AN IMPROVED STATE OF THINGS.
MILES' STORY—(continued).
JUST as I got to shore, helping Nurse, and looking down to choose her
steps for her, I heard a sort of shout—half laughter, half
astonishment. "Oh! I say!"—and then Miss Adela crying out,—"O Bertie!
Bertie!" And I saw Mr. Bertram holding Miss Adela, and trying to
comfort her; with his face all the time full of mischief, and yet in
a way concerned too, as he kept looking away from Miss Adela to Mrs.
Crane, who seemed dreadfully ashamed and flurried, and all in a shake,
and not far from hysterics. Miss Adela had begun to sob, clinging to
him tight.
"But how in the world did it happen?" said Mr. Bertram, after a good
lot of exclamations on both sides, for which he wasn't much the wiser.
"And how is it you're not wet, Addie? As dry as a bone!"
I told him, quick as I could, about the way things had come about, and
asked him what was to be done,—Nurse standing by, pretty patient,
while Mrs. Crane kept groaning, "O dear! O dear!" in a way that was
interrupting, to say the least. She put in her word, before Mr.
Bertram could answer me, which wasn't like her usual respectful ways;
but when a woman has been floundering in slimy green water, wearing
her best new Sunday bonnet, it isn't a wonder if for once she should
forget herself a little. "She wasn't going to sit behind that pony
again," she said. "No! never! not if she knew it! A horrid little
ill-conditioned brute! He'd be the death of somebody some day!
She wouldn't be driven any more—no, never! She would just walk home,—
yes, exactly as she was."
"I say, Crane, you'll catch your death of cold, if you stand there
speechifying," said Mr. Bertram. "Nothing is less likely than your
having to sit behind the pony again at present, in that particular
cart! You and Nurse must hurry off sharp to Brooks' farm—you know the
way—it's not half a mile. Be as quick as you can, and get your wet
things off, and go to bed, or roll yourselves up in blankets,
whichever you like."
"Miss Adela, sir?" said Nurse, shaking.
"Never mind Miss Adela. She's all right with me. We'll come presently.
Don't wait for us or anybody. Off with you both, and run, run!"
shouted Mr. Bertram, as they took him at his word. "Get warm, if you
can; and mind you have something hot to drink, the first thing."
"O Bertie! it has been so dreadful!" sighed Miss Adela.
"I say, Addie, just look at them trying to run," said Mr. Bertram,
in a whisper, to make her laugh, for she was sobbing still, off and
on. "Don't you mind," said he. "It'll be all right. Nobody's drowned.
We've got to unharness the pony now, and then Miles must walk or ride
him home and send a fly to the farm. Send dry clothes too for Crane
and Nurse. One of the maids, will see to that. Shall I help you,
Miles?" said he.
I was at work on the straps already, standing knee-deep in water;
and I said I didn't want any help. There was no need for Mr. Bertram
to get himself wet too, I thought; besides Miss Adela couldn't bear
to have him go away from her side. So he only waited a few minutes
to see how I could manage, and then he walked off to the farm
with Miss Adela.
The pony seemed to think he had done enough mischief for one day—as no
doubt he had—and he stood like a lamb while I got him free. I could do
nothing with the cart by myself; it was right over on one side, and
the shafts were snapped in two. So I just led the pony out, and gave
him a little punishment for his bad behaviour, which he took as well
as possible; and then I got on his back, being used now and then to
ride Mr. Kingscote's pony without a saddle. He started off at a
canter, and never stopped once till we reached The Myrtles.
I left the pony in the stable, advising that somebody should be sent
to see after the cart; while I went straight to Mr. Laurence, only
stopping on the way to tell Matilda what had happened, as I thought
she might like at once to get together the dry clothes, and to order
the fly ready. "Mr. Bertram wished it," I said. I didn't make much
of my own share in the adventure. Matilda held up her hands in a
startled way, and went off without a word.
Mr. Laurence was reading in his study as usual; and he was much too
busy to notice at first anything particular in my look. "Miles—that's
right," he said. "I expected you about this time. Something I want
done—a little copying. Where is Miss Adela, by-the-bye? Master Bertram
went to meet her. Is he—why, Miles!"—as I came nearer the light—"what
can have happened? My boy, what a state your trousers are in!"
"Yes, sir; we have been in the pond," I said. "But nobody is hurt."
"Been in the pond!" Mr. Laurence stared at me like one distracted.
"In the pond!"
"The pony backed in and overturned the cart," I said, "and Mrs. Crane
and Nurse have had a wetting; but Miss Adela is all right. Mr. Bertram
and they are gone to the farm near; and Mr. Bertram said a fly was
to be sent."
"To be sure! to be sure! A fly! But my child—my little Adela!"
he said, too much agitated to take in what I had said; at least,
he didn't fully. "My little Adela! To be wet through at this time
of year,—and so late!"
"No; not Miss Adela, sir," I said. "I was able to get her to dry
ground before the cart turned over."
Nothing would content Mr. Laurence but hearing the whole. He listened
and questioned, and wouldn't stir or let me go till he understood
exactly what had happened. By that time Matilda knocked at the door,
and was told to come in.
"I hope I've done right, sir," she said. "I have ordered the fly to be
here as quick as possible; and the clothes are all ready. Would you
like me to go to the farm, sir, and see if I can help?"
"Well, yes; I think that might be best, perhaps," hesitated Mr.
Laurence. "Stay—I am not sure—" And she had to wait while he stood up
and shook my hand warmly. "I owe you a great deal, Miles," said he.
"You once saved the life of my godson; and now, it may be, you have
saved the life of my grandchild too, by your promptitude. She is a
delicate little creature, and a chill is a dangerous thing. I hope
Crane and Nurse will not suffer. Yes, pray go, Matilda; certainly you
had better go. And tell Mr. Bertram that I wish him and Miss Adela to
return at once. If the others are not ready, the fly can go again
for them."
"May I change my wet things, sir, now?" I asked.
"Why, to be sure! You don't mean to say you are standing in damp
clothes all this time?" exclaimed Mr. Laurence. "Be off at once,
Miles, and don't waste a moment. Get into dry clothes directly,
or we shall have you ill."
I did not expect that, for I was hardy, and used to getting wet; but,
naturally enough, both Mrs. Crane and Nurse caught bad colds, and
Mrs. Crane especially was bad enough to be in bed for a week.
A good ten days passed before I saw her again, and all that time
others in the house were much more civil to me than they had yet been.
Nurse thanked me more than once for getting her out of the pond, and
Miss Adela was always talking about it.
The first appearance of Mrs. Crane was at tea, and I saw directly that
I wasn't to be treated any more as an interloper. She gave me the best
of everything on the table, and she talked to me politely, and,
altogether, she put me on a footing with herself, which certainly
she had never done before. It wasn't Mrs. Crane's way to acknowledge
herself in the wrong, or to say she was sorry for the past, and I
don't think she ever went so far as actually to thank me for pulling
her out of the pond; but "actions speak louder than words," and she
made a difference in her manner of treating me, which nobody could
have mistaken.
I wondered if this would last, and I found it did. Mrs. Crane might
not have a graceful way of expressing gratitude, but, at all events,
her gratitude lasted. My rubs and difficulties in that way were over,
and very glad I was that I had managed to live through them, without
giving any real cause for offence, or showing bad tempers in return.