"There is news come to her Ladyship, as she herself may tell you," said
Dame Hilda, mysteriously.
"Aren't we to go, Dame?" saith Blanche's little voice.
Dame Hilda turned round sharply, as if she went about to snap Blanche's
head off; and Blanche shrank in dismay.
"Certainly not, Dame Blanche! What should my Lady do to be worried with
babes like you? She has enough else on her mind at this present,
without a pack of tiresome children--holy saints be her help! Eh dear,
dear, this world!"
"Dame, is this world so bad?" saith Jack, letting his nose appear above
the bed-clothes.
"Go to sleep, the weary lot of you!" was Dame Hilda's irritable answer.
"Because," saith Jack, ne'er a whit daunted--nothing ever cowed
Jack--"if it is so bad, hadn't you better be off out of it? You'd be
better off, I suppose, and we shouldn't miss you,--that I'll promise.
Do go, Dame!"
Jack spake these last words with a full compassionate air, as though he
were seriously concerned for Dame Hilda's happiness; but she, marching
up to the bed where Jack lay, dealt him a stinging slap for his
impudence.
"Ah!" saith Jack in a mumbled voice, having disappeared under the
bed-clothes, "this is a bad world, I warrant you, where folks return
evil for good o' this fashion!"
We heard no more of Jack beyond divers awesome snores, which I think
were not altogether sooth-fast: but before many minutes had passed, the
door of the antechamber opened, and my Lady, donned in travelling gear,
entered the nursery.
Dame Hilda's words had given me the fancy that some sorrowful, if not
shocking news, had come to her; and I was therefore much astonished to
see a faint flush in her cheeks, and a brilliant light in her eyes,
which looked as though she had heard good news.
"My children," said our mother, "I come to bid you all farewell--may be
a long farewell. I have heard that--never mind what; that which will
take me away. Meg, and Joan, and Ibbot, must go with me."
"Take me too!" pleaded little Blanche.
"Thee too!" repeated our mother, with a loving smile. "Nay, sweetheart!
That cannot be. Now, my children, I hope you will all be good and
obedient to Dame Hilda while I am away."
It was on Kate that her glance fell, being the next eldest after Isabel;
and Kate answered readily--
"We will all be good as gold, Dame."
"Nym, and Hodge, and Geoffrey," she went on, "go also with me; so thou,
Kate, wilt be eldest left here, and I look to thee to set a good
ensample to thy brethren,--especially my little wilful Jack."
Jack's snoring had stopped when she came in, and now, as she went over
and sat her down by the bed wherein Jack lay of the outside, up came
Jack's head from under the blue velvet coverlet. Our mother laid her
hand tenderly upon it.
"My dear little Jack!" she said; "my poor little Jack!"
"Dame, I'm not poor, an't like you!" made answer Jack, in a tone of
considerable astonishment. "I've got a whole ball of new string, and
two battledores and a shuttlecock, and a ball, and a bow and arrows."
"Yes, my little Jack," she said, tenderly.
"There are lots of lads poorer than me!" quoth Jack. "Nym himself
hasn't got a whole ball of string, and Geoff hasn't a bit. I asked him.
Master Inge gave it me yesterday. I'm going to make reins with it for
Annis and Maud, and lots of cats' cradles."
"You're not going to make reins for _me_," said Maud from our bed.
"Dame, it is horrid playing horses with Jack. He wants you to take the
string in your mouth, and you don't know where he's had it. I don't
mind having it tied to my arms, but I won't have it in my mouth."
"Did you ever see a horse with his reins tied to his arms?" scornfully
demanded Jack. "You do as you are bid, my Lady Maud, or I'll come and
make you."
"Children!" said our mother's soft voice, before Maud could answer, "are
you going to quarrel this last night when I have come to say farewell?
For shame, Maud! this was thy blame."
"Oh, of course, it is always me," muttered Maud, too angry for grammar.
"Jack's always the favourite; I never do any thing right."
"Yes, you do--now and then, by accident," responded Joan, who was
sitting at the foot of our bed; a speech which did not better Maud's
temper, and it was never angelic.
Jack seemed to have forgotten his passage-at-arms with Maud. He was
always good-tempered enough, though he did tease outrageously.
"Why am I poor, Dame?" quoth Jack.
"Little Jack, thou must shortly go into the wars, and thou hast no
armour."
"But you'll get me a suit. Dame?"
"I cannot, Jack. Not for these wars. Neither can I give thee the
wealth to make thee rich, as I fain would."
"Then, Dame, you will petition the King for a grant, will you not?"
saith Meg.
"True, my daughter," saith our mother softly. "I must needs petition
the King, both for the riches from His treasury, and for the arms from
His armoury." And then she bent down to kiss Jack. "O my boy, lay not
up treasure for thyself, and thus fail to be rich in God."
I began then to see what she meant; but I rather wondered why she said
it. Such talk as that, it seemed to me, was only fit for Sunday. And
then I remembered that she was going away for a long, long time, and
that therefore Sunday talk might be appropriate.
I do not recollect any thing she said to the others, only to Jack and
me. Jack and I were always fellows. We children had paired ourselves
off, not altogether according to age, but rather according to tastes.
Edmund and Meg should have gone together, and then Hodge and Joan, and
so forth: whereas it was always Nym and Joan, and Meg and Hodge. Then
Geoffrey and Isabel made the right pair, and Kate, Jack, and I, went in
a trio. Maud was by herself; she paired with nobody, and nobody wanted
her, she was so cross. Blanche was every body's pet while she was the
baby, and Beatrice came last of all.
Our mother went round, and kissed and blessed us all. I lay inside with
Kate and Maud, and when she said, "Now, my little Agnes,"--I crept out
and travelled over the tawny silk coverlet, to those gentle velvet arms,
and she took me on her lap, and lapped me up in a fur mantle that Meg
bare on her arm.
"And what shall I say to my little Agnes?"
"Mother, say you love me!"
It came out before I knew it, and when I had said it, I was so
frightened that I hid my face in the fur. It did not encourage me to
hear Dame Hilda's exclamation--
"Lack-a-day! what next, trow?"
But the other voice was very tender and gentle.
"Didst thou lack that told thee, mine own little Annis? Ay me! Maybe
men are happier lower down. Who should love thee, my floweret, if not
thine own mother? Kiss me, and say thou wilt be good maid till I see
thee again."