Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
"US, AND OUR DONKEY"
BY
AMY LE FEUVRE
Author of
"Me and Nobbles," "Probable Sons," "Teddy's Button," etc.
_Semper fidelis, semper paratus_
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY_
W. H. C. GROOME
_SECOND IMPRESSION_
London
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
————————
Bulbs and Blossoms. A Little Maid.
The Carved Cupboard. Odd.
Eric's Good News. Odd made Even.
Heather's Mistress. Probable Sons.
His Little Daughter. Teddy's Button.
Miss Lavender's Boy. "Me and Nobbles."
On the Edge of a Moor. A Bit of Rough Road.
A Puzzling Pair. Dwell Deep.
A Thoughtless Seven. His Birthday.
Bunny's Friends. A Little Listener.
Jill's Red Bag. The Making of a Woman.
Legend Led. The Mender.
——————————
_THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY_
_4 Bouverie Street London, E. C._
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. OUR MOVE
II. THE KNIGHT'S MOTTO
III. MY SECRET
IV. MARKET DAY
V. LYNETTE'S SCRAPE
VI. OUR VISIT TO THE HALL
VII. THE GIPSY CAMP
VIII. THE DONKEY RACE
IX. THE GIPSIES' SUPPER
X. THE CHARIOT RACE
XI. ANDY AND ME
XII. LITTLE ANNIE STEEL
XIII. OUR DREADFUL DAY
XIV. A DONKEY IN A NIGHT-CAP
XV. AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH
XVI. OUR KNIGHT'S STORY
XVII. FOUND
"US, AND OUR DONKEY"
CHAPTER I
OUR MOVE
OF course the boys say I shan't keep it up, but I say I shall. You
see, there's such a lot to tell about, for we have come into a fresh
village, and everything is strange and new. Denys says every one who
writes is a prig, and Aylwin says I shall only write about myself,
but I shan't do that, I know, for I think the others are much more
interesting than I am. And I don't mean to write all our sayings and
doings. There are a good many other people besides ourselves about
here, and they will be very interesting, I'm sure. Of course, I may not
write as I ought, always. I make good resolutions very often, but the
difficulty is to keep them. And, of course, I must describe ourselves a
little. I always like to hear what the children are like in books.
So I will begin this chapter by saying that our father's name is John
Henry Marjoribanks, and he is a clergyman. Mother died just a year
ago. I don't like writing about it, but I think I must. It was such a
horrible, awful time. We were very poor, for father was only a curate
then, and mother could not afford a thick winter jacket. She cut down
hers for me—I hate the very sight of it now—and then she went out one
bitterly cold night to see a sick woman, and she came back shivering.
And then she got—I really can't spell it, but I know it begins with a
'p' which you don't pronounce. It means inflammation of the lungs—and
we had to have a nurse, which cost a lot of money. And none of us were
allowed to see her until the last day, when she asked for us, to wish
us good-bye. I won't write any more; it makes me cry; we did love
mother so. But she told me to try to take her place, for I was the
eldest daughter. And I feel I never, never shall, for I'm so forgetful,
and can't sit still, and hate needlework. And I laugh at the most
solemn kind of things; anybody can make me laugh, and they know it.
Poor father got graver and graver, and Mrs. Glass, our rector's wife,
was horrid; she kept interfering so. We always hated her little girls.
They were prigs (I think I would rather be a convict than a prig!), and
they were always so superior to us.
"Your father has to do what our father tells him," they said one day
when we were fighting with them. "And if he doesn't, he'll be sent
away."
They seemed to think father was a kind of servant. So we told them what
we thought of them, and after that we didn't speak to each other for
five whole days. And then the glorious news came at breakfast by the
post. Father was going to be the Rector of Warlington, and that meant
a church of his own, and a house of his own, and a move. A move is the
most splendid thing, we all think. We have had two before, and we would
like one every year. This one wasn't quite so nice as usual, because
mother wasn't at it. And Aunt Caroline came to see to it. We love the
way the house gets more and more untidy, and the last day, when we have
to eat our meals off boxes, and everything is in the most hopeless
muddle, and the rooms get emptier and emptier, and no one has time to
look after us—it is simply ripping!
But I can't stop to describe this move of ours, because it is all over,
and I want to hurry on to where we are now. Aunt Caroline came to
settle us in, and she's with us now. She's father's sister, and very
kind, but a little fussy, we think. She says she feels she never ought
to have her needle out of her hand, because we tear our clothes so.
We had to come a very long way by train, because we had been living
near London, and our new home is in Lincolnshire. We got so tired that
we were all asleep when we arrived. Perhaps I had better describe
ourselves before I describe the house, and then I shall be able to
begin my story quite properly.
Denys is the eldest—he is thirteen; Aylwin is twelve. They always do
everything together. Denys is the managing one, and Aylwin generally
agrees with him, after he has argued the thing thoroughly out.
Everybody thinks they're very nice-looking. I think they are, but when
people say to father, "What dear boys! Such thorough little gentlemen,"
he shakes his head. "They're gentlemen, I hope, but desperate pickles!"
