The Stripling
Lesbia's holiday at Dolmadoc was not without its trials. Before she had
stayed there for a week she began to have a shrewd suspicion that she
had been invited mainly to act buffer between Regina and the Stripling.
The two unfortunately did not "get on". Regina was blazingly clever,
interesting, and very nice with those to whom she happened to take a
fancy. In the bosom of her own family she was what is sometimes aptly
described as "a little madam". She had scarcely any patience or
tolerance for Derrick, she sat upon him continually, snapping at his
most innocent remarks. The Stripling certainly needed some slight
forbearance, for he was in the awkward stage of a young cockerel
learning to crow, but the treatment meted out to him by his sister was
drastic. Lesbia was placed in a very awkward position. She was
constantly required to act as referee in the frequent squabbles. If, in
the cause of justice, she took Derrick's part, Regina would sulk for
hours, and if, on the other hand, she supported her friend, the
Stripling would declare that girls always sided together and would hint
gloomily that he had finished with the fair sex for ever.
Secretly Lesbia sympathized with him, though for the sake of peace she
could not openly announce herself his ally. It was much the same with
the younger children. Regina had a soft spot in her heart for Una, but
with Magsie she was constantly bickering.
Magsie had her own views about life, and fiercely resented criticism.
She used to go out of her way sometimes to show her independence, and
would do most silly things out of sheer bravado. The two little boys
were alternately spoilt or swept aside as nuisances, according to the
mood in which Regina happened to find herself.
So long as the weather was fine, and the Websters could spread
themselves out in the garden, matters jogged along merrily enough, but a
spell of rain sent the family barometer down with a run. Wales, like all
mountainous districts, can do its wicked worst in the way of wet
Augusts. For three days the view of the valley was totally obscured by
mist, and the monotonous pat-pat of drops on the roof never ceased. The
cottage, quite comfortable and commodious in ordinary circumstances,
seemed suddenly to contract its walls. Lesbia, coming down one afternoon
from the retreat of her bedroom, where she had retired to write a
letter, found matters below somewhat strained. Mr. and Mrs. Webster had
returned to Kingfield for a few days, leaving Pendry, the old nurse, in
charge of the housekeeping and the children. It was the last item which
made the difficulty. Nobody could agree about it. Pendry understood the
term to refer to the whole family; Regina and Derrick declared it only
meant the small fry, but included Magsie; while Magsie most indignantly
repudiated being classed with Una, Piers, and Winston, and insisted that
she was as grown-up as anybody. They were in the thick of the fray when
Lesbia descended. Regina was having a sharp skirmish with Piers, whose
painting-book, chalks, and other impedimenta occupied the one table at
the sitting-room window.
"I've told you children before to keep to the nursery!" she commanded.
"I won't have you bringing all your things in here, so you may just take
them off."
"But Pendry _said_ I might come here!" protested Piers, keeping a
jealous hand on his possessions, which Regina was ruthlessly sweeping
away.
"It's not Pendry's business. _I_ tell you to go!"
"Indeed it _is_ my business, Miss Regina," interrupted the old nurse,
zealous for her authority. "They've got Meccano all over the nursery
table, and there isn't a corner left for Piers. He was perfectly good
and quiet until you came meddling with him. Why can't you let him
alone?"
"You've got my book, Regina," whined Una's injured voice. "You _knew_ I
was reading _Little Women_."
"Oh, you children! You children!" protested Regina. "There isn't a
corner of the house free from you. I wish I was in a convent or on a
desert island. I'd get some peace and quiet there at any rate. Take your
wretched book!" (flinging _Little Women_ at Una). "How was _I_ to know
who was reading it? Why can't Magsie be quiet. I can hear that hinnying
laugh of hers all over the house."
At that moment Regina did not at all resemble "The Blessed Damozel". She
seemed very far away indeed from "the gold bar of Heaven". Lesbia seized
her friend by the arm and whispered something into her ear. The
storm-clouds cleared from Regina's face.
"Go a walk? Just by ourselves?" she replied, in the same undertone. "I'd
adore it if _you_ would. I vote we do. Only don't let all this tribe
find out. Mum's the word."
"We'll wangle ourselves off quietly," agreed Lesbia.
