"All dogs are alike to me. Canines."
The tall lady gave something between a snort and a sigh.
"Would you allow them to accept a sovereign apiece then?"
"That would be permissible."
"I shall be back directly," and with astonishing speed she ran to the house
with Colin and Giftie barking on either side of her. It was but a moment
till she returned and pressed a golden sovereign into each languid hand.
The sight of so much bullion all at once braced us for the moment, and we
forgot to be miserable. She came with us to the gate, asking a dozen
questions about ourselves, and our father, and Giftie's stay with us.
Giftie had to be restrained from following us, and with sinking hearts we
kissed her little black nose and said good-bye.
"Good-bye!" called the tall lady, "come again any time! Come and spend the
day with us!"
Our governess called us peremptorily. She was half a block in advance.
When we reached the chair, she said, in a conciliatory tone: "I shall
arrange for you to have some unusual treat from your reward, some concerts
and lantern lectures suited to your years, and maybe, as the Christmas
Season approaches, even a pantomime. What do you say?"
I looked at the woman. Was she mad to imagine that such paltry, sickly
treats could make up for the loss of three pups whose eyes were beginning
to open? My own eyes smarted with tears. I looked at Mary Ellen. Two bright
drops hung on her cheeks as she laboured behind the chair. I looked at
Angel. He was balancing himself on the curb with an air of desperate
indifference. I could hear The Seraph weeping as he brought up the rear.
I lingered behind to offer him a suck of a piece of licorice I had. Then I
saw that he had stopped and was hunched above the grating of a sewer. I
could but think that his spirits had reached such an ebb that nothing save
the contemplation of the foulest depths might salve his misery. But I was
mistaken! His hand moved above the grating. Something flashed. Then I
swelled my chest with pride in him. Truly, The Seraph was a brother to be
proud of--a fellow of sturdy passions, not to be trifled with!
He had chucked his sovereign down the sewer!
_Chapter V: Freedom_
I
Life became dull indeed after Giftie was taken from us. November drew on to
December; beating rains kept us indoors for days at a time. Mrs.
Handsomebody had a horror of wet feet. With faces pressed against streaming
window panes, we watched for the blurred progress of the lamplighter down
the street, as the one excitement of the day. Even our friend the Bishop
deserted us and went for a long stay in the south of France. Angel
developed a sore throat just before Christmas so we had no part in the
Christmas music in the Cathedral. The toy pistols sent by our father did
not arrive till a fortnight after Christmas, and when they did arrive, the
joy of possessing them was short-lived, for after Angel had cracked a pane
of glass with his, and I had hit Mary Ellen on the ear, so that it was
swollen and red for days, Mrs. Handsomebody confiscated them all as
dangerous weapons to be kept till we were beyond her control.
She gave us each a new prayer book illustrated by pictures from the Gospel.
I coloured the pictures in mine with crayons, and got my hands rulered for
it; Angel traded his with one of the choir boys for a catapult which he
successfully kept in concealment, with occasional forays on back alley
cats. The Seraph was immensely pleased with his. He carried it about in his
blouse, producing it, now and again, for reference, with pretended
solemnity. His manner became unbearably clerical. I think he felt himself,
at least, a Canon.
The winter wore on, and we became pale and peevish from lack of air, when
all our little world was quickened by the coming of the telegram.
It had come while we were at lessons. Angel and I were standing before our
governess with our hands behind our backs, when Mary Ellen burst in at the
door. I had been stumbling over the names of the Channel Islands, and I
stopped with my mouth open, relieved to see Mrs. Handsomebody's look of
indignation raised from my face to that of Mary Ellen.
"Is that the way I have instructed you to enter the room where I sit?"
asked Mrs. Handsomebody sternly.
"Lord, no, ma'am," gasped Mary Ellen, "but it's a telegram I've brung for
ye, an' I thought as it was likely bad news, ye wouldn't want to be kept
waitin' while I'd rap at the dure!" She presented the bit of paper between
a wet thumb and forefinger.
"You may take your seats," said Mrs. Handsomebody coldly, to us.
Angel and I slipped into our places at the long book-littered table, on
either side of The Seraph. We were thus placed, in order that his small
plump person should prove an obstacle to familiar intercourse between Angel
and myself during school hours; and, as our intercourse usually took the
form of punches in the short ribs, or wet paper pellets aimed at an
unoffending nose, The Seraph was frequently the recipient of such
pleasantries. He bore them with good humour and stoicism.
