AND THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM
The Terror returned to Erebus and found her stretched at her ease,
eating a peach.
“I should have liked one a good deal sooner,” he said, as he took one
from the basket. “But I didn’t like to say anything about them. She
mightn’t have understood.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if she hadn’t,” said Erebus somewhat
truculently.
She was feeling some slight resentment that their new acquaintance had
so plainly preferred the Terror to her.
“She’s not a bad kid,” said the Terror thoughtfully.
“She’s awfully feeble. Why, you had to carry her up this bit of a bank.
She’s not any use to us,” said Erebus in a tone of contempt. “In fact,
if we were to have much to do with her, I expect we should find her a
perfect nuisance.”
“Perhaps. Still we may as well amuse her a bit. She seems to be having
a rotten time with that old red baroness and all that etiquette,” said
the Terror in a kindly tone.
“She needn’t stand it, if she doesn’t like it. I shouldn’t,” said
Erebus coldly; then her face brightened, and she added: “I tell you
what though: it would be rather fun to teach her to jump on that old
red baroness.”
“Yes,” said the Terror doubtfully. “But I expect she’d take a lot of
teaching. I don’t think she’s the kind of kid to do much jumping on
people.”
“Oh, you never know. We can always try,” said Erebus cheerfully.
“Yes,” said the Terror.
Warmed by this noble resolve, they moved quietly out of the wood. It
was not so difficult a matter as it may sound to move, even encumbered
by bicycles, about the home wood, for it was not so carefully preserved
as the woods farther away from the Grange; indeed, the keepers paid but
little attention to it. The Twins moved out of it safely and returned
home with easy minds: it did not occur to either of them that they had
been treating a princess with singular firmness. Nor were they at all
troubled about the acquisition of the peaches since some curious mental
kink prevented them from perceiving that the law of meum and tuum
applied to fruit.
Mrs. Dangerfield was presented with only two peaches at tea that
afternoon; and she took it that the Twins had ridden into Rowington and
bought them for her there. When two more were forthcoming for her
dessert after dinner, she reproached them gently for spending so much
of their salary for “overseering” on her. The Twins said nothing. It
was only when two more peaches came up on her breakfast tray that she
began to suspect that they had come by the ways of warfare and not of
trade. Then, having already eaten four of them, it was a little late to
inquire and protest. Moreover, if there had been a crime, the Twins had
admitted her to a full share in it by letting her eat the fruit of it.
Plainly it was once more an occasion for saying nothing.
On the next afternoon Erebus set out with the Terror to Muttle Deeping
home wood early enough; but owing to the matter of a young rabbit who
met them on their way, they kept the princess waiting twenty minutes.
This was, indeed, a new experience to her; but she did not complain to
them of this unheard-of breach of etiquette. She was doubtful how the
complaint would be received at any rate by Erebus.
They betook themselves at once to the cool and shady pool; and since
the sensation was no longer new and startling, the princess found it
rather pleasant to be hauled up the bank by the Terror. There was
something very satisfactory in his strength. Again they settled
themselves comfortably on the bank of the pool.
They were in the strongest contrast to one another. Beside the clear
golden tan of the Terror and the deeper gipsy-like brown of Erebus the
pale face of the princess looked waxen. The blue linen blouse, short
serge skirt and bare head and legs of Erebus and the blue linen shirt,
serge knickerbockers and bare head and legs of the Terror gave them an
air not only of coolness but also of a workmanlike freedom of limb. In
her woolen blouse, brown serge jacket and skirt, woolen stockings and
heavily-trimmed drooping hat the poor little princess looked a swaddled
sweltering doll melting in the heat.
She needed no pressing to take off her jacket and hat; and was pleased
by the Terror’s observing that it was just silly to wear a hat at all
when one had such thick hair as she. But she was some time acting on
Erebus’ suggestion that she should also pull off her stockings and be
more comfortable still.
At last she pulled them off, and for once comfortable, she began to
tell of the fuss the excited baroness had made the day before about her
having gone alone into such a fearful and dangerous place as the home
wood.
“I tell you what: you’ve spoilt that baroness,” said the Terror when
she came to the end of her tale; and he spoke with firm conviction.
“But she’s my _gouvernante_. I have to do as she bids,” protested the
princess.
“That’s all rubbish. You’re the princess; and other people ought to do
what you tell them; and no old baroness should make you do any silly
thing you don’t want to. She wouldn’t me,” said Erebus with even
greater conviction than the Terror had shown.