Then I come next. I'm the ugly one of the family. I have reddish hair,
and a white face, and greenish-brown eyes. I think I'm quite fair in
saying my hair is reddish, because it could be redder. I've seen some
a real red, and mine isn't that. The boys say red-haired people are
always ugly, and spit-cats. I do flare up, I know, but I try not to. I
won't say any more about myself, except that I mean to write books one
day, and that's why I'm beginning now to get my hand in. My name is
Grisel. Isn't it a dreadful name? It was given me by an old great-aunt,
who was my godmother. The boys, of course, call me Gristle and Grizzy.
"You couldn't possibly be a beauty with a name like that," said Denys
one day to me, when I told him I wished I was like Lynette. "No," I
said, "but if I shut my eyes, Grisel sounds like a grim, grey-haired
old woman with a beard under her chin, and I suppose I shall grow
up like that." "I dare say you will," he said, "but you needn't be
grim unless you like. You aren't grim now." So that is one thing I'm
thankful for—that I'm not grim!
I find I am writing an awful lot about myself, so I will hurry on.
Lynette is nine years old, and very pretty, and a regular mad-cap. She
has long fair hair that comes right down to her waist in curly waves,
and very big blue eyes, and she is never still a minute unless she is
concocting mischief. Then Puff is the last one of us, and he used to
be the baby. His real name is George, but we call him Puff because he
talks so fast that he puffs like a steam-engine between his words, and
he thinks an awful lot of himself, and struts about like a bantam-cock.
He is only six, and he is always in pinafores, which he hates, and
tries to get rid of whenever he can. We tie them in tight knots behind
him. He tried dirtying them as fast as he could at one time, but if he
has to have more than one pinafore a day, he has to go without sugar at
tea-time, and he can't bear that. He has very curly hair, and a chubby
rosy face, and he stamps when he walks, so he wears a lot of shoes out.
Now I will try to describe our house, as it is a delicious one. It is
at the corner of a very pretty village with thatched cottages, and it
is close to the church. Our big gate is almost side by side with the
church gate, but when we go into church, we go down a little narrow
path between thick shrubberies, and then we come to a narrow little
iron gate which leads into the churchyard exactly opposite the door.
Our big gate leads up a broad drive to our hall door, which is built
in the side of our house; the stables are this side, and there are a
coach-house and harness-room and loft, and two stalls for horses. We
haven't a carriage or horse, but they're lovely places to play in.
The front of the house looks over a lovely big lawn; there's a
summer-house and a lot of trees one end, and two big elms the other
end, and at the bottom of it is a straight gravel path, and on the
other side is a huge strawberry-bed. The strawberries divide the
flower-garden from the kitchen-garden, which slopes down to a field.
There are two fields after this one, and then comes the railway line.
Our house is rather on a hill, so the fields slant down, which is a
good thing when you're running to catch a train. Then there's a bit of
garden that runs up the other side of the house, and that is full of
flower-beds, and there's a small greenhouse, and father's study window
looks out upon it. At the back of the stables is the yard, with the
outhouses and the fowls' run; and then there is a wild bit of grass
under a small plantation, and a high wall dividing our garden from the
road. I am not good at descriptions, but I hope I've said enough about
it outside.
Inside, we have the dining-room and drawing-room and father's study.
Then there are a baize door and a long passage leading past the
kitchens to the yard. Upstairs, we have our schoolroom over the
dining-room; then there are father's bedroom, and Aunt Caroline's,
and the spare room; and then there are another baize door and a long
passage with our bedrooms and the servants'. Aylwin and Denys sleep
together in one room, and Lynette and I in another. Puff sleeps with
Aunt Caroline. What we like are the broad low stairs, and the long
passages. And there's a lovely country smell about the house. I can't
describe it. We've always lived in towns before, but if I shut my eyes,
I can tell where I am because of the smell. It's something like burnt
wood and hot loaves and lavender all mixed up together, and it made me
sniff all over the house when I first got here.
The first few weeks after we came were lovely. We helped Aunt Caroline
to arrange the furniture, and father went into Lemworth, our nearest
town, twelve miles off, and bought some new carpets and a lot of new
furniture. We clapped our hands when we saw it, but father said, "Oh,
children, how mother would have enjoyed this!" And then he went into
his study and shut the door, and we hushed at once, till we forgot
again.
You see, we have run rather wild, but it's all so new to us, and we've
never had a proper garden before, and we can hardly believe that
everything in it belongs to us. We came here the beginning of June, and
we haven't finished eating the strawberries yet, and it will be July
to-morrow. Yesterday was the first wet day that we've had, so we all
got together in the schoolroom and talked. We always find a lot to talk
about, and we began about the lessons. Denys and Aylwin are to walk
three miles every day to the clergyman of the next parish, who teaches
his own boys and a few others. They will have their dinner there, and
not come back till tea-time. Lynette and I shall do lessons with Aunt
Caroline. I don't think she will be very strict, but I don't know. She
and Aunt Mildred are going to take it in turns to come and keep house
for father. They live near London with grannie. We like Aunt Mildred
because she plays games with us and tells us stories, and she is quite
a young grown-up, but her turn won't come till next autumn, and that
seems years away.
