Transcriber's Note:
Phrases printed in italics in the original version are
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A list of amendments are given at the end of the book.
LITTLE FOLKS:
_A Magazine for the Young._
_NEW AND ENLARGED SERIES._
CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK._
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
[Illustration]
A LITTLE TOO CLEVER.
_By the Author of "Pen's Perplexities," "Margaret's Enemy," "Maid
Marjory," &c._
CHAPTER VIII.--ESCAPE.
When Elsie awoke in the morning, after at last falling into a dull,
heavy sleep, she had not an opportunity of seeing what sort of weather
it was. There was no light in their rude sleeping-place, except the dim
one that came through the aperture from the other room. She listened,
and hearing sounds of life below, she hastily rose, and creeping down
the ladder, went in search of her frock.
Mrs. Ferguson was already up, and busy. Elsie asked for her frock, but
Mrs. Ferguson told her it was not dry, and she had better make what
shift she could with the old gown she had given her on the previous
night. As she could nowhere see her dress, she was obliged reluctantly
to follow the woman's advice.
To her delight, she perceived that the morning was bright and warm after
the rain, and she fully resolved, as soon as their things were decently
dry, to be on their road once more.
In the meantime, however, Duncan's jacket had also disappeared. She
could get nothing out of Mrs. Ferguson about it, except that it was
drying, and Duncan had to put up with a cotton jacket, which Mrs.
Ferguson stripped from her own boy's back to give him.
This mystery as to the whereabouts of their clothes very greatly annoyed
Elsie, who tried in vain to make Mrs. Ferguson say where they were. She
pretended not to understand what Elsie meant, though Elsie felt quite
sure all that was feigned.
Their breakfast consisted of some thin watery porridge, without bread,
sugar, or milk.
When their scanty meal was ended, Mrs. Ferguson ordered them to go out
and help Sandy Ferguson, her husband, who was waiting outside for them.
At first Elsie felt disposed to refuse, but on second thoughts, she
obeyed. Sandy Ferguson was on the spot, his wife in the kitchen, with
the cottage door open, their two boys about here, there, and everywhere.
To get away unperceived was out of the question, besides the serious
matter of losing their garments, which Elsie had not yet been able to
discover.
So they had to work away in company with the two ragged urchins. Elsie
was boiling with rage, but she hid it as well as she could; and as for
poor Duncan, he worked away without uttering a word, but with only an
occasional inquiring glance at Elsie, which was infinitely touching.
Elsie soon perceived that there would be no chance of their pursuing
their journey that day. Mrs. Ferguson protested that she was getting
their things dried as fast as she could, and would say nothing more; but
Elsie had a keen misgiving that for some reason or other she did not
mean to let them go.
Was it possible that she knew anything of their mother, and was thinking
to send them back? or did she only mean to keep them there, and make
them work for her family?
At times Elsie felt a terrible fear creeping over her that these
dreadful people meant to steal or hurt her and Duncan. "Perhaps she
wants our clothes," Elsie thought, "for she knows we have no more
pennies!"
So she took the first opportunity she could find to tell Mrs. Ferguson
that they didn't think they could wait any longer for their things to
get dry; they could easily get some more at Killochrie. She said this
with an air of indifference. She would put her jacket on over her stuff
petticoat, and that would do very well. Duncan could wear the cotton
jacket, and leave his tweed one behind.
But all this made no impression on Mrs. Ferguson. She only laughed
grimly to herself; and as their things were not forthcoming, Elsie might
as well have spared her generosity. If she could only have found her
jacket she would have been contented, but this, too, had disappeared,
and even if she had found the opportunity, Elsie would hardly have had
the courage to go on her way with Mrs. Ferguson's dirty tattered gown
tucked up and pinned together about her.
By-and-by Elsie began to think she saw what Mrs. Ferguson was thinking
of. She noticed that she frequently looked along the road, and carefully
watched for any vehicle whose wheels sounded in the distance. "She
thinks mother'll come and fetch us," Elsie said to herself, "or at least
the woman that I told her I lived with; but she'll never come here after
us, that's certain."
But although Elsie had very little fear that they would be found, yet
she was determined to get away somehow from this hovel.
Two whole days had elapsed. They had spent three wretched shivering
nights on the floor of the loft. On the third day Elsie felt she could
bear it no longer. She was in a state of suppressed excitement, and she
felt that she could almost jump out of her skin.
