FOUND
I REALLY believe this is going to be my last chapter. I may write
another volume next year, but I mean to send this to Captain Rogers,
because I promised I would.
I must first go back to the day after we were talking about Andy. Denys
went to Bob Tapson before breakfast, and came back with the donkey
man's address, and we asked father what he thought. He didn't seem very
hopeful, but he told the boys that they might go to Lemworth by train
on the first day of their holidays, and then walk out to see this man.
He lived three miles the other side of Lemworth. Lynette and I wanted
to go too, but father wouldn't let us.
The boys' school broke up on the 20th of December. So the very next
morning they started for Lemworth, and Lynette and I went down through
the fields to the station to see them off.
Lynette gave them a crooked sixpence for luck; Mrs. Ribbon had given it
to her in some change.
"And we won't expect you back till you find Andy!" I cried. "Oh, I wish
girls could do what boys do!"
But they can't, so we had to come home. This is a very busy week; Aunt
Caroline is going to spend Christmas with us. I think she and Aunt
Mildred are both going to live with us after Christmas; and that will
be very nice, for Aunt C. will look after the house and servants, and
Aunt Mildred after us. At least, that is how we have settled it, but
Aunt Mildred says that she will in that case have the heaviest burden.
And we don't think that is very nice of her.
Lynette and I have helped to stone raisins for the Christmas puddings,
and we have done up packets of tea and sugar for some of father's old
people, and we have been making things for a big Christmas-tree we are
going to have in the village schoolroom for all the school-children.
We had been so busy helping Aunt Mildred with it all that we had hardly
any time to make our own presents. For a long time it had been an
understood thing every Christmas that we all make our presents for each
other. We never buy them. It is much more fun. This year Lynette and
I were making a sermon-cover for father. It was of black velvet lined
with black silk, and had black silk cord all round it. Lynette was
making the cover, and I was doing father's initials in gold silk. Aunt
Mildred had drawn it out for me. Then I was working a nightdress-case
for Aunt Mildred, and Lynette was working her some little mats for
her dressing-table. Lynette and I were making some reins for Puff out
of red braid, with little bells. And I was covering a long cardboard
box for Aylwin with penny stamps, and then I varnished them over,
for him to keep his foreign stamps in. Lynette was making him a
photograph-frame with sealing-wax and fir-cones. You gum the fir-cones
on, and drop sealing-wax between them, and you varnish it all over, and
it looks awfully pretty. My present to Denys I kept a dead secret, and
wouldn't even let Lynette know about it. She was knitting him a tie in
coarse red cotton.
All this took a long time, and when I was interrupted, I felt very
cross. Only I tried to remember that doing things to help other people
was my King's order, and I wanted to be ready to do it. When I think
about this, I feel quite happy. It doesn't matter how often I am
interrupted, if it is He who sends me.
Lynette and I had a lovely morning over our presents, and we weren't
interrupted once. We stayed in the schoolroom and did them, and were
very glad that the boys were away, because we were able to get on with
their presents.
After dinner, Aunt Mildred took us and Puff to the nearest wood, and we
got a lot of ivy and moss for the church decorations. It was lovely in
the wood; so still and calm, though it was very cold. We kept thinking
about the boys, but we knew they might not come home till eight
o'clock, which was the time the last train came in.
We came back in time for tea, and then we sat and worked at our
presents again in the schoolroom. But eight o'clock came, and
half-past, and nine o'clock, but no boys. Lynette and I had to go to
bed. Aunt Mildred said she wasn't anxious, but father was. He said he
did not mean them to stay out all night, and there was no train to
bring them back, and he hoped that nothing had happened to them.
Of course Lynette and I knew that a lot might have happened to them. We
began talking it over while we were undressing. Lynette said the donkey
man might have murdered them, and hid their bodies under the floor. I
said that they might have found Andy, and run off with him, and that
then the man might have caught them and taken them to the nearest
police-station, and charged them with stealing his donkey. And they
might not be believed, and then would be put in prison till they could
be properly tried. And then Lynette said that perhaps the donkey man
might have locked them up somewhere till he got away with Andy.
We talked over all the dangers that we could think of, and then at last
we were so sleepy that we went off to sleep and forgot all about them.