It was a desperately bad afternoon for outdoor exercise. There was a
strong cold wind, and the rain was absolutely pelting down. For the sake
of change, however, the girls would have braved a blizzard. There is a
certain stage of wet-weather ennui which becomes absolutely
insupportable. They put on mackintoshes, old hats, and tall rubber
boots, then sneaked out by the back door to avoid being seen by the rest
of the family. They had only gone a few hundred yards when there was a
sound of racing footsteps behind them, and they were caught up by the
Stripling, also attired ready to face the elements.
"Derrick! Who told _you_ to come?" inquired his sister inhospitably.
The boy grinned.
"Pendry gave me a hint, so I thought I'd clear out too, and leave the
kids to fight over their Meccano. It's a ripping idea of yours. Where
are you going?"
"Just a walk _by ourselves_!" declared Regina, taking her friend's arm.
"Oh, _do_ let him come with us," pleaded Lesbia. "Why shouldn't we all
three go together and look at the waterfall? It will be grand on a day
like this."
"Two is company and three is none."
"The more the merrier, say I."
"Don't be a bluebottle, Regina. I tell you I'm coming, so that's the
long and the short of it," decided Derrick, taking Lesbia's other arm,
and beginning to tow the girls up hill. "We're the three graces, or the
three fates, or the three anything else you like. It's a lucky number."
"'When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?'"
quoted Regina, giving in for once.
[Illustration: NOT A TRACE OF DERRICK _Page 205_]
"Some rain certainly," agreed the Stripling cheerfully.
It was impossible to imagine a wetter day. The road was almost a
rivulet, and the ditches were overflowing. Every leaf and blade of grass
dripped tears. Even the birds seemed to have betaken themselves to
shelter. The very cattle were huddled under the hedges. A drenched dog
leaped through the bars of a gate and scurried past them. Yet the air
was fresh and reviving, and there was something rather exhilarating in
walking through the wet. It felt almost like sea-bathing. When a sudden
squall of wind blew the rain in their faces they could fancy they were
breasting a wave. Lesbia in the middle was particularly cheerful. She
insisted upon what she called a three-part stunt. Each in turn
improvised a line of verse, bringing it out as rapidly as possible.
_Regina._ The rain it raineth every day.
_Lesbia._ But in the house we will not stay.
_Derrick._ The kids we gladly leave behind.
_Regina._ And go a waterfall to find.
_Lesbia._ We few, we few, we happy three!
_Derrick._ I wish it were but you and me.
_Regina._ And I'd be gladly quit of _you_.
_Lesbia._ Now, now. No quarrelling you two.
_Derrick._ Like ducks we waddle fast along,
_Regina._ Quite jolly, though, and going strong.
_Lesbia._ My rhymes are done, I end the song.
"We're getting silly," continued Lesbia. "I don't think somehow any one
of us will ever win the Laureateship."
"More likely qualifying for another volume of Mother Goose's verses,"
grunted the Stripling.
"You're the goose, fast enough," snapped Regina.
"Oh no, madam, that literary honour belongs to you."
"Now don't spar," interrupted Lesbia. "Listen! I can hear the waterfall.
We must be getting quite near."
They had been climbing uphill along a rough, narrow road, and they now
turned through a gate and walked across a field, and then plunged down
into a wood to reach the stream. Path there was none, though a rough
track among the trees showed them the direction they must take. It was
beautiful in the gorge, but incredibly wet. The wind sent shower baths
from the dripping trees on to their heads, the long bracken was soaking.
The clumps of harebells were weighted down with raindrops, the
blackberry blossoms lay battered. Vivid green moss and scarlet
toadstools alone among the vegetation seemed to appreciate the excess
moisture. Below them the waterfall thundered. They could see white
gleams of it here and there among the trees. After a considerable
scramble they at last reached a point of rock from which they had an
uninterrupted view into the valley. The stream, a mild affair in fine
weather, was swollen into a mighty volume of water that swirled along
high above its usual banks, and dropped with a roar over the fall. It
was a splendid sight, well worth the walk and the wet. They stayed
watching it for some time, till Regina suddenly shivered with cold.
"The wind's bitter here. I vote we get a move on," she suggested. "Let
us go down the bank and take that lower path. It will lead out into the
road by the old mill. It's nicer to go home another way."
The lower path was boggy, but a little extra wet made no difference to
the already soaked party. They tramped steadily on, enjoying the woods
and the view of the water. At one point the Stripling made a discovery.
Stopping and peering down the bank he announced briefly:
"Great Judkins! Wild raspberries as large as life. Come on, you girls!"
