It was such a fine hot Midsummer day at Hollowdell station, that the
porter had grown tired of teasing the truck-driver's dog, and fallen
fast asleep--an example which the dog had tried to follow, but could
not, because there was only one shady spot within the station-gates, and
that had been taken possession of by the porter; so the poor dog had
tried first one place, and then another, but they were all so hot and
stifling, and the flies kept buzzing about him so teasingly, that he
grew quite cross, and barked and snapped so at the tiresome insects,
that at last he woke Jem Barnes, the porter, who got up, stretched
himself, yawned very rudely and loudly, and then, looking in at the
station-clock, he saw that the 2:30 train from London was nearly due, so
he made up his mind not to go to sleep again until it had passed.
It _was_ a hot day--so hot that the great black tarpaulins over the
goods-waggons were quite soft, and came off all black upon Jem Barnes's
hands. The air down the road seemed to quiver and dance over the white
chalky dust; while all the leaves upon the trees, and the grass in the
meadows, drooped beneath the heat of the sun. As to the river, it shone
like a band of silver as it wound in and out, and here and there; and
when you looked you could see the reflection of the great dragon-flies
as they flitted and raced about over the glassy surface. The reeds on
the bank were quite motionless; while, out in the middle, the fat old
chub could be seen basking in the sunshine, wagging their great broad
fantails in the sluggish stream, too lazy even to snap up the flies that
passed over their heads. All along the shallows the roach and dace lay
in shoals, flashing about, every now and then, in the transparent water
like gleams of silver light. Down in the meadows, where the ponds were,
and the shady trees grew, the cows were so hot that they stood up to
their knees in the muddy water, chewing their grass with half-shut eyes,
and whisking their long tails about to keep the flies at a distance.
But it was of no use to whisk, for every now and then a nasty, spiteful,
hungry fly would get on some poor cow's back, creep beneath the hair,
and force its horny trunk into the skin so sharply, that the poor animal
would burst out into a doleful lowing, and, sticking its tail up, go
galloping and plunging through the meadow in such a clumsy way as only a
cow can display. A few fields off the grass was being cut, and the
sharp scythes of the mowers went tearing through the tall, rich, green
crop, and laid it low in long rows as the men, with their regular
strokes, went down the long meadows. Every now and then, too, they
would make the wood-side re-echo with the musical ringing sound of the
scythes, as the gritty rubbers glided over the keen edges of the bright
tools.
Hot, hot, hot!--how the sun glowed in the bright blue sky! and how the
down train puffed and panted, while the heat of the weather made even
the steam from the funnel transparent as it streamed backwards over the
engine's green back! The driver and stoker were melting, for they had
the great roaring fire of the engine just in front of them, and the sun
scorching their backs; the guard was hot with stopping at so many
stations, and putting out so much luggage; while the passengers, in the
carriages said they were almost stifled, and looked out with longing
eyes at the shady green woods they passed. One passenger in particular,
a sharp-featured and rather sallow youth about twelve years old, kept
looking at the time-table, and wondering how long it would be before he
arrived at Hollowdell, for that was the name printed upon the ticket
Fred Morris held in his hand.
But just at this time there were other people travelling towards
Hollowdell station, and that too by the long dusty chalky road that came
through the woods and over the wooden bridge right up to the railway
crossing; and these people were no others than Fred Morris's country
cousins, and the old man-servant--half groom, half gardener--who was
driving the pony chaise with Harry Inglis by his side, while Fred's
other cousin Philip was cantering along upon his donkey close behind--
such a donkey! with thin legs, and a thin tail that he kept closely
tucked in between the hind pair, as if he was afraid the crupper would
pull it off. He wanted no beating, although he could be obstinate
enough when he liked, and refuse to pass the green paddock where he
grazed; but he wanted no beating, while with his young master on his
back: he would trot off with his little hoofs going pitter-patter,
twinkle-twinkle over the road, at a rate that it used to puzzle old
Dumpling, the fat pony, to keep up with.
