colours, (sl^ck z^n 
 
 and blui if wc\s diffiQu.^ to 5v 
 tint prittitsf, *' p t6 o 
 
THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 61 
 
 But the face that met hers was too kind and 
 bright and pleasant to resist, and though Peggy still 
 looked grave, it was only that she felt rather shy. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "he's our baby. I was looking 
 at those sweet little shoes. I didn't see Baby had 
 pushed hisself away. Thank you," as the lady 
 gently moved the perambulator a little farther to 
 one side. 
 
 " You and Baby are not alone ? Are you waiting 
 for some one ? " she asked. 
 
 "Nurse is having Hal tried on for new boots," 
 Peggy replied, "and Baby didn't like the shop 'cos 
 it were rather dark." 
 
 "And so his kind little sister is taking care of 
 him. I see," said the lady. "And what are the 
 sweet little shoes you like so much to look at? Are 
 they some that would fit Baby ? " 
 
 "Oh no," said Peggy, "they'd be too little for 
 him. Baby is rather fat. Oh no, it's those under 
 the glass basin turned upside down," and she pointed 
 to the dolls' shoes. "Aren't they lovely? I've seen 
 them ever since I was quite little I suppose they'd 
 cost a great lot," and Peggy sighed. 
 
 " Which do you think the prettiest?" asked the 
 lady. 
 
 " The red ones," Peggy replied. 
 
 " Well, I almost think I agree with you," said the 
 lady. " Good-bye, my dear, don't let Baby run him- 
 self out into the street." And with a kind smile 
 she went on into the shop. 
 
62 PEGGY: A NUKSERY STORY. 
 
 She passed back again in a few minutes. 
 
 "Still there?" she said, nodding to Peggy, and 
 then she made her way down the street and was 
 soon out of sight. Peggy's attention, since the lady 
 had warned her, had been entirely given to Baby, 
 otherwise she might perhaps have noticed a very 
 wonderful thing that had happened in the shop- 
 window. The pair of red dolls' shoes was no longer 
 there! They had been quietly withdrawn from the 
 case in which they, with their companions, had spent 
 a peaceful, but it must be allowed a rather dull life 
 for some years. 
 
 In another minute nurse and Hal made their 
 appearance, and Hal had a parcel, which he Avas 
 clutching tightly in both hands. 
 
 " My new boots is so shiny," he said, " I do so 
 hope they'll squeak. Does you think they will, 
 nursie? But isn't poor Peggy to have new boots, 
 too ? Poor Peggy ! " 
 
 Peggy looked down at her feet. 
 
 "Mine isn't wored out yet," she said; "it would 
 take all poor mamma's money to buy new boots for 
 us all." 
 
 "Never fear," said nurse, who heard rather a 
 martyr tone in Peggy's voice, "you'll not be for- 
 gotten, Miss Peggy. But Master Hal, hadn't you 
 better put your boots in the perambulator ? You'll 
 be tired of carrying them, for we're not going straight 
 home." 
 
THE LITTLE KED SHOES. 63 
 
 Hal looked as if he were going to grumble at this, 
 but before he had time to say anything, Miss Field 
 came hurrying oat of the shop. 
 
 " Oh, you're still here," she said ; " that's all right. 
 The lady who's just left told father to give this little 
 parcel to missie here," and she held out something 
 to Peggy, who was so astonished that for a moment 
 or two she only stared at the girl without offering to 
 take the tiny packet. 
 
 " For me," she said at last. 
 
 " Yes, missie, to be sure for you, as I say." 
 
 Peggy took the parcel, and began slowly to undo 
 it. Something red peeped out Peggy's eyes glis- 
 tened then her cheeks grew nearly as scarlet as the 
 contents of the packet, and she seemed to gasp for 
 breath, as she held out for Hal and nurse to see the 
 little red shoes which five minutes before she had 
 been admiring under the glass shade. 
 
 "Nursie, Hal," she exclaimed, u see, oh see! The 
 sweet little shoes for me for my very own." 
 
 Nurse was only too ready to be pleased, but with 
 the prudence of a "grown-up" person she hesitated 
 a moment. 
 
 "Are you sure there's no mistake, miss?" she 
 said, anxiously. " Do you know the lady's name ? 
 Is she a friend of Missis's, I wonder ? " 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 " Can't say, I'm sure," she replied. " She's a 
 stranger to us. She only just bought a pair of cork 
 
64 PEGGY: A NUKSEHY STORY. 
 
 soles and these here. There's no mistake, that I'm 
 sure of. She must have seen the young lady was 
 admiring of them." 
 
 " Yes," said Peggy, " she asked me which was the 
 prettiest, and I said the red ones." 
 
 " You see ? " said Miss Field to nurse. " Well, 
 missie, I hope as they'll fit Miss Dolly, and then 
 you'll give us your custom when they're worn out, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 And with a good-natured laugh she turned back 
 into the shop. 
 
 " It's all right, nursie, isn't it ? Do say it is. I 
 may keep them; they is mine, isn't they?" said 
 Peggy, in very unusual excitement. 
 
 Nurse still looked undecided. 
 
 "I don't quite know what to say, my dear," she 
 replied. " We must ask your mamma. I shouldn't 
 think she'd object, seeing as it was so kindly meant. 
 And we can't give back the shoes now they're bought 
 and paid for. It wouldn't be fair to the lady to give 
 them back to Field just to be sold again. It wasn't 
 him she wanted to give a present to." 
 
 "No," said Peggy, trotting along beside the per- 
 ambulator and clasping her little parcel as Hal was 
 clasping his bigger one, "it was me she wanted to 
 please. She's a very kind lady, isn't she, nursie? 
 I'm sure they cost a great lot of money p'raps a 
 pound. Oh! I do so hope mamma will say I may 
 keep them for my very own. Can't we go home now 
 this minute to ask her?" 
 
THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 65 
 
 " We shouldn't find her in if we did," said nurse, 
 " and we've had nothing of a walk so far. But don't 
 you worry, Miss Peggy. I'm sure your mamma will 
 not mind." 
 
 Peggy's anxious eager little face calmed down at 
 this ; a corner of the paper in which her treasures 
 were wrapped up was torn. She saw the scarlet 
 leather peeping out, and a gleam of delight danced 
 out of her eyes ; she bent her head down and kissed 
 the speck of bright colour ecstatically, murmuring 
 to herself as she did so, " Oh, how happy I am ! " 
 
 Nurse overheard the words. 
 
 " Missis will never have the heart to take them 
 from her, poor dear,'* she thought. " She'll be only 
 too pleased for Miss Peggy to have something to 
 cheer her up when she has to be told about our 
 going." 
 
 And Peggy, in blissful ignorance of any threaten- 
 ing cloud to spoil her pleasure, marched on, scarcely 
 feeling the ground beneath her feet ; as happy as if 
 the tiny red shoes had been a pair of fairy ones to 
 fit her own little feet. 
 
 Mamma was not at home when they got in, even 
 though they made a pretty long round, coming back 
 by Fernley Road, which, however, Peggy did not 
 care about as much as when they set off by it. For 
 coming back, of course, she could not see the hills 
 without turning round, nor could she have the feel- 
 ing that every step was taking her nearer to them. 
 
66 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 The weather was clearing when they came in ; from 
 the nursery window the sky towards the west had a 
 faint flush upon it, which looked as if the sunset 
 were going to be a rosy one. 
 
 "Red at night," Peggy said to herself as she 
 glanced out ; " nursie, that means a fine day, doesn't 
 it?" 
 
 " So they say," nurse replied. 
 
 " Then it'll be a fine day to-morrow, and I'll see 
 the cottage, and I'll put the little shoes on the 
 window-sill, so that they shall see it too the dear 
 little sweets," chattered the child to herself. 
 
 Hal meanwhile was seated on the floor, engaged 
 in a more practical way, namely, trying to try on his 
 new boots. But " new boots," as he said himself, " is 
 stiff." Hal pulled and tugged till he grew very red 
 in the face, but all in vain. 
 
 " Oh, Peggy ! " he said, " do help me. I does so 
 want to hear them squeak, and to 'upprise the boys 
 when they come in." 
 
 Down went kind Peggy on the floor, and thanks 
 to her the boots were got on, though the buttoning 
 of them was beyond her skill. Hal was quite happy, 
 though. 
 
 " They do squeak, don't they, Peggy ? " he said ; 
 " and nurse'll let me wear them a little for them to 
 get used to my feet 'afore we go to the country." 
 
 44 You mean for your feet to get used to them, 
 Hallie," said Peggy. " But there's lots of time for 
 
THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 67 
 
 that. Why, they'll be half wored out before we go 
 to the country if you begin them now." 
 
 " Tisn't nonsense," said Hal, sturdily. " Nurse 
 said so to that girl in the shop." 
 
 Peggy felt very puzzled. 
 
 "But, Hal," she was beginning, when a voice 
 interrupted her. It was nurse. She had been down- 
 stairs, having heard the front door bell ring. 
 
 " Miss Peggy, your mamma wants you. She's 
 come in. You'll find her in her own room." 
 
 " Nursie," she said, " Hal's been saying 
 
 "You mustn't keep your mamma waiting," said 
 nurse. " I've told her about the little shoes." 
 
 " I'll take them to show her won't she be 
 pleased ? " said Peggy, seizing the little parcel which 
 she had put down while helping Hal. 
 
 And off she set. 
 
 She stopped at her mother's door ; it was only half 
 shut, so she did not need to knock. 
 
 " Mamma dear, it's me Peggy," she said. 
 
 " Come in, darling," mamma's voice replied. 
 
 "I've brought you the sweet little red shoes to 
 see," said Peggy, carefully unfolding the paper which 
 held her treasures, and holding them out for mamma's 
 admiration. 
 
 " They are very pretty indeed really lovely little 
 shoes," she said, handling them with care, but so as 
 to see them thoroughly. " It was very kind of that 
 lady. I wonder who she was ? Of course in a gen- 
 
68 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 eral way I wouldn't like you to take presents from 
 strangers, but she must have done it in such a very 
 nice way. Was she an old lady, Peggy ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " said Peggy, " quite old. She was 
 neely as big as you, mamma dear. I dare say she's 
 neely as old as you are." 
 
 Mamma began to laugh. 
 
 " You little goose," she said. But Peggy didn't 
 see anything to laugh at in what she had said, and 
 her face remained quite sober. 
 
 " I don't understand you, mamma dear," she said. 
 
 " Well, listen then ; didn't Hal buy a pair of new 
 boots for himself to-day?" mamma began. 
 
 " No, mamma dear. Nurse buyed them for he," 
 Peggy replied. 
 
 " Or rather / bought them, for it was my money 
 nurse paid for them with, if you are so very precise, 
 Miss Peggy. But never mind about that. All I 
 want you to understand is the difference between 
 4 big ' and ' old.' Hal's boots are much bigger than 
 these tiny things, but they are not on that account 
 older." 
 
 Peggy began to laugh. 
 
 " No, mamma dear. P'raps Hallie's boots is 
 younger than my sweet little red shoes, for they 
 has been a great long while in the shop window, and 
 Baldwin and Terry sawed them when they was 
 little." 
 
 " Not 4 younger,' Peggy dear ; * newer,' you mean. 
 
THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 69 
 
 Boots aren't alive. You only speak of live things as 
 4 young.' " 
 
 Peggy sighed. 
 
 " It is rather difficult to understand, mamma dear." 
 
 "It will all come by degrees," said mamma. 
 " When I was a little girl I know I thought for 
 a long time that the moon was the mamma of 
 the stars, because she looked so much bigger." 
 
 " I think that's very nice, mamma, though, of 
 course, I understand it's only a fancy fancy. I 
 haven't seen the moon for a long time, mamma. 
 May I ask nurse to wake me up the next time the 
 moon comes ? " 
 
 " You needn't wait till dark to see the moon," 
 said mamma. " She can often be seen by daylight, 
 though, of course, she doesn't look so pretty then, as 
 in the dark sky which shows her off better. But, 
 of course, the sky here is so often dull with the 
 smoke of the town that we can't see her as clearly 
 in the daytime as where the air is purer." 
 
 " Like in the country, mamma," said Peggy. " It's 
 always clear in the country, isn't it?" 
 
 " Not quite always," said mamma, smiling. " But, 
 Peggy dear, speaking of the country " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " Peggy interrupted, " I want to tell 
 you, mamma, what a silly thing Hallie would say 
 about going to the country ; " and she told her 
 mother all that Hal had said about his boots, and 
 indeed what nurse had said too ; " and nursie was 
 
70 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 just a weeny, teeny bit cross to me, mamma dear," 
 said Peggy, plaintively. "She wouldn't say she'd 
 mistooked about it." 
 
 Mamma looked rather grave, and instead of saying 
 at once that of course nurse had only meant that 
 Hal's boots should last till the summer, she took 
 Peggy on her knee and kissed her kissed her in 
 rather a " funny " way, thought Peggy, so that she 
 looked up and said 
 
 " Mamma dear, why do you kiss me like that ? " 
 
 Instead of answering, mamma kissed her again, 
 which almost made Peggy laugh. 
 
 But mamma was not laughing. 
 
 "My own little Peggy," she said, "I have some- 
 thing to tell you which I am afraid will make you 
 unhappy. It is making me very unhappy, I know." 
 
 " Poor dear little mamma," said Peggy, and as 
 she spoke she put up her little hand and stroked 
 her mother's face. " Don't be unhappy if it isn't 
 anything very bad. Tell Peggy about it, mamma 
 dear." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 
 
 "If I'd as much money as I could tell 
 I never would cry ' old clothes to sell ' ! " 
 
 LONDON CRIES. 
 
 MAMMA hesitated a moment. Then she began. 
 
 " You know, Peggy, my pet," she said, "for a good 
 while now I haven't been as strong and well as I 
 used to be " 
 
 " Stop, mamma, stop," said Peggy, with a sort of 
 cry, and as she spoke she threw up her hands and 
 pressed them hard against her ears ; " I know what 
 you're going to say, but I can't bear it, no, I can't. 
 Oh mamma, you're not to say you're going to die." 
 
 For all answer mamma caught Peggy into her 
 arms and kissed her again and again. For a minute 
 or two it seemed as if she could not speak, but at 
 last she got her voice. And then, rather to Peggy's 
 surprise, she saw that although there were tears in 
 mamma's eyes, and even one or two trickling down 
 her face, she was smiling too. 
 
 "My darling Peggy," she said, "did I frighten 
 you ? I am so, so sorry. Oh no, darling, it is noth- 
 ing like that. Please God I shall live to see my 
 
 71 
 
72 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 Peggy as old as I am now, and older, I hope. No, 
 no, dear, it is nothing so very sad I was going to tell 
 you. It is only that the doctor says the best way for 
 me to get quite well and strong again is to go away 
 for a while to have change of air as it is called, in 
 some nice country place." 
 
 " In the country," said Peggy, her eyes brighten- 
 ing with pleasure. " Oh, how nice ! will it perhaps 
 be that country where my cottage is? Oh, dear 
 mamma, how lovely! And when are we to go? 
 May we begin packing to-day ? And how could you 
 think it would make me unhappy " she went on, 
 suddenly remembering what her mother had said at 
 first. 
 
 Mamma's face did not brighten up at all. 
 
 " Peggy dear, it is very hard for me to tell you," 
 she said. " Of course, if we had all been going to- 
 gether it would have been only happy. But that's 
 just the thing. I can't take you with me, my sweet. 
 Baby must go, because nurse must, and Hallie too. 
 But the friend I am going to stay with can't have 
 more of us than the two little ones, and nurse, and 
 me it is very, very good of her to take so many." 
 
 " Couldn't I sleep \vith you, mamma dear ? " said 
 Peggy in a queer little voice, the tone of which went 
 to mamma's heart. 
 
 " My pet, Hallie must sleep with me, as it is. My 
 friend's house isn't very big. And there's another 
 reason why I can't take you I'm not sure if you 
 could understand " 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 73 
 
 " Tell it me, please, mamma." 
 
 " The lady I am going to had a little girl just like 
 y OU I mean just the same age, and rather like you 
 altogether, I think. And the poor little girl died 
 two years ago, Peggy. Since then it is a pain to her 
 mother to see other little girls. When you are big- 
 ger and not so like what her little girl was, I dare say 
 she won't mind." 
 
 Peggy had been listening, her whole soul in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " I understand," she said. " I wouldn't like to go 
 if it would make that lady cry if it hadn't been for 
 that oh mamma, I could have squeezed myself up 
 so very tight in the bed ! You and Hallie wouldn't 
 have knowed I were there. But I wouldn't like to 
 make her cry. I am so sorry about that little girl. 
 Mamma, how is it that dying is so nice, about going 
 to heaven, you know, and still it is so sorry ? " 
 
 " There is the parting," said mamma. 
 
 " Yes that must be it. And, mamma, I hope it 
 isn't naughty, but if you were to die I'd be very sorry 
 not to see you again just the same even if you 
 were to be a very pretty angel, with shiny clothes 
 and all that, I'd want you to be my own old 
 mamma." 
 
 " I would be your own old mamma, dear. I am 
 sure you would feel I was the same." 
 
 "I'm so glad," said Peggy. "Still it is sad to 
 die," and she sighed. " Mamma dear, you won't be 
 
74 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 very long away, will you ? It'll only be a little short 
 parting, won't it?" 
 
 " Only a few weeks, dear. And I hope you won't 
 be unhappy even though you must be a little lonely." 
 
 " If only I had a sister," said Peggy. 
 
 But mamma went on to tell her all she had 
 planned. Miss Earnshaw, a dressmaker who used 
 sometimes to come and sew, was to be with Peggy 
 as much as she could. She was a gentle, nice girl, 
 and Peggy liked her. 
 
 " She has several things to make for me just now," 
 said mamma, " and as she lives near, she will try to 
 come every day, so that she will be with you at din- 
 ner and tea. And Fanny will help you to dress and 
 undress, and either she or Miss Earnshaw will take 
 you a walk every day that it is fine enough. And 
 then in the evenings, of course, the boys will be at 
 home, and papa will see you every morning before 
 he goes." 
 
 " And I dare say he'll come up to see me in bed at 
 night too," said Peggy. Then she was silent for a 
 minute or two; the truth was, I think, that she was 
 trying hard to swallow down a lump in her throat 
 that would come, and to blink away two or three 
 tiresome tears that kept creeping up to her eyes. 
 
 Two days later and they were gone. Mamma, 
 nurse, Hal, and Baby, with papa to see' them off, and 
 two boxes outside the cab, and of course a whole lot 
 of smaller packages inside. 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 75 
 
 Peggy stood at the front-door, nodding and kissing 
 her hand and making a smile, as broad a one as she 
 possibly could, to show that she was not crying. 
 
 When they were gone, really gone, and Fanny had 
 shut the door, she turned kindly to Peggy. 
 
 " Now, Miss Peggy, love, what will you do ? Miss 
 Earnshaw won't be here till to-morrow. I'll try to 
 be ready so as to take you out this afternoon if it's 
 fine, for it's not a half-holiday. It'd be very dull for 
 you all day alone to-morrow the young gentlemen 
 will be at home as it's Saturday." 
 
 A bright idea struck Peggy. 
 
 " Fanny," she said, " did mamma or nurse say any- 
 thing about soap-bubbles ? " 
 
 Fanny shook her head. 
 
 " No, miss. But I'm sure there'd be no objection 
 to your playing at them if you liked. I can easy get 
 a little basin and some soap and water for you. But 
 have you a pipe ? " 
 
 Peggy shook her head. 
 
 "It isn't for me, Fanny, thank you," she said. 
 " It's for my brothers most. I'd like to make a sur- 
 prise for them while mamma's away." 
 
 " Yes, that would be very nice," said Fanny, who 
 had been charged at all costs to make Peggy happy. 
 " We'll talk about it. But I'd better get on with my 
 work, so as to get out a bit this afternoon." 
 
 " Very well. I'll go up to the nursery," said the 
 little girl. 
 
