IV

We were delighted with Granfa. It seemed to us that the acquiring of him

was the finest thing we had yet done. This elation of spirit remained with

us during all the drive home. The grey old town was wrapped in a golden

mist of romance; its windows reflected the fire of the sunset. It was not

until we had separated from the Bishop and stood, a group of four, before

Mrs. Handsomebody's house, that dread misgiving took the pith out of our

legs. All of a sudden Granfa loomed bulky and solid; the problem of where

he was to be stowed presented itself. He was not like Giftie to be hidden

in the scullery. He was not even like a white rat that could be secreted

under one's bed till its unfortunate odour resulted in painful research.

No; Granfa must be accounted for, and that soon.

"Better go round to the back," suggested Angel, "and tackle Mary Ellen

first."

So we traversed the chill passage between the tall houses, and softly

lifted the latch of the kitchen door. Mary Ellen was alone, her work done,

her nose buried in a novel of such fine print that it necessitated the

lamp's being perilously near the fringe of frowsy hair that covered her

forehead. We were inside the kitchen before she was recalled from the high

life in which she revelled.

"Is it yersilves?" she exclaimed, with a start. "Sure, you've give me a

nice fright prowlin' about like thaves--and whoiver may be the ould man wid

ye? The mistress'll stand no tramps or beggars about, as well you know."

"He's no tramp or beggar," I retorted, stoutly, "he's Granfa."

"Granfa! Granfa who? Noan o' your nonsense, now, byes. What's the truth

now, spit it out!"

"He's Granfa," I reiterated, desperately, "Our own nice grandfather that we

haven't seen for years, and--he's just come for a nice little visit with

us. Why, Mary Ellen, the Bishop knows him--"

"Known him for years," put in Angel. "Went to Harrow together."

"Ess fay," assented Granfa, eagerly. "Us were boon companions up to

Harrer."

"The Bishop brought him wight here in the pony twap," added The Seraph,

"and we'd all yike a little nushment, please."

Mary Ellen, in spite of herself, was half convinced. Granfa's blue eyes

were so candid; there was an air of dignity about his snow-white locks and

beard, that disarmed hostility.

"Look here, now," said Mary Ellen, in an aside, to us, "he seems a nice

ould gentlemin enough, but think av the throuble ye got us in over Giftie,

sure I won't have yez experimentalling wid grandfathers."

Granfa appeared to have overheard, for he spoke up.

"I just want to bide here a little while, my dearie, till I hear from my

son in South Americer. The other two put me out, you see, so I've only him

to depend on, till I be called away."

Mary Ellen flushed. "You'd be welcome to stay if it was my house, sir; but

my misthress is to be reckoned wid. By God's mercy, she is off to a

missionary meeting tonight, her bein' president av the society for makin'

Unitarians out av the blacks. Sorra a thing will she hear of this till

mornin', and I'll put you in my own bed, and slape on two cheers in the

scullery, for it'd niver do for the boys' grandfather to be used like a

beggar-man."

We thought it a capital idea for Mary Ellen to sleep in the scullery--it

would save her the fag of running downstairs in the morning to get

breakfast, and Granfa would be conveniently placed for us, in case we

wanted a story or game before breakfast.

So, after partaking of a little nourishment, as The Seraph put it, we

retired to Mary Ellen's room; she leading the way up the dark backstairs

with a lighted candle; Granfa next bearing his little bundle; and we three

in the rear, exceedingly tired, but in excellent spirits.

Granfa looked very snug in Mary Ellen's bed, with his curly beard resting

comfortably on the red and white quilt, and his blue eyes twinkling up at

us.

"Comfy, Granfa?" asked The Seraph.

"I be just so cozy as an old toad," he replied. "I do believe I'm a-going

to be terr'ble happy in my new home."

Mary Ellen had gone downstairs to prepare her place in the scullery, so we

climbed on the bed with him, making believe it was a smuggler's cutter, and

had many hair-raising adventures that were brought to an end, at last, by

the discovery that Granfa was fast asleep.

We were at the windlass heaving up the anchor, at the time, and had just

struck up a sailor's chanty, which made a good deal of noise, but nothing

seemed to disturb Granfa. He slumbered peacefuly through all the rattle of

chains, and shouting of commands, so, somewhat subdued, we decided there

was nothing for it but to seek our berths.

Snug beneath our covers, at last, we felt to the full, the new spirit of

adventure that had spread its irridescent wings over the house. There was

Granfa, snoring under Mary Ellen's patchwork quilt; there was the trusty

Mary Ellen, herself, stowed away in the scullery; there was Mrs.

