LEAVING HOME
Uncle Ben listened attentively as Elizabeth gave an account of affairs
at the farm. He did not interrupt her, but now and then muttered an
ejaculation through a cloud of smoke. Elizabeth was clear-headed, and
did not take long to explain the position to her uncle. It was
impossible to keep on the farm without capital, and the Captain, though
he had a good sum laid by, was not the man to risk his money in a
business of which he knew nothing. So the farm must be sold, and it
was clear that when everything was settled up, there would be little or
nothing left for the girls to live on. They mentioned the ideas they
had had of earning their living, and the obstacles in the way; and
Captain Barton puffed at his pipe, and pulled his beard, and every now
and then stroked Tommy's hair as she leant against his knee.
"Hum!" he grunted, when all had said their say. "There's only one way
out of the difficulty that I can see."
He paused impressively, and the girls looked at him with expectation.
"And that is," he went on, weighing each word, "to get you spliced."
"Spliced!" cried Tommy. "Married, you mean? Me married!"
"Well, not you, perhaps--not yet a bit, seeing you are only a little
tomboy sort of thing----"
"Thing! how dare you!" cried Tommy, pummelling her uncle's leg.
"I meant a thing of beauty, my dear," said he meekly, "which, as the
poet says, is a joy for ever."
"He wouldn't think me a joy for long, I can tell you," returned Tommy.
"But, really, it's too ridiculous. Bess, you don't want to get
married?"
"Not for a living, certainly," said Elizabeth.
"Of course not," added Mary.
"Well, that's squashed," cried Tommy, "and if you can't think of
anything better, Captain Barton--why, you're not married yourself!"
"No, my dear, I've never tried," replied her uncle apologetically.
"Well, now, there's that notion I mentioned a while ago--a little
cottage by the sea, you know; we four--me and the three Graces, eh?"
"It would be simply awful, Uncle," cried Tommy. "Whatever should we do
all day? We should all become perfect cats, and you'd have a simply
horrid time. No, if you want us to live with you, you must take a
house somewhere where we could work--earn our salt, you know. I'm not
going to be a burden to anybody."
"That's a fine spirit, to be sure. Then it must be London, I suppose,
Deptford way or Rotherhithe; one of you could keep house for me, and
the others could go to classes, and learn teaching or whatever it is
you want to do. What do you think of that, now?"
"I should love to keep house for you, Uncle," said Elizabeth.
"And Mary and I would love to do the other thing, wouldn't we, Mary?"
cried Tommy. "So it's settled, and you'd better advertise for a house
at once, Uncle."
"Steady, my dear. As I told you, I must make one more voyage. I've a
heap of things to settle up in various parts, and it'll be at least a
year before I'm ready. The question is, what can you do for a year?
You can't remain here, and I'm not going to set you up in London
without me to look after you."
"Why not? We'd look after each other," said Tommy.
"Couldn't think of it, my dear," said the Captain decisively. "It's a
facer, that's the truth."
"I know what!" cried Tommy, suddenly starting up. "Take us with you!"
"What?" gasped her uncle.
"I mean it. Let's all go for a voyage. I'd love to go round the
world."
"Nonsense! A parcel of girls in my windjammer with their frills and
furbelows--I never heard of such a thing! Ridiculous! Entirely out of
the question!"
"Why? I don't see it," persisted Tommy. "Now, Captain Barton, don't
be a stick-in-the-mud, but give us reasons."
"My dear, it can't be done," said the Captain emphatically.
"Of course it can't, you haven't got any," said Tommy, wilfully
misunderstanding him. "Just like a man!"
"We should really like it, Uncle," said Elizabeth.
"Can't be done, Bess," he repeated.
"But why, Uncle?" asked Mary.
"Because--because--well, for one thing I don't carry a stewardess."
"Oh, you funny old man! Bess could be stewardess. Another reason,
please."
"There's no cabin fit for young ladies. It's a hard life on board,
and----"
"No reason at all," interrupted Tommy. "We must learn to rough it, now
that we've got to make our way in the world. Besides, sea-air is good;
it will establish our constitutions, as the doctors say. Say yes,
Uncle, there's a dear!"
"Well, well, I'll sleep on it," said the Captain, temporizing. He was
really much perplexed and troubled. The suggestion was a preposterous
one, to his old-fashioned way of thinking; but he could not find
reasons that would convince these very modern nieces of his, and he
hoped that they would drop the wild notion before the morning.
But when the girls had gone to bed, and he sat alone, smoking his final
pipe, he had to confess to himself that Tommy's proposal was the
simplest solution of the difficulty. It would not be an easy matter to
find comfortable quarters for the girls, but it was not impossible.
Their society would be very pleasant on board; he would love to have
them with him: in short, he decided to give way. So the next morning,
when they rushed at him as he entered the breakfast-room, with cries of
"Uncle dear, do take us," he replied, with a mild reluctance--
"Well, well, you might do worse."
