As we trotted along, Simon told us that his family had taken a large old
house that had stood vacant ever since we had come to live with Mrs.
Handsomebody. How often we had timidly passed its dingy front, wondering
what might be within its closed shutters and deep-set front door!
Now, as we approached, we saw that the sign, To Let, had been taken down;
the door and shutters were wide open; and, one of the shutters, hanging at
a rakish angle, much as Simon wore his cap, gave a promise of jollity and
lack of restraint within.
"We shall just cut around to the back garden," announced Simon. "The kids
are there, and need putting in order by the row they are making."
We passed through a low door in the wall that separated the front garden
from the back. The wall was overgrown with dusty untrimmed creepers, from
which a flock of sparrows flew when the door was opened.
For a moment, we could scarcely take in the scene before us; in our
experience it was so unprecedented. But Simon did not seem in the least
surprised.
"Hi, kids!" he yelled, "just keep that water off us, will you! Put down
that hose, Mops!"
Mops was a girl a little younger than Simon. She stood in the middle of the
garden, a hose in her hands, and she was absorbed in drenching two
half-naked small boys and five fox terriers, who circled around her like
performers in a circus ring. The noise of yelling boys and barking dogs was
terrific.
"What's she doing?" we gasped.
"It's so dev'lish hot that the hose feels bully. Like to try it?"
"I wish we had got our bathing suits," said Angel.
"Never mind. I think there's a couple of pairs of trunks in the scullery,
and the young 'un can have a pinafore of Mopsie's."
He led the way down some littered steps into a basement room, where a
dishevelled maid was blacking boots.
"Here Playter," he ordered, "dig up some togs for a hosing, will you? And
be sharp about it, there's a love."
The girl obligingly dropped her boots, and turning out the contents of a
cupboard, produced some faded blue bathing trunks.
To us they seemed shamelessly inadequate, but Simon appeared satisfied. Now
he hurried us to a summer-house occupied by a family of lop-eared rabbits,
and here we changed into the trunks. The Seraph required some help, and
when he was stripped, I could see his little heart pounding away at his
ribs, for, between the exertion of keeping up to us, and not quite
understanding why he was being undressed, he was very much wrought up.
"It's just fun," I reassured him. "Don't get funky."
"I'm not," he whispered, as I tied on his trunks, "but I fink it's a
dangerous enterpwise."
"Time's up," yelled Simon, "get into the game!"
We leaped from the summer-house to the grass, and, refreshing it was to our
bare soles. The first onslaught from the hose almost knocked my legs from
under me, and, indeed, throughout the game, Mops seemed to single me out
for special attention. We three had never in our lives given way to such an
abandon of wildness. The Seraph yelled till he was hoarse, and, when at
last Mops surrendered the hose to Simon, the orgy grew wilder still.
In the midst of it, a French window at the back of the house opened, and a
lady stood on the threshold.
My senses had received only a delicate impression of pink satin, golden
hair, and flashing rings, when Simon turned the hose, in full force, on the
step just below her, sending a shower of drops all about her. With a scream
she fled indoors, slamming the French window.
"You got her that time, all right," said Mops, grinning roguishly.
"Who is she?" I gasped.
"Oh, just mummy," replied Simon, nonchalantly.
The French window opened again. This time a young man in grey tweeds
appeared. I quite expected to see him greeted with a shower also, but Simon
respectfully lowered the hose.
"Did you turn that hose on your mother, Simon?" asked the young man
sternly.
"Just a little," answered Simon.
"Well, the next time you do it you'll get your jacket dusted, do you hear?"
"Yes, father."
The young man disappeared into the house, three of the wet dogs following
him.
"Isn't Lord Simon sweet?" asked Mops, with another roguish smile at me.
"Awfully," I replied politely, "but is the lady really your mother?"
"Let's feed," interrupted Simon, throwing down the hose, "I've a rare old
twist on."
I was sorry he had interrupted us, for I yearned towards Mops, and I felt
that further conversation with me would be acceptable to her, but we were
swept away in the stampede for food to the basement kitchens.
They seemed immense to me, and full of the jolliest servants I had ever
seen. Two men-servants in livery were playing a game of cribbage at one end
of a long littered table, while several laughing maid-servants hung over
their shoulders. The game was suspended at our entrance, and they all
turned to ask us questions and chaff us about our appearance. One of the
fox terriers jumped on the table and began nosing among the saucepans.
Nobody stopped him. The fat, good-natured cook busied herself in spreading
bread and butter with Sultana raisins for us; the maid-servants made a
great fuss over The Seraph.
In such a whirlwind did this family live that just as I was beginning to
feel at ease in this extraordinary kitchen, I was rushed back to the garden
to play, a somewhat solid feeling in my stomach telling me that the bread
and Sultanas had arrived.
"Hurrah for stilts," screamed Mops.
"Just the thing," assented Simon. "Here young Bunny and Bill, fetch the
stilts, and be sharp about it--hear?" and he gave them each a punch in the
ribs.
Thus encouraged, Bunny and Bill scampered across the grass, the
fox-terriers yelping at their heels, and, from a convenient out-house all
sizes of stilts were produced.
These accomplished children could do all manner of amazing feats on the
stilts; even little Bill laughed at our awkward attempts. But, after many
falls, Angel and I could limp haltingly about the garden, and experienced
the new joy of looking down at things instead of up.
We noticed presently that Simon was propped against the high wall that
divided this garden from the next. In a moment he called to us:
"Toddle over here and see what the old girls are doing."
"Who does he mean?" I asked Mops, as we moved stiffly, side by side.
"It's the Unaquarium parson's garden," she said. "I expect they're having a
tea-fight. They're always up to something fishy."
Something ominous in the words should have warned me, but I was too elated
to be heedful of signs or portents. I clutched the wall, and, with a grin
of amusement, gazed down at the group of ladies, who, with two gentlemen in
black, were drinking tea on the lawn.
Bunny threw a green pear at the thin legs of the taller gentleman.
The gentleman shied in a most spirited fashion, slopping his tea.
Everybody turned to look in our direction.
"Duck," hissed Mops.
But it was too late to duck. Several ladies were already sweeping towards
us.
Then my soul fainted within me, for the voice of the being who ruled our
little universe spoke as from a dark cloud.
"David! John! Alexander!" gobbled the Voice, "are you gone mad? Come here
instantly--but no--you appear to be nude--answer me--are you nude?"
Mops answered for us; we were too afflicted for speech.
"If you mean naket, we're not," she said, "but the dressed-up part of us is
on this side."
I was conscious of murmuring voices: What a terrible little girl; indeed
the whole family; as for the mother--Yes--my pupils, and, for the present,
my wards--Once they even threw a dead rat over!
Then up spoke Mrs. Handsomebody. "Put on your clothes," she ordered, "and
meet me at the corner. I shall be waiting."