76 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 The nursery seemed very strange. Peggy had 
 never seen it look quite so empty. Not only were 
 nurse and the little ones gone, but it seemed as if 
 everything belonging to them had gone too, for nurse 
 had sat up late the night before and got up very 
 early this same morning to put everything into 
 perfect order before leaving. The tidiness was quite 
 unnatural. Peggy sat down in a corner and gave a 
 deep sigh. Just then she did not even care to turn 
 to the window, where the sunshine was pouring in 
 brightly, sparkling on the two little scarlet shoes, 
 standing side by side on the sill, where Peggy placed 
 them every fine morning, that they might enjoy the 
 sight of the white cottage on the hill ! 
 
 " I almost wish it was raining," she half whispered 
 to herself, till she remembered how very disagreeable 
 a wet day would have been for mamma and the 
 others to travel on. " I hope it will be a sunny day 
 when they come back," she added, as a sort of 
 make-up for her forgetfulness. 
 
 And then she got up and wandered into the other 
 room. Here one of Hal's old shoes which had fallen 
 out of a bundle of things to be given away which 
 nurse had taken downstairs just before going, was 
 lying on the floor. Peggy stooped and picked it up. 
 How well she knew the look of Hal's shoes ; there 
 was the round bump of his big toe, and the hole at 
 the corner where a bit of his red sock used to peep 
 out! It gave her a strange dreamy feeling as she 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 77 
 
 looked at it. It seemed as if it could not be true 
 that Hallie was far away " far, far away " by this 
 time, thought Peggy, for she always felt as if the 
 moment people were in the railway they were whizzed 
 off hundreds of miles in an instant. She stroked the 
 poor old shoe lovingly and kissed it. I don't think 
 just then she would have parted with it for any- 
 thing ; it would have cost her less to give away the 
 lovely little scarlet ones. 
 
 The thought of the old clothes turned her mind to 
 the children at the back. 
 
 " I wonder if nurse gave them any of Hal's and 
 Baby's old things," she said to herself. 
 
 And she went to the window with a vague idea of 
 looking to see. She had not watched the Smileys or 
 their relations much for some days; she had been 
 busy helping mamma and nurse in various little 
 ways, and her mind had been very full of the going 
 away. She almost felt as if she had neglected her 
 opposite neighbours, though, of course, they knew 
 nothing about it, and she was quite pleased to see 
 them all there as usual, or even more than usual. 
 For it was so fine a day that Reddy and her mother 
 were evidently having a grand turn-out a sort of 
 spring cleaning, I suppose. 
 
 Small pieces of carpet, and one or two mats, much 
 the worse for wear, were hanging out at the open 
 windows. Reddy's head, tied up in a cloth to keep 
 the dust out of her hair, was to be seen every minute 
 
78 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 or two, as she thumped about with a long broom, 
 and Mary-Hann presently appeared with a pail of 
 soapy water which she emptied at a grid in the 
 gutter. Mary-Hann looked rather depressed, but 
 Reddy's spirits were fully equal to the occasion. 
 Had the window been open, Peggy felt sure she 
 would have been able to hear her shouting to her 
 sister to " look sharp," or to " mind what she was 
 about," even more vigorously than usual. 
 
 The rest of the family, excepting, of course, the 
 boys, were assembled on the pavement in front of 
 Mr. Crick the cobbler's shop. He too had opened 
 his window to enjoy the fine day, and in the back- 
 ground he could be dimly seen working, as dingy 
 and leathery as ever. Mrs. Whelan's frilled cap and 
 pipe looked out for a moment and then disappeared 
 again. Apparently just then there was nobody or 
 nothing she could scold. 
 
 For the poor children on the pavement were 
 behaving very quietly. The Smileys had stayed at 
 home from school to mind the babies, with a view 
 to smoothing the way for the spring cleaning, no 
 doubt, and were sitting, each with a child on her 
 lap, in two little old chairs they had carried down. 
 Crippley was rocking herself gently in her chair 
 beside them, and the last baby but two, as Peggy 
 then thought, was on his knees on the ground, 
 amusing himself with two or three oyster shells and 
 a few marbles. All these particulars Peggy, from 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 79 
 
 her high-up nursery window, could not, of course, 
 see clearly, but she saw enough to make her sigh 
 deeply as she thought that after all, the Smileys 
 were much to be envied. 
 
 " I dare say they're telling theirselves stories," she 
 said to herself. " They look so comfable." 
 
 Just then the big baby happened to come more in 
 sight, and she saw that one of the things he was 
 playing with was a little shoe an odd one appar- 
 ently. He had filled it with marbles, and was pull- 
 ing it across the stones. Up jumped Peggy from 
 her seat on the window-sill. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, though there was no one 
 to hear, " it must be the nother shoe of this. What 
 a pity ! They'd do for Tip, and p'raps they've 
 thought there wasn't a nother. How I would like 
 to take it them ! I'll call Fanny and see if she'll 
 run across with it." 
 
 Downstairs she went, calling Fanny from time to 
 time as she journeyed. But no Fanny replied ; she 
 was down in the kitchen, and to the kitchen Peggy 
 knew mamma would not like her to go. She stood 
 at last in the passage wondering what to do, when, 
 glancing round, she noticed that the back-door open- 
 ing into the yard was temptingly open. Peggy 
 peeped out there was no one there, but, still more 
 tempting, the door leading into the small back street 
 the door just opposite the Smiley mansion stood 
 open, wide open too, and even from where she was 
 
80 PEGGY : A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 the little girl could catch sight of the group on the 
 other side of the narrow street. 
 
 She trotted across the yard, and stood for a 
 minute, the shoe in her hand, gazing at the six 
 children. The sound of their voices reached her. 
 
 " Half red is quite took up with his shoe," said 
 Brown Smiley. " I told mother she moight as well 
 give it he a hodd shoe's no good to nobody." 
 
 "'Tis a pity there wasn't the two of 'em," said 
 Crippley, in a thin, rather squeaky voice. " They'd 
 a done bee-yutiful for " 
 
 "For Tip yes, that's what I were thinking," 
 cried an eager little voice. " Here's the other shoe ; 
 I've just founded it." 
 
 And little Peggy, with her neat hair and clean 
 pinafore, stood in the middle of the children holding 
 out Hal's slipper, and smiling at them, like an old 
 friend. 
 
 For a moment or two they were all too astonished 
 to speak ; they could scarcely have stared more had 
 they caught sight of a pair of wings on her shoulders, 
 by means of which she had flown down from the sky. 
 
 Then Light Smiley nudged Crippley, and mur- 
 mured something which Peggy could not clearly 
 .hear, about " th' young lady hopposite." 
 
 " Thank you, miss," then said Crippley, not quite 
 knowing what to say. " Here, Half red, you'll have 
 to find summat else to make a carridge of ; give us 
 the shoe there's a good boy." 
 
T~> 
 
 j~or Tip -Y5, 
 criid 
 shoi ; 
 
 s wnat / Wirj thinking. 
 " 
 
 |oinz\foT , stood in 
 
 hololing out* 
 c^ 
 an old 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 81 
 
 Halfred stopped playing, and still on his knees 
 on the pavement stared up suspiciously at his sister. 
 Brown Smiley, by way of taking part in what was 
 going on, swooped down over him and caught up the 
 shoe before he saw what she was doing, cleverly 
 managing to hold her baby on her knee all the same. 
 
 " 'Ere it be," she said. " Sarah, put Florence on 
 Lizzie's lap for a minute, and run you upstairs with 
 them two shoes to mother. They'll do splendid for 
 Tommy, they will. And thank the young lady." 
 
 Sarah, otherwise Light Smiley, got up obediently, 
 deposited her baby on Crippley's lap and held out 
 her hand to Peggy for the other shoe, bobbing as she 
 did so, with a " Thank you, miss." 
 
 Peggy left off smiling and looked rather puzzled. 
 
 " For Tommy," she repeated. " Who is Tommy ? 
 I thought they'd do for Tip. I " 
 
 It was now the sisters' turn to stare, but they had 
 not much time to do so, for Halfred, who had taken 
 all this time to arrive at the knowledge that his new 
 plaything had been taken from him, suddenly burst 
 into a loud howl so loud, so deliberate and deter- 
 mined, that Peggy stopped short, and all the group 
 seemed for a moment struck dumb. 
 
 Brown Smiley was the first to speak. 
 
 "Come, now, Halfred," she said, "where's your 
 manners ? You'd never stop Tommy having a nice 
 pair o' shoes." 
 
 But Halfred continued to weep he gazed up at 
 
82 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 Peggy, the tears streaming down his smutty face, his 
 mouth wide open, howling hopelessly. 
 
 "Poor little boy," said Peggy, looking ready to 
 cry herself. "I wish I'd a nother old shoe for 
 him." 
 
 " Bless you, miss, he's always a-crying there's 
 no need to worry," said Crippley, whose real name 
 was Lizzie. "Take him in with you, Sarah, and 
 tell mother he's a naughty boy, that's what he is," 
 and Light Smiley picked him up and ran off with 
 him in such a hurry that Peggy stood still repeating 
 " poor little boy " before she knew what had become 
 of him. 
 
 Quiet was restored, however. Peggy, having done 
 what she carne for, should have gone home, but the 
 attractions of society were too much for her. She 
 lingered Crippley pushed Sarah's empty chair 
 towards her. 
 
 " Take a seat, miss," she said. " You'll excuse 
 me not gettin' up. Oust I'm a-sittin' down, it's not 
 so heasy." 
 
 Peggy looked at her with great interest. 
 
 " Does it hurt much ? " she asked. 
 
 Lizzie smiled in a superior way. 
 
 " Bless you," she said again, " hurt's no word for 
 it. It's hall over but it's time I were used to it 
 never mind about me, missy. I'm sure it was most 
 obligin' of you to bring the shoe, but won't your 
 mamma and your nurse scold you ? " 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 83 
 
 " My mamma's gone away, and so has my nurse," 
 said Peggy. " I'm all alone." 
 
 All the eyes looked up with sympathy. 
 
 " Deary me, who'd a thought it ? " said Brown 
 Smiley. " But there must be somebody to do for 
 you, miss." 
 
 " To what ? " asked Peggy. " Of course there's 
 cook, and Fanny, and my brothers, and my papa when 
 he comes home." 
 
 Brown Smiley looked relieved. She was only a 
 very little girl, not more than three years older than 
 Peggy herself, though she seemed so much more, and 
 she had really thought that the little visitor meant to 
 say she was quite, quite by herself. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, " that's not being real alone." 
 
 " But it is," persisted Peggy. " It is very alone, I 
 can tell you. I've nobody to play with, and nothing 
 to do 'cept to look out of the window at you playing, 
 and at the nother window at " 
 
 " The winder to the front," said Lizzie, eagerly. 
 "It must be splendid at your front, miss. Father 
 told me onst you could see the 'ills ever so far right 
 away in Brackenshire. Some day if I could but get 
 along a bit better I'd like fine to go round to your 
 front, miss. I've never seed a 'ill." 
 
 Lizzie was quite out of breath with excitement. 
 Peggy answered eagerly. 
 
 " Oh I do wish you could come to our day nursery 
 window. When it's fine you can see the mountings 
 
84 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 that's old, no, big hills, you know. And on one 
 of them you can see a white cottage ; it does so 
 shine in the sun." 
 
 " Bless me," said Lizzie, and both the Smileys, 
 for Sarah had come back by now, stood listening with 
 open mouths. 
 
 " Father's from Brackenshire," said Light Smiley, 
 whose real name was Sarah. She spoke rather 
 timidly, for she was well kept in her place by her 
 four elder sisters. For a wonder they did not snub 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, he be," added Matilda, " and he's told us it's 
 bee-yutiful over there. He lived in a cottage, he did, 
 when he were a little lad." 
 
 " Mebbe 'tis father's cottage miss sees shining," 
 ventured Sarah. But this time she was not so lucky. 
 
 " Rubbish, Sarah," said Lizzie. " There's more'n 
 one cottage in Brackenshire." 
 
 " And there's a mamma and a baby and a papa 
 who goes to work, in my cottage," said Peggy. " So 
 I don't think it could be " but here she grew 
 confused, remembering that all about the white 
 cottage was only fancy, and that besides the Smileys' 
 father might have lived there long ago. She got 
 rather red, feeling somehow as if it was not very kind 
 of her not to like the idea of its being his cottage. 
 She had seen him once or twice ; he looked big and 
 rough, and his clothes were old she could not fancy 
 him ever having lived in her dainty white house. 
 
FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 85 
 
 Just then came a loud voice from the upper story, 
 demanding Sarah. 
 
 " 'Tis Mother Whelan," said Brown Smiley, start- 
 ing up. " Rebecca said as how I was to run of an 
 errant for her. It's time I were off." 
 
 Peggy turned to go. 
 
 " I must go home," she said. " P'raps I'll come 
 again some day. If mamma was at home I'd ask 
 her if you mightn't come to look out of the nursery 
 window," she added, turning to Lizzie. 
 
 " Bless you," said the poor girl, " I'd never get up 
 the stairs ; thank you all the same." 
 
 And with a deep sigh of regret at having to leave 
 such pleasant company, Peggy ran across the street 
 home. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A BUN TO THE GOOD. 
 
 " The little gift from out our store." 
 
 THE yard door was still open ; so was the house 
 door. Peggy met no one as she ran in. 
 
 "Fanny's upstairs, p'raps," she said to herself. 
 But no, she saw nothing of Fanny either on the way 
 up or in the nursery. She did not feel dull or lonely 
 now, however. She went to the back window and 
 stood there for a minute looking at Crippley and 
 Light Smiley, who were still there with the two babies. 
 How funny it seemed that just a moment or two ago 
 she had been down there actually talking to them ! 
 She could scarcely believe they were the very same 
 children whom for so long she had known by -sight. 
 
 " I am so glad I found the shoe," thought Peggy. 
 " I wish, oh I do wish I could have a tea-party, and 
 'avite them all to tea. I dare say the father could 
 carry Crippley upstairs he's a very big man." 
 
 The thought of the father carried her thoughts 
 to Brackenshire and the cottage on the hill, and she 
 went into the day-nursery to look if the white spot 
 was still to be seen. Yes, it was very bright and 
 
 86 
 
A BUN TO THE GOOD. 87 
 
 clear in the sunshine. Peggy gazed at it while a 
 smile broke over her grave little face. 
 
 " How I do wish I could go there," she thought. 
 " I wonder if the Smileys' father 'am embers about 
 when he was a little boy, quite well. If he wasn't 
 such a 'nugly man we might ask him to tell us 
 stories about it." 
 
 Then she caught sight of the little scarlet shoes 
 patiently standing on the window-sill. 
 
 " Dear little shoes," she said, " Peggy was neely 
 forgetting you," and she took them up and kissed 
 them. " Next time I go to see the Smileys," she 
 thought, "I'll take the red shoes with me to show 
 them. They will be pleased." 
 
 Then she got out her work and sat down to do it, 
 placing her chair where she could see the hills from, 
 the little shoes in her lap, feeling quite happy and 
 contented. It seemed but a little while till Fanny 
 came up to lay the cloth for Peggy's dinner. She 
 had been working extra hard that morning, so as to 
 be ready for the afternoon, and perhaps her head was 
 a little confused. And so when Peggy began telling 
 her her adventures she did not listen attentively, 
 and answered "yes" and "no" without really 
 knowing what she was saying. 
 
 "And so when I couldn't find you, Fanny, I just 
 runned over with the 'nother shoe myself. And the 
 poor little boy what was playing with the the not 
 the 'nother one, you know, did so cry, but I think 
 
88 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 he soon left off. And some day I'm going to ask 
 mamma to let me 'avite them all to tea, for them to 
 see the hills, and " but here Peggy stopped, " the 
 hills, you know, out of the window." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; very nice," said Fanny. " You've 
 been a good little girl to amuse yourself so quietly 
 all the morning and give no trouble. I do wonder 
 if the washerwoman knows to come for the nursery 
 things, or if I must send," she went on, speaking, 
 though aloud, to herself. 
 
 So Peggy felt perfectly happy about all she had 
 done, not indeed that she had had the slightest mis- 
 giving. 
 
 The afternoon passed very pleasantly. It was 
 quite a treat to Peggy to go a walk in a grown- 
 up sort of way with Fanny, trotting by her side and 
 talking comfortably, instead of having to take Hal's 
 hand and lugging him along to keep well in front of 
 the perambulator. They went up the Fernley Road 
 a good way, farther than Peggy had ever been 
 so far indeed that she could scarcely understand how 
 it was the hills did not seem much nearer than from 
 the nursery window, but when she asked Fanny, 
 Fanny said it was often so with hills " nothing is 
 more undependable." Peggy did not quite under- 
 stand her, but put it away in her head to think 
 about afterwards. 
 
 And when they came home it was nearly tea- 
 time. Peggy felt quite comfortably tired when she 
 
A BUN TO THE GOOD. 89 
 
 had taken off her things and began to help Fanny to 
 get tea ready for the boys, and when they arrived, 
 all three very hungry and rather low-spirited at the 
 thought of mamma and nurse being away, it was 
 very nice for them to find the nursery quite as tidy as 
 usual indeed, perhaps, rather tidier and Peggy, 
 with a bright face, waiting with great pride to pour 
 out tea for them. 
 
 "I think you're a very good housekeeper, Peg," 
 said Terence, who was always the first to say some- 
 thing pleasant. 
 
 " Not so bad," agreed Thorold, patronisingly. 
 
 Baldwin sat still, looking before him solemnly, 
 and considering his words, as was his way before he 
 said anything. 
 
 "I think," he began at last, "I think that when 
 I'm a big man I'll live in a cottage all alone with 
 Peggy, and not no one else." 
 
 Peggy turned to him with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " A white cottage, Baldwin dear ; do say a white 
 cottage," she entreated. 
 
 " I don't mind a white cottage, but quite a tiny 
 one," he replied. 
 
 " Hum ! " said Thor, " that's very good-natured, I 
 must say. There'll be no room for visitors, do you 
 hear, Terry ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; p'raps there will sometimes," said Peggy. 
 
 " You'll let your poor old Terry come, won't you, 
 Peg-top ? " said Terence, coaxingly. 
 
90 PEGGY: A NURSEEY STORY. 
 
 "Dear Terry," said Peggy. 
 
 " Haven't you been very dull all day alone, by 
 the bye?" Terence went on. 
 
 " Not very," Peggy replied. " Fanny took me a 
 nice walk, and this morning " But she stopped 
 short before telling more. She was afraid that 
 Thorold would laugh at her if she said how much 
 she liked the children at the back, and then she 
 had another reason. She wanted to " surprise " her 
 brothers with a present of pipes for soap-bubbles, 
 and very likely if she began talking about the back 
 street at all it would make them think of Mrs. 
 Whelan's, and then they might think of the pipes 
 for themselves, which Peggy did not wish at all. 
 She felt quite big and managing since she had paid 
 a visit to the Smileys, and had a plan for going to 
 buy the pipes " all by my own self." 
 
 " To-morrow," said Thorold, " there's to be a party 
 at our school. We're all three to go." 
 
 Peggy's face fell. 
 
 " It's Saturday," she said. " I thought you'd have 
 stayed with me." 
 
 Terence and Baldwin looked sorry. 
 
 " Til stay at home," said Terry. 
 
 "No," said Thor, "I really don't think you can. 
 They're counting on you for some of the games. Peg 
 won't mind much for once, will you ? I'm sorry too." 
 
 But before Peggy had time to reply, Baldwin 
 broke in. 
 
A BUN TO THE GOOD. 91 
 
 "I'll stay at home with Peg-top," he said, in his 
 slow, distinct way. "It won't matter for me not 
 going. I'm one of the little ones." 
 
 "And we'll go a nice walk, won't we, Baldwin?" 
 said Peggy, quite happy again. " And I dare say we 
 may have something nice for tea. I'll ask papa," 
 she added to herself. " I'm sure he'll give me some 
 pennies when he hears how good Baldwin is." 
 
 Miss Earnshaw came the next morning, and in 
 the interest of being measured for her new spring 
 frock, and watching it being cut out, and considering 
 what she herself could make with the scraps which 
 the young dressmaker gave her, the time passed very 
 pleasantly for Peggy. 
 