Harry and Philip Inglis were rather different-looking boys to their
cousin, for, stouter in build, they bore upon their good-tempered faces
the brown marks made by many a summer's sun. And now, upon this
occasion, they were all impatience to get to the station to meet Cousin
Fred, who was coming down to spend the Midsummer holidays. The visit
had been long talked about, and now the boys were in a state of the
greatest excitement lest any disappointment might take place.
"Oh! do drive faster, Sam," said Harry, making a snatch at the reins; "I
know he'll be there first. Tiresome old thing, you! Why didn't you
start an hour sooner?"
"What for?" said Sam, grumbling, and holding tightly to the reins; "what
was I to come an hour sooner for? Think I don't know how long it takes
to drive over to station?"
"But," said Philip, from his donkey, "I'm sure we shall be late.
There!" he continued, "I can hear the train now!"
"Nonsense!" said Sam. "Where's the steam? Why, you can see the steam
for two miles before the train gets in, and Dumps here could get in long
before the train."
But Philip was right, for just then the loud and shrill whistle of the
engine was heard as it started again, after setting down one solitary
little passenger in the shape of Fred Morris, who looked sadly
disappointed to find no one there to receive him but Jem Barnes, the
porter, who stared very hard at the young stranger from Lunnun.
Dumpling galloped, and Neddy went off at a double trot, upon hearing the
railway-whistle, spinning along at such a rate that before Fred Morris
had learned which path he was to take across the fields to go the
shortest way to Squire Inglis's, of the Grange, Hollowdell--and all of
which information he was getting very slowly out of Jem Barnes--Harry
had jumped out of the chaise. Philip leaped off his donkey, and they
were one on each side of Fred, heartily shaking hands with him.
"I say, ain't you our cousin?" said Harry, breathlessly.
"Our cousin from London, you know," said Philip, "that was to come by
this train?"
"My name is Morris," said the traveller, rather pompously, "and I'm
going on a visit to Mr Inglis's at Hollowdell."
"Yes, to be sure!" said Harry. "You're Cousin Fred, and I'm Harry, and
that's Phil. Come along into the chaise. Here Sam--Jem! bring the box
and let's be off. But I say, Fred, isn't it hot?"
Fred replied that it was, seeming hardly to know what to make of the
rough, hearty manners of his cousins, and he looked, if anything, rather
disappointed when he was met by the rough grin of Sam, who was of
anything but a smooth exterior, and altogether a very different man to
his father's well-brushed livery-servant, who had seen him safely off to
the station in the morning.
"I've come," said Fred at last, when they were fairly started with
Philip and Fred in the chaise, and Harry this time upon the donkey
bringing up the rear--"I've come because Papa said you would not like it
if I did not; but I'd much rather you had both come up to me in London.
One can find something to do there, and there's something to see. I
can't think how you people manage to live down here."
"Oh! we find something to do, don't we, Harry?" said Philip, laughing.
But Harry was very busy with Neddy, who had taken it into his head to go
down a lane which led to the pound--a place where he had been more than
once locked up; and it was as much as ever the lad could do to stop him;
so Philip's question remained unanswered. "I say," continued Philip at
last, after they had been conversing some time, during which Master Fred
had been cross-questioning Philip as to his educational knowledge, and
giving that young gentleman to understand what a high position he
occupied at Saint Paul's School--"I say," said Philip, "can you swim?"
"No," replied Fred.
"Can you play cricket?"
"No," said Fred.
"Fish, row, shoot, rat, and all that sort of thing?" said Philip.
"No!" said the other. "I have always lived in London, where we do not
practise that class of amusement."
"Oh! come, then," said Philip, "we shall be able to teach you something.
Only wait a bit, and you'll see how we live down here. But here we
are; and there's Papa waiting for us under the porch."
As Philip said this, Sam had crawled down from his seat, opened a swing
gate, and led the pony into a garden through which wound a carriage
drive up to a long low house, all along the front of which extended a
verandah, the supports and sloping roof being completely covered with
roses, clematis, and jasmine, which hung in the wildest profusion
amongst the light trellis-work, and then ran up the sides of the bedroom
windows, peeping in at the lattice panes, and seeming to be in
competition with the ivy as to which should do most towards covering up
the brickwork of the pretty place; for it really was a pretty place,--so
pretty, that even Fred, who thought that there was nothing anywhere to
compare with London, could not help casting admiring looks around him.
