When Dan took up boat-building, Una coaxed Mrs. Vincey, the farmer's
wife at Little Lindens, to teach her to milk. Mrs. Vincey milks in the
pasture in summer, which is different from milking in the shed, because
the cows are not tied up, and until they know you they will not stand
still. After three weeks Una could milk _Red Cow_ or _Kitty Shorthorn_
quite dry, without her wrists aching, and then she allowed Dan to look.
But milking did not amuse him, and it was pleasanter for Una to be alone
in the quiet pastures with quiet-spoken Mrs. Vincey. So, evening after
evening, she slipped across to Little Lindens, took her stool from the
fern-clump beside the fallen oak, and went to work, her pail between her
knees, and her head pressed hard into the cow's flank. As often as not,
Mrs. Vincey would be milking cross _Pansy_ at the other end of the
pasture, and would not come near till it was time to strain and pour
off.
Once, in the middle of a milking, _Kitty Shorthorn_ boxed Una's ear with
her tail.
'You old pig!' said Una, nearly crying, for a cow's tail can hurt.
'Why didn't you tie it down, child?' said a voice behind her.
'I meant to, but the flies are so bad I let her off--and this is what
she's done!' Una looked round, expecting Puck, and saw a curly-haired
girl, not much taller than herself, but older, dressed in a curious
high-waisted, lavender-coloured riding-habit, with a high hunched collar
and a deep cape and a belt fastened with a steel clasp. She wore a
yellow velvet cap and tan gauntlets, and carried a real hunting-crop.
Her cheeks were pale except for two pretty pink patches in the middle,
and she talked with little gasps at the end of her sentences, as though
she had been running.
'You don't milk so badly, child,' she said, and when she smiled her
teeth showed small and even and pearly.
'Can you milk?' Una asked, and then flushed, for she heard Puck's
chuckle.
He stepped out of the fern and sat down, holding _Kitty Shorthorn's_
tail. 'There isn't much,' he said, 'that Miss Philadelphia doesn't know
about milk--or, for that matter, butter and eggs. She's a great
housewife.'
'Oh,' said Una. 'I'm sorry I can't shake hands. Mine are all milky; but
Mrs. Vincey is going to teach me butter-making this summer.'
'Ah! _I_'m going to London this summer,' the girl said, 'to my aunt in
Bloomsbury.' She coughed as she began to hum, '"Oh, what a town! What a
wonderful metropolis!"'
'You've got a cold,' said Una.
'No. Only my stupid cough. But it's vastly better than it was last
winter. It will disappear in London air. Every one says so. D'you like
doctors, child?'
'I don't know any,' Una replied. 'But I'm sure I shouldn't.'
'Think yourself lucky, child. I beg your pardon,' the girl laughed, for
Una frowned.
'I'm not a child, and my name's Una,' she said.
'Mine's Philadelphia. But everybody except Rene calls me Phil. I'm
Squire Bucksteed's daughter--over at Marklake yonder.' She jerked her
little round chin towards the south behind Dallington. 'Sure-ly you know
Marklake?'
'We went a picnic to Marklake Green once,' said Una. 'It's awfully
pretty. I like all those funny little roads that don't lead anywhere.'
'They lead over our land,' said Philadelphia stiffly, 'and the coach
road is only four miles away. One can go anywhere from the Green. I went
to the Assize Ball at Lewes last year.' She spun round and took a few
dancing steps, but stopped with her hand to her side.
'It gives me a stitch,' she explained. 'No odds. 'Twill go away in
London air. That's the latest French step, child. Rene taught it me.
D'you hate the French, chi--Una?'
'Well, I hate French, of course, but I don't mind Mam'selle. She's
rather decent. Is Rene your French governess?'
Philadelphia laughed till she caught her breath again.
'Oh no! Rene's a French prisoner--on parole. That means he's promised
not to escape till he has been properly exchanged for an Englishman.