"I'll bet anything," whispered Angel, over The Seraph's curls, "that it's a
telegram from father saying that he's coming to fetch us! Wouldn't that be
jolly? And she's waxy about it too--see how white she's gone!"
Mrs. Handsomebody rose.
"Boys," she said, in her most frigid manner, "owing to news of a sudden
bereavement, I shall not be able to continue your lessons today--nor
tomorrow. You will, I hope, make the most of the time intervening. You were
in a shocking state of unpreparedness both in History and Geography this
morning. Keep your little brother out of mischief, and _remember_," raising
her long forefinger, "you are not, under any consideration, to leave the
premises during my absence. As I have a great responsibility on your
account, I wish to be certain that you are not endangering yourselves in
the street. When I return we shall undertake some long walks."
Picking up the telegram from the floor where it had fallen, Mrs.
Handsomebody slowly left the room, and closed the door behind her.
"She's always jawing about her responsibility," muttered Angel resentfully.
"Why don't she let us run about like other boys 'stead of mewing us up like
a parcel of girls? I'll be shot if I stand it!"
"What _are_ the Channel Islands anyhow?" I asked to change the subject.
"I'd just got to Jersey, Guernsey, when I got stuck."
"Jersey, Guernsey, Sweater, Sock and Darn," replied my elder, emphasizing
the last named.
"_Was_ the telegram from father?" interrupted The Seraph. "Is he comin'
home?"
"No, silly," replied Angel. "Some one belonging to Mrs. Handsomebody is
dead. She's goin' to the funeral, I s'pose. Whoever can it be, John? Didn't
know _she_ had any people."
"A whole day away," I mused, "it has never happened before."
I looked at Angel, and Angel looked at me--such looks as might be exchanged
by lion cubs in captivity. We remembered our old home with its stretch of
green lawn, the dogs, the stable with the sharp sweet smell of hay, and the
pigeons, sliding and "rooketty-cooing" on the roof. Here, the windows of
our schoolroom looked out on a planked back yard, and our daily walks with
Mrs. Handsomebody were dreary outings indeed.
Of a sudden Angel threw his Geography into the air. His brown eyes were
sparkling.
"We'll make a day of it, Lieutenant," he cried, slapping me on the
shoulder. He always called me Lieutenant where mischief was a-foot. "Such a
day as _never_ was! We'll do every blessed thing we're s'posed not to! Most
of all--we'll _run the streets_!"
At that instant, Mary Ellen opened the door and put her rosy face in.
"She do be packin' her bag, byes," she whispered, "she's takin' the eliven
o'clock train, an' she won't be back till tomorrow at noon. Now what d'ye
think o' that? She's awful quate, but she's niver spilt a tear fer him that
I could spot."
"For who?"
"Why, her brother to be sure. It's him that's dead. It's a attack of
brownkitis that's carried him off so suddint. Her only brother an'--yes,
ma'a'm, I'm comin'," her broad face disappeared, "I was on'y tellin' the
young gintlemen to be nice an' quate while I git their dinner ready. Will
they be havin' the cold mutten from yisterday ma'a'm?" Her voice trailed
down the hall.
Presently we heard the front door close. We raced to the top of the stairs.
"Is she gone?" we whispered, peering over the bannister into the hall
below. But, of course, she was gone, else Mary Ellen would never dare to
stand thus in the open doorway, gaping up and down the street! We slid
recklessly down the hand-rail. It was the first infringement of rules--the
wig was on the green! We crowded about Mary Ellen in the doorway, sniffing
the air.
"Och, it's a bad lot ye are!" said she, taking The Seraph under the arms
and swinging him out over the steps, "shure it's small wonder the missus is
strict wid ye, else ye'd be ridin' rough-shod over her as ye do over me!
It's jist man-nature, mind ye--ye can't help it!"
"Well, it's not man-nature to be mewed up as she does us," said Angel,
swaggering, "and, I don't know what you mean to do, Mary Ellen, but _we_
mean to take a day off, so there!" He nodded his curly head defiantly at
her.