“I don’t think she would,” said the princess with a faint sigh; and she
looked at Erebus with envious eyes. “But when she starts making a fuss
and gets so red and excited, she—she—rather frightens me.”
“It would take a lot more than that to frighten me,” said Erebus with a
very cold ferocity.
“I rather like people like that. I think they look so funny when
they’re really red and excited,” said the Terror gently. “But what
you’ve got to do is to stand up to her.”
“Stand up to her?” said the princess, puzzled by the idiom.
“Tell her that you don’t care what she says,” said the Terror.
“Cheek her,” said Erebus.
“I couldn’t. It would be too difficult,” said the princess, shaking her
head.
“Of course it isn’t easy at first; but you’ll be surprised to find how
soon you’ll get used to shutting her up,” said the Terror. “But I don’t
believe in cheeking her unless she gets very noisy. I believe in being
quite polite but not giving way.”
“She is very noisy,” said the princess.
“Oh, then you’ll have to shout at her. It’s the only way. But mind you
only have rows when you’re in the right about something,” said the
Terror. “Then she’ll soon learn to leave you alone. It’s no good having
a row when you’re in the wrong.”
“I think it’s best always to have a row,” said Erebus with an air of
wide experience.
“Well, it isn’t—at least it wouldn’t be for the princess—she’s not like
you,” said the Terror quickly.
“Oh, no: not always—only when one is in the right. I see that,” said
the princess. “But what should I have a row about?”
The Twins puckered their brows as they cudgeled their brains for a
pretext for an honest row.
Presently the Terror said: “Why don’t you make them let you have some
one to play with? It’s silly being as dull as you are. What’s the good
of being a princess, if you haven’t any friends?”
“Oh, yes!” cried the princess; and her cheeks flushed, and her eyes
sparkled. “It would be nice! You and Erebus could come to tea with me
and sooper and loonch often and again!”
The Twins looked at each other with eyes full of a sudden dismay. It
was not in their scheme of things as they should be that they should go
to the Grange in the immaculate morning dress of an English boy and
girl, and spend stiff hours in the presence of a crimson baroness.
“That wouldn’t do at all,” said the Terror quickly. “You had better not
tell them anything at all about us. They wouldn’t let us come to the
Grange; and they’d stop you coming here. It’s ever so much nicer
meeting secretly like this.”
“But it would be very nice to meet at the Grange as well as here,” said
the princess, who felt strongly that she could not have enough of this
good thing.
“It couldn’t be done. They wouldn’t have us at the Grange,” said
Erebus, supporting the Terror.
“But why not?” said the princess in surprise.
“The people about here don’t understand us,” said the Terror somewhat
sadly. “They’d think we should be bad for you.”
“But it is not so! You are ever so good to me!” cried the princess
hotly.
“It’s no good. You couldn’t make grown-ups see that—you know what they
are. No; you’d much better leave it alone, and sit tight and meet us
here,” said the Terror.
The princess sat thoughtful and frowning for a little while; then she
sighed and said: “Well, I will do what you say. You know more about
it.”
“That’s all right,” said the Terror, greatly relieved.
There was a short silence; then he said thoughtfully: “I tell you what:
it would be a good thing if you were to get some muscle on you. Suppose
we taught you some exercises. You could practise them at home; and soon
you’d be able to do things when you were with us.”
“What things?” said the princess.
“Oh, you’d be able to run—and jump. Why we might even be able to teach
you to climb,” said the Terror with a touch of enthusiasm in his tone
as the loftier heights of philanthropy loomed upon his inner vision.
“Oh, that would be nice!” cried the princess. Forthwith the Twins set
about teaching her some of the exercises which go to the making of
muscle; and the princess was a painstaking pupil. In spite of the seeds
of revolt they had sown in her heart, she was eager to get back to the
peach-garden before the baroness should awake, or at any rate before
she should have satisfied herself that her charge was not in the house
or about the gardens. The Terror therefore conducted her down the
screen of trees to the door in the wall. She had left it unlatched; and
he pushed it open gently. There was no sound of snoring: the baroness
had awoke and left the garden.
“I expect she is still looking for me in the house,” said the princess
calmly. “They’d be shouting if she weren’t.”
“Yes. I say; do you want _all_ these peaches?” said the Terror, looking
round the loaded walls.