He's only a doctor, so I hope they won't think him worth exchanging. My
Uncle captured him last year in the _Ferdinand_ privateer, off Belle
Isle, and he cured my Uncle of a r-r-raging toothache. Of course, after
_that_ we couldn't let him lie among the common French prisoners at Rye,
and so he stays with us. He's of very old family--a Breton, which is
nearly next door to being a true Briton, my father says--and he wears
his hair clubbed--not powdered. _Much_ more becoming, don't you think?'
'I don't know what you're----' Una began, but Puck, the other side of
the pail, winked, and she went on with her milking.
'He's going to be a great French physician when the war is over. He
makes me bobbins for my lace-pillow now--he's very clever with his
hands; but he'd doctor our people on the Green if they would let him.
Only our Doctor--Dr. Break--says he's an emp----or imp something--worse
than impostor. But my Nurse says----'
'Nurse! You're ever so old. What have you got a nurse for?' Una finished
milking, and turned round on her stool as _Kitty Shorthorn_ grazed off.
'Because I can't get rid of her. Old Cissie nursed my mother, and she
says she'll nurse me till she dies. The idea! She never lets me alone.
She thinks I'm delicate. She has grown infirm in her understanding, you
know. Mad--quite mad, poor Cissie!'
'Really mad?' said Una. 'Or just silly?'
'Crazy I should say--from the things she does. Her devotion to me is
terribly embarrassing. You know I have all the keys of the Hall except
the brewery and the tenants' kitchen. I give out all stores and the
linen and plate.'
'How jolly! I love store-rooms and giving out things.'
'Ah, it's a great responsibility you'll find when you come to my age.
Last year Dad said I was fatiguing myself with my duties, and he
actually wanted me to give up the keys to old Amoore, our housekeeper. I
wouldn't. I hate her. I said, "No, sir. I am Mistress of Marklake Hall
just as long as I live, because I'm never going to be married, and I
shall give out stores and linen till I die!"'
'And what did your father say?'
'Oh, I threatened to pin a dishclout to his coattail. He ran away. Every
one's afraid of Dad, except me.' Philadelphia stamped her foot. 'The
idea! If I can't make my own father happy in his own house, I'd like to
meet the woman that can, and--and--I'd have the living hide off her!'
She cut with her long-thonged whip. It cracked like a pistol-shot across
the still pasture. _Kitty Shorthorn_ threw up her head and trotted away.
'I beg your pardon,' Philadelphia said; 'but it makes me furious. Don't
you hate those ridiculous old quizzes with their feathers and fronts,
who come to dinner and call you "child" in your own chair at your own
table?'
'I don't always come to dinner,' said Una, 'but I hate being called
"child." Please tell me about store-rooms and giving out things.'
'Ah, it's a great responsibility--particularly with that old cat Amoore
looking at the lists over your shoulder. And such a shocking thing
happened last summer! Poor crazy Cissie, my Nurse that I was telling you
of, she took three solid silver tablespoons.'
'Took! But isn't that stealing?' Una cried.
'Hsh!' said Philadelphia, looking round at Puck. 'All I say is she took
them without my leave. I made it right afterwards. So, as Dad says--and
he's a magistrate--it wasn't a legal offence; it was only compounding a
felony.'
'It sounds awful,' said Una.
'It was. My dear, I was furious! I had had the keys for ten months, and
I'd never lost anything before. I said nothing at first, because a big
house offers so many chances of things being mislaid, and coming to hand
later. "Fetching up in the lee-scuppers," my Uncle calls it. But next
week I spoke to old Cissie about it when she was doing my hair at night,
and she said I wasn't to worry my heart for trifles!'
'Isn't it like 'em?' Una burst out. 'They see you're worried over
something that really matters, and they say, "Don't worry"; as if _that_
did any good!'
'I quite agree with you, my dear; quite agree with you! I told Ciss the
spoons were solid silver, and worth forty shillings, so if the thief
were found, he'd be tried for his life.'
'Hanged, do you mean?' Una said.
'They ought to be; but Dad says no jury will hang a man nowadays for a
forty-shilling theft. They transport 'em into penal servitude at the
uttermost ends of the earth beyond the seas, for the term of their
natural life. I told Cissie that, and I saw her tremble in my mirror.