 Miss Earnshaw admired the red shoes very much, 
 and was interested to hear the story of the unknown 
 lady w r ho had given them to Peggy? and told a story 
 of a similar adventure of her own when she was a 
 little girl. And after dinner she, for Fanny was 
 very busy, took Peggy and Baldwin out for a walk, 
 and on their way home they went to the confec- 
 tioner's and bought six halfpenny buns with the 
 three pennies papa had given Peggy that morning. 
 At least the children thought there were only six, 
 but greatly to their surprise, when they undid the 
 parcel on the nursery table, out rolled seven ! 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Peggy, " she's gave us one too 
 many. Must we go back to the shop with it, do you 
 think, Miss Earnshaw ? It's such a long way." 
 
92 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " I'll go," said Baldwin, beginning to fasten his 
 boots again. 
 
 But Miss Earnshaw assured them it was all right. 
 
 " You always get thirteen of any penny buns or 
 cakes for a shilling," she said ; " and some shops will 
 give you seven halfpenny ones for threepence. That's 
 how it is. Did you never hear speak of a baker's 
 dozen?" 
 
 Still Peggy did not feel satisfied. 
 
 " It isn't comfable," she said, giving herself a little 
 wriggle a trick of hers when she was put out. 
 " Six would have been much nicer just two for 
 each," for Miss Earnshaw was to have tea with her 
 and Baldwin. 
 
 The young dressmaker smiled. 
 
 " You are funny, Miss Peggy," she said. " Well, 
 run off now and get ready for tea. We'll have Fanny 
 bringing it up in a minute." 
 
 Peggy, the seventh bun still much on her mind, 
 went slowly into the night nursery. Before begin- 
 ning to take off her hat she strolled to the window 
 and looked out. She had seen none of the children 
 to-day. Now, Brown Smiley was standing just in 
 front of the house, a basket on her arm, staring up 
 and down the street. She had been " of an errant " 
 for Mrs. Whelan, but Mrs. Whelan's door was 
 locked; she was either asleep or counting her money, 
 and the little girl knew that if she went on knocking 
 the old woman would get into a rage, so she was 
 
1 
 
 A canT km.LrvvG?T your 
 
 Vou. 
 ski ktldL out fki bun. 
 
 Brown 
 
 ov^r. 
 
 44 Lor', miss/'iht 
 
 kind, to 
 rvh i gi'vi if To Li z 
 
 5uo(clLV\(y <x winc/ovA/ 
 inLol, <>rtct 
 birilUd fesc 
 
 7l\{.n,an.d mi firi l?uri-\mcf 
 \hi\f Away, and mt 
 -fot 
 cxd? \A/Kx.fs 
 
 t"o i 5 o you 
 Oo novns. , missy t 
 
A BUK TO THE GOOD. 93 
 
 " waitin' a bit." She liked better to do her waiting 
 in the street, for she had been busy indoors all the 
 morning, and it was a change to stand there looking 
 about her. 
 
 Peggy gazed at her for a moment or two. Then 
 an idea struck her. She ran back into the nursery 
 and seized a bun the odd bun. 
 
 " They're all mine, you know," she called out to 
 Baldwin ; " but we'll have two each still." 
 
 Baldwin looked up in surprise. " What are you 
 going to do with it?" he began to say, but Peggy 
 was out of sight. 
 
 She was soon downstairs, and easily opened the 
 back door. But the yard door was fastened; she 
 found some difficulty in turning the big key. She 
 managed it at last, however, and saw to her delight 
 that Brown Smiley was still there. 
 
 " Brown," began Peggy, but suddenly recollecting 
 that the Smileys had real names, she stopped short, 
 and ran across the street. " I can't 'amember your 
 name," she exclaimed, breathlessly, " but I've brought 
 you this," and she held out the bun. 
 
 Brown Smiley's face smiled all over. 
 
 " Lor', miss," she exclaimed. " You are kind, to 
 be sure. Mayn't I give it to Lizzie? She's been 
 very bad to-day, and she's eat next to nought. This 
 'ere'll be tasty-like." 
 
 " Lizzie," repeated Peggy, " which is Lizzie ? Oh 
 yes, I know, it's Crippley." 
 
94 PEGGY: A NUBSERY STORY. 
 
 Brown Smiley looked rather hurt. 
 
 " It's not her fault, miss," she said. " I'd not like 
 her to hear herself called like that." 
 
 Peggy's face showed extreme surprise. 
 
 " How do you mean ? " she said. " I've made 
 names for you all. I didn't know your real ones." 
 
 Brown Smiley looked at her and saw in a moment 
 that there was nothing to be vexed about. 
 
 " To be sure, miss. Beg your pardon. Well, she 
 that's lame's Lizzie, and me, I'm Matilda-Jane." 
 
 " Oh yes," interrupted Peggy. " Well, you may 
 give her the bun if you like. It's .very kind of you, 
 for I meant it for you. I'd like " she went on, 
 " I'd like to give you more, but you see papa gaved 
 me the pennies for us, and p'raps he'd be vexed." 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure, that'd never do," replied 
 Matilda, quickly. " But oh, miss, we've been asking 
 father about Brackenshire, and the cottages. 'Tis 
 Brackenshire 'ills, sure enough, that's seen from your 
 front." 
 
 " I knew that," said Peggy, in a superior way. 
 
 But Brown Smiley was too eager to feel herself 
 snubbed. 
 
 " And oh, but he says it is bee-yutiful there over 
 on the 'ills. The air's that fresh, and there's flowers 
 and big-leaved things as they calls ferns and brackens." 
 
 " And white cottages ? " asked Peggy, anxiously. 
 
 " There's cottages I didn't think for to ask if 
 they was all white. My ! If we could but go there 
 
A BUK TO THE GOOD. 95 
 
 some fine day. Father says it's not so far ; many's 
 the time he's walked over there and back again the 
 next morning when he first corned to work here, you 
 see, miss, and his 'ome was still over there like." 
 
 " Yes, in the white cottage," said Peggy. She had 
 made up her mind that it was unkind not to " let it 
 be " that the Smileys' father had lived in that very 
 cottage, for he did seem to be a nice man in spite of 
 his bigness and his dingy workman's clothes. If he 
 wasn't nice and kind she didn't think the children 
 would talk of him as they did. 
 
 But she spoke absently ; Matilda-Jane's words had 
 put thoughts in her head which seemed to make her 
 almost giddy. Brown Smiley stared at her for a 
 minute. 
 
 " How she do cling to them cottages being white," 
 she thought to herself, "but there if it pleases her! 
 She's but a little one." "White if you please, miss," 
 she replied, "though I can't say as I had it from 
 father." 
 
 But suddenly a window above opened, and Mother 
 Whelan's befrilled face was thrust out. 
 
 " What are ye about there then, and me fire burn- 
 ing itself away, and me tea ready, waiting for the 
 bread? What's the young lady chatterin' to the 
 likes o' you for? Go home, missy, darlin', go 
 home." 
 
 The two children jumped as if they had been 
 shot. 
 
96 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " Will she beat you ? " whispered Peggy, looking 
 very frightened. But Brown Smiley shook her little 
 round head and laughed. 
 
 "She won't have a chance, and she dursn't not 
 to say beat us father'd be down on her but she 
 doesn't think nought of a good shakin'. But I'll 
 push the basket in and run off if she's in a real 
 wax." 
 
 " Good-bye, then. You must tell me lots more 
 about the hills. Ask your father all you can," and 
 so saying, Peggy flew home again. 
 
 " Where've you been, what did you do with the 
 bun ? " asked Baldwin, as soon as she came into the 
 nursery. 
 
 " I runned down with it, and gaved it to a little 
 girl I saw in the street," said Peggy. 
 
 " Very kind and nice, I'm sure," said Miss Earn- 
 shaw. u Was it a beggar, Miss Peggy ? You're sure 
 your mamma and nurse wouldn't mind?" she added, 
 rather anxiously. 
 
 " Oh no," said Peggy. " It's not a beggar. It's a 
 proper little poor girl what nurse gives our nold 
 clothes to." 
 
 " Oh," said Baldwin, " one of the children over 
 the cobbler's, I suppose. But, Peggy," he was going 
 on to say he didn't think his sister had ever been 
 allowed to run down to the back street to speak to 
 them, only he was so slow and so long of making up 
 his mind that, as Fanny just then came in with the 
 
A BUN TO THE GOOD. 97 
 
 tea, which made a little bustle, nobody attended to 
 him, and Miss Earnshaw remained quite satisfied 
 that all was right. 
 
 The buns tasted very good all the better to 
 Peggy from the feeling that poor lame Lizzie was 
 perhaps eating hers at that same moment, and find- 
 ing it "tasty." 
 
 "Does lame people ever get quite better?" she 
 asked the young dressmaker. 
 
 " That depends," Miss Earnshaw replied. " If it's 
 through a fall or something that way, outside of 
 them so to say, there's many as gets better. But if 
 it's in them, in the constitution, there's many as stays 
 lame all their lives through." 
 
 Peggy wriggled a little. She didn't like to think 
 about it much. It sounded so mysterious. 
 
 " What part's that ? " she asked ; that big word." 
 
 " Constitootion," said Baldwin, as if he was trying 
 to spell " Constantinople." 
 
 Miss Earnshaw laughed. She lived alone with her 
 mother, and was not much used to children. But 
 she was so pleasant-tempered and gentle that she 
 easily got into their ways. 
 
 " I shouldn't use such long words," she said. "Our 
 constitution just means ourselves the way we're 
 made. A strong, healthy person is said to have a good 
 constitution, and a weakly person has a poor one." 
 
 Baldwin and Peggy both sat silent* for a minute, 
 thinking over what she said. 
 
98 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " I don't see how that's to d.o with crippling," said 
 Peggy at last. "Does you mean," she went on, 
 " that p'raps lame people's legs is made wrong by 
 mistake, you know. In course God wouldn't do it of 
 purpose, would he ? " 
 
 Baldwin looked rather startled. 
 
 " Peggy," he said, " I don't think you should speak 
 that way." 
 
 Peggy turned her gray eyes full upon him. 
 
 " I don't mean to say anything naughty," she said. 
 "/s it naughty, Miss Earnshaw ? " 
 
 The young dressmaker had herself been rather 
 taken aback by Peggy's queer speech, and for a 
 moment or two scarcely knew what to say. But 
 then her face cleared again. 
 
 " God can't make mistakes, Miss Peggy," she said, 
 " and He is always kind. All the same there's many 
 things that seem like one or the other, I know. It 
 must be that there's reasons for them that we can't 
 see like when a doctor hurts anybody, it seems 
 unkind, but it's really to do them good." 
 
 " Like when our doctor cutted poor Baby's tooths 
 to make them come through," said Peggy, eagerly. 
 u They was all bleeding, bleeding ever so, Miss Earn- 
 shaw. Baby didn't understand, and he was very 
 angry. He always sc'eams at the doctor now. I 
 almost think he'd like to kill him." 
 
 Baldwin opened his mouth wide at these blood- 
 thirsty sentiments of Baby's. He was too shocked 
 to speak. 
 
A BUN TO THE GOOD. 99 
 
 " But it is only 'cos he doesn't understand," 
 Peggy went on, placidly. " I don't sc'eam at the 
 doctor. I speak to him quite goodly, 'cos, you see, 
 /understand." 
 
 Baldwin closed his mouth again. He looked at 
 Peggy with admiring respect. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Miss Earnshaw, greatly relieved at 
 the turn their talk had taken, " that's just it, Miss 
 Peggy. You couldn't have put it better." 
 - " Peggy," said Baldwin, " when you're big you 
 should be a clergymunt." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 
 
 " As I was going up Pippin Hill, 
 Pippin Hill was dirty, 
 There I met a pretty miss, 
 And she dropped me a curtsey." 
 
 OLD NURSERY RHYME. 
 
 NOTHING particular happened during the next few 
 days. Peggy's little life went on regularly and 
 peacefully. Miss Earnshaw came every morning, 
 and either she or Fanny took Peggy a walk every 
 afternoon, except twice when it rained, to the little 
 girl's great disappointment. 
 
 The second of these wet days happened to be 
 Friday. Peggy stood at the front nursery window 
 that morning looking out rather sadly. There were 
 no hills no white spot to be seen, of course. 
 
 " I wonder what the Smileys do when it rains all 
 day," she said to herself. " I think I'll go to the 
 back window and look if I can see any of them." 
 
 She had scarcely caught sight of her neighbours 
 for some days. Only now and then she had seen 
 the little ones tumbling about on the pavement, and 
 once or twice the elder girls had brought their chairs 
 down and sat there sewing. Lizzie had never come 
 
 100 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 101 
 
 out. Peggy feared she must be still ill, and perhaps 
 that made the others extra busy. It was not likely 
 any of them would come out to-day, as it was rain- 
 ing so ; but sometimes she was able to see their faces 
 at the window. And on a rainy day some of the 
 little ones at least would perhaps be looking out. 
 
 She turned to go to the other nursery when Miss 
 Earnshaw spoke to her. 
 
 " I wouldn't be so vexed at its being wet to-day, 
 Miss Peggy, if I was you," she said. " It'll be much 
 worse if it's wet to-morrow, for it's your brothers' 
 half-holiday." 
 
 " Is to-morrow Saturday ? " asked Peggy. 
 
 " To be sure it is. And I'm afraid I can't possibly 
 stay here in the afternoon. I've got to go to see a 
 lady some way off about some work. I wish bhe 
 hadn't fixed for Saturday. If it's fine it won't matter 
 so much. Fanny and I were saying you could all 
 go a nice walk the young gentlemen and you, 
 with her. But if it's wet I don't know however 
 she'll manage you all in the house." 
 
 Suddenly Peggy's eyes began to sparkle. 
 
 " Miss Earnshaw," she said, " I've thought of 
 something. If you'll ask Fanny, I'm sure she'll say 
 we can ; we've not had them for such a long time, 
 and I've got my four pennies and a halfpenny 
 that'll get six, you know, in case any's brokened." 
 
 Miss Earnshaw looked at her and then began to 
 laugh. 
 
102 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " Miss Peggy dear, you must tell me first what 
 you mean," she said. " Your thoughts come so fast 
 that they run ahead of your words. What is it you 
 mean to get six of not buns ? " 
 
 " Buns ! " repeated Peggy. " You can't blow 
 bubbles with buns. No, of course I meant pipes. 
 Nice white pipes to blow soap-bubbles." 
 
 " Oh, to be sure," said Miss Earnshaw. " That's 
 a very good idea, Miss Peggy, in case to-morrow 
 afternoon's wet, and I shouldn't wonder if it was." 
 
 " And you'll ask Fanny ? " 
 
 " Of course ; you can ask her yourself for that 
 matter. I'm sure she's the last to grudge you any- 
 thing that'd please you and the young gentlemen. 
 And even if soap-bubbles are rather messy sometimes, 
 it's easy to wipe up. It's not like anything dirty." 
 
 " Soap must be clean, mustn't it ? " said Peggy, 
 laughing. " But don't tell the boys, pelease, dear 
 Miss Earnshaw. I do so want to 'apprise them. I 
 can get the pipes to-morrow morning. I know where 
 to get them," and quite happy, Peggy trotted off to 
 take out her money-box and look to be quite sure 
 that the three pennies and three halfpennies were 
 there in safety, where for some weeks they had been 
 waiting. 
 
 " Bless her heart," said the young dressmaker. 
 " She is the sweetest little innocent darling that ever 
 lived." 
 
 After looking over her pennies Peggy turned to 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 103 
 
 the window. No, none of the Smileys were to be 
 seen. 
 
 " Never mind," said Peggy to herself. " I'll p'raps 
 see them to-morrow when I go for the pipes. I al- 
 most hope it'll be a wet day. It will be so nice to 
 blow soap-bubbles. Only," and she sighed a little, 
 " it does seem such a very long time since I sawed 
 the white cottage." 
 
 To-morrow was rainy, very rainy, with no look of 
 " going to clear up " about it. The boys grumbled a 
 good deal at breakfast at the doleful prospect of 
 a dull half-holiday in the house. 
 
 " And papa's going away to-day till Monday," 
 said Thorold; "so there'll be no going down to the 
 dining-room to sit beside him while he's at dinner 
 for a change." 
 
 " Poor papa," said Peggy, " he'll get very wet 
 going such a long way." 
 
 " Nonsense, you little goose," said Thor, crossly. 
 " People don't get wet in cabs and railway carriages." 
 
 " I forgot," said Peggy, meekly. 
 
 " You shouldn't call her a goose, Thor," said 
 Terence. "It's very disagreeable to travel on a 
 very rainy day. I've often heard people say so." 
 
 " I wish I was going to travel, rainy or not, I know 
 that," grumbled Thorold. "Here we shall be mewed 
 up in this stupid nursery all the afternoon with noth- 
 ing to do." 
 
 " There's lots of things to do," said Baldwin. " I 
 
104 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 think I'll write a letter to mamma for one thing. 
 And I want to tidy my treasure-box and " 
 
 " You're a stupid," said Thorold. " You're too fat 
 and slow to have any spirit in you." 
 
 " Now, Thorold, I say that's not fair," said Terry. 
 " Would it show spirit to grumble ? You'd be down 
 upon him if he did. There's no pleasing you." 
 
 " / know something that would please him," said 
 Peggy, who was trembling between eagerness to tell 
 and determination not to tell her "surprise." 
 
 " What?" said Thor, rather grumpily still. 
 
 "I'm not going to tell you till you come home. 
 And it'll only be if it's a rainy afternoon," said 
 Peggy. 
 
 Terence and Baldwin pricked up their ears. 
 
 " Oh, do tell us, Peg-top," they said. 
 
 But the little girl shook her head. 
 
 " No, no," she replied. " I've promised myself 
 quite promised not." 
 
 " There's a reason for you," said Thor. But his 
 tone was more good-natured now. He felt ashamed 
 of being so cross when the little ones were so kind 
 and bright. 
 
 "I'll really, truly tell you when you come back 
 from school," said Peggy, and with this assurance the 
 boys had to content themselves. 
 
 Miss Earnshaw arrived as usual, or rather not as 
 usual, for she was dripping, poor thing, and had to 
 leave her waterproof downstairs in the kitchen, 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBKELLA. 105 
 
 " What weather, Miss Peggy," she said, as she 
 came in. " I thought it would be a wet day, but not 
 such a pour. It is unfortunate that I have to go so 
 far to-day, isn't it? And I'm sorry to leave you 
 children alone too." 
 
 " Never mind," said Peggy, cheerily ; " we'll be 
 quite happy with the soap-bubbles. I've got my 
 money quite ready. Mayn't I go and get the pipes 
 now?" 
 
 " Out, my dear? In such weather!" exclaimed 
 Miss Earnshaw. 
 
 " Oh, but it's quite near," said Peggy. " Just hop 
 out of the door and you're there. The boys always 
 buy their pipes there, and mamma goes there herself 
 sometimes to see the old woman." 
 
 " Well, wait a bit, anyway. It can't go on raining 
 as fast as this all the morning surely. It's real cats 
 and dogs." 
 
 Peggy looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Cats and dogs, Miss Earnshaw ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Oh, bless you, my dear, it's only a way of speak- 
 ing," said the dressmaker, a little impatiently, for she 
 was not very much accustomed to children. "It 
 just means raining very hard." 
 
 Peggy went to the window to look out for herself. 
 Yes indeed it was raining very hard. The little girl 
 could not help sighing a little as she gazed at the 
 thick even gray of the clouds, hiding like a curtain 
 every trace of the distant hills she was so fond of. 
 
106 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 u I won't put out the little red shoes to-day," she 
 said to herself, " there's nothing for them to see." 
 
 Then other thoughts crept into her mind. 
 
 " I wonder if it's raining at the white cottage 
 too," she said to herself. And aloud she asked a 
 question. 
 
 " Miss Earnshaw, pelease, does it ever rain in the 
 country ? " she said. 
 