“Me? No. I have a peach for breakfast and another for lunch. But I
don’t care for peaches much. It’s the way the baroness eats them, I
think—the juice roonning down, you know. And she eats six or seven
always.”
“That woman’s a pig. I thought she looked like one,” said the Terror
with conviction. “But if you don’t want them all, may I have some for
my mother? The doctor has ordered her fruit; and she’s very fond of
peaches.”
“Oh, yes; take some for your mother and yourself and Erebus. Take them
all,” said the princess with quick generosity.
“Thank you; but a dozen will be heaps,” said the Terror.
The princess helped him gather them and lay them in a large
cabbage-leaf; and then they bade each other good-by at the garden-gate.
The Twins returned home in triumph with the golden spoil. But when she
was provided with two peaches for seven meals in succession, Mrs.
Dangerfield could no longer eat them with a mind at ease, and she asked
the Twins how they came by them. They assured her that they had been
given to them by a friend but that the name of the donor must remain a
secret. She knew that they would not lie to her; and thinking it likely
that they came from either the squire or the vicar, both of whom took
an uncommonly lively interest in her, judging from the fact that either
of them had asked her to marry him more than once, she went on eating
the peaches with a clear conscience.
The next afternoon the Twins devoted themselves to strengthening the
princess’ spirit with no less ardor than they devoted themselves to
strengthening her body. They adjured her again and again to thrust off
the yoke of the baroness. The last pregnant words of Erebus to her
were: “You just call her an old red pig, and see.”
Their efforts in the cause of freedom bore fruit no later than that
very evening. The princess was dining with the Baroness Von
Aschersleben and Miss Lambart; and the baroness, who was exceedingly
jealous of Miss Lambart, had interrupted her several times in her talk
with the princess; and she had done it rudely. The princess, who wanted
to hear Miss Lambart talk, was annoyed. They had reached dessert; and
Miss Lambart was congratulating her on the improvement in her appetite
since she had just made an excellent meal, and said that it must be the
air of Muttle Deeping. The baroness uttered a loud and contemptuous
snort, and filled her plate with peaches. The princess looked at her
with an expression of great dislike. The baroness gobbled up one peach
with a rapidity almost inconceivable in a human being, and very
noisily, and was midway through the second when the princess spoke.
“I want some children to play with,” she said.
Briskly and with the sound of a loud unpleasant sob the baroness gulped
down the other half of the peach, and briskly she said: “Zere are no
children in zis country, your Royal Highness.”
It was the custom for the princess to speak and hear only English in
England.
“But I see plenty of children when I drive,” said the princess.
“Zey are nod children; zey are nod ’igh an’ well-born,” said the
baroness in rasping tones.
“Then you must find some high and well-born children for me to play
with,” said the princess.
“Moost? Moost?” cried the baroness in a high voice. “Bud eed ees whad I
know ees goot for you.”
“They’re good for me,” said the princess firmly. “And you must find
them.”
The baroness was taken aback by this so sudden and unexpected display
of firmness in her little charge; her face darkened to a yet richer
crimson; and she cried in a loud blustering voice: “Bud eed ees
eembossible whad your royal highness ask! Zere are no ’igh an’
well-born children ’ere. Zey are een Loondon.”
“Well, you must send for some,” said the princess, who, having taken
the first step, was finding it pleasant to be firm.
“Moost? Moost? I do nod know whad ees ’appen to you, your Royal
Highness. I say eed ees eembossible!” shouted the baroness; and she
banged on the table with her fist.
“But surely her highness’ request is a very natural one, Baroness; and
there must be some nice children in the neighborhood if we were to look
for them. Besides, Doctor Arbuthnot said that she ought to have
children of her own age to play with,” said Miss Lambart who had been
pitying the lonely child and seized eagerly on this chance of helping
her to the companionship she needed.
“Do nod indervere, Englanderin!” bellowed the baroness; and her crimson
was enriched with streaks of purple. “I am in ze charge of ’er royal
highness; and I zay zat she does not wiz zese children blay.”
The fine gray eyes of the princess were burning with a somber glow. She
was angry, and her mind was teeming with the instructions of her young
mentors, especially with the more violent instructions of Erebus.
She gazed straight into the sparkling but blood-shot eyes of the raging
baroness, and said in a somewhat uncertain voice but clearly enough:
“Old—red—peeg.”