All along one side of the gravel drive there was a tall,
smoothly-clipped hedge of laurels; while on the left the velvet lawn,
dotted all over with beds of scarlet geranium, verbena, and calceolaria,
with here and there rustic vases brimming over with blooming creepers,
swept down in a slope towards the park-like fields, from which it was
separated by a light ring fence. Right in front was another mighty
laurel hedge, that looked to be almost centuries old; and on the other
side was what was called the kitchen garden, though, I think, it might
have been called the parlour garden just as rightly, from the rich
banquets it used to supply of all kinds of luscious fruits--peaches,
nectarines, plums, strawberries, apples, pears, currants; and as to
gooseberries, the trees used to be so loaded with great rough golden and
crimson fellows, that they would lay their branches down on the ground
to rest them, because the weight was greater than they could bear. But
the greatest beauty of the house at Hollowdell, or, as it was called in
the neighbourhood, "The Grange," was the ivy, which did not creep there,
but ran, and ran all over the place--sides, roof, and all--even twining,
and twisting, and growing right up amongst the two great old-fashioned
chimney-stacks, round the pots, and some shoots even drooping in them,
and getting black and dry amongst the smoke that came curling and
wreathing out. For Squire Inglis would not have the ivy cut anywhere
excepting in the front, where he used to superintend while Sam cleared
it away now and then, so as to give the roses and creeping plants a
chance to show their beauties in the bright summer-time. And there the
Grange stood, with flowers blooming around it in every direction, as
sweet and pretty a place as could welcome any one just come from the
great desert of bricks and mortar called London, in which people who are
not compelled are so foolish as to go and spend their time in the
sunniest and brightest days of the year.
And, as Philip said, there stood Papa beneath the porch; and directly
after there stood Mamma too, to welcome their sister's child, whom they
had not seen since he was almost a baby.
"Now, boys," said the Squire, after all the handshaking had been
finished, "I've nothing to do with this. Fred is your visitor for a
month, so I leave you to make him happy and comfortable, and mind you
see that he enjoys himself."
Philip and Harry promised readily enough that they would. "But, Papa,"
said Harry, "Dr Edwards said, when we broke up, that we were to do a
little work every day during the holidays, and--and--"
"And what?" said his father. "Eh, now," said he, good-humouredly; "I
think I can make a good guess at what you would like. You'd like me to
write to the Doctor to let you off, wouldn't you?"
"Oh! yes, yes, yes, Papa," shouted the boys, clapping their hands.
"Hurrah, that's capital!"
"Well, but would it be right?" said their father, seriously.
"Oh! yes, Papa," said Harry; "for we will do so much after the holidays,
and work ever so hard to make up for it; and it is so very, very hard to
learn lessons away from school. I never can get on half so well, for
one can't help thinking of the games we want to play at, and then one
don't feel to be obliged to learn, and it does make such a difference:
so do please write, there's a good, good father," said Harry, coaxingly.
The Squire laughed, and that laugh was quite sufficient to satisfy the
lads, who gave two or three frisks, and tossed their caps in the air;
when Philip's fell on the top of the verandah, and had to be hooked down
with a long hay-rake.
Dinner was nearly ready, so Fred followed his box up to the pretty
little bedroom he was to occupy--one which opened out of the room set
apart for Harry and Philip; and soon after he was down in the
dining-room eating a meal that called forth the remarks and comparisons
of his cousins, who were dreadful trencher-men. They told him that he
must learn what a country appetite meant, and so, by way of teaching
him, they dragged him off, as soon as dinner was over, to look at all
the wonders of the place. First over the flower-garden, and round by
the aviary, where Mamma's gold and silver pheasants were kept; and then
into the green-house, where Poll, the parrot, hung in her great gilt
cage, swinging about amongst the flowers, dancing up and down, and
shrieking out whenever anybody came by; then swaying backwards and
forwards in the ring in the cage, and climbing up and down all over the
bars, this way and that way, head up and head down, and all the time
looking as wicked and cunning as a hook-beaked old grey parrot can look.