 " Rain in the country ! I should rather think it did. 
 Worse than in town, you might say that's to say, 
 where there's less shelter, you'll get wetter and dirtier 
 in the country, only of course it's not the same kind 
 of really black sooty rain. But as for mud in coun- 
 try lanes ! 1 shall see something of it this afternoon, 
 I expect." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry," said Peggy. " I thought it 
 never rained in the country. I thought it was 
 always quite pretty and lovely," and she sighed 
 deeply. " I wonder what people who live in little 
 cottages in the country do all day when it rains," she 
 said. 
 
 " Why, my dear, much the same as other folk, I 
 should say. They have their rooms to clean, and 
 their dinner to cook, and their children to look after. 
 Still I dare say it'd be a bit drearier in the country 
 of a right-down wet day like this, even than in town. 
 I've never lived there myself, except for a week at a 
 time at most, but mother was all her young days in 
 the country." 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 107 
 
 " Everybody's fathers and mothers lived there," 
 said Peggy, rather petulantly. " Why don't peoples 
 let their children live there now ? " 
 
 Miss Earnshaw laughed a little. Peggy did not 
 like her to laugh in that way, and she gave herself a 
 little wriggle, though poor Miss Earnshaw certainly 
 did not mean to vex her. 
 
 " There are plenty of children in the country too, 
 Miss Peggy," she said. "Mother's youngest sister 
 has twelve." 
 
 " Twelve," repeated Peggy, " how nice ! at least if 
 there's lots of sisters among them, and no very little 
 babies. Do they live over in that country?" she 
 went on, pointing in the direction of the invisible 
 hills, " that country called Brack You know the 
 name." 
 
 " Brackenshire," said Miss Earnshaw, "no, my 
 mother comes from much farther off. A very pretty 
 place it must be by what she says. Not but what 
 Brackenshire's a pretty country too. I've been there 
 several times with the Sunday school for a treat." 
 
 " And did you see the hills and the white cot- 
 tages ? " asked Peggy breathlessly. 
 
 " Oh yes, the hills are beautiful, and there's lots of 
 cottages of all kinds. They look pretty among the 
 trees, even though they're only poor little places, 
 most of them." 
 
 " The white ones is the prettiest," said Peggy, as 
 if she knew all about it. 
 
108 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say," said Miss Earnshaw, without 
 paying much attention ; she had got to rather a diffi- 
 cult part of the sleeve she was making. 
 
 " Did you ever walk all the way there when you 
 was a little girl ? " Peggy went on. 
 
 " Oh yes, of course," Miss Earnshaw replied, with- 
 out the least idea of what she was answering. 
 
 " Really ! " said Peggy, " how nice ! " Then seeing 
 that the dressmaker was absorbed in her work : " Miss 
 Earnshaw," she said, " I'm going for the pipes now. 
 It isn't raining quite so fast, and I'll not be long." 
 
 "Very well, my dear," Miss Earnshaw replied, 
 and Peggy went off to fetch her pennies from the 
 drawer in the other nursery where she kept them. 
 She had a new idea in her head, an idea which Miss 
 Earnshaw's careless words had helped to put there, 
 little as she knew it. 
 
 " If I see the Smileys," thought Peggy, " I'll tell 
 them what she said." 
 
 She glanced out of the window, dear me, how 
 lucky ! There stood Brown Smiley looking out at 
 the door, as if she were hesitating before making a 
 plunge into the dripping wet street. It did seem at 
 the back as if it were raining faster than in front. 
 Peggy opened the cupboard and took out her little 
 cloak which was hanging there. 
 
 " I won't put on my hat," she thought, " 'cos nurse 
 says the rain spoils the f eavers. I'll get a numbrella 
 downstairs, and then I can't get wet, and here's my 
 
UNDEK THE BIG UMBRELLA. 109 
 
 pennies all right in my pocket. I do hope Brown 
 Smiley will wait till I get down."- 
 
 She made all the haste she could, and found, as 
 she expected, an umbrella in the stand downstairs. 
 It was not very easy to open, but she succeeded at 
 last, then came, however, another difficulty, she could 
 not get herself and the umbrella through the back 
 door together. 
 
 " Dear me," thought Peggy, " I wonder how peo- 
 ple does with their n umbrellas. They must open 
 them in the house, else they'd get wet standing out- 
 side while they're doing it. I never looked to see 
 how nurse does, but then we almost never go out 
 when it's rainy. I 'appose it's one of the hard things 
 big peoples has to learn. Oh, dear ! won't it come 
 through?" 
 
 No, she couldn't manage it, at least not with her- 
 self under it. At last a brilliant idea struck Peggy ; 
 anything was better than closing the tiresome thing 
 now she had got it opened she would send it first 
 and follow after herself. So the umbrella was 
 passed through, and went slipping down the two 
 or three steps that led into the yard, where it lay 
 gaping up reproachfully at Peggy, who felt inclined 
 to call out " Never mind, poor thing, I'm coming 
 d'reckly." 
 
 And as " d'reckly " as possible she did come, care- 
 fully closing the door behind her, for fear the rain 
 should get into the house, which, together with the 
 
110 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 picking up of the umbrella, far too big and heavy 
 a one for a tiny girl, took so long that I am afraid 
 a good many drops had time to fall on the fail- 
 uncovered head before it got under shelter again. 
 
 But little cared Peggy. She felt as proud as 
 a peacock, the umbrella representing the tail, you 
 understand, when she found herself outside the yard 
 door, which behaved very amiably, fairly under 
 weigh for her voyage across the street. She could 
 see nothing before her; fortunately, however, no 
 carriages or carts ever came down the narrow back 
 way. 
 
 Half-way over Peggy stopped short she had 
 forgotten to look if Brown Smiley was still standing 
 there. It was not easy to get a peep from under 
 the umbrella, without tilting it and herself back- 
 wards on to the muddy road, but with great care 
 Peggy managed it. Ah dear, what a disappoint- 
 ment ! There was no little girl in front of the 
 cobbler's window, but glancing to one side, Peggy 
 caught sight of the small figure with a shawl of 
 " mother's " quaintly drawn over the head, trotting 
 away down the street. With a cry Peggy dashed 
 after her. 
 
 " Oh, Brown Smiley," she called out, " do come 
 back. I'm too frightened to go to buy the pipes 
 alone," for what with her struggles and her excite- 
 ment, the little damsel's nerves were rather upset. 
 " Oh, Brown Smiley no no, that's not her 
 
An 
 
 lling ifs^lf <*kouton tru 
 from which 
 
 bihous wails, an umbr^i/f^ frovvi 
 tK v\;hch, wkm you ^t closi to if, y 
 
 su touo litHi -faf 
 
 by 
 
 out, 2s,na 
 two 
 
 , 
 
 mudtdii of 5hoT^ 
 
 1 should 
 
 m 5uxh c 
 
 CLft^inly 
 bi C^IUd 
 
 it not 2 " ' 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. Ill 
 
 name, oh what is your name, Brown Smiley ? " and 
 on along the rough pavement behind the little 
 messenger she rushed, if indeed poor Peggy's 
 toddling, flopping from one side to another progress, 
 could possibly be called " rushing." 
 
 It came to an end quickly the paving-stones 
 were rough and uneven, the small feet had only " my 
 noldest house-shoes " to protect them, and the " num- 
 brella " was sadly in the way ; there came suddenly 
 a sharp cry, so piercing and distressful that even 
 Matilda-Jane, accustomed as she was to childish 
 sounds of woe of every kind and pitch, was startled 
 enough to turn round and look behind her. 
 
 " Can it be Halfred come a-runnin' after me ? " 
 she said to herself. But the sight that met her eyes 
 puzzled her so, that at the risk of Mother Whelan's 
 scoldings for being so long, she could not resist 
 running back to examine for herself the strange 
 object. This was nothing more nor less than an 
 umbrella, and an umbrella in itself is not an un- 
 common sight. But an umbrella rolling itself about 
 on the pavement, an umbrella from which proceeds 
 most piteous wails, an umbrella from underneath 
 which, when you get close to it, you see two little 
 feet sticking out and by degrees two neat black legs, 
 and then a muddle of short skirts, which by rights 
 should be draping the legs, but have somehow got 
 all turned upside down like a bird's feathers ruffled 
 up the wrong way such an umbrella, or perhaps 
 
112 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 I should say an umbrella in such circumstances, 
 certainly may be called a strange sight, may it not? 
 
 Matilda-Jane Simpkins, for that was Brown 
 Smiley's whole long name, thought so anyway, 
 for she stood stock still, staring, and the only thing 
 she could collect herself enough to say was, " Lor' ! " 
 
 But her state of stupefaction only lasted half a 
 moment. She was a practical and business-like 
 little person ; before there was time for another cry 
 for help, she had disentangled the umbrella and its 
 owner, and set the latter on her feet again, sobbing 
 piteously, and dreadfully dirty and muddy, but 
 otherwise not much the worse. 
 
 Then Matilda-Jane gave vent to another excla- 
 mation. 
 
 " Bless me, missy, it's you ! " she cried. " What- 
 ever are you a-doing of to be out in the rain all 
 alone, with no 'at and a humbrella four sizes too big 
 for the likes of you, and them paper-soled things on 
 yer feet ? and, oh my ! ain't yer frock muddy ? 
 What'll your folk say to you ? Or is they all away 
 and left you and the cat to keep 'ouse ? " 
 
 " I was running after you, Brown Smiley," sobbed 
 Peggy. She could not quite make out if Matilda- 
 Jane was making fun of her or not, and, indeed, to 
 do Matilda justice, she had no such intention. " I 
 was running after you" Peggy repeated, "and you 
 wouldn't stop, and I couldn't run fast 'cos of the 
 numbrella, and so I felled down." 
 
UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 113 
 
 "Never mind, missy dear, you'll be none the 
 worse, you'll see. Only, will they give it you when 
 you go home for dirtying of your frock?" 
 
 " Give it me ? " repeated Peggy. 
 
 " Yes, give it you ; will you get it will you 
 catch it ? " said Matilda, impatiently. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," Peggy replied. 
 
 Matilda wasted no more words on her. She took 
 her by the arm, umbrella and all, and trotted her 
 down the street again till they had reached the 
 Smiley mansion. Then she drew Peggy inside the 
 doorway of the passage, whence a stair led up to 
 Mrs. Whelan's, and to the Simpkins's own rooms 
 above that again, and having shut up the umbrella 
 with such perfect ease that Peggy gazed at her in 
 admiration, as she tried to explain her meaning. 
 
 " Look 'ere now, miss," she said, " which'll you 
 do go straight over-the-way 'ome, just as you are, 
 or come in along of huz and get yerself cleaned up 
 a bit?" 
 
 " Oh, I'll go in with you, pelease," sobbed Peggy. 
 " P'raps Miss Earnshaw wouldn't scold me. She let 
 me come, and I didn't fell down on purpose. But I 
 know she wouldn't let me come out again I'm 
 sure she wouldn't, and I do so want to get the 
 pipes my own self. You'll take me to Mrs. 
 Whelan's, won't you, dear Brown Smiley ? " 
 
 "I'll catch it when she sees I haven't done her 
 errant," said Matilda. " But never mind ; she'll not 
 
114 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 be so bad with you there, maybe. Come up with 
 me, missy, and I'll get Rebecca to wipe you a bit," 
 and she began the ascent of the narrow staircase, 
 followed by Peggy. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 
 
 "There was an old woman that lived in a shoe, 
 She had so many children she didn't know what to do." 
 
 NURSERY RHYMES. 
 
 IN spite of her misfortunes, Peggy could not help 
 feeling very pleased at finding herself at last inside 
 the house she had watched so often from the outside. 
 It was certainly not a pretty house a big person 
 would probably have thought it a very poor and 
 uninteresting one; but it was not dirty. The old 
 wooden steps were scrubbed down once a week regu- 
 larly, so there was nothing to strike the little girl as 
 disagreeable, and it seemed delightfully queer and 
 mysterious as she climbed the steep, uneven staircase, 
 which grew darker and darker as they went on, so 
 that but for Brown Smiley's voice in front, Peggy 
 would not have had the least idea where she was 
 going. 
 
 " There's Mother Whelan's door," Matilda said in 
 a half whisper, as if afraid of the old woman's pounc- 
 ing out upon them, and Peggy wondered how she 
 knew it, for to her everything was perfectly dark; 
 " but we'll go upstairs first to Rebecca," and on they 
 climbed. 
 
 116 
 
116 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 Suddenly, what seemed for a moment a blaze of 
 brilliant light from the contrast with the darkness 
 where they were, broke upon them. Peggy quite 
 started. But it was only the opening of a door. 
 
 "Is that you, Matilda- Jane ? My, but you have 
 been sharp. I should think old Whelan 'ud be 
 pleased for onst." 
 
 The speaker was Reddy; she stood in the doorway, 
 her bare red arms shining, as they always did, from 
 being so often up to the elbows in soap and water. 
 
 " Oh, Rebecca, don't say nothing but I've not been 
 of my errant yet. Now, don't ye begin at me 
 'tweren't of my fault. I was a-'urryin' along when I 
 saw miss 'ere a-rollin' in the wet with her humber- 
 ellar, and I 'ad to pick her up. She's that muddy 
 we were afeared they'd give it her over the way 
 her mar's away. So I told her as you'd tidy her up 
 a bit. Come along, missy. Rebecca's got a good 'eart, 
 has Rebecca ; she'll clean you nicely, you'll see." 
 
 For at the sound of Rebecca's sharp voice poor 
 Peggy had slunk back into the friendly gloom of the 
 staircase. But she came creeping forward now, so 
 that Reddy saw her. 
 
 " Lor' ! " said the big girl, " little miss from the 
 hopposite winder to be sure." 
 
 This quite restored Peggy's courage. 
 
 "Have you seen me at the window?" she said. 
 " How funny ! I've looked at you lotses and lotses 
 of times, but I never thought of you looking at me." 
 
THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 117 
 
 To which both sisters replied with their favourite 
 exclamation, " Lor' ! " 
 
 Just then came a voice from inside. 
 
 " Shut the door there Rebecca, can't you ? If there's 
 one thing I can't abide, and you might know it, it's a 
 hopen door, and the draught right on baby's head." 
 
 Rebecca took Peggy by the hand and drew her 
 into the room, and while she was relating the story 
 of little missy's misfortunes to her mother, little 
 missy looked round her with the greatest interest. 
 
 It was a small room, but oh, how full of children ! 
 Dinner was being got ready " against father and the 
 boys coming home," Matilda said, but where father 
 and the boys could possibly find space to stand, much 
 less to sit, Peggy lay awake wondering for a long 
 time that night. She counted over those already 
 present, and found they were all there except Lizzie, 
 the lame girl. And besides the two babies and 
 Alfred, whom she knew by sight, she was amazed to 
 see a fourth, a very tiny doll of a thing the tiniest 
 thing she had ever seen, but which they all were as 
 proud of as if there had never been a baby among 
 them before. At this moment it was reposing in the 
 arms of Mary-Hann ; Light Smiley, whose real name 
 was Sarah, you remember, was taking charge of the 
 two big babies in one corner, while Reddy and her 
 mother were busy at the fire, and " Halfred " was 
 amusing himself quietly with some marbles, appar- 
 ently his natural occupation. 
 
118 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 What a lot of them ! Peggy began to feel less 
 sure that she would like to have as many sisters as 
 the Smileys. Still they all looked happy, and their 
 mother, whom Peggy had never seen before, had 
 really a very kind face. 
 
 " I'll see to the pot, Rebecca," she said ; " just you 
 wipe missy's frock a bit. 'Twill be none the worse, 
 you'll see. And so your dear mar's away, missy. I 
 'ope the change'll do her good." 
 
 " Yes, thank you," said Peggy. " She's gone to 
 the country. Did you ever live in the country? 
 And was it in a white cottage ? " 
 
 Mrs. Simpkins smiled. 
 
 " No, missy, I'm town-bred. 'Tis father as knows 
 all about the country; he's a Brackenshire man." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Peggy, "I forgot. It's Miss Earn- 
 shaw's mother I was thinking of." 
 
 u But father," said Matilda, "he can tell lots of 
 tales about the country." 
 
 " I wish he was at home," said Peggy. "But I 
 must go, now my frock's cleaned. Some day p'raps 
 I'll come again. Thank you, Reddy," at which 
 Rebecca, who had been vigorously rubbing Peggy's 
 skirts, stared and looked as if she were going to say 
 " Lor' ! " " I'm going to buy soap-bubble pipes at 
 Mrs. Whelan's," Peggy went on, for she was losing 
 her shyness now ; " that's what I corned out in the 
 rain for. We're going to play at soap-bubbles this 
 afternoon, 'cos it's too wet to go out a walk." 
 
THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 119 
 
 All the Smiley s listened with great interest. 
 
 "Mayn't Brown I mean Matilda-Jane come 
 with me, pelease ? " said Peggy. " I'm razer fright- 
 ened to go to buy them alone ; sometimes that old 
 woman does look so cross." 
 
 " She looks what she is then," said Reddy, " 'cept 
 for one thing ; she's awful good to Lizzie. She's 
 a-sittin' down there this very minute as is, is Lizzie, 
 to be out o' the way like when mother and me's 
 cleaning, you see, miss." 
 
 Brown Smiley's face had grown grave. 
 
 "I dursn't let Mother Whelan see as I've not 
 gone," she said, "but if missy doesn't like to go 
 alone not as she'd be sharp to the likes of you, 
 but still " 
 
 "Til go," said little Sarah, Light Smiley, that is 
 to say. " Jest you see to* the childer will ye, Mary- 
 Hann ? " she shouted to the deaf sister. " I won't be 
 harf a minute." 
 
 " And you, Matilda-Jane, off with you," said 
 Rebecca, which advice Brown Smiley instantly fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Sarah took Peggy's hand to escort her down the 
 dark staircase again. Light Smiley was, of all the 
 family perhaps, Peggy's favourite. She was two 
 years or so older than her little opposite neighbour, 
 but she scarcely looked it, for both she and Brown 
 Smiley were small and slight, and when you came 
 to speak to them both, Sarah seemed a good deal 
 
120 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 younger than Matilda; she was so much less 
 managing and decided in manner, but on the present 
 occasion Peggy would have preferred the elder 
 Smiley, for to tell the truth her heart was beginning 
 to beat much faster than usual at the thought of 
 facing Mrs. Whelan in her den. 
 
 " Isn't you frightened, Light Smiley?" asked the 
 little girl when the two stopped, and Peggy knew 
 by this that they must be at the old woman's door. 
 
 " Oh no," Sarah replied. " 'Tisn't as if we'd been 
 up to any mischief, you see. And Lizzie's there. 
 She's mostly quiet when Lizzie's there." 
 
 So saying she pushed the door open. It had a 
 bell inside, which forthwith began to tinkle loudly, 
 and made Peggy start. This bell was the pride of 
 Mrs. Whelan's heart; it made such a distinction, she 
 thought, between her and the rest of the tenants of 
 the house, and the more noisily it rang the better 
 pleased she was. Sarah knew this, and gave the 
 door a good shove, at the same time pulling Peggy 
 into the room. 
 
 " What's it yer afther now, and what's become of 
 Matilda- Jane ?" called out the old woman, not, at 
 the first moment, catching sight of Peggy. 
 
 " It's little missy from over-the-way," Sarah has- 
 tened to explain ; " she's come to buy some pipes of 
 you, Mother Whelan." 
 
 Mrs. Whelan looked at Peggy where she stood 
 behind Sarah, gravely staring about her. 
 
lo D sut , ski sai 
 in htr most dYcxclouS 
 tone . Tis tht 
 fal bi 
 
 'tis f>roud 1 
 (ourty ^ 
 and on 5 hi 
 ZX cnJ cxtzrinc^ spach 
 
 f a/I rht ti mi ski 
 
 down from a K;<gk sfu/f exn old 
 boa.rd box, contcXinincT lair 
 stock of cl<2vy |oi|o^5. ' p I2I 
 
THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 121 
 
 " To be sure," she said in her most gracious tone. 
 " 'Tis the beautiful pipes I have. And 'tis proud 
 I am to say the purty young lady," and on she went 
 with a long flattering speech about Peggy's likeness 
 to her " swate mother," and inquiries after the lady's 
 health, all the time she was reaching down from a 
 high shelf an old broken cardboard box, containing 
 her stock of clay pipes. 
 