"Now, listen here, byes," said Mary Ellen, turning sober all of a sudden,
and shutting the door, "you come right out to the kitchen wid me, an' we'll
talk this thing over. I've got a word to say to ye."
She led the way down the hall and through the dining-room with its
atmosphere of haircloth, into the more friendly kitchen, where even the
oppressions of Mrs. Handsomebody could not quite subdue the bounding
spirits of Mary Ellen.
Angel sallied to the cupboard. "Bother!" he said, discontentedly,
investigating the cake-box, "that same old seedy-cake! Won't you _please_
make us a treat today, Mary Ellen? Jam tarts or some sticky sort of cake
like you see in the pastry shop window."
"That's the very thing I was goin' to speak about, my dear," Mary Ellen
replied, "if ye'll jist howld yer horses." Before proceeding, she cut us
each, herself included, a slice of the seed cake, and, when we were all
munching (save Angel, who was busy picking the seeds out of his cake) she
went on--
"Now, as well ye know, I've worked here manny a long month, and I've had
followers a-plinty, yit there's noan o' thim I like the same as Mr. Watlin,
the butcher's young man, an' it makes me blush wid shame, whin I think that
after all the pippermints, an' gum drops, an' jawbone breakers he's give
me, not to speak of minsthral shows an' rides on the tram-cars, an' I've
niver given him so much as a cup o' tay in this kitchen. Not _wan_ cup o'
tay, mind ye!"
We shook our heads commiseratingly. Angel flicked his last caraway seed at
her--
"Well," he said, with a wink, "you gave him something better than tea--I
saw you!"
"Aw, well, my dear," replied Mary Ellen, without smiling, "a man that do be
boardin' all the time likes a little attintion sometimes--an' a taste o'
home cookin'. Now hark to my plan. I mane to have a little feast of oyster
stew, an' cake, an' coffee, an' the like this very night, fer Mr. Watlin
an' me, an' yersilves. You kin have yours in the dining-room like little
gintlemen, an' him an' me'll ate in the kitchen here. Thin, after the
supper, ye kin come out an' hear Mr. Watlin play on the fiddle. He plays
somethin' grand, havin' larned off the best masters. It'll be a rale treat
fer ye! The missus 'll niver be the wiser, an' we'll all git a taste o'
_freedom_, d'ye see?"
We were unanimous in our approval, The Seraph expressing his by a
somersault.
"But," said Angel, "there's just one thing, Mary Ellen; if there's going to
be a party you and Mr. Watlin have got to have yours in the dining-room the
same as us. It'll be ever so much jollier, and more like a real party."
"Thrue fer ye, Master Angel!" cried Mary Ellen heartily, "sure, there's
noan o' the stiff-neck about ye, an' ye'll git yer fill av oysters an' cake
fer that, mark my words! As fer my Mr. Watlin, there ain't a claner,
smarter feller to be found annywheres. But, oh, if the mistress was to find
it out--" she turned pale with apprehension.
"How could she?" we assured her. Every curtain would be drawn, and,
besides, Mrs. Handsomebody was not intimate with her neighbours.
Mary Ellen gave us our cold mutton and rice pudding that day in free and
easy fashion. She did not place the dishes and cutlery with that
mathematical precision demanded of her by Mrs. Handsomebody, but scattered
them over the cloth in a promiscuous way that we found very exhilarating.
And, instead of Mrs. Handsomebody's austere figure dominating our repast,
there was Mary Ellen, resting her red knuckles on the table-cloth, and
fairly bubbling over with plans for the prospective entertainment of her
lover! Our hearts went out to the good girl and her Mr. Watlin. We began to
think of him as a dear friend.
"Now, my dears," said she, when the meal was over, "take yourselves off
while I clane up and do my shoppin', but fer pity's sake, don't lave the
front garden, fer if annything was to happen to ye--"
Angel cut her short with--"None of that Mary Ellen! This is _our_ day too,
and we shall do what we jolly well please!" He completed his protest by
throwing himself bodily on the stout domestic, and The Seraph and I, though
we had eaten to repletion, followed his example. Mary Ellen, howbeit, was a
match for the three of us, and bundled us out of the side entrance into the
laneway, triumphantly locking the door upon us.
Without a look behind, we scampered to the street, and then stood still,
staring at each other, dazzled by the vista that opened up before us--what
to do with these glorious hours of freedom!