Then she cried, and caught hold of my knees, and I couldn't for my life
understand what it was all about,--she cried so. _Can_ you guess, my
dear, what that poor crazy thing had done? It was midnight before I
pieced it together. She had given the spoons to Jerry Gamm, the
Witchmaster on the Green, so that he might put a charm on me! Me!'
'Put a charm on you? Why?'
'That's what _I_ asked; and then I saw how mad poor Cissie was! You know
this stupid little cough of mine? It will disappear as soon as I go to
London. She was troubled about _that_, and about my being so thin, and
she told me Jerry had promised her, if she would bring him three silver
spoons, that he'd charm my cough away and make me plump--"flesh-up," she
said. I couldn't help laughing; but it was a terrible night! I had to
put Cissie into my own bed, and stroke her hand till she cried herself
to sleep. What else could I have done? When she woke, and I coughed--I
suppose I _can_ cough in my own room if I please--she said that she'd
killed me, and asked me to have her hanged at Lewes sooner than send her
to the uttermost ends of the earth away from me.'
'How awful! What did you do, Phil?'
'Do? I rode off at five in the morning to talk to Master Jerry, with a
new lash on my whip. Oh, I was _furious_! Witchmaster or no
witchmaster, I meant to----'
'Ah! what's a Witchmaster?'
'A master of witches, of course. _I_ don't believe there are witches;
but people say every village has a few, and Jerry was the master of all
ours at Marklake. He has been a smuggler, and a man-of-war's man, and
now he pretends to be a carpenter and joiner--he can make almost
anything--but he really is a white wizard. He cures people by herbs and
charms. He can cure them after Dr. Break has given them up, and that's
why Dr. Break hates him so. He used to make me toy carts, and charm off
my warts when I was a child.' Philadelphia spread out her hands with the
delicate shiny little nails. 'It isn't counted lucky to cross him. He
has his ways of getting even with you, they say. But _I_ wasn't afraid
of Jerry! I saw him working in his garden, and I leaned out of my saddle
and double-thonged him between the shoulders, over the hedge. Well, my
dear, for the first time since Dad gave him to me, my _Troubadour_ (I
wish you could see the sweet creature!) shied across the road, and I
spilled out into the hedge-top. _Most_ undignified! Jerry pulled me
through to his side and brushed the leaves off me. I was horribly
pricked, but I didn't care. "Now, Jerry," I said, "I'm going to take the
hide off you first, and send you to Lewes afterwards. You well know
why." "Oh!" he said, and he sat down among his bee-hives. "Then I reckon
you've come about old Cissie's business, my dear." "I reckon I just
about have," I said. "Stand away from these hives. I can't get at you
there." "That's why I be where I be," he said. "If you'll excuse me,
Miss Phil, I don't hold with bein' flogged before breakfast, at my time
o' life." He's a huge big man, but he looked so comical squatting among
the hives that--I know I oughtn't to--I laughed, and he laughed. I
always laugh at the wrong time. But I soon recovered my dignity, and I
said, "Then give me back what you made poor Cissie steal!"
'"Your pore Cissie," he said. "She's a hatful o' trouble. But you shall
have 'em, Miss Phil. They're all ready put by for you." And, would you
believe it, the old sinner pulled my three silver spoons out of his
dirty pocket, and polished them on his cuff! "Here they be," he says,
and he gave them to me, just as cool as though I'd come to have my warts
charmed. That's the worst of people having known you when you were
young. But I preserved my composure. "Jerry," I said, "what in the world
are we to do? If you'd been caught with these things on you, you'd have
been hanged."
'"I know it," he said. "But they're yours now."
'"But you made my Cissie steal them," I said.
'"That I didn't," he said. "Your Cissie, she was pickin' at me and
tarrifyin' me all the long day an' every day for weeks, to put a charm
on you, Miss Phil, and take away your little spitty cough."
'"Yes, I knew that, Jerry, and to make me flesh up!" I said. "I'm much
obliged to you, but I'm not one of your pigs!"