 Peggy did not answer. In the first place, thanks 
 to the old woman's Irish accent and queer way of 
 speaking, she did not understand a quarter of what 
 she said. Then her eyes were busy gazing all about, 
 and her nose was even less pleasantly occupied, for 
 there was a very strong smell in the room. It was 
 a sort of mixed smell of everything not like the 
 curious " everything " smell that one knows so well 
 in a village shop in the country, which for my part 
 I think rather nice a smell of tea, and coffee, and 
 bacon, and nuts, and soap, and matting, and brown 
 holland, and spices, and dried herbs, all mixed to- 
 gether, but with a clean feeling about it no, the 
 smell in Mrs. Whelan's was much stuffier and snuf- 
 fier. For joined to the odour of all the things I have 
 named was that of herrings and tobacco smoke, and, 
 I rather fear, of whisky. And besides all this, I am 
 very much afraid that not only a spring cleaning, 
 but a summer or autumn or winter cleaning, were 
 unknown events in the old woman's room. No won- 
 der that Peggy, fresh from the soft-soap-and-water 
 
122 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 smell of the Simpkins's upstairs, sniffed uneasily and 
 wished Mrs. Whelan would be quick with the pipes ; 
 her head felt so queer and confused. 
 
 But looking round she caught sight of a very 
 interesting object ; this was Lizzie, rocking herself 
 gently on her chair in a corner, and seeming quite at 
 home. Peggy ran no she couldn't run the room 
 was so crowded, for a counter stood across one end, 
 and in the other a big square old bedstead, and be- 
 tween the two were a table and one or two chairs, 
 and an old tumble-down chest of drawers made her 
 way over to Lizzie. 
 
 " How do you do, Crip Lizzie, I mean ? I hope 
 your pains aren't very bad to-day ? " 
 
 " Not so very, thank you, miss," said the poor girl. 
 " It's nice and quiet in here, and the quiet does me a 
 deal o' good." 
 
 Peggy sighed. 
 
 " I don't like being very quiet," she said. " I wish 
 you would come over to the nursery; now that Hal 
 and baby and nurse are away it's dreffully quiet." 
 
 "But you wouldn't care to change places with 
 me, would you, missy ? " said Lizzie. " I'm thinking 
 you'd have noise enough if you were upstairs some- 
 times. My it do go through one's head, to be 
 sure." 
 
 Peggy looked very sympathising. 
 
 "Aren't you frightened of her?" she whispered, 
 nodding gently towards Mrs. Whelan. 
 
THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 123 
 
 "Not a bit of it," said Lizzie, also lowering her 
 voice ; " she's right down good to me, is the old body. 
 She do scold now and then and no mistake, but bless 
 you, she'd never lay a finger on me, and it's no wonder 
 she's in a taking with the children when they kicks 
 up a hextra row, so to say." 
 
 Peggy's mouth had opened gradually during this 
 speech, and now it remained so. She could not un- 
 derstand half Lizzie's words, but she had no time to 
 ask for an explanation, for just then Light Smiley 
 called to her to come and look at the pipes which 
 were by this time waiting for her on the counter. 
 
 They were the cleanest things in the room the 
 only clean things it seemed to Peggy as she lifted 
 them up one by one to choose six very nice ones. 
 And then she paid her pennies and ran back to shake 
 hands with Lizzie and say good-bye to her she won- 
 dered if she should shake hands with Mrs. Whelan 
 too, but fortunately the old woman did not seem to 
 expect it, and Peggy felt very thankful, for her brown 
 wrinkled hands looked sadly dirty to the little girl, 
 dirtier perhaps than they really were. 
 
 "I like your house much better than hers," said 
 Peggy, when she and Light Smiley were down at 
 the bottom of the stairs again; "it smells much 
 nicer." 
 
 " Mother and Rebecca's all for scrubbing, that's 
 certing," replied Sarah, with a smile of pleasure of 
 course all little girls like to hear their homes praised 
 
124 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " but she's not bad to Lizzie, is old Whelan," as if 
 that settled the whole question, and Peggy felt she 
 must not say any more about the dirty room. 
 
 Light Smiley felt it her duty to see " missy " safe 
 across the street. Peggy's hands were laden with 
 the precious pipes, and Sarah carried the big umbrella 
 over the two of them. They chattered as they picked 
 their way through the mud and stood for a minute or 
 two at the yard-door of Peggy's house. Light Smiley 
 peeped in. 
 
 u Lor'," she said, expressing her feelings in the 
 same way as her sisters, " yours must be a fine house, 
 missy. All that there back-yard for yerselves." 
 
 "You should see the droind-room, and mamma's 
 room ; there's a marble top to the washing-stand," 
 said Peggy, with pride. 
 
 " Lor'," said Sarah again. 
 
 "Some day," Peggy went on, excited by Sarah's 
 admiration, " some day when my mamma comes home, 
 I'm going to ask her to let me have a tea-party of you 
 all in the nursery, you know. The nursery's nice 
 too, at least I dare say you'd like it." 
 
 " Is that the winder where you sees us from ? " 
 asked Sarah. " Matilda-Jane says as how we could 
 see you too quite plain at it if you put your face quite 
 close to the glass." 
 
 "I can't," said Peggy. "There's the toilet-table 
 close to the window at least, it's really a chest of 
 drawers, you know, but there's a looking-glass on the 
 
THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 125 
 
 top and a white cover, so it's like a toilet-table for 
 nurse, though its too high up for me. I have to 
 stand on a chair if I want to see myself popperly." 
 
 " Dear ! " said Sarah sympathisingly. 
 
 u And I can only see you by scrooging into the 
 corner, and the curting's there. No, you couldn't 
 ever see me well up at the window. But that's not 
 the nursery where we'd have tea. That's only the 
 night nursery. The other one's to the front ; that's 
 the window where you can see the hills far away." 
 
 " In the country, where father used to live. Oh 
 yes, I know. I heerd Matilda-Jane a-asking 'im 
 about it," said Sarah. 
 
 " Oh, and did he tell you any more ? Do ask 
 him if it's really not far to get there," said Peggy, 
 eagerly. 
 
 Sarah nodded. 
 
 "I won't forget," she said; "and then, missy, 
 when you axes us to the tea-party, I'll be able to 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 She did not mean to be cunning, poor little girl, 
 but she was rather afraid Peggy might forget about 
 the tea-party, and she thought it was not a bad plan 
 to say something which might help to make her 
 remember it. 
 
 " Yes," Peggy replied, " that would be lovely. Do 
 make him tell all you can, Light Smiley. Oh, 
 I do wish mamma would come home now, and I'd 
 ask her about the tea-party immediately. I'm sure 
 
126 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 she'd let me, for she likes us to be kind to poor 
 people." 
 
 Sarah drew herself up a little at this. 
 
 " We're not not to say poor folk," she said, with 
 some dignity. " There's a many of us, and it's hard 
 enough work, but still " 
 
 " Oh, don't be vexed," said Peggy. " I know 
 you're not like like beggars, you know. And I 
 think we're rather poor too. Mamma often says papa 
 has to work hard." 
 
 Sarah grew quite friendly again. 
 
 " I take it folks isn't often rich when they've a lot 
 of children," she began, but the sound of a window 
 opening across the street made her start. "Bless 
 me," she said, " I must run. There's Rebecca a-going 
 to scold me for standing talking. Good-bye, miss, 
 I'll not forget to ask father." 
 
 And Sarah darted away, carrying with her the 
 umbrella, quite forgetting that it was Peggy's. 
 Peggy forgot it too, and it was not raining so fast 
 now, so there was less to remind her. She shut the 
 door and ran across the yard. The house door still 
 stood open, and she made her way up to the nursery 
 without meeting any one. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " SOAP-BUBBLING." 
 
 " And every colour see I there." 
 
 The Rainbow. CHARLES LAMB. 
 
 THERE was no one upstairs. Miss Earnshaw had 
 gone down to the kitchen to iron the seams of her 
 work, without giving special thought to Peggy. If 
 any one had asked her where the child was she 
 would have probably answered that she was count- 
 ing over her money in the night nursery. So she 
 was rather surprised when coming upstairs again in 
 a few minutes she was met by Peggy flying to meet 
 her with the pipes in her hand. 
 
 "I've got them, Miss Earnshaw; aren't they 
 beauties?" she cried. " And I don't think my frock's 
 reely spoilt? It only just looks a little funny where 
 the mud was." 
 
 " Bless me ! " exclaimed the young dressmaker, 
 "wherever have you been, Miss Peggy? No, your 
 frock'll brush all right ; but you don't mean to say 
 you've been out in the rain ? You should have asked 
 me, my dear." 
 
 She spoke rather reproachfully ; she was a little 
 vexed with herself for not having looked after the 
 
 127 
 
128 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 child better, but Peggy was one of those quiet " old- 
 fashioned " children, who never seem to need looking 
 after. 
 
 " I did ask you," said Peggy, opening wide her 
 eyes, " and you said, ' Very well, my dear.' ' 
 
 Miss Earnshaw couldn't help smiling. 
 
 " I must have been thinking more of your new 
 frock than of yourself," she said. " However, I hope 
 it's done you no harm. Your stockings aren't 
 wet?" 
 
 " Oh no," said Peggy ; " my slippers were a ween}' 
 bit wet, so I've changed them. My frock wouldn't 
 have been dirtied, only I felled in the wet, Miss 
 Earnshaw, but Brown one of the little girls, you 
 know, that lives in the house where the shop is 
 picked me up, and there's no harm done, is there? 
 And I've got the pipes, and won't my brothers be 
 peleased," she chirruped on in her soft, cheery way. 
 
 Miss Earnshaw could not blame her, though she 
 determined to be more on the look-out for the 
 future. And soon after came twelve o'clock, and 
 then the young dressmaker was obliged to go, bidding 
 Peggy " Good-bye till Monday morning." 
 
 The boys came home wet and hungry, and grum- 
 bling a good deal at the rainy half-holiday. Peggy 
 had hidden the six pipes in her little bed, but after 
 dinner she made the three boys shut their eyes while 
 she fetched them out and laid them in a row on the 
 table. Then, "You may look now," she said; "it's 
 
129 
 
 my apprise," and she stood at one side to enjoy the 
 sight of their pleasure. 
 
 " Hurrah," cried Terry, " pipes for soap-bubbles ! 
 Isn't it jolly ? Isn't Peggy a brick ? " 
 
 " Dear Peggy," said Baldwin, holding up his 
 plump face for a kiss. 
 
 " Poor old Peg-top," said Thor, patronisingly. 
 " They seem very good pipes ; and as there's six of 
 them, you and I can break one a-piece if we like, 
 Terry, without its mattering." 
 
 Peggy looked rather anxious at this. 
 
 " Don't try to break them, Thor, pelease," she 
 said ; " for if you beginned breaking it might go on, 
 and then it would be all spoilt like the last time, for 
 there's no fun in soap-bubbling by turns." 
 
 " No, that's quite true," said Terry. " You re- 
 member the last time how stupid it was. But of 
 course we won't break any, 'specially as they're 
 yours, Peggy. We'll try and keep them good for 
 another time." 
 
 " Did you spend all your pennies for them ? " 
 asked Baldwin, sympathisingly. 
 
 " Not quite all," said Peggy. " I choosed them 
 myself," she went on, importantly. " There was a 
 lot in a box." 
 
 " Why, where did you get them ? You didn't go 
 yourself to old Whelan's, surely ? " asked Thor, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Yes, I runned across the road," said Peggy. 
 " You always get them there, Thor." 
 
130 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " But it's quite different. I can tell you mamma 
 won't be very pleased when she comes home to hear 
 you've been so disobedient." 
 
 Poor Peggy's face, so bright and happy, clouded 
 over, and she seemed on the point of bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 " I weren't disobedient," she began. " Miss Earn- 
 shaw said, ' Very well, dear,' and so I thought 
 
 " Of course," interrupted Terry ; " Peggy's never 
 disobedient, Thor. We'll ask mamma when she 
 comes home; but she won't be vexed with you, 
 darling. You won't need to go again before then." 
 
 " No," said Peggy, comforted, " I don't want to 
 go again, Terry dear. It doesn't smell very nice in 
 the shop. But the children's house is very clean, 
 Terry. I'm sure mamma would let us go there" 
 
 " Those Simpkinses over old Whelan's," said 
 Terry. " Oh yes, I know mother goes there herself 
 sometimes, though as for that she goes to old 
 Whelan's too. But we're wasting time; let's ask 
 Fanny for a tin basin and lots of soap." 
 
 They were soon all four very happy at the pretty 
 play. The prettiness of it was what Peggy enjoyed 
 the most; the boys, boy-like, thought little but of 
 who could blow the biggest bubbles, which, as 
 everybody knows, are seldom as rich in colour as 
 smaller ones. 
 
 " I like the rainbowiest ones best," said Peggy. 
 "I don't care for those 'normous ones Thor makes. 
 Do you, Baldwin ? " 
 
ny WETS soon all four vtry 
 
 at tkt pfitfy plevy. TJx* 
 
 of if was what P^ggy mo5^ 
 
 , \30V- 
 
 but of who 
 could blou/ 
 
 icK, ^J Jvirybodx 
 
 sglolom evS rich in 
 colour 
 
" SOAP-BUBBLING." 131 
 
 Baldwin stopped to consider. 
 
 " I suppose very big things aren't never so pretty 
 as littler things," he said at last, when a sort of grunt 
 from Terry interrupted him. Terry could not speak, 
 his cheeks were all puffed out round the pipe, and he 
 dared not stop blowing. He could only grunt and 
 nod his head sharply to catch their attention to the 
 wonderful triumph in soap-bubbles floating before 
 his nose. There was a big one, as big as any of 
 Thorold's, and up on the top of it a lovely e very- 
 coloured wee one, the most brilliant the children had 
 ever seen a real rainbow ball. 
 
 They all clapped their hands, at least Peggy and 
 Baldwin did so. Thorold shouted, " Hurrah for 
 Terry's new invention. It's like a monkey riding on 
 an elephant." But Peggy did not think that was a 
 pretty idea. 
 
 " It's more like one of the very little stars sitting 
 on the sun's knee," was her comparison, which Bald- 
 win corrected to the moon the sun was too yellow, 
 he said, to be like a no-colour bubble. 
 
 Then they all set to work to try to make double- 
 bubbles, and Thor actually managed to make three, 
 one on the top of the other. And Terry made a very 
 big one run ever so far along the carpet without 
 breaking, bobbing and dancing along as he blew it 
 ever so gently. 
 
 And as a finish-up they all four put their pipes 
 into the basin and blew together, making what they 
 
132 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 called " bubble-pudding," till the pudding seemed to 
 get angry and gurgled and wobbled itself up so high 
 that it ended by toppling over, and coming to an un- 
 timely end as a little spot of soap}^ water on the table. 
 
 " Pride must have a fall, you see," said Thor. 
 
 " It's like the story of the frog that tried to be as 
 big as an ox," said Terence, at which they all laughed 
 as a very good joke. 
 
 Altogether Peggy's pipes turned out a great suc- 
 cess, and the rainy afternoon passed very happily. 
 
 The Sunday that came after that Saturday was 
 showery, sunny, and rainy by turns, like a child who 
 having had a great fit of crying and sobbing can't 
 get over it all at once, and keeps breaking into little 
 bursts of tears again, long after the sorrow is all over. 
 But by Monday morning the world Peggy's world, 
 that is to say seemed to have quite recovered its 
 spirits. The sun came out smiling with pleasure, 
 and even the town birds, who know so little about 
 trees, and grass, and flowers, and all those delightful 
 things, hopped about and chirruped as nicely as 
 could be. The boys set off to school in good spirits, 
 and while Fanny was taking down the breakfast- 
 things Peggy got out the little red shoes, and set 
 them on the window-sill, where they had not been 
 for several days. 
 
 " There, dear little red shoes," she said, softly, 
 " you may look out again at the pretty sun and the 
 sky, and the fairy cottage up on the mounting. You 
 
" SOAP-BUBBLING." 133 
 
 can see it quite plain to-day, dear little shoes. The 
 clouds is all gone away, and it's shinin' out all white 
 and beautiful, and I dare say the mamma's standin' 
 at the door with the baby >or p'raps," Peggy was 
 never very partial to the baby, "it's asleep in its 
 cradle. Yes, I think that's it. And the hens and 
 cocks and chickens is all pecking about, and the 
 cows moo'in. Oh, how I do wish we could go and 
 see them all, don't you, dear little shoes ? " 
 
 She stood gazing up at the tiny white speck, to 
 other eyes almost invisible, as if by much gazing it 
 would grow nearer and clearer to her ; there was a 
 smile on her little face, sweet visions floated before 
 Peggy's mind of a day, "some day," when mamma 
 should take her out " to the country," to see for her- 
 self the lovely and delightful sights that same dear 
 mamma had described. 
 
 Suddenly Fanny's voice brought her back to 
 present things. Fanny was looking rather troubled. 
 
 "Miss Peggy, love," she said, "cook and I can't 
 think what's making Miss Earnshaw so late this 
 morning. She's always so sharp to her time. I 
 don't like leaving you alone, but I don't know what 
 else to do. Monday's the orkardest day, for we're 
 always so busy downstairs, and your papa was just 
 saying this morning that I was to tell Miss Earnshaw 
 to take you a nice long walk towards the country, 
 seeing as it's so fine a day. It will be right down 
 tiresome, it will, if she don't come." 
 
134 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 "Never mind, Fanny," said Peggy. "I don't 
 mind much being alone, and I dare say Miss Earn- 
 shaw will come. I should like to go a nice walk 
 to-day," she could not help adding, with a longing 
 glance out at the sunny sky. 
 
 "To be sure you would," said Fanny, "and it 
 stands to reason as you won't be well if you don't 
 get no fresh air. I hope to goodness the girl will 
 come, but I doubt it her mother's ill maybe, and 
 she's no one to send. Well, dear, you'll try and 
 amuse yourself, and I'll get on downstairs as fast as 
 I can." 
 
 Peggy went back to the window and stood there 
 for a minute or two, feeling rather sad. It did seem 
 hard that things should go so very "contrarily" 
 sometimes. 
 
 "Just when it's such a fine day," she thought, 
 "Miss Earnshaw doesn't come. And on Saturday 
 when we couldn't have goned a walk she did come. 
 Only on Saturday it did rain very badly in the 
 afternoon and she didn't stay, so that wasn't a pity." 
 
 Then her thoughts went wandering off to what 
 the dressmaker had told her of having to go a long 
 way out into the country on Saturday afternoon, and 
 of how wet and muddy the lanes would be. Peggy 
 sighed ; she couldn't believe country lanes could ever 
 be anything but delightful. 
 
 " Oh how very pretty they must be to-day," she 
 said to herself, " with all the little flowers coming 
 
" SOAP-BUBBLING." 135 
 
 peeping out, and the birds singing, and the cocks 
 and hens, and the cows, and and " she was be- 
 coming a little confused. Indeed she wasn't quite 
 sure what a "lane" really meant she knew it was 
 some kind of a way to walk along, but she had heard 
 the word " path " too, were " lane " and " path " 
 quite the same ? she wondered. And while she was 
 wondering and gazing out of the window, she was 
 startled all of a sudden by a soft, faint tap at the 
 door. So soft and faint that if it had been at the 
 window instead of at the door it might have been 
 taken for the flap of a sparrow's wing as it flew past. 
 Peggy stood quite still and listened ; she heard noth- 
 ing more, and was beginning to think it must have 
 been her fancy, when again it came, and this time 
 rather more loudly. " Tap, tap." Yes, " certingly," 
 thought Peggy, " there's somebody there." 
 
 She felt a little, a very little frightened. 
 
