The two lads were so accustomed to rough country life and to making
wading expeditions for trout in the little rivers, or rushing in after
the waves down by the seashore, that, after giving their garments a
thorough good wring, they soon forgot all about the dampness in the
interest of searching for the entrance to the secret passage down by the
lake.
"I know how it must all have been," said Scarlett. "When our house was
built, there must have been wars. I dare say it was in the War of the
Roses, and that place was contrived, so that in case of need any one
could escape."
"Yes; and if the place was taken, the rightful owners could get in
again."
"And now it's all peace," said Scarlett, thoughtfully, "and we can make
it our cave, and do what we like there."
"But it isn't all peace," said Fred. "I heard father say that if the
king went on much longer as he's going on now, there might be war."
"Who with--France?"
"No; a civil war."
"What Englishmen against Englishmen! They couldn't."
"But they did in the Wars of the Roses."
"Ah, that was when people knew no better, and there were different kings
wanted to reign! Such things never could occur again."
"I hope not."
"There! this is where the entrance must be."
The two lads had reached the edge of the lake now, and began once more
to search along the most likely spots where the rocky banks were
perpendicular and high, and covered with ivy and overhanging trees.
But it was labour in vain, and at last, as the afternoon grew late, they
sat down on a piece of slaty rock in the hot sunshine, swinging their
legs over the side, gazing out at the bright waters of the lake.
"I don't care," cried Fred, pettishly; "I'm tired of it. I don't mind
now whether there's a way in or a way out. It's of no use, and I'm
hungry. I shall go home now."
"No; stop and have supper with us."
"Very well. I don't mind; only let's go."
The two boys went straight up to the Hall, passing Nat on the way, ready
to exchange a salute and a grin.
"What are you laughing at, Nat?" cried Fred.
"Only at you two, sir. You've been up to some mischief, I know."
The boys exchanged hasty glances, which, being interpreted, meant, "Has
he been watching us?"
"I always knows," said Nat, with a chuckle.
"No, you don't," cried Fred. "You're just like our Samson."
"So would you be, Master Fred, if you was a twin."
"I did not mean that. I meant being so precious cunning and sure about
everything when you don't know anything at all."
"Ah, don't I, sir! Ha, ha, ha! I could tell Sir Godfrey a deal more
than you think for."
"Yes, you'd better," cried Fred. "You do, that's all, and I'll go home
and lead Samson such a life."
"Wish you would, sir, for he deserves it. A nasty, stuck-up, obstint
fellow as never was. I never meet him without he wants to quarrel with
me and fight. Thinks he's the strongest man there is, and that he can
do anything. And talk about a temper!"
"Shan't," cried Fred. "What do we want to talk about tempers for? Our
Samson has got as good a temper as you have."
"Nay, nay, Master Fred; now that aren't a bit true. And I beg your
pardon, sir: our Sampson's father was my father."
"Oh yes! and his mother was your mother. That's what you always say."
"Which it's a truth, Master Fred," said the gardener, reprovingly; "and
Master Penrose say as a truth can't be told too often."
"Then I don't think the same as Master Penrose. Do you, Scar?"
"No, of course not. Well, Nat, what were you going to say?"
"Only, sir, that Sampson's my brother; but I'm mortal sorry as he's the
gardener for any friends of yours, for a worse man there never was in a
garden, and I never see it without feeling reg'lar ashamed of the
Manor."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Fred. "Why, that's just what our Samson says
about your garden."
"What, sir? Our Samson said that about the Hall garden?"
"Yes, lots of times."
Nat had a hoe in his hand, and he let the shaft fall into the hollow of
his arm as he moistened his hands, took a fresh hold of the ash pole as
if it was a quarter-staff, and made half a dozen sharp blows at nothing
before letting the tool resume its place on the earth.
"That's what's going to happen to Samson Dee next time we meets, Master
Fred; so p'raps you'll be good enough to tell him what he has got to
expeck."
"Tell him yourself, Nat," said Scarlett, shortly. "Come along, Fred."
The gardener stood looking after them till they disappeared through the
great door of the Hall, and then went on hoeing up weeds very gently, as
if he did not like to injure their tender fibres.