There was indeed quite a feast waiting below. Owing to the bad weather
few people had passed that way lately, and the fruit had had time to
ripen. Derrick, Regina, and Lesbia descended upon it like three
blackbirds, and spent a scratchy but blissful ten minutes gathering and
eating all they could reach. Tangles of raspberry canes tear worse than
almost anything in the world, and mackintoshes and fingers suffered
badly. Regina, reaching over for a particularly large and ripe specimen,
lost her hat. It fell a long way down the bank on to the rocks by the
stream and disappeared.
"O bother!" she cried. "Now my hat's gone. And however am I going to get
it back? Derrick, just fetch it for me, will you?"
Derrick plucked the raspberry which Regina, in her agitation had missed,
and shook his head.
"'The snail he said too far, too far'," he quoted. "That hat's done for.
You'll never see it again. It's probably dancing down-stream."
"It's probably nothing of the sort. I expect it's lying on the rocks if
you'd only go and look for it. What a slacker you are."
"Thanks awfully! So pleased to hear your opinion of me. I'm ever so
flattered, I assure you."
"Lesbia! Don't you think he ought to go and fetch my hat?"
"Lesbia doesn't think anything of the sort. I can see it in her eye. Do
you, Lesbia?"
Thus appealed to, Lesbia was in a tight corner. Privately she thought
Derrick would probably have fetched the hat if Regina had only asked him
nicely. She tried to hedge.
"Shall I drop mine too?" she said jokingly, taking off her own hat and
twirling it on her finger for fun. "Perhaps you'll fetch them both."
In a twinkling Derrick snatched it from her, threw it below on to the
rocks, and went scrambling after it. Next moment a corner of the bank
hid him from their view. The girls laughed.
"Temper!" said Regina. "That's Derrick all over."
"I hope he won't be long. My hair's getting very wet," declared Lesbia.
They waited some time, but no Derrick returned with the hats.
"I suppose we shall have to go and see what he's doing," grumbled
Regina, preparing for a downward scramble.
They had almost to slide among the bushes to reach the rocks. They
arrived at the bottom scratched and mudstained. There was not a trace of
Derrick anywhere. Neither were the hats to be seen. The brown water
swirled past carrying sticks and branches on its foaming surface. Regina
looked at its hurrying course, and at the slippery bank.
"I do hope----" she began, then stopped. She had no need to finish, for
the same fear was in Lesbia's eyes. Where had Derrick vanished? There
was no exit from the platform where they were standing except by the way
they had come.
"We--we oughtn't to have let him go," faltered Lesbia.
"Could he have climbed up there?"
"We'll go and see."
In a horrible scare the girls retraced their steps, and ran along the
top of the cliff, calling "Derrick" with all the force of their lungs.
There was no reply. The only sound to be heard was the roar of the
water. Regina, thoroughly terrified, burst into tears.
"It's my fault if he's drowned!" she sobbed. "Oh, what _are_ we to do?"
The girls hunted about and called for some time, then finally went home
in a frantic state to raise the alarm. The first person they saw as they
entered the front door was Derrick, dressed in dry clothes and munching
a green apple. He bowed politely.
"Your hats are drying by the fire," he said in a nonchalant tone.
"How _did_ you get home?" gasped the two girls. "We've been looking for
you everywhere?"
"Why, I climbed up the rocks and went on."
"You wretched boy! You gave us such a fright!" panted Regina.
"Mother Hubbard's dog isn't in it with you," declared Lesbia.
Derrick shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't help it if you chose to chase after me. I think I was a trump to
take your hats home for you. You look uncommonly wet. Best change."
As little rivers were running from their garments down on to the hall
floor, the girls took his advice and hurried into dry clothes.
"He was a mean wretch to play such a rag on us," fumed Regina, rubbing
her damp hair with a towel.
"I thought nothing but a monkey could climb up those rocks. Boys have
nine lives. I shan't be scared another time, whatever mad tricks he
plays," declared Lesbia, buttoning her blouse in a hurry at the sound of
the welcome tea-bell. "All the same," she added to herself, "Regina's
far fonder of that Stripling than she'll admit, though they _do_ spar.
She had umpteen dozen fits when she thought he was drowned. If she
really has such a warm corner for him, why, in the name of all common
sense, can't she show it and be decent to him? I don't believe in people
making a palaver about you when you're dead. If they've anything nice to
say they'd better say it while you're alive and will enjoy hearing it.
That's my opinion."