It is very strange to notice through what small loopholes people often
make their escape. The fairy-tale idea of passing through keyholes and
up chimneys is scarcely more wonderful. Now, Mrs. Ferguson had been
keeping a strict watch on these children, and not only herself, but her
husband and two children had all been employed to watch. On the third
day there stopped at the cottage door a lumbering vehicle, containing a
man and woman and several baskets. The two alighted, and came into the
cottage, where a great talking ensued, and many purchases were displayed
and loudly discussed. The two Ferguson lads should have been with Elsie
and Duncan, but they had climbed on to the top of the peat-stack by the
side of the house, and were lying full length, peering unobserved
through the dingy window. Suddenly Elsie perceived that they were alone,
and without waiting to consider the possibilities of the case, she took
Duncan by the hand, pushed him over the stone wall, quickly climbed it
herself, and flew away over the grass as fast as her feet could carry
her in the direction of the hills.
Here, again, fortune favoured her, as it sometimes does favour the most
rash ventures. After running a goodish way, Elsie saw what she had never
dreamed of finding--a roadway sweeping round the foot of the hill, and
quite hidden from sight by a sudden rise in the ground. When they gained
the road, they too would be hidden by the rising ground between them and
the crofter's cottage, whereas now they could be seen distinctly by any
one who should happen to look, for there was not even a tree or bush to
shield them. Elsie pushed on quickly, not venturing to take even a peep
behind until they had safely scrambled down the steep bank into the
road, when, to her joy, she found that the stone walls enclosing the
croft, even the little hovel itself, had completely disappeared.
"Elsie," said Duncan, catching his breath, and looking up to her with a
glance of terror, "will they catch us?"
"No, I don't think so, Duncan," Elsie answered, quite gently. "We are
quite out of sight. We must be quick, and find out where this road
leads."
"I am so frightened, Elsie!" Duncan exclaimed, with a pitiful, appealing
glance to her not to be angry. He had kept his terror to himself so long
that he could hide it no longer. "Did you think they were going to kill
us, Elsie?"
"No, Duncan, of course not," Elsie replied, not without a little shiver.
It was very noticeable how different Elsie's tone was from her usual
one. There was no snapping up or ridiculing her little brother. She
spoke more as if she were trying to persuade herself of the truth of
what she said.
"But, Elsie, there was never any one came near," Duncan persisted.
"Sandy Ferguson could dig a big hole, and put us in right easy. No one
would know. Don't let him catch us, Elsie."
"He shan't catch us, dear," Elsie said, reassuringly, though she was not
feeling very easy about it herself. It was only now that she began
really to feel what a terrible time they had lived through in those last
two days, and what unknown horrors they had escaped from. Duncan's words
filled her with fear. To be overtaken and carried back to that dreadful
woman seemed the worst thing that could befall them.
"I wonder where this road leads?" Elsie said, trying to make Duncan
think of something else. "There's no one to ask."
"P'raps they might be like the man if you asked," Duncan said fearfully;
"and you look so ragged in that dirty old gown, Elsie. They will think
we are beggars."
Elsie had been thinking the same thing herself, though she was not going
to tell poor Duncan--already frightened out of his senses--how
uncomfortable she really felt. Alone in a country road, which led they
did not know where, without a penny to buy food or, so far as they could
see, a house from which they could ask some, what was to become of them?
"Elsie?" Duncan said presently, looking at her very wistfully.
"Yes, Duncan?"
"You won't be angry, will you?"
"No, I won't be angry," Elsie said impatiently. "What is it?"
"I feel so tired. Couldn't we go home?"
"Do you think you could find the way back?" Elsie asked.
"Oh! but we could ask for Dunster," Duncan said, eagerly. "People would
tell us. I'd try to run very fast, Elsie."
"We should have to get back to that other road, where the cottages are,
first," Elsie said, contemplatively. "Would you like to do that,
Duncan?"
"Oh, no!" the child cried, in _terror_. "They'd catch us, Elsie, they'd
catch us: I'm sure they would."
"We won't go there," Elsie said, trying to comfort him, for it was
pitiful to see his fright. "Wait till I see a nice tidy person, and I'll
ask all about it."
"There might be another way," Duncan suggested.
Just then they heard the sound of distant wheels. Duncan caught hold of
Elsie's shoulder in an agony of fright. "It's the man!" he cried,
trembling from head to foot, and turning as white as death. "He's
coming, Elsie! he's coming to fetch us back!"