 Should she go to the door and peep out, or should 
 she call " Come in " ? she asked herself. And one or 
 two of the " ogre " stories that Thorold and Terry 
 were so fond of in their " Grimm's Tales," would 
 keep coming into her head stories of little prin- 
 cesses shut up alone, or of giants prowling about to 
 find a nice tender child for supper. Peggy shiv- 
 ered. But after all what was the use of standing 
 there fancying things ? It was broad, sunny day- 
 light not at all the time for ogres or such-like to be 
 abroad. Peggy began to laugh at her own silliness. 
 
136 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " Very likely," she thought, " it's Miss Earnshaw 
 playing me a trick to 'apprise me, 'cos she's so late 
 this morning." 
 
 This idea quite took away her fear. 
 
 " It's you, Miss Earnshaw, I'm quite sure it's you," 
 she called out; "come in quick, you funny Miss 
 Earnshaw. Come in." 
 
 But though the door slowly opened, no Miss Earn- 
 shaw appeared. Peggy began to think this was 
 carrying fun too far. 
 
 " Why don't you come in quick ? " she said, her 
 voice beginning to tremble a little. 
 
 The door opened a little farther. 
 
 " Missy," said a low voice, a childish hesitating 
 voice, quite different from Miss Earnshaw's quick 
 bright way of speaking. " Missy, please, it's me, 
 Sarah, please, miss." 
 
 And the door opened more widely, and in came, 
 slowly and timidly still, a small figure well known 
 to Peggy. It was none other than Light Smiley. 
 
 Peggy could hardly speak. She was so very much 
 astonished. 
 
 " Light Smiley Sarah, I mean," she exclaimed, 
 " how did you come ? Did you see Fanny ? Did 
 she tell you to come upstairs ? " 
 
 Sarah shook her head. 
 
 " I don't know who Fanny is, missy. I just 
 corned in of myself. The doors was both open, and 
 I didn't meet nobody. I didn't like for to ring or 
 
137 
 
 knock. I thought mebbe your folk'd scold if I did 
 a gel like me. Mother knows I've corned ; she 
 said as how I'd better bring it myself." 
 
 And she held up what Peggy had not noticed 
 that she was carrying the big umbrella that had 
 caused so much trouble two days before. 
 
 " The numbrella," cried Peggy. " Oh thank you, 
 Sarah, for bringing it back. I never thought of it ! 
 How stupid it was of me." 
 
 " Mother told me for to bring it to the door and 
 give it in," Sarah went on. " I didn't mean to come 
 upstairs, but, the door was open, you see, miss, and 
 I knowed your nussery was at the top, and I 'ope 
 it's not a liberty." 
 
 "No, no," said Peggy, her hospitable feelings 
 awaking to see that her little visitor was still stand- 
 ing timidly in the doorway, " I'm very glad you've 
 corned. You don't know how glad I am. It's so 
 lonely all by myself Miss Earnshaw hasn't come 
 this morning. Come in, Light Smiley, do come in. 
 Oh now nice ! I can show you the mountings and 
 the little white cottage shining in the sun." 
 
 She drew Sarah forwards. But before the child 
 looked out of the window, her eyes were caught by 
 the tiny red slippers on the sill. 
 
 " Lor'," she said breathlessly, " what splendid 
 shoes ! Are they for for your dolly, missy ? 
 They're too small for a baby, bain't they ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said Peggy, " they're too small for our 
 baby, a great deal. But then he's very fat." 
 
138 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 " They'd be too small for ours too, though she's 
 not a hextra fine child for her age. She were a very 
 poor specimint for a good bit, mother says, but she's 
 pickin' up now she's got some teeth through. My 
 but them shoes is neat, to be sure ! They must be 
 for a dolly." 
 
 " Tve no doll they'd do for," said Peggy, " but I 
 like them just for theirselves. I always put them to 
 stand there on a fine day ; they like to look out of 
 the window." 
 
 Sarah stared at Peggy as if she thought she was 
 rather out of her mind ! indeed the children at the 
 back had hinted to each other that missy, for all she 
 was a real little lady, was very funny-like sometimes. 
 But Peggy was quite unconscious of it. 
 
 " Lor'," said Sarah at last, " how can shoes see, 
 they've no eyes, missy?" 
 
 " But you can fancy they have. Don't you ever 
 play in your mind at fancying? " asked Peggy. " I 
 think it's the nicest part of being alive, and mamma 
 says it's no harm if we keep remembering it's not 
 real. But never mind about that do look at the 
 hills, Sarah, and oh, can you see the white speck 
 shining in the sun ? That's the cottage I call it 
 my cottage, but p'raps" rather unwillingly, " it's the 
 one your papa lived in when he was little." 
 
 " D'ye really think so ? " said Sarah, eagerly. 
 " It's Brackenshire over there to be sure, and father's 
 'ome was up an 'ill deary me, to think as it might 
 
" SOAP-BUBBLING." 139 
 
 be the very place. See it to be sure I do, as plain 
 as plain. It do seem a good bit off, but father he says 
 it's no more'n a tidy walk. He's almost promised 
 he'll take some on us there some fine day when 
 he's an 'oliday. I axed 'im all I could think of 
 missy all about the cocks and 'ens and cows and 
 pigses." 
 
 " Not pigs," interrupted Peggy. " I don't like 
 pigs, and I won't have them in my cottage." 
 
 "I wasn't a-talking of your cottage," said Sarah, 
 humbly. " 'Twas what father told us of all the 
 things he seed in the country when he were a boy 
 there. There's lots of pigses in Brackenshire." 
 
 "Never mind. We won't have any," persisted 
 Peggy. " But oh, Light Smiley, do look how splen- 
 did the sky is all blue and all so shiny. I never 
 sawed such a lovely day. I would so like to go a 
 walk." 
 
 " And why shouldn't you ? " asked Sarah. 
 
 " There's no one to take me," sighed Peggy. 
 " It's Monday, and Fanny's very busy on Mondays, 
 and I told you that tiresome Miss Earnshaw's not 
 corned." 
 
 Sarah considered a little. 
 
 " Tell you what, missy," she said, " why shouldn't 
 we you and me go a walk? I'm sure mother'd 
 let me. I've got my 'at, all 'andy, and I did say to 
 mother if so as missy seed me I might stop a bit, and 
 she were quite agreeable. I'm a deal older nor you, 
 
140 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 and I can take care of you nicely. Mother's training 
 me for the iiussery." 
 
 Peggy started up in delight. She had been half 
 sitting on the window-sill, beside the shoes. 
 
 "Oh, Light Smiley," she said, "how lovely! Of 
 course you could take care of me. We'd go up 
 Fernley Road, straight up that's the way to Brack- 
 enshire, you know, and p'raps we might go far 
 enough to see the white cottage plainer. If it's not 
 a very long way to get there, we'd be sure to see it 
 much plainer if we walked a mile or two. A mile 
 isn't very far. Oh, do let's go quick ! quick ! " 
 
 But Sarah stopped her. 
 
 " You'd best tell your folks first, missy," she said. 
 " They'll let you go and be glad of it, I should say, 
 if they're so busy, and seein' as they let you come 
 over to our 'ouse, and your mar knowin' us and all." 
 
 "It was Miss Earnshaw that let me go," said 
 Peggy, "and then she said she didn't know I'd 
 goned. And Thor said oh no, he only said I 
 shouldn't have goned to the shop. But I'll ask 
 Fanny I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll put on my 
 boots and my hat and jacket you shall help me, 
 Sarah, and then we'll go down and I'll call to Fanny 
 from the top of the kitchen stairs and ask her if I 
 may go out with you, Sarah, dear. I'm sure she'll 
 say I may." 
 
 So the two little maidens went into the night 
 nursery, where Light Smiley was greatly interested 
 
141 
 
 in looking at her own dwelling-place from other 
 people's windows, and quite in her element too, see- 
 ing that she was being trained for the nursery, in 
 getting out Peggy's walking things, buttoning her 
 boots, and all the rest of it. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 UP FERNLEY KOAD. 
 
 "But the way is long and toilsome, 
 
 And the road is drear and hard ; 
 Little heads and hearts are aching, 
 Little feet with thorns are scarred." 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S JOURNEY. 
 
 LIGHT SMILEY kept looking round the room with 
 great satisfaction. 
 
 " It is nice in 'ere and no mistake," she said at last. 
 " Your 'ats and coats and frocks all in a row, as neat 
 as neat, and these little white beds a sight to be seen. 
 I should love for Rebecca and Matilda-Jane to see it." 
 
 " They will," said Peggy, " when I avite you all to 
 a tea-party, you know." 
 
 Sarah drew a deep breath. A tea-party in these 
 beautiful nurseries seemed almost -too good ever to 
 come true. 
 
 " Is there a many nusseries as nice as this 'un, do 
 you think, missy? I do 'ope as I'll get into a nice 
 one when I'm big enough. One 'ud take a pride in 
 keeping it clean and tidy." 
 
 " I don't think this is at all a grand one," Peggy 
 replied. " Mamma's was much grander when she 
 was little, I know. But, of course, she's very per- 
 tickler, and so's nurse, about it being very tidy." 
 
 142 
 
UP FERNLEY KOAD. 143 
 
 And then, Peggy being ready, the quaint pair of 
 friends took each other's hands and set off to the top 
 of the kitchen stairs. 
 
 "Should we take the huraberellar ? " said Sarah, 
 suddenly stopping at the foot of the first little flight 
 of stairs. " I don't think it looks any ways like rain, 
 still one never knows, and I can carry it easy." 
 
 In her heart she hoped Peggy would say yes. 
 For to Sarah's eyes the clumsy umbrella was a very 
 " genteel " one indeed, and she felt as if it would add 
 distinction to their appearance. 
 
 Peggy, not looking at it from this point of view, 
 hesitated. 
 
 " P'raps it would do to keep the sun off us," she 
 said. " My parasol's wored out, so I can't take it. 
 Mamma's going to get me a new one." 
 
 Sarah ran back and fetched the umbrella. 
 
 When they got to the door at the top of the 
 kitchen stairs, Peggy opened it and called down 
 softly, " Fanny, are you there ? Can you hear me ? " 
 for she was not allowed to go down to the kitchen 
 by herself. 
 
 But no one answered. Fanny was busy washing 
 in the back kitchen with both doors shut to keep 
 in the steam, and the cook had gone out to the 
 butcher's. 
 
 " Fanny," called Peggy again. 
 
 Then a voice came at last in return. 
 
 " Is it anything I can tell the cook when she comes 
 
144 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 in, please, miss ? " and a boy came forward out of the 
 kitchen and stood at the foot of the steep stone stairs. 
 " I'm the baker's boy, and I met cook and she told 
 me to wait; she'd be back with change to pay the 
 book in a minute. There's no one here." 
 
 Peggy turned to Sarah in distress. 
 
 " Fanny must be out too," she said. 
 
 "Well, it'll be all right if the boy 'ull tell her, 
 won't it, missy? 'Tisn't the cook," she went on, 
 speaking to the boy herself, " 'tis t'other one. Jest 
 you tell her when she comes in that miss has gone 
 out a little walk with me Sarah Simpkins she'll 
 know. I'll take good care of missy." 
 
 "All right," said the boy, with no doubt that so 
 it was, and thinking, if he thought at all, that Sarah 
 Simpkins must be a little nurse-girl, or something of 
 the kind about the house, though certainly a small 
 specimen to be in service ! He whistled as he turned 
 away, and something in the cheerful sound of his 
 whistle helped to satisfy Peggy that all was right ! 
 
 " He's a nice boy," she said to Sarah. " He won't 
 forget, will he?" 
 
 "Not he," Sarah replied. "He'll tell 'em fast 
 enough. And as like as not we'll meet 'em along 
 the street as we go. Is Webb's your butcher, missy 
 'tis just at the corner of Fernley Road ? " 
 
 Peggy shook her head. 
 
 " I don't know," she said, feeling rather ashamed 
 of her ignorance ; " but I'd like to meet Fanny, so, 
 pelease, let us go that way." 
 
UP FERNLEY EOAD. 145 
 
 And off the two set, by the front door this time, 
 quite easy in their minds, though, as far as they 
 knew, the baker's boy was the only guardian of the 
 house. 
 
 They trotted down the street in the sunshine ; it 
 was very bright and fine the air, even there in the 
 smoky town, felt this morning deliciously fresh and 
 spring-like. 
 
 "How nice it is," said Peggy, drawing a deep 
 breath; "it's just like summer. I'd like to go a 
 quite long walk, wouldn't you, Sarah?" 
 
 Light Smiley looked about her approvingly. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "I does enjoy a real fine day. 
 And in the country it must be right-down fust-rate." 
 
 " Oh, the country ! " said Peggy ; " oh dear, how I 
 do wish we could go as far as the country ! " 
 
 " Well," said Sarah, " if we walk fast we might 
 come within sight of it. There's nice trees and 
 gardings up Fernley Road, and that's a sort of coun- 
 try, isn't it, missy ? " 
 
 They were at the corner of the road by this time, 
 but there was no sign of Fanny or cook. " Webb's " 
 shop stood a little way down the other side, but as 
 far as they could see it was empty. 
 
 " P'raps your folk don't deal there," said Sarah, to 
 which Peggy had nothing to say, and they stood look- 
 ing about them in an uncertain kind of way. 
 
 " We may as well go on a bit," said Sarah at last, 
 " that there boy's sure to tell." 
 
146 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 Peggy had no objection, and they set off along 
 Fernley Road at a pretty brisk pace. 
 
 They had not very far to go before, as Sarah said, 
 the road grew less town-like ; the houses had little 
 gardens round them, some of which were prettily 
 kept, and after a while they came to a field or two, 
 not yet built upon, though great placards stuck up 
 on posts told that they were waiting to be sold for 
 that purpose. They were very towny sort of fields 
 certainly, still the bright spring sunshine made the 
 best of them as of everything else this morning, and 
 the two children looked at them with pleasure. 
 
 " There's nicer fields still, a bit farther on," said 
 Sarah. " I've been along this 'ere road several times. 
 It goes on and on right into the country." 
 
 " I know," said Peggy, " it goes on into the country 
 of the mountings. But, Sarah," she said, stopping 
 short, and looking rather distressed, " I don't think 
 we see them any plainer than from the nursery 
 window, and the white cottage doesn't look even as 
 plain. Are you sure we're going the right way? " 
 
 " We couldn't go wrong," answered Sarah, "there's 
 no other way. But we've come no distance yet, 
 missy, and you see there's ups and downs in the 
 road that comes between us and the 'ills somehow. 
 I suppose at the window we could see straight- 
 forward-like, and then we was 'igher up." 
 
 " Yes, that must be it," said Peggy ; " but I would 
 like to go far enough to see a little plainer, Sarah, 
 
UP FERNLEY ROAD. 147 
 
 wouldn't you ? I've got the red shoes in my pocket, 
 you know, and when we come to a place where we 
 can see very nice and clear I'll take them out and 
 let them see too." 
 
 " Lor'," said Sarah, " you are funny, missy." 
 
 But she smiled so good-naturedly that Peggy did 
 not mind. 
 
 After a bit they came to a place where another 
 road crossed the one they were on. This other road 
 was planted with trees along one side, and the shade 
 they cast looked cool and tempting. 
 
 " I wish we could go along that way," said Peggy, 
 " but it would be the wrong way. It doesn't go on 
 to the mountings." 
 
 Sarah did not answer for a minute. She was 
 trying to spell out some letters that were painted up 
 on the corner of a wall, which enclosed the garden 
 of a house standing in the road they were looking 
 down. 
 
 " 4 B, R, A,' " she began, " ' B, R, A, C, K : ' it's it, 
 just look, missy. Bain't that Brackenshire as large 
 as life? 'Brackenshire Road.' It must be this 
 way," and she looked quite delighted. 
 
 "But how can it be?" objected Peggy. "This 
 road doesn't go to the hills, Sarah. They're straight 
 in front." 
 
 "But maybe it slopes round again after a bit," 
 said Sarah. " Lots of roads does that way, and runs 
 the same way really, though you wouldn't think so 
 
148 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 at the start. It stands to reason, when it's got the 
 name painted up, it must lead Brackenshire way ; " 
 and then suddenly, as a man with a basket on his 
 arm appeared coming out of one of the houses, she 
 darted up to him. 
 
 "Please, mister, does this road lead to Bracken- 
 shire ? " she asked. 
 
 The man did not look very good-natured. 
 
 " Lead to where ? " he said, gruffly. 
 
 " To Brackenshire it's painted up on the wall, 
 but we want to be sure." 
 
 " If it's painted up on the wall, what's the sense 
 of askin' me?" he said. "If you go far enough no 
 doubt you'll get there. There's more'n one road to 
 Brackenshire." 
 
 Sarah was quite satisfied. 
 
 "You see," she said to Peggy, running back to 
 her, " it's all right. If we go along this 'ere road a 
 bit, I 'specs it'll turn again and then we'll see the 
 'ills straight in front." 
 
 Peggy had no objection. Fernley Road was bare 
 and glaring just about there, and the trees were very 
 tempting. 
 
 " It's really getting like the country," said Peggy, 
 as they passed several pretty gardens, larger and 
 much prettier than the small ones in Fernley Road. 
 
 " Yes," Light Smiley agreed, " but though gardings 
 is nice, I don't hold with gardings anything like as 
 much as fields. Fields is splendid where you can 
 
UP FERNLEY ROAD. 149 
 
 race about and jump and do just as you like, and no 
 fears of breakin' flowers or nothink." 
 
 "Do you think we shall come to fields like that 
 soon ? " said Peggy. " If there was a very nice one 
 we might go into it p'raps and rest a little, and look 
 at the mountings. I wish we could begin to see the 
 mountings again, Sarah, it seems quite strange with- 
 out them, and I'm getting rather tired of looking at 
 gardens when we can't go inside them, aren't you ? " 
 
 Sarah was feeling very contented and happy. 
 She was, though a little body for her age, much 
 stronger than Peggy, as well as two years older, and 
 she looked at her companion with surprise when she 
 began already to talk of " resting." 
 
 "Lor', missy, you bain't tired already," she was 
 beginning, when she suddenly caught sight of some- 
 thing which made her interrupt herself. This was 
 another road crossing the one they were on at right 
 angles, and running therefore in the same direction 
 as Fernley Road again. " 'Ere's our way," she cried, 
 "now didn't I tell you so? And this way goes 
 slopin' up a bit, you see. When we get to the top 
 we'll see the 'ills straight 'afore us, and 'ave a 
 beeyutiful view." 
 
 Peggy's rather flagging steps grew brisker at this, 
 and the two ran gaily along the new road for a little 
 way. But running uphill is tiring, and it seemed to 
 take them a long time to get to the top of the slope, 
 and when they did so, it was only to be disappointed. 
 
150 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 Neither mountains nor hills nor white cottage were 
 to be seen, only before them a rather narrow sort of 
 lane, sloping downwards now and seeming to lead 
 into some rather rough waste ground, where it ended. 
 Peggy's face grew rather doleful, but Sarah was 
 quite equal to the occasion. A little down the hill 
 she spied a stile, over which she persuaded Peggy to 
 climb. They found themselves in a potato field, but 
 a potato field with a path down the middle ; it was 
 a large field and at the other end of the path was a 
 gate, opening on to a cart track scarcely worthy the 
 name of a lane. The children followed it, however, 
 till another stile tempted them again, this time into 
 a little wood, where they got rather torn and 
 scratched by brambles and nettles as they could not 
 easily find a path, and Sarah fancied by forcing their 
 way through the bushes they would be sure to come 
 out on to the road again. 
 
 It was not, however, till they had wandered back- 
 wards among the trees and brambles for some time 
 that they got on to a real path, and they had to walk 
 a good way along this till they at last came on 
 another gate, this time sure enough opening into the 
 high road. 
 
 Sarah's spirits recovered at once. 
 
