QUIET TIMES.
It is to be hoped that you see some improvement in Bunny's behaviour
since you first made her acquaintance, though she was very naughty
on the day when the poor thrush was killed.
At all events she had been trying to be good, and when she failed,
or forgot her good resolutions she was so willing to confess her
faults, and was so truly sorry for them, that Miss Kerr and Mama,
and even Sophie, were always ready to forgive her. Miss Kerr had
quite won Bunny's heart by her constant love and gentleness, so that
the child could not bear to give her pain. This made Bunny more
thoughtful, and she soon learned to check her outbreaks of temper
and to keep out of mischief.
Mervyn, who was growing tall and strong, was very much in earnest
when he had promised to try to be docile and obedient. He did not
forget that should he meet his dear mother and father in London they
would ask him whether he had kept his word, and he would not have
told them a falsehood even if he had been ever so naughty, for he
was a truthful boy, and not at all a coward.
Mervyn often helped Bunny to remember her promises too; and it
seemed as though after the night when they had seen the display of
fireworks they had both made up their minds to go on steadily with
their lessons every morning. Miss Kerr was delighted, and Sophie had
really very little to do, for all the afternoon, and sometimes in
the evening also, they were out on the sands, or on the hills, or
seated in the garden. The reason of this was, that as Mr. Dashwood
had given them notice that the holiday was coming to an end, they
had implored their friend Frank Collins to come often to see them,
and as he loved Mervyn and could talk to him about his dear father
and mother, and listen to his descriptions of life in Madras and
Calcutta, he used to come every day to take the children out.
Of this Mr. Dashwood was very glad, for he was pleased that such a
nice manly boy as Frank should give up so much time to these two
young ones, and used to laugh at Miss Kerr and tell her that they
learnt more from their young tutor Frank Collins than they did from
their governess. Miss Kerr often made one of the party when they
went out together and she used to like to listen to Frank too. He
had been to a large school, and was now only waiting for his parents
to return from India before going to another. He had read a great
many books, and could remember several stories and accounts of
voyages and discoveries.
The children would sit under a tree or inside an old boat on the
beach and listen to him as he told them of the adventures of sailors
and travellers; or sometimes they went with him for a ramble in the
country, and he could show them the different kinds of trees and
wild flowers, and point out where the various birds built their
nests.
Mervyn was quite surprised one day when a lark sprang suddenly from
a field of long grass and went soaring up and up in the clear
sunshine till it looked only like a speck, and at last could
scarcely be seen, but yet all the time kept trilling and singing its
beautiful song.
As it sung it floated away to some distance from the place from
which it rose, and then suddenly it seemed to sink from the air and
to drop amidst the grass again.
"Wherever has it gone to?" said Bunny; "there are no trees here, and
where can its nest be?"
"Its nest is on the ground, in the long grass of the field," said
Frank.
"Oh then, it has just dropped into it," cried Mervyn; "couldn't we
go and see?"
"You wouldn't find it except you could trace the way to the spot
where the bird first rose," said Frank. "Directly the artful fellow
heard us coming he sprang out and started his song so that he might
lead us away from the spot where the nest is, and now he has
dropped in the grass a long way off to lead us still further away."
"Oh _do_ let us go and look for it!" said Bunny.
"I think we'd better not," said Mervyn; "remember the thrush, Bunny,
and we might kill some of the little birds."
"Quite right, Mervyn," said Frank Collins; "we should very likely
step upon it or frighten the hen bird so much that she would leave
the nest. It would be like somebody coming and driving us away from
home, you know. When I was as young as you are, I used to rob the
nests of their eggs, but I have left off doing so now, and even if
you should ever collect eggs you should only take one from a nest
and contrive not to frighten the birds. But there are young larks
and not eggs in this nest, so we will let them alone to grow strong
and fly out into the sunshine and sing under the blue sky, won't we,
Bunny?"
You may well believe that the children thought the last part of
their holiday was the pleasantest of all; for beside Frank they had
found another playmate, a great friend of his.
His name was Captain, and he was a grand, black, curly, Newfoundland
dog. Such a fine fellow was seldom to be seen, and he learnt to lie
down in a patch of grass on the hill, just at the place where he
could watch for Bunny and Mervyn when they went out for their
afternoon walk.
He would pretend to be asleep, and when they came quite close to him
would spring up and begin to leap about, leading the way to the
sands, and barking or rolling over and over till Frank or Mervyn
threw a stick as far as ever they could into the sea that he might
dash in after it and fetch it out.
Captain was a splendid swimmer, and had once jumped into the sea
from the end of a pier after a little girl who had fallen into the
water. The child would have been drowned, but Captain seized her by
the frock and held her up till a boat could put out and fetch her,
and then the brave fellow turned and swam ashore.
[Illustration: Chapter decoration.]