When we woke up the next morning, and heard from Emma that the boys
were not back, we felt dreadfully excited and rather frightened. Father
and Aunt Mildred looked quite worried at breakfast, and father kept
saying:
"I ought not to have let them go. Perhaps I had better go into
Lemworth."
And Aunt Mildred said: "We will wait till this afternoon. I daresay
they missed the train, and slept somewhere till this morning."
Lynette and I couldn't settle to anything; we kept running to the gate
and looking down the road to see if there were any signs of them.
And then, just as we were really sitting down to work at our presents,
they burst in upon us.
We were delighted.
Lynette screamed, and danced round the room. "We thought you were dead!
We thought you were murdered!" she cried.
"Where's Andy?" I asked breathlessly.
"Guess," said Denys solemnly.
"Oh, he isn't dead!"
We felt an awful fear, because the boys looked so grave.
And then Denys said very slowly:
"In the stable downstairs."
We simply yelled with delight, and tore down to see him. And father and
Aunt Mildred came running out, and Emma and cook; and Puff plunged into
the stable, and we found him with his arms clasped round Andy, hugging
and kissing him like he does Aunt Mildred.
We could hardly believe it was Andy. He looked dusty and thin and very
tired. He just turned his head and glanced at us, and then went on
munching some hay that Baldwin had given him.
That's the worst of donkeys; they seem so calm and indifferent. He
didn't understand our feelings a bit. I couldn't help wishing he would
get up and dance round with us to show he was glad to be back again.
"Who had him? Where did you find him? How did you come home? Where did
you sleep last night? Why didn't you come back yesterday?"
Lynette and I fired off these questions, but father stopped us. He was
really quite as pleased as we were, but he found the boys were both
rather hungry, so he sent them into the house to get some food. And it
was while they were eating it in the dining-room that they told us all
about themselves.
"We've had such adventures!" said Aylwin. "You'd better get your old
book and write it down, Grisel, for I'm sure it will be awful fun to
read!"
"I'll begin from the beginning," said Denys; and then he began:
"We got to Lemworth all right, and started out to walk to Jem Harvey's
house—that's the old chap's name. It was rather a long three miles, and
seemed the other end of nowhere. It was a regular tumble-down shanty
on the edge of a common, and we saw the donkeys grazing on it. Then we
took counsel, and set very quietly to work."
"Just as if we were stalking deer or buffaloes," put in Aylwin. "We
crept along under the shadow of an old boundary hedge, and had a squint
at all the donkeys without any one seeing us."
"We counted five donkeys, but no Andy amongst them," continued Denys,
"but of course we felt he might be shut up somewhere. So the next thing
was to examine the outhouses and sheds, and this was rather difficult.
For as we came near, we saw a man chopping wood outside with a pipe in
his mouth."
"So we together," interrupted Aylwin, "at last laid our plans. Go
ahead, Denys, and don't be so slow."
"We marched up quite boldly to him. 'Good afternoon,' I said. 'We've
come to see you on a matter of business.'"
"And I searched him through and through with my piercing eye," put in
Aylwin, "and he didn't so much as blink an eyelash."
"He looked at us in a cheeky kind of way. 'So you said once before,' he
said; ''twarn't much of a business we did arter all.'
"'We've unfortunately lost our donkey,' I said, 'and we'd like to see
some of yours in case we have to buy another.'"
"'But mine weren't good enough by long chalks for 'ee,' he said, with a
kind of grin, which made me at once suspect him.
"'Perhaps you have got some better ones by this time,' we said.
"And then he knocked out the ashes in his pipe and led us to a shed. 'I
do happen to have as pretty a crittur as ever ye saw, and goes like the
wind she do, and took the prize at Lincoln show two year runnin'.'
"He shuffled inside the shed, and there in the straw was a very small
grey donkey. We looked sharply round—"
"I saw it first," interrupted Aylwin. "I had my detective's cold clear
eye travelling round, and spotted it instantly."
Denys went on as if he had not heard him:
"In the corner on a nail hung Andy's blue cloak."
There was quite a sensation amongst us at this. We all exclaimed, and I
couldn't help saying:
"There! I was right after all, then. Why didn't we think of him before?"
"What did you say?" Aunt Mildred asked.