"Sam, Sam, where's the master?" shouted Poll, in a reedy-weedy tone,
like a cracked clarionet, as soon as the lads came in sight. "Stealing
the grapes. Stealing the grapes," she shouted again. "Rogues, rogues,
rogues! Two in the morning, hi! hi!" And then she gave a shrill
whistle, and burst out into a loud hearty laugh, that made Fred stare,
it was so natural.
"There," said Philip, proudly, "you haven't got such birds as that in
London."
"Oh yes, we have," said Fred, "but Papa don't care about buying them.
Poor Polly," he continued, putting his finger in to stroke the parrot.
"Don't do that," shouted the boys together; but it was too late, for
almost at the same moment Fred gave utterance to a most doleful
"Oh-h-h!" Poll had made a snap at his finger, and hooked a piece of
flesh out sufficient to make it bleed pretty freely.
"What a beast!" said Fred, angrily, and binding his handkerchief round
the place; "I'd kill it if I had my way."
"But it was your fault," said Harry, quietly, "for trying to touch it;
wasn't it?"
"Ah! but he didn't know it would bite," said Philip, "or he would not
have done so: but never mind, come along, and let's go down the garden."
The abundance of the fruit made Fred forget his pain; and, having seen
the boys' gardens, the next thing was to have a look at the little pond
with the rock-work fountain, which they had made, and which played by
means of a barrel of water hid in the shrubbery behind, the stream being
conveyed through a piece of small piping. Here it was that Harry and
Philip kept all the finny treasures they captured, and the little pond
was rich in carp, roach, dace, and perch; while, amongst other
valuables, Fred was informed of the existence of an eel a foot long,
which had been put in two months before, and never seen since, but was
no doubt fattening in the mud at the bottom.
Neddy had been seen, but round in the stable-yard there was Dick, the
terrier, who could catch rats, rabbits, or anything, so Harry said; and
then there was Tib, the one-eyed, one-winged raven, which hopped about
with his head on one side, and barked at the visitors, and then began to
dig his beak into Fred's leg, and could only be kept at a distance by
Philip poking at him with the handle of the stable broom, when he hopped
off, and sat upon the dog-kennel, every now and then giving a short
angry bark; but nothing like such a bark as Dick the terrier gave when
he found that, in spite of all his leaping, whining, and howling, he was
not to be let out that afternoon, but left straining at the end of his
chain, with his eyes starting out of his head, while the boys went to
see Harry's pigeons and Philip's rabbits.
Just then Harry went to a box in the stable, and pulled out a long,
lithe, scratching and twisting thing, that looked more like a short
snake than a quadruped, and offered it to Philip to hold.
"No; I won't hold it," said Philip; "I'm afraid of it. Perhaps Fred
will."
"No, that I won't," said Fred, shrinking back; "I never saw such a
nasty-looking thing in my life. What do you keep it for?"
"Keep it for? you cowards," said Harry, stuffing the animal into his
pocket; "you'll see to-morrow, when we are off rabbiting: why, it's the
best ferret for miles round." And Harry really believed it was, for the
old keeper that he bought it of had told him so, which was quite enough
for Harry; but although it was such a good ferret, it had a nasty habit
of stopping in a hole as long as it liked, which was sometimes very
tiresome when any one was waiting outside upon a cold cutting day.
"Well, I wouldn't touch it for sixpence," said Fred; "but I ain't
afraid, only I don't want to be bitten again by any of your nasty
country bumpkin things, else I'd touch it fast enough."
"I never do," said Philip; "I hate it, it twines about so. It's worse
than an eel ever so much."
"Hark at Mrs Phil," said Harry, grinning. "I say, Fred, he is such a
coward; worse than you are a great deal."
"I'm not a coward," said Fred, colouring up, and setting his teeth.