'"Ah! I reckon she've been talking to you, then," he said. "Yes, she
give me no peace, and bein' tarrified--for I don't hold with old
women--I laid a task on her which I thought 'ud silence her. _I_ never
reckoned the old scrattle 'ud risk her neckbone at Lewes Assizes for
your sake, Miss Phil. But she did. She up an' stole, I tell ye, as
cheerful as a tinker. You might ha' knocked me down with any one of them
liddle spoons when she brung 'em in her apron."
'"Do you mean to say, then, that you did it to try my poor Cissie?" I
screamed at him.
'"What else for, dearie?" he said. "_I_ don't stand in need of
hedge-stealings. I'm a freeholder, with money in the bank; and now I
won't trust women no more! Silly old besom! I do beleft she'd ha' stole
the Squire's big fob-watch, if I'd required her."
'"Then you're a wicked, wicked old man," I said, and I was so angry that
I couldn't help crying, and of course that made me cough.
'Jerry was in a fearful taking. He picked me up and carried me into his
cottage--it's full of foreign curiosities--and he got me something to
eat and drink, and he said he'd be hanged by the neck any day if it
pleased me. He said he'd even tell old Cissie he was sorry. That's a
great come-down for a Witchmaster, you know.
'I was ashamed of myself for being so silly, and I dabbed my eyes and
said, "The least you can do now is to give poor Ciss some sort of a
charm for me."
'"Yes, that's only fair dealings," he said. "You know the names of the
Twelve Apostles, dearie? You say them names, one by one, before your
open window, rain or storm, wet or shine, five times a day fasting. But
mind you, 'twixt every name you draw in your breath through your nose,
right down to your pretty liddle toes, as long and as deep as you can,
and let it out slow through your pretty liddle mouth. There's virtue for
your cough in those names spoke that way. And I'll give you something
you can see, moreover. Here's a stick of maple which is the warmest tree
in the wood."'
'That's true,' Una interrupted. 'You can feel it almost as warm as
yourself when you touch it.'
'"It's cut one inch long for your every year," Jerry said. "That's
sixteen inches. You set it in your window so that it holds up the sash,
and thus you keep it, rain or shine, or wet or fine, day and night. I've
said words over it which will have virtue on your complaints."
'"I haven't any complaints, Jerry," I said. "It's only to please
Cissie."
'"I know that as well as you do, dearie," he said. And--and that was all
that came of my going to give him a flogging. I wonder whether he made
poor _Troubadour_ shy when I lashed at him? Jerry has his ways of
getting even of people.'
'I wonder,' said Una. 'Well, did you try the charm? Did it work?'
'What nonsense! I told Rene about it, of course, because he's a doctor.
He's going to be a most famous doctor. That's why our doctor hates him.
Rene said, "Oho! Your Master Gamm, he is worth knowing," and he put up
his eyebrows--like this. He made joke of it all. He can see my window
from the carpenter's shed, where he works, and if ever the maple stick
fell down, he pretended to be in a fearful taking till I propped the
window up again. He used to ask me whether I had said my Apostles
properly, and how I took my deep breaths. Oh yes, and the next day,
though he had been there ever so many times before, he put on his new
hat and paid Jerry Gamm a visit of state--as a fellow-physician. Jerry
never guessed Rene was making fun of him, and so he told Rene about the
sick people in the village, and how he cured them with herbs after Dr.
Break had given them up. Jerry could talk smugglers' French, of course,
and I had taught Rene plenty of English, if only he wasn't so shy. They
called each other Monsieur Gamm and Mosheur Lanark, just like gentlemen.
I suppose it amused poor Rene. He hasn't much to do, except to fiddle
about in the carpenter's shop. He's like all the French
prisoners--always making knick-knacks; and Jerry had a little lathe at
his cottage, and so--and so--Rene took to being with Jerry much more
than I approved of. The Hall is so big and empty when Dad's away, and I
will _not_ sit with old Amoore--she talks so horridly about every
one--specially about Rene.
'I was rude to Rene, I'm afraid; but I was properly served out for it.