"We didn't say anything at first; we pretended not to see it, and we
talked about the grey donkey, and said we were afraid she was too
small for us. You see, I knew he was an ugly customer from the way he
kept leering at us, and he smelt of drink. I nudged Aylwin to hold
his tongue, and after a lot of jaw, and when we had gone round his
premises and saw no other place where Andy could be hidden, we took our
departure; and then we let him have it. We just got away from him a few
yards and I said:
"'Where did you get that blue cloak in your shed, you scoundrel, and
who cut the black-and-white shawl to bits? And don't you think us
greenhorns, for we're going straight to the police and will put them on
your track. There's one chance for saving yourself from gaol, and that
is to take Andy in at once and tie him to the lamppost outside Lemworth
market. We'll give you till four in the afternoon to do it, and we
promise not to split on you. If he isn't there, the police will come
straight off and take possession of your place at five o'clock, and
there'll be no escape for you. That blue coat has betrayed you. It's
stolen from us.'
"Of course he was awfully riled. He swore, and cursed, and said he
picked up that blue coat on the road, and he'd have us arrested for
blasting his character. We just told him it was all tommy-rot, and he
couldn't trifle with us, for all the police in every town and village
for miles round knew about our lost donkey and his blue cloak. And then
we came off and pelted back to Lemworth as hard as we could go."
"Let me have a turn at it," said Aylwin, who never can keep quiet when
any one else is talking. So Denys shut up, and he went on:
"We had our sandwiches and a bottle of ginger-beer at a shop when we
got to the town, and all the time we were trying to arrange plans. Of
course it was rotten telling that old thief we wouldn't split on him,
for we gave him plenty of time to clear out before the police arrived.
Denys said we were in honour bound to wait till four o'clock before
we informed the police. Now then comes the exciting part. After our
lunch we walked about, and then got tired of the shops and streets,
and turned up a country lane. We had gone about a mile, I think, when
suddenly we caught sight of a boy huddled up in a ditch, and he was
groaning. He was a regular tramp, and at first I said, 'Come on and
leave him.'
"And then we thought it would be very rough on him if he was hurt, so
we shook him up and asked him what was the matter, and he showed us his
leg, which was cut in a most ghastly way. But we couldn't make head or
tail of his story. He said his guv'nor had thrashed him, and then he'd
fallen from the cart when his guv'nor had been on the booze, and he
seemed quite stupid in his head. He had bandaged his leg up in a kind
of way, but it had bled an awful lot, so we got out our handkerchiefs
and did the job in a much better style, and then we told him we would
take him back to the town.
"We asked him where he lived, and he said, 'With the guv'nor', but he
wouldn't tell us where that was, and he said he was 'never goin' back
to him no more.' So we said we would take him to the infirmary, and
then he could get his leg properly seen to. He seemed quite willing,
but it was no joke carrying him. At last we crossed our hands and made
him sit with his arms round our shoulders, and we carried him like that
all the way.
"Denys said to me, 'It's a pity we haven't Andy here; didn't the good
Samaritan have a donkey?'
"'Of course he did,' I said. And then the boy suddenly raised his head
and looked at us, and in that moment we all recognised each other."
"Who was he?" Lynette asked breathlessly.
"Why, the boy who belonged to Jem Harvey, of course! So we said quite
coolly to him:
"'Don't be afraid. We don't bear you a grudge for stealing our donkey,
but your master is going to gaol for it. We've found it all out.'
"He looked quite scared.
"'Twas the guv'nor,' he said, 'but I knewed there would be trouble!'
"'Where did you see our donkey last?' asked Denys.
"And then he told us all about it. They had met Andy tearing along the
road, and Jem had stopped him and caught him. And then he made this boy
Ned ride him behind the cart till they got to a wood, and they went in
there and stayed till it was dark. Of course they undressed Andy. Then,
when it was dark, and no one could see, they took him home with them.
And the very next day Jem took him away to a pal of his who lives at a
place called Tannerton. Ned said he was keeping him till he could get a
purchaser for him.
"So we asked Ned exactly where this man lived, and he told us. And he
said he'd led such a dog's life lately, and had been so ill-used, that
he'd run away, and wasn't going back. He was an orphan, and didn't
belong to Jem at all by rights. We were wild to get at Andy, but we
had to take him to the infirmary first. We found out that Tannerton
was five miles off, so we felt we really couldn't walk there. And we
were wondering whether we could hire a trap, when we discovered that a
baker's cart was going to the village, and he said he'd give us a lift.