Miss Lambart started in her chair; the baroness uttered a gasping
grunt; she blinked; she could not believe her ears.
“But whad—but whad—” she said faintly.
“Old—red—peeg,” said the princess, somewhat pleased with the effect of
the words, and desirous of deepening it.
“Bud whad ees eed zat ’appen?” muttered the bewildered baroness.
“If you do not find me children quickly, I shall write to my father
that you do not as the English doctor bids; and you were ordered to do
everything what the English doctor bids,” said the princess in a
sinister tone. “Then you will go back to Cassel-Nassau and the Baroness
Hochfelden will be my _gouvernante_.”
The baroness ground her teeth, but she trembled; it might easily
happen, if the letter of the princess found the grand duke of
Cassel-Nassau in the wrong mood, that she would lose this comfortable
well-paid post, and the hated Baroness Hochfelden take it.
“Bud zere are no ’igh an’ well-born children, your Royal Highness,” she
said in a far gentler, apologetic voice.
The princess frowned at her and said: “Mees Lambart will find them. Is
it not, Mees Lambart?”
“I shall be charmed to try, Highness,” said Miss Lambart readily.
“Do nod indervere! I veel zose childen vind myzelf!” snapped the
baroness.
The princess rose, still quivering a little from the conflict, but
glowing with the joy of victory. At the door she paused to say:
“And I want them soon—at once.”
Then, though the baroness had many times forbidden her to tempt the
night air, she went firmly out into the garden. The next morning at
breakfast she again demanded children to play with.
Accordingly when Doctor Arbuthnot paid his visit that morning, the
baroness asked him what children in the neighborhood could be invited
to come to play with the princess. She only stipulated that they should
be high and well-born.
“Well, of course the proper children to play with her would be the
Twins—Mrs. Dangerfield’s boy and girl. They’re high and well-born
enough. But I doubt that they could be induced to play with a little
girl. They’re independent young people. Besides, I’m not at all sure
that they would be quite the playmates for a quiet princess. It would
hardly do to expose an impressionable child like the princess to
such—er—er ardent spirits. You might have her developing a spirit of
freedom; and you wouldn’t like that.”
“_Mein Gott_, no!” said the baroness with warm conviction.
“Then there’s Wiggins—Rupert Carrington. He’s younger and quieter but
active enough. He’d soon teach her to run about.”
“But is he well-born?” said the careful baroness.
“Well-born? He’s a _Carrington_,” said Doctor Arbuthnot with an
impressive air that concealed well his utter ignorance of the ancestry
of the higher mathematician.
The baroness accepted Wiggins gloomily. When the princess, who had
hoped for the Twins, heard that he had been chosen, she accepted him
with resignation. Doctor Arbuthnot undertook to arrange the matter.
The disappointed princess informed the Twins of the election of
Wiggins; and they cheered her by reporting favorably on the
qualifications of their friend, though Erebus said somewhat sadly:
“Of course, he’ll insist on being an Indian chief and scalping you; he
always does. But you mustn’t mind that.”
The princess thought that she would not mind it; it would at any rate
be a change from listening monotonously to the snores of the baroness.
The Twins found it much more difficult to comfort and cheer their
fair-haired, freckled, but infuriated friend. Not only was his
reluctance to don the immaculate morning dress of an English young
gentleman for the delectation of foreign princesses every whit as
sincere as their own, but he felt the invitation to play with a little
girl far more insulting than they would have done. They did their best
to soothe him and make things pleasant for the princess, pointing out
to him the richness of the teas he would assuredly enjoy, and
impressing on him the fact that he would be performing a noble
charitable action.
“Yes; that’s all very well,” said Wiggins gloomily. “But I’ve been
seeing ever such a little of you lately in the afternoons; and now I
shall see less than ever.”
Naturally, he was at first somewhat stiff with the princess; but the
stiffness did not last; they became very good active friends; and he
scalped her with gratifying frequency. In this way it came about that,
in the matter of play, the princess led a double life. She spent the
early part of the afternoon in the wood with the Twins; and from tea
till the dressing-bell for dinner rang she enjoyed the society of
Wiggins. She told no one of her friendship with the Twins; and Wiggins
was surprised by her eagerness to hear everything about them he could
tell. Between them she was beginning to acquire cheerfulness and
muscle; and she was losing her air of delicacy, but not at a rate that
satisfied the exigent Terror.