One always is. You see Dad went down to Hastings to pay his respects to
the General who commanded the brigade there, and to bring him to the
Hall afterwards. Dad told me he was a very brave soldier from India--he
was Colonel of Dad's regiment, the Thirty-third Foot, after Dad left the
Army, and then he changed his name from Wesley to Wellesley, or else the
other way about; and Dad said I was to get out all the silver for him,
and I knew that meant a big dinner. So I sent down to the sea for early
mackerel, and had _such_ a morning in the kitchen and the store-rooms.
Old Amoore nearly cried.
'However, my dear, I made all my preparations in ample time, but the
fish didn't arrive--it never does--and I wanted Rene to ride to Pevensey
and bring it himself. He had gone over to Jerry, of course, as he always
used, unless I requested his presence beforehand. _I_ can't send for
Rene every time I want him. He should be there. Now, don't you ever do
what I did, child, because it's in the highest degree unladylike;
but--but one of our woods runs up to Jerry's garden, and if you
climb--it's ungenteel, but I can climb like a kitten--there's an old
hollow oak just above the pigsty where you can hear and see everything
below. Truthfully, I only went to tell Rene about the mackerel, but I
saw him and Jerry sitting on the seat playing with wooden toy trumpets.
So I slipped into the hollow, and choked down my cough, and listened.
Rene had never shown _me_ any of these trumpets.'
'Trumpets? Aren't you too old for trumpets?' said Una.
'They weren't real trumpets, because Jerry opened his shirt collar, and
Rene put one end of his trumpet against Jerry's chest, and put his ear
to the other. Then Jerry put his trumpet against Rene's chest, and
listened while Rene breathed and coughed. I was afraid _I_ would cough
too.
'"This hollywood one is the best," said Jerry. "'Tis won'erful like
hearin' a man's soul whisperin' in his innards; but unless I've a
buzzin' in my ears, Mosheur Lanark, you make much about the same kind o'
noises as old Gaffer Macklin--but not quite so loud as young Copper. It
sounds like breakers on a reef--a long way off. Comprenny?"
'"Perfectly," said Rene. "I drive on the breakers. But before I strike,
I shall save hundreds, thousands, millions perhaps, by my little
trumpets. Now tell me what sounds the old Gaffer Macklin have made in
his chest, and what the young Copper also."
'Jerry talked for nearly a quarter of an hour about sick people in the
village, while Rene asked questions. Then he sighed, and said, "You
explain very well, Monsieur Gamm, but if only I had your opportunities
to listen for myself! Do you think these poor people would let me listen
to them through my trumpet--for a little money? No?"--Rene's as poor as
a church mouse.
'"They'd kill you, Mosheur. It's all I can do to coax 'em to abide it,
and I'm Jerry Gamm," said Jerry. He's very proud of his attainments.
'"Then these poor people are alarmed--No?" said Rene.
'"They've had it in for me for some time back because o' my tryin' your
trumpets on their sick; and I reckon by the talk at the alehouse they
won't stand much more. Tom Dunch an' some of his kidney was drinkin'
themselves riot-ripe when I passed along after noon. Charms an'
mutterin's and bits o' red wool and black hens is in the way o' nature
to these fools, Mosheur; but anything likely to do 'em real service is
devil's work by their estimation. If I was you, I'd go home before they
come." Jerry spoke quite quietly, and Rene shrugged his shoulders.
'"I am prisoner on parole, Monsieur Gamm," he said. "I have no home."
'Now that was unkind of Rene. He's often told me that he looked on
England as his home. I suppose it's French politeness.
'"Then we'll talk o' something that matters," said Jerry. "Not to name
no names, Mosheur Lanark, what might be your own opinion o' some one who
ain't old Gaffer Macklin nor young Copper? Is that person better or
worse?"
'"Better--for time that is," said Rene. He meant for the time being, but
I never could teach him some phrases.
'"I thought so too," said Jerry. "But how about time to come?"
'Rene shook his head, and then he blew his nose. You don't know how odd
a man looks blowing his nose when you are sitting directly above him.