So we got up and had a jolly time going there, and we told the baker
everything, and he said he knew the man we were looking for; he was a
knife-grinder and tin-pedlar, and lived away from the village with a
wife who bullied him.
"'But you won't get nothin' out of them,' he said; 'they be proper
queer customers.'
"It was getting almost dark when we got to Tannerton, and then we
remembered that we would miss our train, but we couldn't go back when
we were so near to Andy. Now you can go ahead, Denys."
Denys began at once. "We were rather afraid that Jem might have come
off to his pal to get Andy or to hide him somewhere else—but we thought
we must risk it. When the baker put us down in the village, he pointed
out to us the house. We were thankful it was dusk, for we were quite
determined to take Andy by stealth if we found him. So we crept up
to the little house, and heard some wrangling going on inside. We
found our way round to their back-yard, and there, tied in a wretched
tumble-down shed, with a broken door, was Andy! I can tell you we
didn't lose any time! We just cut his rope and led him out. As ill luck
would have it, the man came out as we were going off with him; and then
came the exciting part of our adventures. He yelled after us, 'Stop
thief!'
"We both got on Andy's back, and galloped through the village like mad!
We had about half a dozen people racing after us soon, and shouting,
for they couldn't see who we were in the dusk, and we felt as if we
were being pursued by Red Indians. When we were well out of their reach
we took it easier, and we were a good time before we reached Lemworth.
We were so afraid that Jem might be lurking about that we daren't stay
there. We had lost our train, and we thought we had better push on."
[Illustration: "WE GALLOPED THROUGH THE VILLAGE LIKE MAD!"]
"We rode and walked by turns. We were very hungry and tired, and Andy
began to flag. And then suddenly he stopped short in the middle of the
road, and wouldn't move. We didn't know what to do. And then right upon
us dashed a motor. We yelled, and they stopped. And who do you think
was in the motor?"
"Lady Laura!" I guessed.
"Wrong! General Walton, who bought my fish from me! He recognised me
and asked me what we were doing. He was going home from Lincoln. I told
him, and he was awfully kind. He made his servant get out, and told us
to get in, and he would drive us to his house, where we could sleep the
night. And he made his servant lead Andy behind us. He didn't play up
any more tricks, and we've had the most lovely time."
"But you ought to have sent us word," said father. "Didn't you know we
should be anxious about you?"
"We did. General Walton sent his groom with a message."
"I have never got it," said father.
"Oh, do go on and tell us what you did," I said.
So Denys continued:
"We had late dinner, and told him all our adventures, and he was
awfully interested, and has invited us all to dinner with him on New
Year's Eve!"
We screamed with delight.
"And then directly after breakfast we rode home on Andy, but he's not
in good condition, and he kept stopping, and that's why we're so late."
Their story was over. I thought it was all most interesting, but
Lynette said she thought it might have been more exciting if they'd
been locked up or nearly killed. I said I was thankful they'd done it
so quietly. Then we all went off to see Andy again; and we felt so
happy that we didn't know what to do.
But father was very angry with General Walton's groom for not giving
the message. We found out after, that he had passed the note on to one
of the stable boys, and he had lost it on the way and never told any
one.
And now that Andy is found, I think I had better wind up my story, as
it has all ended very happily; and I shall be able to drive out Annie
again, and carry parcels for the villagers on Wednesdays. It would take
too long to tell about Christmas and all our doings, but we all enjoyed
ourselves most awfully.
Just one thing more I must tell, and then I shall have done.
My present to Denys was the knight's motto framed like a picture.
Aunt Mildred drew out the words and I painted the letters in blue and
scarlet and gold—and though I did it, it looked lovely.
Denys called me into his room on Christmas Day after breakfast and
showed me where he had hung it. Just opposite his bed, where he could
lie and look at it in the morning.
"It's ripping," he said. "It's a good thing to be reminded of one's
vow."
"Yes," I said; "and it's my vow too, Denys. I expect the old knight
little thought that when he was dead his motto would live on. It's
almost as good as a text, isn't it? It helps one to be good."
"Not as much as father's sermon," said Denys, "but it seems to fit in
with it. 'Come—go—do'—I shall never forget that!"
"And I suppose if we try and keep those commands," I said, feeling a
glow come into my heart at the thought, "one day our King may say to
us, like the king in Aunt Mildred's story, 'Semper fidelis, semper
paratus.'"
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