"Master Samson won't be happy till I've given him stick enough to make
his bones sore. Hah! we shall have to get it over somehow. Samson
won't be content till we've had it out."
The supper of those days was ready when the boys entered the great
dining-room, Fred having declared himself ravenous while upstairs in
Scarlett's bedroom, where, the lads being much of a size, he had been
accommodated with a complete change, even to dry shoes.
Sir Godfrey and Lady Markham were waiting, the former looking very
serious, and his countenance becoming more grave as he saw Fred enter.
"You bad boys," whispered Scarlett's sister, as she ran up to them, with
her dark hair tossed about her shoulders. "Father was beginning to
scold."
"How do, Lady Markham?" said Fred, and her ladyship looked troubled as
she took the boy's hand. "How do, sir? It was so late, and I am so
hungry, that I thought you would not mind my stopping to supper with
Scar."
"Ahem! No, my boy," said Sir Godfrey, trying to be cordial, but
speaking coldly. "Sit down. Been out with Scarlett?"
"Yes, sir. All the afternoon in the woods," replied Fred, looking at
the baronet wonderingly, for he had never heard him speak in such a tone
before.
Ever since he could remember he had been in and out of the Hall at
meal-times, even sleeping there often, and Scarlett's visits to the
Manor had been of the same character. To all intents and purposes the
life of the boys had been that of brothers, while that of their fathers
had been much the same.
It was a genuine old-fashioned Coombeshire repast to which the hungry
boys sat down, eating away as boys of fifteen or sixteen can eat, and
bread and butter, ham, cake, junket and cream, disappeared at a
marvellous rate.
"Is your father poorly?" whispered Fred, after satisfying his hunger to
some extent. "I don't know. Don't speak so loud."
"Wasn't speaking so loud," said Fred, kicking Scarlett under the table.
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know. Heard some bad news, perhaps."
"Shall we tell him about the secret way? He'd like to hear, I dare
say."
"No, no; let's keep it to ourselves for the present."
That something was troubling Sir Godfrey was evident, for his supper was
hardly tasted, and twice over, when Lady Markham spoke to him, and
pressed him to eat, he declined in an irritable way.
"I shall have to join them, if these things go on, Margaret."
"Godfrey!"
"Yes; I feel it is a duty to one's self and country. If we country
gentlemen are not staunch now, and do not rally round his majesty, what
are we to come to?"
Lady Markham shook her head, and softly applied her handkerchief to her
eyes, ending by rising and going to where Sir Godfrey sat and, laying
her hand upon his shoulder, she bent down and whispered a few words to
him, which seemed to have a calming effect, for he took her hand from
where it lay, raised it to his lips, and looked up in his wife's eyes
for a few moments before she returned to her place.
All this seemed very strange to the lads, who, feeling uncomfortable,
began chatting to Lil, but a complete damp was thrown over what was
generally a pleasant, sociable meal, and it was with quite a sense of
relief that Fred rose at a hint from Scarlett, and they went out into
the hall to walk up and down,--talking for a few minutes before Scarlett
ran up the stairs and down once or twice to make sure that all was right
by the topmost balusters.
"Glad I did not make up my mind to tell father," he said, as he stood
once more by the open door.
"What's the matter?"
"I don't know. Father has had letters, I suppose, that have upset him."
"But he said something about the king--and rallying round him."
"Yes."
"Well, never mind that. Shall we get the boat out to-morrow morning,
and have a hunt along the side of the lake? We must find that archway."
"Yes, of course."
"What time shall I come--directly after breakfast?"
"Yes, and I'll have the boat baled out. She's half full of water. Job
for Nat."
"Then I'll run home now. Good night.--Good night."
The second good night came from half-way to the west end of the lake, as
Fred ran on down to the narrow track which skirted the water-side.
"He will not go and hunt for it by himself," said Scarlett,
thoughtfully, as he turned to go in, little thinking what a shadow was
falling over his home. "No," he added laconically, "too dark;" and,
after a glance toward the woodlands at the east end of the gate, he
entered the house whistling merrily.