 "'Ere we are," she said cheerfully, "all right. 
 'Ere's Fernley Road again. Nothink to do but to 
 turn round and go' ome if you're tired, missy. I'm 
 riot tired, but if you'd rayther go no farther " 
 
UP FERNLEY ROAD. 151 
 
 Peggy did not answer for a moment; she was 
 staring about her on all sides. The prospect was not 
 a very inviting one ; the road was bare and ugly, 
 dreadfully dusty, and there was no shade anywhere, 
 and at a little distance some great tall chimneys 
 were to be seen, the chimneys of some iron-works, 
 from which smoke poured forth. There were a good 
 many little houses near the tall chimneys, they were 
 the houses of the people who worked there, but they 
 were not sweet little cottages such as Peggy dreamed 
 of. Indeed they looked more like a very small ugly 
 town, than like rows of cottages on a country road. 
 
 " This isn't a pretty road at all," said Peggy at 
 last, rather crossly I am afraid, "it is very nugly, 
 and you shouldn't have brought me here, Sarah. I 
 can't see the mountings ; they is quite goned away, 
 more goned away than when it rains, for then they're 
 only behind the clouds. This isn't Fernley Road, 
 Light Smiley. I do believe you've losted us, and 
 Peggy's so tired, and very, very un'appy." 
 
 It was Peggy's way when she grew low-spirited to 
 speak more babyishly than usual ; at such times it was 
 too much trouble to think about being a big girl. 
 Poor Sarah looked dreadfully distressed. 
 
 " Oh, missy dear, don't cry," she said. " If it 
 bain't Fernley Road, it's a road anyway, and there's 
 no call to be frightened. We can ax our way, but 
 I'd rayther not ax it at the cottages, for they might 
 think I was a tramp that'd stoled you away." 
 
152 PEGGY: A NURSEKY STORY. 
 
 "And what would they do then?" asked Peggy, 
 leaving off crying for a minute. 
 
 "They'd 'av me up mebbe, and put us in the 
 lock-ups." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "The place where the pl'ice leaves folk as they 
 isn't sure about." 
 
 "Prison, do you mean?" said Peggy, growing 
 very pale. 
 
 " Well, not ezackly, but somethin' like." 
 
 Peggy caught hold of Sarah in sudden terror. 
 
 " Oh come along, Light Smiley, quick, quick. 
 Let's get back into the fields and hide or anything. 
 Oh come quick, for fear they should catch us." And 
 she tugged at Sarah, trying to drag her along the 
 road. 
 
 "Stop, missy, don't take on so; there's no need. 
 We'll just go along quietly and no one'll notice us, 
 only you stop crying, and then no one'll think any 
 'arm. We'll not go back the way we came, it's so 
 drefful thorny, but we'll look out for another road or 
 a path. I 'spects you're right enough this 'ere 
 bain't Fernley Road." 
 
 Peggy swallowed down her sobs. 
 
 " I don't think you look quite big enough to have 
 stolened me, Sarah," she said at last. " But I would 
 like to get back into the fields quick. If only we 
 could see the mountings again, I wouldn't be quite 
 so frightened." 
 
UP BERKLEY ROAD. 158 
 
 They had not gone far before they came upon 
 a gateway and a path leading through a field where 
 there seemed no difficulties. Crossing it they found 
 themselves at the edge of .the thorny wood, which 
 they skirted for some way. Peggy's energy, born of 
 fear, began to fail. 
 
 " Sarah," she said at last, bursting into fresh tears, 
 " Peggy can't go no farther, and I'm so hungry too. 
 I'm sure it's long past dinner-time. You must sit 
 down and rest; p'raps if I rested a little, I wouldn't 
 feel so very un'appy." 
 
 Sarah looked at her almost in despair. She her- 
 self was worried and vexed, very afraid too of the 
 scolding which certainly awaited her at home, but 
 she was not tired or dispirited, though very sorry 
 for Peggy, and quite aware that it was she and not 
 " missy " who was to blame for this unlucky expedi- 
 tion. 
 
 " I'd like to get on," she said, " we're sure to get 
 back into a road as'll take us 'ome before long. 
 Couldn't I carry you, missy ? " 
 
 " No," said Peggy, " you're far too little. And 
 I can't walk any more without resting. You're very 
 unkind, Light Smiley, and I wish I'd never seen 
 
 you." 
 
 Poor Sarah bore this bitter reproach in silence. 
 
 She looked about for a comfortable seat in the 
 hedge, and settled herself so that Peggy could rest 
 against her. The sunshine, though it had seemed 
 
154 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 hot and glaring on the bare dusty road was not 
 really very powerful, for it was only late April, 
 though a very summerlike day. Peggy left off 
 crying and said no more, but leant contentedly 
 enough against Sarah. 
 
 "I'm comfable now," she said, closing her eyes. 
 " Thank you, Light Smiley. I'll soon be rested, and 
 then we'll go on." 
 
 But in a moment or two, by the way she breathed, 
 Sarah saw that she had fallen asleep. 
 
 " Bless us," thought the little guardian to herself, 
 " she may sleep for hours. Whatever 'ull I do ? 
 She's that tired and when she wakes she'll be that 
 'ungry, there'll be no getting her along. She'll be 
 quite faint-like. If I dared leave her, I'd run on till 
 I found the road and got somebody to 'elp carry 
 her. But I dursn't. If she woked up and me gone, 
 she'd be runnin' who knows where, and mebbe never 
 be found again. Poor missy it'll be lock-ups and 
 no mistake, wusser I dessay for me, and quite right 
 too. Mother'll never say I'm fit for a nussery after 
 makin' sich a fool of myself." 
 
 And in spite of her courage, the tears began to 
 trickle down Sarah's face. Peggy looked so white 
 and tiny, lying there almost in her arms, that it 
 made her heart ache to see her. So she shut her 
 own eyes and tried to think what to do. And the 
 thinking grew gradually confused and mixed up 
 with all sorts of other thinkings. Sarah fancied she 
 
J at last, though 5n* WAS ri2\\y so 
 and distrtssid, tins cjuifct Anol tni mild aur^nd 
 th* idUntss p2.rh<xf>s, to wlnicli noni of tKi Simp: 
 kin5 -fas.YYiily wm rnucK ajccustotnid, a*.ll joint d 
 togithif and by ol^ri^s Kuslniol poor J-ig^t 
 Smilty to skip, htr arms cl^spid | f 
 
 Tound P^g^y ** 'I tQ prottct ^^^ V ! 
 
 K tr -from \ny possibk ^p^\\ 
 
 p. i55 
 
UP FERNLEY EOAD. 155 
 
 heard her mother calling her, and she tried to 
 answer, but somehow the words would not come. 
 
 And at last, though she was really so anxious 
 and distressed, the quiet and the mild air, and the 
 idleness perhaps, to which none of the Simpkins 
 family were much accustomed, all joined together 
 and by degrees hushed poor Light Smiley to sleep, 
 her arms clasped round Peggy as if to protect her 
 from any possible danger. 
 
 It would have been a touching picture, had there 
 been any one there to see. Unluckily, not merely 
 for the sake of the picture, but for that of the 
 children themselves, there was no one. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 
 
 "I'll love you through the happy years, 
 Till I'm a nice old lady." 
 
 POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD. 
 
 WHEN they woke, both of them at the same 
 moment it seemed, though probably one had roused 
 the other without knowing it, the sun had gone, the 
 sky looked dull, it felt chilly and strange. Peggy 
 had thought it must be past dinner-time before they 
 had sat down to rest ; it seemed now as if it must 
 be past tea-time too ! 
 
 Sarah started up, Peggy feebly clinging to her. 
 
 " Oh dear, dear," said Sarah, " I shouldn't have 
 gone to sleep, and it's got that cold I " She was 
 shivering herself, but Peggy seemed much the worse 
 of the two. She was white and pinched looking, 
 and as if she were half stupefied. 
 
 " I'm so cold," she said, " and so hungry. I 
 thought I was in bed at home. I do so want to go 
 home. I'm sure it's very late, Light Smiley; do 
 take me home." 
 
 " I'm sure, missy, it's what I want to do," said 
 poor Sarah. *' I'm afeared it's a-going to rain, and 
 
 156 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 157 
 
 whatever 'ull we do then ? You wouldn't wait 'ere 
 a minute, would you, while I run to see if there's a 
 road near ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Peggy, " I won't stay alone. I'm 
 very, very frightened, Light Smiley, and I think I'm 
 going to die." 
 
 " Oh Lor', missy, don't you say that," said Sarah, 
 in terror. " If you can't walk I'll carry you." 
 
 " I'll try to walk," said Peggy, picking up some 
 spirit when she saw Sarah's white face. 
 
 And then the two set off again, dazed and miser- 
 able, very different from the bright little pair that 
 had started up Fernley Road that morning. 
 
 Things, however, having got to the worst, began to 
 mend, or at least were beginning to mend for them, 
 though Peggy and Sarah did not just yet know it. 
 Not far from the edge of the field where they were, 
 a little bridle-path led into a lane, and a few yards 
 down this lane brought them out upon Fernley Road 
 again at last. 
 
 " I see the mountings," cried Peggy, " oh Light 
 Smiley, Peggy sees the mountings. P'raps we won't 
 die, oh, p'raps we'll get home safe again." 
 
 But though she had been trying to be brave, now 
 that she began to hope again, it was too much for 
 her poor little nerves Peggy burst into loud sob- 
 bing. 
 
 " Oh, dear missy, try not to cry," said Sarah. 
 " There there where's your hankercher ? " and 
 
158 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 she dived into Peggy's pocket in search of it. And 
 as she pulled it out, out tumbled at the same time 
 the two little scarlet shoes, falling on the ground. 
 
 " Oh Light Smiley, my red shoes. They'll be all 
 spoilt and dirtied," said Peggy, as well as she could, 
 for Sarah was dabbing the handkerchief all over her 
 face. 
 
 Sarah stooped to pick them up ; both children 
 were too much engaged to notice the sound of wheels 
 coming quickly along the quiet road. But the sight 
 of a speck of dirt on one of the shoes set Peggy off 
 crying again, and she cried for once pretty loudly. 
 The wheels came nearer, and then stopped, and this 
 made Sarah look round. A pony-carriage driven by 
 a lady had drawn up just beside them. The groom, 
 sitting behind, jumped down, though looking as if he 
 he did not know what he was to do. 
 
 " What is the matter, little girls ? " said the lady. 
 
 " It's, please 'm we've lost our road it's all 
 along o' me, mum but I didn't mean no 'arm, only 
 missy's that wore out 'm, and "but before Sarah 
 could get farther, she was stopped by a sort of cry 
 from both the lady and Peggy at once. 
 
 " Oh, oh," called out Peggy, " it's the shoes-lady 
 oh, pelease, pelease, take me home," and she 
 seemed ready to dart into the lady's arms. 
 
 " I do believe," she said, " I do believe it's the 
 little girl I saw at the bootmaker's, and yes, of 
 course it is there are the shoes themselves ! My 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 159 
 
 dear child, whatever are you doing to be so far from 
 home at least I suppose you live in the town ? - 
 and what have you got the dolly's shoes with you 
 for?" 
 
 " I brought them for them to see the mountings 
 and the white cottage," sobbed Peggy ; " but I'm so 
 cold and hungry, pelease take me home, oh, pelease, 
 do." 
 
 The lady seemed rather troubled. Even if she 
 had not remembered Peggy, she would have seen in 
 a moment that she was a little lady, though Peggy 
 looked miserable enough with her torn clothes, and 
 scratched and tear-stained face. 
 
 " Poor child," she said, " tell me your name, and 
 where you live." 
 
 " I'm Peggy, but I don't 'amember my nother 
 name, 'cos I'm tired and it's very long," she said. 
 
 The lady looked- at Sarah. Sarah shook her 
 head. 
 
 " No, mum, I don't know it neither, but I knows 
 the name of the street. 'Tis Bernard Street 'm off 
 Fernley Road, and their back winders looks over to 
 us. We're Simpkinses 'm, and missy's mar knows 
 as we're 'speckable, and mother she never thought 
 when she told me to take back the humberellar, as 
 I'd lead missy sich a dance. I'll never do for the 
 nussery, no never. I'm not steady enough," and 
 here Light Smiley gave signs of crying herself. 
 
 It was not easy for the lady to make out the story, 
 
160 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 but by degrees, with patience she did so. But while 
 talking she had lifted Peggy into the carriage beside 
 her, and wrapped her up in a shawl that lay on the 
 seat, Peggy nestling in, quite contentedly. 
 
 " Now," said the lady, " you get in too, Sarah 
 Simpkins, and I'll drive you both home. I was on 
 my way home out into the country, but I can't leave 
 you here on the road. This is Fernley Road, but it's 
 quite four miles from the town." 
 
 In scrambled Sarah, divided between fear of her 
 own and Peggy's relations' scoldings when they got 
 home, and the delight and honour of driving in a 
 carriage ! The groom would have liked to look 
 grumpy, I am quite sure, but he dared not. Peggy, 
 for her part, crept closer and closer to the lady, and 
 ended by falling asleep again, so that it was a good 
 thing Light Smiley was sitting on the other side, to 
 keep her from falling out. 
 
 The four miles seemed very short to Sarah, and 
 as they got into the outskirts of the town her face 
 grew longer and longer. 
 
 " I'm more'n half a mind to run away, I 'ave," she 
 said to herself, quite unaware she was speaking 
 aloud. "It'll be more'n I can stand, mother and 
 Rebecca and all on 'em down on me, for I didn't 
 mean no 'arm. I'd best run away." 
 
 The lady turned to her, hitherto she had not taken 
 much notice of Sarah, but now she felt sorry for the 
 little girl. 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 161 
 
 " What are you saying, my dear ? " she said gently, 
 though all the same her voice made Sarah jump. 
 "Are you afraid of going home? You have not 
 done anything naughty, exactly, as far as I under- 
 stand. It was only thoughtless. I will go with you 
 to your home if you like, and explain to your mother 
 how it was." 
 
 " Oh thank you, mum," said Sarah, eagerly, her 
 spirits rising again at once ; " you see, mum, I do so 
 want to be in the nussery onst I'm big enough, and 
 I was so afeared mother'd never think of it again. 
 I only wanted to please little missy, for she seemed 
 so lonely like, her mar and all bein' away and no one 
 for to take her a walk. She's a sweet little missy, 
 she is, but she's only a baby, so to say ; she do have 
 such funny fancies. 'Twas all to see the cottage on 
 the 'ills she wanted to come up Fernley Road so 
 badly." 
 
 " The cottage what cottage ? " asked the lady. 
 
 Sarah tried to explain, and gradually the lady got 
 to understand what little Peggy had meant about 
 bringing the red shoes "to see the mountings and 
 the cottage." 
 
 " She's always a-talking of the country, and father 
 lived there when he was a boy, and missy had got it 
 in her 'ead that he lived in a white cottage, like the 
 one she fancies about," Sarah went on. 
 
 " I would like to take her out into the real coun- 
 try, poor little pet," said the lady, looking tenderly 
 
162 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 at the sweet tiny face of the sleeping child. She 
 loved all children, but little girls of Peggy's age 
 were especially dear to her, for many years before 
 she had had a younger sister who had died, and the 
 thought of her had come into her mind the first time 
 she had seen Peggy at the door of the shoe shop. 
 " If I can see any of her friends I will ask them 
 to let her spend a day with me," she went on, speak- 
 ing more to herself than to Sarah. 
 
 As they turned into Bernard Street a cab dashed 
 past them coming very fast from the opposite direc- 
 tion. It drew up in front of the house which Sarah 
 was just that moment pointing out to the lady as 
 Peggy's home, and a gentleman, followed by a young 
 woman, sprang out. The door was opened almost as 
 soon as they rang, and then the three, the other ser- 
 vant who had answered the bell, the young woman 
 and the gentleman, all stood together on the steps 
 talking so anxiously and eagerly that for a moment 
 or two they did not notice the pony-carriage, and 
 though the groom knew the whole story by this time 
 and had jumped down at once, he was far too proper 
 to do anything till he had his lady's orders. 
 
 "Ask the gentleman to speak to me," said the 
 lady, " and you jump out, little Sarah. I think he 
 must be Peggy's father. " 
 
 He had turned round by this time and came hurry- 
 ing forward. The moment the lady saw him she 
 knew she had guessed right. He was so like Peggy 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 163 
 
 fair and gray-eyed, and with the same gentle 
 expression, and very young looking to be the father 
 not only of Peggy, but of big little boys like Thor 
 and Terry. His face looked pale and anxious, but 
 the moment he caught sight of the little sleeping 
 figure leaning against the lady it all lighted up and 
 a red flush came into his cheeks. 
 
 " Oh thank God," he exclaimed, " my little 
 Peggy ! You have found her ! How good of you ! 
 But she is not hurt ? she is all right ? " 
 
 " Yes yes only cold and hungry and tired," 
 said the lady eagerly, for Peggy did look rather mis- 
 erable still. " Will you lift her out ? " and as he did 
 so, she got out herself, and turned to Sarah. " May 
 I bring this other child in for a moment," she said, 
 "and then I can explain it all?" 
 
 Sarah folloAved gladly, but a sudden thought struck 
 her, " Please 'm," she said, bravely, though the tears 
 came to her eyes as she spoke, " p'raps I'd best run 
 'ome ; mother'll be frightened about me." 
 
 " But I promised you should not be scolded," said 
 the lady ; " stay," and she turned to Fanny, " she 
 lives close to, she says." 
 
 u At the back over the cobbler's," said Sarah, 
 readily. 
 
 "Can you let her mother know she's all right, 
 then? And say I am coming to speak to her in a 
 moment," said the lady, and Fanny went off. She 
 had been so terrified about Peggy, and so afraid that 
 
164 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 she would be blamed for carelessness, that she dared 
 not wait, though she was dying with curiosity to 
 know the whole story and what one of the Simpkins 
 children could have had to do with it. 
 
 Peggy awoke by the time her father had got her 
 into the dining-room, where cook had made a good 
 fire and laid out Peggy's dinner and tea in one to 
 be all ready, for the poor woman had been hoping 
 every instant for the last few hours that the little 
 girl would be brought home again. It had been 
 difficult to find Peggy's father, as he was not at his 
 office, and Fanny had been there two or three times 
 to fetch him. 
 
 " Oh dear papa," were Peggy's first words, " I'm 
 so glad to be home. I'll never go up Fernley Road 
 again ; but I did so want to see the cottage and the 
 mountings plainer. And it wasn't Light Smiley's 
 fault. She was very good to me, and I was very 
 cross." 
 
 This did not much clear up matters. Indeed 
 Peggy's papa was afraid for a minute or two that his 
 little girl was going to have a fever, and that her 
 mind was wandering. But all such fears were soon 
 set at rest, and when the lady went off with Sarah, 
 she left Peggy setting to work very happily at her 
 dinner or tea, she was not sure which to call it. 
 
 "And you will let her come to spend the day 
 with me to-morrow?" said the lady, as she shook 
 hands with Peggy's father. " I shall be driving this 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 165 
 
 way, and I can call for her. I should not be happy 
 not to know that she was none the worse for her 
 adventures to-day." 
 
 Then the lady took Sarah by the hand and went 
 round with her to her home in the back street, telling 
 the groom to wait for her at the corner. 
 
 It was well she went herself, for otherwise I am 
 afraid poor Light Smiley would not have escaped 
 the scolding she dreaded. Her mother and sisters 
 had been very unhappy and frightened about her, 
 and when people especially poor mothers like Mrs. 
 Simpkins, with " so many children that they don't 
 know what to do" are anxious and frightened, I 
 have often noticed that it makes them very cross. 
 
 As it was, however, the lady managed to smooth 
 it all down, and before she left she got not only 
 Sarah's mother, but Rebecca and Mary-Hann and all 
 of them to promise to say no more about it. 
 
 "'Tisn't only for myself I was feelin' so put about, 
 you see, ma'am," said Mrs. Simpkins, "but when I 
 sent over the way and found the little missy was not 
 to be found it flashed upon me like a lightenin' 
 streak it did that, ma'am that the two was off 
 together. And if any 'arm had come to the little 
 lady through one of mine, so to say, it would 'ave 
 gone nigh to break my 'art. For their mar is a 
 sweet lady a real feelin' lady is their mar." 
 
 " And a kind friend to you, I dare say," said the 
 stranger. 
 