Handsomebody, on missionary duty among the blacks; here were we--The Seraph

expressed our feelings exactly just before we fell asleep. "We'm terr'ble

lucky chaps," he said, in the Devon dialect, "ban't us?"

V

Our bedroom window was always tightly closed, and, at night, so were the

shutters; yet a sunbeam, adventurous, like ourselves, found its way through

a broken slat, and, cleaving the heavy air of the chamber, flew straight to

The Seraph's nose, where it perched, lending a radiant prominence to that

soft feature.

The Seraph roused himself. He opened his eyes; the sunbeam found them two

dark forest pools, and plunged therein. The Seraph opened his mouth and

laughed, showing all his little white teeth, and the sunbeam dived

straightway down his throat.

"Hurrah!" cried The Seraph, "let's get up!" And scrambled out of bed.

At the same instant came a loud tapping on the door of Mary Ellen's

bedroom. We surmised, correctly, that Mrs. Handsomebody, listening in vain

for the sound of her handmaiden's descent of the back stairs had risen

wrathfully, and come to summon her in person. A chill of apprehension ran

along my spine. I got up and stole to the door, followed by my brothers.

Through a crack we peered fearfully in the direction of the rapping, our

trembling bodies close together.

Mrs. Handsomebody, in purple dressing-gown and red woollen slippers, stood

in a listening attitude, her gaze bent on the door that hid Granfa.

"Are you aware of the hour?" she demanded peremptorily. "Rise at once and

open this door."

There was a creaking of the mattress and sound of shuffling feet; the door

was opened reluctantly, and Granfa, bare-legged, white of beard and

red-shirted, stood in the aperture.

Mrs. Handsomebody did not shriek; rather she made the inarticulate noises

of one in a nightmare and put out her hands as if to keep Granfa off.

"Merciful Heaven!" she whispered. "What has happened to you?"

"I do feel far from peart," replied Granfa.

"This is horrible. Did you feel it coming on?"

"Off and on for a long time," said Granfa. "It's been a terr'ble

experience, and I ban't likely to be ever the same again, I'm afeared."

Mrs. Handsomebody looked ready to faint.

At that moment, Mary Ellen, having heard the voice of her mistress,

projected her face above the doorsill of the backstairs. It was always a

rosy face, but now with excitement and shamefacedness, it was as red as a

harvest moon, coming up from the darkness.

The sight of her turned Mrs. Handsomebody's terror into rage.

"Shameful, depraved girl," she gobbled, "who is this you have in your

chamber? Ah, I've caught you! The ingratitude! You terrible old

wretch!"--this to Granfa--"close that door instantly while I send for the

police!"

By this time we had ventured into the hall, and, Mrs. Handsomebody, seeing

us groaned: "Under the roof with these innocent children--I thought that in

my care their innocence was safe."

"It was thim same innocents that brung him here," said Mary Ellen, stung

into disclosing our part in the scandal, "and it's himsilf is their own

grandfather."

Mrs. Handsomebody's gaze was appalling as she turned it on us three.

"You? Your grandfather? What fresh insanity is this?"

"You see," I explained, keeping my fascinated eyes on the wart on her chin,

"he's just come for a little visit, and he really is our Granfa, and we

love him awfully."

"Won't have him abused," spluttered The Seraph.

"Be rights," added Mary Ellen, solemnly, "he should have the best spare

room, the byes' own aged relation."

"I shall sift this affair," said Mrs. Handsomebody, "to its most appalling

dregs. You, Alexander"--to The Seraph--"are the smallest, look through that

keyhole and inform me what he is doing."

The Seraph obeyed, chuckling. "He's took to the bed again--all exceptin'

one leg--"

"We can dispense with detail," cut in our governess. "Is he at all

violent?"

"Bless you, no," replied Mary Ellen. "He's as mild mannered as can be and

an old friend of the Bishop's, so they say. 'Twas him that brung him home

in his pony trap."

"The Bishop! I must see the Bishop instantly."

As she spoke a stentorian shout of "Butcher!" came from the regions below.

"There," she said, to Mary Ellen, "is young Watlin. Call him up instantly;

and he shall guard the door while I dress. Explain the situation very

briefly to him. It would be well to arm him with a poker, in case the old

man becomes violent. David, go to Bishop Torrance and tell him that I hope

he will call on me at once, if possible. Put on your clothes, but you may

leave your hair in disorder, just as it is. It will serve to show the

Bishop into what a state of panic this household has been thrown."