"I think six miles every day will be awful rot!" said Denys, swinging
his legs upon the table, and looking rather cross. "We ought to have
bikes, then we should do it easy!"
"We'll never have them," said Aylwin, "as long as we're a poor parson's
sons. When I grow up, I shall make a fortune before I marry, and give
every one of my sons a bike on their sixth birthday."
"How will you make it?" scoffed Denys. "Not by working, I know!"
"I shall just find," said Aylwin. "Gold, or diamonds, or oil. I don't
care what, but that's how you make your money."
"The gold and diamonds don't come spouting out of the earth as you walk
by," said Denys.
"Oh, no, but I shall come across them unexpectedly."
"I wish we could keep a little pony-cart," I said. "I saw one driving
through the village yesterday; it was such a darling little pony,
and it was tearing along, and a little girl was driving it. I don't
know who she is, but I mean to know her. She was dressed in a blue
cotton frock and a white straw hat, and she looked rather hot and
grubby—that's why I liked her. She wasn't a bit stuck up."
"Ponies cost a lot," said Aylwin. "An old ass wouldn't be bad. If we
could make him go, he would take us to school in no time."
"Yes," I said, with a yell of delight, "and I should come with you
every morning to drive him back again, because we should want to use
him in the daytime. I should come every day to fetch and carry you."
Denys threw the book he was reading at my head. I caught it, and
returned it with a better aim. Then we had a regular shindy, and every
one joined in. And Aunt Caroline put her head in at the door to tell us
to stop. But we began to think about the donkey, and then we determined
to save up money to buy one ourselves. We don't often have money given
us, but on birthdays we do, and we solemnly promised each other that we
wouldn't spend a penny on sweets till the donkey was got.
"We'll be able to ride him in turns, even if we can't afford a cart,"
said Aylwin.
And then Puff began to speak.
"I'll save all I've ever had, and I'll get a wocking-horse, that'll be
muchest better than a old donkey."
"Could you go six miles along the road on a rocking-horse, you booby?"
said Denys.
Puff began to agitate himself.
"A old donkey doesn't know how to wock, he only goes straight. I likes
wocking, and I don't care nuffin about going along stupid old roads,
and I shan't give my pennies at all, at all, and I—"
"Shut up, you little duffer, or we'll hang you by the neck over the
banisters. Now, how much tin have we altogether? I'll be treasurer;
hand out, sharp."
Before Denys had finished speaking, Lynette and I had rushed to our
room to get our purses—Lynette had fivepence-half-penny, I had three
shillings.
We gave this amount to Denys, who dropped every bit of it into a
money-box of his. He then took from his pocket two shillings and a
penny, and Aylwin confessed with sorrow that he was without a penny.
Then Puff was forced to part with two treasured farthings, which he
did with a burst of tears, and when we counted up we found we had five
shillings and seven-pence. It seemed a good deal to us, but very little
for a donkey.
"We shall have to earn some money," I suggested.
"That isn't a bad tip, and I've thought how I can do it," said Denys.
"So have I," I said hastily, "but I shan't tell you, and I'll do it
next week; it will be awfully jolly."
Lynette was busy hopping round the room on one leg. She stopped for a
minute. "I wish we could beg," she said.
"There are no policemen to stop us in the country."
"As if our class could beg!"
Denys was very fond of talking about "our class." I asked him once what
class we were, and he said we were second. He said the first-class were
the lords and ladies, but I reminded him that mother's grandmother was
called Lady Louisa, so we ought to belong to the first-class. He said
we must be a cross breed. I don't know what that means, and I don't
care.
"P'r'aps father will buy us a donkey if we ask him," said Lynette;
"he's much richer now. I'll tell him about it."
She flew out of the room. Father is very fond of Lynette; he never
scolds her if she goes into his study any time. We waited, wondering.
And then she came back again with a long face. "He says the move has
taken so much money that he can hardly pay all the bills that are
coming in."
[Illustration: THEN PUFF WAS FORCED TO PART WITH THE TWO TREASURED
FARTHINGS.]
"It will be much greater fun buying the donkey ourselves," said Denys.
"I've thought of a ripping plan for earning money," cried Aylwin.
"Now we've three plans," said Denys, "and we'll do them without telling
each other, and this day month we'll call a meeting and produce our
money. Lynette, you'll have to think of a way to get money."
She nodded her head with a laugh. "Yes, I've got a way, and I shan't
tell any one."
So we gave some cheers then, and had a steeple-chase round the room,
until Aunt Caroline put her head in and told us to stop.
When Puff was going to bed that night, he asked father if God had any
money. Puff is always asking ridiculous questions, and father always
answers him quite gravely; he never laughs at him.
"God is very rich, isn't He, father?"
"All things in heaven and earth belong to Him," father answered.
Puff trotted off to bed quite happy, but he put his head inside the
door before he went.
"I've got a vewy good plan," he said.
And we all laughed, because we guessed what it was.