'"I've thought that too," said Jerry. He rumbled so deep I could
scarcely catch. "It don't make much odds to me, because I'm old. But
you're young, Mosheur--you're young," and he put his hand on Rene's
knee, and Rene covered it with his hand. I didn't know they were such
friends.
'"Thank you, _mon ami_," said Rene. "I am much oblige. Let us return to
our trumpet-making. But I forget"--he stood up--"it appears that you
receive this afternoon!"
'You can't see into Gamm's Lane from the oak, but the gate opened, and
fat little Doctor Break stumped in, mopping his head, and half-a-dozen
of our people followed him, very drunk.
'You ought to have seen Rene bow; he does it beautifully.
'"A word with you, Laennec," said Dr. Break. "Jerry has been practising
some devilry or other on these poor wretches, and they've asked me to be
arbiter."
'"Whatever that means, I reckon it's safer than asking you to be
doctor," said Jerry, and Tom Dunch, one of our carters, laughed.
'"That ain't right feeling of you, Tom," Jerry said, "seeing how clever
Dr. Break put away your thorn in the flesh last winter." Tom's wife had
died at Christmas, though Dr. Break bled her twice a week. He danced
with rage.
'"This is all beside the mark," he said. "These good people are willing
to testify that you've been impudently prying into God's secrets by
means of some papistical contrivance which this person"--he pointed to
poor Rene--"has furnished you with. Why, here are the things
themselves!" Rene was holding a trumpet in his hand.
'Then all the men talked at once. They said old Gaffer Macklin was dying
from stitches in his side where Jerry had put the trumpet--they called
it the devil's ear-piece; and they said it left round red witchmarks on
people's skins, and dried up their lights, and made 'em spit blood, and
threw 'em into sweats. Terrible things they said. You never heard such a
noise. I took advantage of it to cough.
'Rene and Jerry were standing with their backs to the pigsty. Jerry
fumbled in his big flap pockets and fished up a pair of pistols. You
ought to have seen the men give back when he cocked his. He passed one
to Rene.
'"Wait! Wait!" said Rene. "I will explain to the doctor if he permits."
He waved a trumpet at him, and the men at the gate shouted, "Don't touch
it, Doctor! Don't lay a hand to the thing."
'"Come, come!" said Rene. "You are not so big fool as you pretend, Dr.
Break. No?"
'Dr. Break backed toward the gate, watching Jerry's pistol, and Rene
followed him with his trumpet, like a nurse trying to amuse a child, and
put the ridiculous thing to his ear to show how it was used, and talked
of _la Gloire_, and _la Humanite_, and _la Science_, while Dr. Break
watched Jerry's pistol and swore. I nearly laughed aloud.
'"Now listen! Now listen!" said Rene. "This will be moneys in your
pockets, my dear _confrere_. You will become rich."
'Then Dr. Break said something about adventurers who could not earn an
honest living in their own country creeping into decent houses and
taking advantage of gentlemen's confidence to enrich themselves by base
intrigues.
'Rene dropped his absurd trumpet and made one of his best bows. I knew
he was angry from the way he rolled his "r's."
'"Ver-r-ry good," said he. "For that I shall have much pleasure to kill
you now and here. Monsieur Gamm"--another bow to Jerry--"you will please
lend him your pistol, or he shall have mine. I give you my word I know
not which is best; and if he will choose a second from his friends over
there"--another bow to our drunken yokels at the gate--"we will
commence."
'"That's fair enough," said Jerry. "Tom Dunch, you owe it to the doctor
to be his second. Place your man."
'"No," said Tom. "No mixin' in gentry's quarrels for me." And he shook
his head and went out, and the others followed him.
'"Hold on," said Jerry. "You've forgot what you set out to do up at the
alehouse just now. You was goin' to search me for witchmarks; you was
goin' to duck me in the pond; you was goin' to drag all my bits o'
sticks out o' my little cottage here. What's the matter with you?
Wouldn't you like to be with your old woman to-night, Tom?"
'But they didn't even look back, much less come. They ran to the village
alehouse like hares.