She was obliged to retire hastily to her room because of the arrival of Mr.

Watlin.

It was some time before Mary Ellen, and The Seraph, and I could make him

understand what had happened, though we all tried at once.

"And you mean to tell me that he's in there?" he asked, at last, grinning

broadly.

"Sorra a place else," replied Mary Ellen, "and you're to guard the door

till the police comes."

"Guard nothink," said Mr. Watlin, belligerently, "I'll go right in and

tackle him single-handed."

With one accord The Seraph and I flung ourselves before the door.

"You shan't hurt him," we cried, "he's our own Granfa! We'll fight you

first."

Mr. Watlin made some playful passes at our stomachs. "Let's all have a

fight," he chaffed. Then he said--"Hullo, here's the old 'un himself, and

quite a character to be sure. No wonder Mrs. 'Andsomebody is in a taking."

The door had opened behind us; Granfa stood revealed, wearing his ragged

coat and hat, and carrying his stick and little bundle, wrapped in a red

handkerchief.

"Don't 'ee get in a frizz, my dears, about me," he said with dignity. "I be

leaving this instant moment. As for you--" addressing Mr. Watlin--"you be a

gert beefy critter, but don't be too sure you could tackle me,

single-handed. I be terr'ble full of power when I'm roused, and it takes a

deal to calm me down again." And he trotted to the head of the stairs and

began to descend.

The Seraph and I kept close on either side of him, tightly holding his

hands.

"She's in the parlour," I whispered, "and the Bishop's with her. Shall you

go in?"

Granfa nodded solemnly.

We stood in the doorway of the sacred apartment. Even there, the spirit of

the May morning seemed to have penetrated, for in the glass case a stuffed

oriole had cocked his eye with a longing look at a withered nest that hung

before him.

Mrs. Handsomebody had just finished her recital. "I thought I should have

swooned," she said.

"And no wonder," replied the Bishop, "I'm quite sure I should have." Then

he turned to us with a look of mingled amusement and concern. "Now what do

you suppose I'm going to do with you Granfa?"

"Oh, parson, don't 'ee send me back to the work'us! If I bide there any

longer, 'twill break my fine spirit."

"I am going to propose something very different," said the Bishop, kindly.

"We need another sweeper and duster about the Cathedral, and if you think

you are strong enough to wield a broom, you may earn a decent living. I

know a very kind charwoman, who would lodge and board you, and you would be

near your little--"

"Gwandsons," said The Seraph.

"Silence!" ordered Mrs. Handsomebody.

"You would be near us all," finished the Bishop, blandly.

"Ess fay. I can wield a broom," said Granfa. "And 'twill be a noble end for

me to pass my days in such a holy spot. 'Twill be but a short jump from

there fair into Heaven itself, and I do thank 'ee, parson, with all my

heart."

So it was settled, and turned out excellently. Even Mary Ellen could have

learned from Granfa new ways of handling a broom with the least exertion to

the worker; aye, in his hands, the broom seemed used chiefly as a support;

a staff, upon which he leant while telling us many a tale of those rare old

smuggling days of his youth.

Sometimes, in dim unused parts of the building, we would rig up a pirate's

ship, and Granfa would fix the broom to the masthead to show that he, like

Drake, had swept the seas.

Sometimes, indeed, we found him fast asleep in a corner of some

crimson-cushioned pew, looking so peaceful that, rough sea-going fellows

though we were, we had not the heart to rouse him.

Once, standing before the stained glass window in memory of young Cosmo

John, Granfa said:

"It beats all how thiccy lad does yearn toward me. His eyes follow me

wherever I go."

"And no wonder, Granfa," cried The Seraph, throwing his arms around him,

"for everybody loves 'ee so!"

_Chapter VIII: Noblesse Oblige_

I

Angel and I grew amazingly that summer. We grew in length of limb but with

no corresponding gain in scholastic stature. We had made up our minds to

retain as little as possible of Mrs. Handsomebody's teaching and we had

succeeded so well in our purpose, that, at nine and ten we had about as

much book-learning as would have befitted The Seraph, while he retained the

serene ignorance of babyhood. But in affairs of the imagination we were no

laggards. We eagerly drank in Granfa's tales of the sea, and Harry lent us

many a hair-raising book of adventure.

Yet we longed for the companionship of other boys of our own age, and

strained towards the day when we should go to school. Our abounding energy

chafed more and more under the rule of Mrs. Handsomebody.