166 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 "Couldn't be a kinder as far as friendly words 
 and old clotheses goes," said Mrs. Simpkins. " But 
 she's a large little fam'ly of her own, and not so very 
 strong in 'ealth, and plenty to do with their money. 
 And so to speak strangers in the place, though she 
 'ave said she'd do her best to get a place in a nice 
 fam'ly for one of my girls." 
 
 The lady glanced at the group of sisters. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I should think you could spare 
 one or two. How would you like to be in a 
 kitchen?" she added, turning to Rebecca. 
 
 The girl blushed so that her face matched her 
 arms, and she looked more " reddy " than ever. But 
 she shook her head. 
 
 " I'm afraid " she began. 
 
 "No, ma'am, thank you kindly, but I couldn't 
 spare Rebecca," the mother interrupted. " If it were 
 for Mary-Hann now Matilda-Jane's coming on and 
 could take her place. Only, for I couldn't deceive 
 you, ma'am, she's rather deaf." 
 
 " I shouldn't mind that," said the lady, who was 
 pleased by Mary-Ann's bright eyes and pleasant face. 
 "I think deaf people sometimes work better than 
 quick-hearing ones, besides, it may perhaps be cured. 
 I will speak about her to my housekeeper and let 
 you know. And you, Sarah, you are to be in the 
 nursery some day." 
 
 Sarah grinned with delight. 
 
 " Not just yet," said Mrs. Simpkins ; " she 'ave a 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 167 
 
 deal to learn, 'ave Sarah. Schooling and stiddiness 
 to begin with. She don't mean no 'arm, I'll allow." 
 
 " No ; I'm sure she wants to be a very good girl," 
 said the lady. " She was very kind and gentle to 
 little Miss Peggy. So I won't forget you either, 
 Sarah, when the time comes." 
 
 And then the lady said good-bye to them all, and 
 Mrs. Simpkins's heart felt lighter than for long, for she 
 was sure that through this new friend she might get 
 the start in life she had been hoping for, for her many 
 daughters. 
 
 Peggy slept off her fatigue, and by the next morn- 
 ing she was quite bright again and able to listen to 
 and understand papa's explanation of how, though 
 without meaning to be disobedient, she had done 
 wrong the day before in setting off with Sarah Simp- 
 kins as she had done. Two or three tears rolled 
 slowly down her cheeks as she heard what he said. 
 
 " I meant to be so good while mamma was away," 
 she whispered. " But I'll never do it again, papa. 
 I'll stay quiet in the nursery all alone, even if Miss 
 Earnshaw doesn't come back at all." 
 
 For a message had come from the dressmaker that 
 her mother was very ill, as Fanny had feared, and 
 that she was afraid she would not be able to leave 
 her for several days. 
 
 " It won't be so bad as that, dear," said her father. 
 " Mamma will be back in five days now, and I don't 
 think you are likely to be left alone in the nursery 
 
168 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 certainly not to-day ; " and then he told her about 
 the lady having asked her to spend the day out in 
 the country with her, and that Peggy must be ready 
 by twelve o'clock, not to keep her new friend waiting. 
 
 Peggy's eyes gleamed with delight. 
 
 "Out into the country?" she said. "Oh, how 
 lovely ! And oh, papa, do you think p'raps she lives 
 in a white cottage ? " 
 
 Papa shook his head. 
 
 "I'm afraid it's not a cottage at all where she 
 lives," he said. " But I'm sure it is a very pretty 
 house, and let us hope it is a white one." 
 
 " No," said Peggy, " you don't understand, papa 
 not as well as mamma does. I don't care what colour 
 it is if it's only an 'ouse." 
 
 And she couldn't understand why papa laughed 
 so that he really couldn't correct her. " I'm afraid, 
 Peggy," he said, "you've been taking lessons from 
 little Miss Simpkins. It's time mamma came home 
 again to look after you." 
 
 " Yes, I wish mamma was come home again," said 
 Peggy. " We can't do without her, can we, papa ? " 
 
 But when the dear little pony carriage came up 
 to the door, and Peggy got in and drove off with her 
 kind friend, she was so happy that she had not even 
 time to wish for mamma. 
 
 And what a delightful day she had ! The lady's 
 house was very pretty, and the gardens and woods 
 in which it stood even prettier in Peggy's opinion. 
 
THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 169 
 
 And though it was not a cottage, there were all the 
 country things to see which Peggy was so fond of 
 cocks and hens, and cows, and in one field lots of 
 sheep and sweet little lambkins. There were pigs 
 too, which Peggy would not look at, but ran away to 
 the other end of the yard as soon as she heard them 
 " grumphing," which amused the lady very much. 
 And in the afternoon she went a walk with her friend 
 through the village, where there were several pretty 
 cottages, but none that quite fitted Peggy's fancy. 
 When they came in again Peggy stood at the drawing- 
 room window, which looked out towards Bracken- 
 shire, without speaking. 
 
 " You like that view, don't you, dear ? " said the 
 lady. " You can see the hills ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Peggy, " I can see the mountings, but 
 not the white cottage. It's got turned wrong some- 
 how, from here. I can only see it from the nursery 
 window at home," and she gave a very little sigh. 
 
 " Some day," said the lady, " some day in the sum- 
 mer when the afternoons are very long, I will drive 
 you right out a long way among the hills, and perhaps 
 we'll find the cottage then. For I hope your mamma 
 will often let you come to see me, my little Peggy." 
 
 "Yes," said Peggy, "that would be lovely. I 
 wonder if we'd find the white cottage." 
 
 No, they never did ! The sweet long summer days 
 came, and many a bright and happy one Peggy spent 
 with her kind friend, but they never found the white 
 
170 PEGGY: A NURSERY STORY. 
 
 cottage on the hill. Peggy knew it so well in her 
 mind, she felt she could not mistake it, but though 
 she saw many white cottages which any one else 
 might have thought was it, she knew better. And 
 each time, though she sighed a little, she hoped again. 
 
 But before another summer came round Peggy 
 and her father and mother, and Thor, and Terry, and 
 Hal, and Baldwin, and Baby had all gone away far 
 away to the south, many hours' journey from the 
 dingy town and the Fernley Road, and the queer old 
 house in the back street where lived the cobbler and 
 old Mother Whelan and Brown Smiley and Light 
 Smiley and all the rest of them. Far away too from 
 the hills and the strange white speck in the distance 
 which Peggy called her cottage. 
 
 So it never was more than a dream to her after all, 
 and perhaps perhaps it was best so ? For nothing 
 has ever spoilt the sweetness and the mystery of the 
 childish fancy she can see it with her mind's eye 
 still the soft white speck on the far-away, blue hills 
 she can see it and think of it and make fancies 
 about it even now now that she has climbed a long, 
 long way up the mountain of life, and will soon be 
 creeping slowly down the other side, where the sun 
 still shines, however, and there are even more 
 beautiful things to hope for than the sweetest dreams 
 of childhood. 
 
 THE END. 
 
A NEW UNIFORM EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 MRS. MOLESWORTH'S 
 
 STORIES FOR CHILDREN 
 
 WITH 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY WALTER CRANE AND LESLIE BROOKE, 
 
 In Ten Volumes. i2mo. Cloth. One Dollar a Volume. 
 
 Tell Me a Story, and Herr Baby. 
 '"Carrots," and A Christmas Child. 
 
 ^Grandmother Dear, and Two Little Waifs. 
 ^The Cuckoo Clock, and The Tapestry Room. 
 
 Christmas-Tree Land, and A Christmas Posy. 
 ""The Children of the Castle, and Four Winds Farm. 
 
 " -Little Miss Peggy, and Nurse Heatherdale's Story , 
 "Us," and The Rectory Children. 
 Rosy, and The Girls and I. 
 Mary. 
 
 THE SET, TEN YOLUMES, IN BOX, $10.00. 
 
 " It seems to me not at all easier to draw a lifelike child than to draw a lifelike man 
 or woman : Shakespeare and Webster were the only two men of their age who could 
 do it with perfect delicacy and success; at least, if there was another who could, I 
 must crave pardon of his happy memory for my forgetfulness or ignorance of his 
 name. Our own age is more fortunate, on this single score at least, having a larger 
 and far nobler proportion of female writers; among whom, since the death of George 
 Eliot, there is none left whose touch is so exquisite and masterly, whose love is so 
 thoroughly according to knowledge, whose bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, 
 so truthful, or so delightful as Mrs. Molesworth's. Any chapter of The Cuckoo Clock 
 or the enchanting Adventures of Herr Baby is worth a shoal of the very best novels 
 dealing with the characters and fortunes of mere adults." MRS. A. C. SWINBURNE, 
 in The Nineteenth Century. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 
 I 
 
MRS. MOLESWORTH'S 
 STORIES FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 "There is hardly a better author to put into the hands of children than Mrs. 
 Molesworth. I cannot easily speak too highly of her work. It is a curious art she 
 has, not wholly English in its spirit, but a cross of the old English with the Italian. 
 Indeed, I should say Mrs. Molesworth had also been a close student of the German 
 and Russian, and had some way, catching and holding the spirit of all, created a 
 method and tone quite her own. . . . Her characters are admirable and real." St. 
 Louis Globe Democrat. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth has a rare gift for composing stories for children. With a 
 light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and artless, yet natural and strong, charac- 
 ters." Congr egationalist. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth always has in her books those charming touches of nature 
 that are sure to charm small people. Her stories are so likely to have been true that 
 men 'grown up' do not disdain them." Home Journal. 
 
 " No English writer of childish stories has a better reputation than Mrs. Moles- 
 worth, and none with whose stories we are familiar deserves it better. She has a 
 motherly knowledge of the child nature, a clear sense of character, the power of 
 inventing simple incidents that interest, and the ease which comes of continuous 
 practice." Mail and Express. 
 
 " Christmas would hardly be Christmas without one of Mrs. Molesworth's stories. 
 No one has quite the same power of throwing a charm and an interest about the 
 most commonplace every-day doings as she has, and no one has ever blended fairy- 
 land and reality with the same skill." Educational -Times. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth is justly a great favorite with children; her stories for them 
 are always charmingly interesting and healthful in tone." Boston Home Journal. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth's books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly well adapted to 
 refined life. It is safe to add that Mrs. Molesworth is the best English prose writer 
 for children. . . . Anew volume from Mrs. Molesworth is always a treat." The 
 Beacon. 
 
 " No holiday season would be complete for a host of young readers without a volume 
 from the hand of Mrs. Molesworth. ... It is one of the peculiarities of Mrs. 
 Molesworth's stories that older readers can no more escape their charm than younger 
 ones." Christian Union. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth ranks with George Macdonald and Mrs. Ewing as a writer of 
 children's stories that possess real literary merit." Milwaukee Sentinel. 
 
 THE SET, TEN VOLUMES, IN BOX, $10.00. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 2 
 
TELL ME A STORY, and HERR BABY. 
 
 " So delightful that we are inclined to join in the petition, and we hope she may 
 soon tell us more stories." Athenceum. 
 
 "CARROTS"; Just a Little Boy. 
 
 " One of the cleverest and most pleasing stories it has been our good fortune to 
 meet with for some time. Carrots and his sister are delightful little beings, whom to 
 read about is at once to become very fond of." Examiner. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CHILD ; A Sketch of a Boy's Life. 
 
 " A very sweet and tenderly drawn sketch, with life and reality manifest through- 
 out." Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " This is a capital story, well illustrated. Mrs. Molesworth is one of those sunny, 
 genial writers who has genius for writing acceptably for the young. She has the 
 happy faculty of blending enough real with romance to make her stories very practi- 
 cal for good without robbing them of any of their exciting interest." Chicago Inter- 
 Ocean. 
 
 "Mrs. Molesworth's A Christmas Child is a story of a boy -life. The book is a 
 small one, but none the less attractive. It is one of the best of this year's juveniles." 
 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth is one of the few writers of tales for children whose sentiment 
 though of the sweetest kind is never sickly ; whose religious feeling is never concealed 
 yet never obtruded ; whose books are always good but never ' goody.' Little Ted 
 with his soft heart, clever head, and brave spirit is no morbid presentment of the 
 angelic child ' too good to live,' and who is certainly a nuisance on earth, but a 
 charming creature, if not a portrait, whom it is a privilege to meet even in fiction." 
 
 The A cademy. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 3 
 
THE CUCKOO CLOCK. 
 
 " A beautiful little story. ... It will be read with delight by every child into 
 whose hands it is placed." Pall Mall Gazette, 
 
 GRANDMOTHER DEAR. 
 
 " The author's concern is with the development of character, and seldom does one 
 meet with the wisdom, tact, and good breeding which pervades this little book." 
 Nation. 
 
 TWO LITTLE WAIFS. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth's delightful story of Two Little Waifs will charm all the small 
 people who find it in their stockings. It relates the adventures of two lovable Eng- 
 lish children lost in Paris, and is just wonderful enough to pleasantly wring the youth- 
 ful heart." New York Tribune. 
 
 " It is, in its way. indeed, a little classic, of which the real beauty and pathos can 
 hardly be appreciated by young people. ... It is not too much to say of the story 
 that it is perfect of its kind." Critic and Good Literature. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories are always 
 acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and her record of the adventures of 
 the little waifs is as entertaining and enjoyable as we might expect." Boston 
 Courier. 
 
 " Two Little Waifs by Mrs. Molesworth is a pretty little fancy, relating the adven- 
 tures of a pair of lost children, in a style full of simple charm. It is among the very 
 daintiest of juvenile books that the season has yet called forth ; and its pathos and 
 humor are equally delightful. The refined tone and the tender sympathy with the 
 feelings and sentiments of childhood, lend it a special and an abiding charm." Bos- 
 ton Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 " This is a charming little juvenile story from the pen of Mrs. Molesworth, 
 detailing the various adventures of a couple of motherless children in searching for 
 their father, whom they had missed in Paris where they had gone to meet him." 
 Montreal Star. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth is a popular name, not only with a host of English, but with a 
 considerable army of young American readers, who have been charmed by her deli- 
 cate fancy and won by the interest of her style. Two Little Waifs, illustrated by 
 Walter Crane, is a delightful story, which comes, as all children's stories ought to do, 
 to a delightful end." Christian Union. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 4 
 
THE TAPESTRY ROOM. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth is the queen of children's fairy-land. She knows how to make 
 use of the vague, fresh, wondering instincts of childhood, and to invest familiar 
 things with fairy glamour." Athenceum. 
 
 " The story told is a charming one of what may be called the neo-fairy sort. . . . 
 There has been nothing better of its kind done anywhere for children, whether we 
 consider its capacity to awake interest or its wholesomeness." Evening Post. 
 
 " Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more unique than The 
 Tapestry Room. Like all of Mrs. Molesworth's stories it will please young readers 
 by the very attractive and charming style in which it is written." Presbyterian 
 Journal. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth will be remembered as a writer of very pleasing stories for 
 children. A new book from her pen will be sure of a welcome from all the young 
 people. The new story bears the name of The Tapestry Room and is a child's 
 romance. . . . The child who comes into possession of the story will count himself 
 fortunate. It is a bright, wholesome story, in which the interest is maintained to 
 the end. The author has the faculty of adapting herself to the tastes and ideas of 
 her readers in an unusual way." New Haven Paladium. 
 
 CHRISTMAS-TREE LAND. 
 
 " It is conceived after a happy fancy, as it relates the supposititious journey of a 
 party of little ones through that part of fairy-land where Christmas-trees are sup- 
 posed to most abound. There is just enough of the old-fashioned fancy about fairies 
 mingled with the ' modern improvements ' to incite and stimulate the youthful 
 imagination to healthful action. The pictures by Walter Crane are, of course, not 
 only well executed in themselves, but in charming consonance with the spirit of the 
 tale." Troy Times. 
 
 " Christmas-Tree Land, by Mrs. Molesworth, is a book to make younger readers 
 open their eyes wide with delight. A little boy and a little girl domiciled in a great 
 white castle, wander on their holidays through the surrounding fir-forests, and meet 
 with the most delightful pleasures. There is a fascinating, mysterious character in 
 their adventures and enough of the fairy-like and wonderful to puzzle and enchant all 
 the little ones." Boston Home Journal. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS POSY. 
 
 " This is a collection of eight of those inimitable stories for children which none 
 could write better than Mrs. Molesworth. Her books are prime favorites with 
 children of all ages and they are as good and wholesome as they are interesting and 
 popular. This makes a very handsome book, and its illustrations are excellent." 
 Christian at Work. 
 
 " A Christmas Posy is one of those charming stories for girls which Mrs Moles- 
 worth excels in writing." Philadelphia Press. 
 
 " Here is a group of bright, wholesome stories, such as are dear to children, and 
 nicely tuned to the harmonies of Christmas-tide. Mr. Crane has found good situ- 
 ations for his spirited sketches." Churchman. 
 
 " A Christmas Posy, by Mrs. Molesworth, is lovely and fragrant. Mrs. Moles- 
 worth succeeds by right to the place occupied with so much honor by the late Mrs. 
 Ewing, as a writer of charming stories for children. The present volume is a cluster 
 of delightful short stories. Mr. Crane's illustrations are in harmony with the text." 
 Christian Intelligencer. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 5 
 
THE CHILDREN OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 " The Children of the Castle, by Mrs. Molesworth, is another of those delightful 
 juvenile stories of which this author has written so many. It is a fascinating little 
 book, with a charming plot, a sweet, pure atmosphere, and teaches a wholesome 
 moral in the most winning manner." B. S. E. Gazette. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth has given a charming story for children. ... It is a whole- 
 some book, one which the little ones will read with interest." Living Church. 
 
 " The Children of the Castle are delightful creations, actual little girls, living in 
 an actual castle, but often led by their fancies into a shadowy fairy-land. There is a 
 charming refinement of style and spirit about the story from beginning to end; an 
 imaginative child will find endless pleasure in it, and the lesson of gentleness and 
 unselfishness so artistically managed that it does not seem like a lesson, but only a 
 part of the story." Milwaukee Sentinel. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth's stories for children are always ingenious, entertaining, and 
 thoroughly wholesome. Her resources are apparently inexhaustible, and each new 
 book from her pen seems to surpass its predecessors in attractiveness. In The Chil- 
 dren of the Castle the best elements of a good story for children are very happily 
 combined." The Week- 
 
 FOUR WINDS FARM. 
 
 " Mrs. Molesworth's books are always delightful, but of all none is more charm- 
 ing than the volume with which she greets the holidays this season. Four Winds 
 Farm is one of the most delicate and pleasing books for a child that has seen the 
 light this many a day. It is full of fancy and of that instinctive sympathy with child- 
 hood which makes this author's books so attractive and so individual." Boston 
 Courier. 
 
 " Like all the books she has written this one is very charming, and is worth 
 more in the hands of a child than a score of other stories of a more sensational char- 
 acter." Christian at Work. 
 
 " Still more delicately fanciful is Mrs. Molesworth's lovely little tale of the Four 
 Winds Farm. It is neither a dream nor a fairy story, but concerns the fortune of a 
 real little boy, named Gratian ; yet the dream and the fairy tale seem to enter into 
 his life, and make part of it. The farm-house in which the child lives is set exactly 
 at the meeting-place of the four winds, and they, from the moment of his birth, have 
 acted as his self-elected godmothers. . . . All the winds love the boy, and, held in 
 the balance of their influence, he grows up as a boy should, simply and truly, with 
 a tender heart and firm mind. The idea of this little book is essentially poetical." 
 Literary World. 
 
 " This book is for the children. We grudge it to them. There are few children 
 in this generation good enough for such a gift. Mrs. Molesworth is the only woman 
 now who can write such a book. . . . The delicate welding of the farm life about 
 the child and the spiritual life within him, and the realization of the four immortals 
 into a delightful sort of half-femininity shows a finer literary quality than anything 
 we have seen for a long time. The light that never was on sea or land is in this 
 little red and gold volume." Philadelphia Press. 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., 
 
 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 
 6 
 
7 DAY USE 
 
 TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 CDUCAiiON LIBRARY 
 This publication is due on the LAST DATE 
 stamped below. 
 
 EC. cm. WO^ "90 
 
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 University of California 
 
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