"Oh yes, you are!" said Harry, teasing him; "why, all you London boys
are cowards. I wouldn't be a Londoner for ever so much."
And then, as if prompted by a mischievous inclination, he pulled out the
ferret, and pitched it right upon Fred's shoulders as he stood with his
back half turned. Fred gave a cry of fear and anger, and darting at
Harry, struck him full in the face a blow that made him stagger
backwards.
In a moment Harry recovered himself, and rushed at his assailant; and
while Philip, pale and breathless, looked on, the two boys pummelled
away at each other like the bitterest enemies.
From the very offset the struggle was all in favour of Harry, for he was
of a stronger and sturdier build than his cousin; but it was not until
Harry's nose was bleeding, and Fred's lug cut, and they had been up and
down half-a-dozen times, that Fred gave in, evidently bitterly humbled
and mortified at his conquest, and suffering more from his defeat than
from the pain of the blows he had received.
"Come here inside the stable, Fred," said Philip, half in a whisper, and
with the tears brimming in his eyes. "Come in here and wash your face
and hands; I'll pump some water." Saying which the boy fetched some
water in the stable pail, and, giving a reproachful look at his brother,
took it into the stable where Fred was sitting upon a truss of straw,
trying manfully to choke down a sob which sadly wanted to gain a vent.
"I'm so sorry, Fred," he said, dipping his handkerchief into the pail,
and bathing his cousin's blood-besmeared countenance. "I can't think
how Harry could do so. Oh! what would Papa say if he came? Pray don't
tell him."
"No, I shan't tell," said Fred, stoutly, with his face half in the pail,
and the words all the time half choked by that sob which would keep
rising from his overburdened heart. "But I'm not a coward, though, am
I? Is my face cut much?"
Upon inspection it proved that with the exception of the damaged lip,
and an ugly cut on the back of his head where he had fallen upon the
paving stones in the yard, Fred was not much hurt; and when Philip had
well rubbed down his clothes, and polished him off with Sam's
spoke-brush, the marks of the conflict were hardly perceptible.
Just then Harry came sneaking into the stable, looking dreadfully
ashamed of himself, with his face smeared all over with blood from his
bleeding nose, and carrying in his hand the body of the poor ferret: for
it would frighten no more poor rats or rabbits to death, having met with
its own by being trampled upon during the fray.
"Will you shake hands?" said Harry, half sulkily, half sheepishly, to
Fred.
Fred gave a sort of gulp, but he held out his hand, which was heartily
shaken; and directly after Harry was sitting on the truss of straw, and
being sponged and cleaned by his late adversary and his brother.
"I say, you know," said Harry, "I am sorry, but you shouldn't have hit
me; no fellow could stand that. But then I was wrong first I say,
though, don't be hard on a fellow, for I do want to be jolly with you,
and make you comfortable; but I'm such a vicious beast, and always
getting into a row, ain't I, Phil?"
Phil nodded assent, but added directly after, "He won't let any one crow
over me, though, at school, and he whacked Bill Sims, the biggest chap
in the first class last half, for hitting a little un."
"But I say, though," said Harry, wiping his face with his pocket
handkerchief, "it's all right again, ain't it? We've made it up again,
haven't we?"
"Yes, to be sure," said Fred, smiling. "But who killed the poor
ferret?"
"Why, you did," said Harry; "you put your foot on his head; but it
serves me right, it was all my fault."
"Never mind, now," said Philip; "let's go down the garden again till
tea-time; there's a linnet's nest in the hedge."
"Ah! so there is," said Harry; "come on."
And away they went, for the storm had blown over, and to have looked at
the lads no one could have imagined that the slightest disagreement had
occurred to mar the harmony of their afternoon.
As they went down the garden Harry fetched a spade from the tool-shed;
and when the little patch that he owned was reached, the boy, with
something very like a tear in each eye, dug a hole, and laid his ferret
in it, and had just filled it in when they were summoned to tea; but
they did not go until the spade was put away, and they had shaken hands
all round in the tool-house, and vowed friendship for evermore.