'"No matter for these canaille," said Rene, buttoning up his coat so as
not to show any linen. All gentlemen do that before a duel, Dad
says--and he's been out five times. "You shall be his second, Monsieur
Gamm. Give him the pistol."
'Dr. Break took it as if it was red-hot, but he said that if Rene
resigned his pretensions in certain quarters he would pass over the
matter. Rene bowed deeper than ever.
'"As for that," he said, "if you were not the ignorant which you are,
you would have known long ago that the subject of your remarks is not
for any living man."
'I don't know what the subject of his remarks might have been, but he
spoke in a simply dreadful voice, my dear, and Dr. Break turned quite
white, and said Rene was a liar; and then Rene caught him by the throat,
and choked him black.
'Well, my dear, as if this wasn't deliciously exciting enough, just
exactly at that minute I heard a strange voice on the other side of the
hedge say, "What's this? What's this, Bucksteed?" and there was my
father and Sir Arthur Wesley on horseback in the lane; and there was
Rene kneeling on Dr. Break, and there was I up in the oak, listening
with all my ears.
'I must have leaned forward too much, and the voice gave me such a start
that I slipped. I had only time to make one jump on to the pigsty
roof--another, before the tiles broke, on to the pigsty wall--and then I
bounced down into the garden, just behind Jerry, with my hair full of
bark. Imagine the situation!'
'Oh, I can!' Una laughed till she nearly fell off the stool.
'Dad said, "Phil--a--del--phia!" and Sir Arthur Wesley said, "Good Ged!"
and Jerry put his foot on the pistol Rene had dropped. But Rene was
splendid. He never even looked at me. He began to untwist Dr. Break's
neckcloth as fast as he'd twisted it, and asked him if he felt better.
'"What's happened? What's happened?" said Dad.
'"A fit!" said Rene. "I fear my _confrere_ has had a fit. Do not be
alarmed. He recovers himself. Shall I bleed you a little, my dear
Doctor?" Dr. Break was very good too. He said, "I am vastly obliged,
Monsieur Laennec, but I am restored now." And as he went out of the gate
he told Dad it was a syncope--I think. Then Sir Arthur said, "Quite
right, Bucksteed. Not another word! They are both gentlemen." And he
took off his cocked hat to Dr. Break and Rene.
'But poor Dad wouldn't let well alone. He kept saying, "Philadelphia,
what does all this mean?"
'"Well, sir," I said, "I've only just come down. As far as I could see,
it looked as though Dr. Break had had a sudden seizure." That was quite
true--if you'd seen Rene seize him. Sir Arthur laughed. "Not much change
there, Bucksteed," he said. "She's a lady--a thorough lady."
'"Heaven knows she doesn't look like one," said poor Dad. "Go home,
Philadelphia."
'So I went home, my dear--don't laugh so!--right under Sir Arthur's
nose--a most enormous nose--feeling as though I were twelve years old,
going to be whipped. Oh, I _beg_ your pardon, child!'
'It's all right,' said Una. 'I'm getting on for thirteen. I've never
been whipped, but I know how you felt. All the same, it must have been
funny!'
'Funny! If you'd heard Sir Arthur jerking out, "Good Ged, Bucksteed!"
every minute as they rode behind me; and poor Dad saying, "'Pon my
honour, Arthur, I can't account for it!" Oh, how my cheeks tingled when
I reached my room! But Cissie had laid out my very best evening dress,
the white satin one, vandyked at the bottom with spots of morone foil,
and the pearl knots, you know, catching up the drapery from the left
shoulder. I had poor mother's lace tucker and her coronet comb.'
'Oh, you lucky!' Una murmured. '_And_ gloves?'
'French kid, my dear'--Philadelphia patted her shoulder--'and morone
satin shoes and a morone and gold crape fan. That restored my calm. Nice
things always do. I wore my hair banded on my forehead with a little
curl over the left ear. And when I descended the stairs, _en grande
tenue_, old Amoore curtsied to me without my having to stop and look at
her, which alas! is too often the case. Sir Arthur highly approved of
the dinner, my dear: the mackerel _did_ come in time. We had all the
Marklake silver out, and he toasted my health, and he asked me where my
little bird's-nesting sister was. I _know_ he did it to quiz me, so I
looked him straight in the face, my dear, and I said, "I always send her
to the nursery, Sir Arthur, when I receive guests at Marklake Hall."'