Now she had left the schoolroom to interview a plumber, and her black

bombazine dress having sailed away like a cloud, we had utterly relaxed,

and were basking in the sunshine of her absence.

Slumped on my spine, I was watching a spider, just over my head, that was

leisurely ascending his shining rope-ladder to the ceiling. I contemplated

his powers of retreat with an almost bitter envy. Fancy being able, at a

moment's notice, to bolt out of reach (even out of sight and hearing) of

all that was obnoxious to a fellow! I pictured myself, when some

particularly harassing question had been put by my governess, springing

from my seat, snatching the ever-ready shining rope and making for some

friendly cornice, where, with my six or eight legs wrapped round my head, I

would settle down for a snug sleep, not to be disturbed by any female.

Yet, I had to admit, that if any one in the schoolroom played the role of

spider, it was Mrs. Handsomebody herself, whose desk was the centre of a

web of books, pencils, rulers and a cane, in the meshes of which we three

were caught like young flies, before our bright wings had been unfolded.

I looked at The Seraph. After slavishly making pot hooks all the afternoon,

he was now licking them off his slate with unaffected relish. I turned to

Angel.

With hands thrust deep in his pockets he was staring disconsolately at the

unfinished sum before him. I, too, had given it up in despair.

"It's mediocre," he muttered. "Absolutely mediocre, and I won't stand it."

_Mediocre._ It was a new word to me, and I wondered where he had picked it

up. It was like Angel to spring it on me this way.

"Awfully mediocre," I assented. "And it can't be done."

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face that his new word should be thus

lightly bandied, but he went on--"Just listen here: an apple-woman who had

four score of apples in her cart, sold three dozen at four pence,

half-penny a dozen; two and a half dozen at five pence a dozen. At what

price would she have to sell the remaining, in order to realize"--

"And look here," I interrupted, wrathfully, "Why does she always give us

sums about an apple-woman, or a muffin-man? It just makes a chap hungry.

Why doesn't she make one up about a dentist for a change, or somethin' like

that?"

"Yes," assented Angel, catching at the idea. "Like this: if a dentist

pulled five teeth out of one lady, and seven and a half out of another, at

two shillings apiece how many must he pull in order to--"

"Then there's undertakers," I broke in. "If a undertaker buried nine

corpses one day, and six and a half the next--"

I had to stop, for Angel was convulsed with laughter, and The Seraph was

beginning to get noisy.

Angel produced a small bottle of licorice water from his pocket and took a

long mouthful. Then he handed it to me. It was soothing, delicious.

"Me too!" cried The Seraph, and I held it to his eager little mouth.

"Here," said Angel angrily, "he's swiggin' down the whole thing. Drop it,

young'un!"

At the same moment, the door opened quietly, and Mrs. Handsomebody entered.

I tore the bottle from The Seraph's clinging lips, and stuffed it,

corkless, into my pocket.

Mrs. Handsomebody sat down and disposed her skirt about her knees. Her eyes

travelled over us.

"Alexander," she said to The Seraph, "stand up." He meekly rose.

"What is that on your chin?"

The Seraph explored his chin with his tongue.

"It tastes sweet," he said.

"I asked what is it?"

The Seraph shot an imploring glance at Angel.

"I fink," he hedged, "it's some of the gwavy fwom dinner left over."

Mrs. Handsomebody turned to Angel and me.

"Stand up," she commanded, sternly, "and we shall sift this matter to the

root."

"Yes," admitted Angel, nonchalantly. "It was licorice root made into a

drink."

"Licorice root," repeated our governess, in a tone of disgust. "It is by

imbibing such vile concoctions that the taste for more ardent spirits is

created. When I was your age, I had taken no beverage save milk and hot

water, from which I graduated naturally to weak tea, and from thence to

the--er--stronger brew. I am at present your guardian as well as your

teacher and I shall do my utmost to eradicate--"

It was impossible to follow her discourse because of the keen discomfort I

was feeling as the remainder of the licorice water trickled down my right

leg. I was brought up with a start by Mrs. Handsomebody almost shouting:

"John! What is that puddle on the floor beneath you? Don't move! Stay where

you are." She sprang to my side and grasped my shoulder.

"I s'pose it's some more of the woot," giggled The Seraph.

I put my hand in my pocket and produced the empty bottle. Mrs. Handsomebody

took it between her thumb and forefinger. She gave me a sharp rap on the

head with it.

"Now," she gobbled, "go to your room and remain there till the exercises

are over, then return to me for punishment. _And_ change your trousers."