Whereupon Tommy kissed him and hugged him, calling him "Dear old
Nunky," and went nearly wild with joy.
"But, mind you," he said warningly, "you mustn't expect much in the way
of comfort. The _Elizabeth_ isn't the _Lusitania_, you know. She's as
tight a little craft as ever sailed the seas, but she wasn't built for
first-class passengers. You'll have to manage with a tiny cabin for
all three. And I give you fair notice: I keep strict discipline
aboard. The slightest insubordination will be punished."
"And how do you punish on board ship?" asked Tommy mischievously.
"First, bread and water for a week. For the second offence, you'll be
laid in irons in the hold, where you'll have no company but the rats,
and they're uncommon hungry beasts, I can tell you."
"How lovely! Just like the prisoners in wicked barons' castles in the
olden times," cried Tommy. "Oh, you dear silly old thing, did you
think you would frighten us?" And she gave him a hug that made him cry
for mercy.
"Now, girls, to business," he said, when order was restored. "This is
Wednesday. I must run up to London to-morrow to see my lawyers, so
that if anything happens to me you won't be quite unprovided for.
Remember, Bess, they're Wilkins and Short, of Bedford Row. Not that
there isn't plenty of life in the old sea-dog yet, and I hope you won't
have to see them for many a day. Now, as to clothes; no fal-lals, you
know; two serge dresses apiece, and one box for the lot of you. I
don't suppose you bargained for that."
"We shouldn't think of bringing matinée hats," said Elizabeth, laughing.
"Anything you want to keep, out of the things here, you must pack up.
I dare say one of the neighbours will store it for you. I'll arrange
about selling the rest. I'll see your landlord to-day. You will only
have about a fortnight to get ready, so you'd better begin at once."
"Let's go and see Mrs. Morris," said Mary. "She'll keep our things for
us."
"Won't she be surprised!" cried Tommy. "And what fun we shall have!"
The girls found their neighbour, Mrs. Morris, in the midst of her
weekly baking. She declared afterwards that the surprise their news
gave her nearly "turned" the bread. She readily agreed to store their
little stock of personal possessions, but shook her head at the idea of
girls wandering in heathen parts, as she put it.
Elizabeth asked her to accompany them to Plymouth and assist them in
buying their outfit. This gave great delight to the kind motherly
soul. She left her farm but seldom; a trip to Plymouth was a notable
event in her life; and when she returned with the girls, after a happy
day's shopping, the spirit of adventure had so worked upon her that she
cried, "Well, now, I wish I was going too, that I do."
Imagine the bustle and excitement of the next few days! Uncle Ben was
in London. In his absence the girls worked hard at their preparations.
They got a sewing-maid from the village, and all four worked early and
late cutting out and making two sets of blouses, one for ordinary use,
and the other for any very hot weather they might encounter on the
voyage. Even Tommy, not usually an industrious young person in such
matters, did her fair share, though it was a great trial of patience to
have to finish the overcasting of all the seams before Elizabeth would
lay them aside ready for packing.
Everything was complete before Uncle Ben's return. The girls had
finished their outfit and packed it away neatly in their new cabin
trunk. Their treasures were also packed ready to be handed into Mrs.
Morris's keeping. A few pieces of furniture which Elizabeth could not
bear to part with had been warehoused at Plymouth. The remainder,
together with the farm stock, was to be sold after their departure.
Tommy was very woebegone at the idea of selling her pony, and when Joe
Morris offered to keep him for her, and give him his food in exchange
for his services (that was his thoughtful and pleasant way of putting
it), she hugged the burly farmer and called him a dear old man.
At last Uncle Ben returned. The last arrangements were made, the last
adieus said, and one fine day the little party of four drove to the
station to take train to Southampton, where the barque _Elizabeth_ was
refitting. The girls waved their handkerchiefs gaily in response to
the parting salutations of the villagers; but they fell very silent
when their old friends were out of sight, and the Captain, looking
straight before him, heard a sob or two on each side and behind. Like
a wise man, he said nothing about the sadness of leaving the old home,
but related some of his recent experiences in London.
"I met a fine old friend of mine, a missionary," he said. "He is
stationed on one of the South Sea Islands, and hasn't been home for
twenty years. A real good sort is Henry Corke. He has only been home
a month, and yet he is going out almost at once. There's devotion for
you, girls. I asked him if he'd like to come with us, offered him the
attractions of refined female society----"
"That was enough to choke him off," interrupted Tommy. "I hate to be
called a female."
"Well, perhaps it was a mistake not to say tomboy. Anyhow, Corke was
in too much of a hurry to come with us; prefers one of those dirty
clanking steamers. Mighty poor taste, I call it."
By the time they reached the station the girls had thrown off their
despondency, and began to glow with excitement as they realized that
they were actually entering upon a new life.