'Oh, how chee--clever of you. What did he say?' Una cried.
'He said, "Not much change there, Bucksteed. Ged, I deserved it," and he
toasted me again. They talked about the French and what a shame it was
that Sir Arthur only commanded a brigade at Hastings, and he told Dad of
a battle in India at a place called Assaye. Dad said it was a terrible
fight, but Sir Arthur described it as though it had been a
whist-party--I suppose because a lady was present.'
'Of course you were the lady; I wish I'd seen you,' said Una.
'I wish you had, child. I had _such_ a triumph after dinner. Rene and
Dr. Break came in. They had quite made up their quarrel, and they told
me they had the highest esteem for each other, and I laughed and said,
"I heard every word of it up in the tree." You never saw two men so
frightened in your life, and when I said, "What _was_ 'the subject of
your remarks,' Rene?" neither of them knew where to look. Oh, I quizzed
them unmercifully. They'd seen me jump off the pigsty roof, remember.'
'But what _was_ the subject of their remarks?' said Una.
'Oh, Dr. Break said it was a professional matter, so the laugh was
turned on me. I was horribly afraid it might have been something
unladylike and indelicate. But _that_ wasn't my triumph. Dad asked me to
play on the harp. Between just you and me, child, I had been practising
a new song from London--I don't always live in trees--for weeks; and I
gave it them for a surprise.'
'What was it?' said Una. 'Sing it.'
'"I have given my heart to a flower." Not very difficult fingering, but
r-r-ravishing sentiment.'
Philadelphia coughed and cleared her throat.
'I've a deep voice for my age and size,' she explained. 'Contralto, you
know, but it ought to be stronger,' and she began, her face all dark
against the last of the soft pink sunset:
'I have given my heart to a flower,
Though I know it is fading away,
Though I know it will live but an hour
And leave me to mourn its decay!
'Isn't that touchingly sweet? Then the last verse--I wish I had my harp,
dear--goes as low as my register will reach.' She drew in her chin, and
took a deep breath:
'Ye desolate whirlwinds that rave,
I charge you be good to my dear!
She is all--she is all that I have,
And the time of our parting is near!'
'Beautiful!' said Una. 'And did they like it?'
'Like it? They were overwhelmed--_accables_, as Rene says. My dear, if I
hadn't seen it, I shouldn't have believed that I could have drawn
tears, genuine tears, to the eyes of four grown men. But I did! Rene
simply couldn't endure it! He's all French sensibility. He hid his face
and said, "_Assez Mademoiselle! C'est plus fort que moi! Assez!_" And
Sir Arthur blew his nose and said, "Good Ged! This is worse than
Assaye!" While Dad sat with the tears simply running down his cheeks.'
'And what did Dr. Break do?'
'He got up and pretended to look out of the window, but I saw his little
fat shoulders jerk as if he had the hiccoughs. That _was_ a triumph. I
never suspected him of sensibility.'
'Oh, I wish I'd seen! I wish I'd been you,' said Una, clasping her
hands. Puck rustled and rose from the fern, just as a big blundering
cockchafer flew smack against Una's cheek.
When she had finished rubbing the place, Mrs. Vincey called to her that
_Pansy_ had been fractious, or she would have come long before to help
her strain and pour off.
'It didn't matter,' said Una; 'I just waited. Is that old _Pansy_
barging about the lower pasture now?'
'No,' said Mrs. Vincey, listening. 'It sounds more like a horse being
galloped middlin' quick through the woods; but there's no road there. I
reckon it's one of Gleason's colts loose. Shall I see you up to the
house, Miss Una?'
'Gracious no! thank you. What's going to hurt me?' said Una, and she put
her stool away behind the oak, and strolled home through the gaps that
old Hobden kept open for her.