THE STABLE CLOCK.
It was rather desolate standing at the other side of Ralph's door in the
passage. There was plenty of light in the passage, but no sunshine, and
Maggie felt her excitement cooling down and her heart beating tranquilly
again. All that delightful energy and zest which she had shown when
dressing herself, which she had felt when she had danced into her cousin's
room, had forsaken her. She walked slowly back to her own little chamber,
wondering what she had better do now, and thinking how very disagreeable it
was to be spoken of as "a muff." Was it really only the middle of the
night, and had she better just ignominiously undress herself and go back to
bed?
No; she would not do that. It was horrid to think of Ralph sound and
happily asleep, and of nurse asleep, and father and mother also in the
land of dreams. Maggie felt quite forlorn, and as if she were alone in the
world. But at this moment a thrush perched itself on a bough of clematis
just outside the window, and sang a delicious morning song. The little
princess clapped her hands.
"The birdies are up!" she exclaimed. "I expect lots of delightful creatures
are up in the garden. I'll go into the garden. Perhaps, after all, Ralph is
more of a muff than me."
She swung her garden hat on her head, and ran softly and quickly
downstairs. All the doors were barred and locked; the place felt intensely
still and strange; but Maggie found egress through a small side window,
which she easily opened; and, once in the garden, her loneliness and
sadness vanished like magic. She laughed aloud, and ran gayly hither and
thither. The butterflies were out, the birds were having a splendid morning
concert, and the flowers were opening their petals and taking their morning
breakfast from the sunshine.
"Oh, dear! Ralph is the muff, and I am the good one, after all!" exclaimed
Maggie aloud. She ran until she was tired, then went into an arbor at one
end of a long grass walk, and sat down to rest herself. In a moment the
most likely thing happened--she fell asleep. She slept in the arbor, with
her head resting on the rustic table, until the stable clock struck six;
that sound awoke her. She rubbed her drowsy eyes and looked around. Jim,
the boy who had smiled the night before when he saw Maggie and Ralph
talking together, passed the entrance to the little arbor at this moment
with a bag of tools slung over his shoulder. Maggie called to him:
"Jim, come here; aren't you surprised? I'm up, you see."
"Why, Miss Maggie!" exclaimed the astonished stable-boy, "you a sitting in
the arbor at this hour, miss! Oh, dear! oh, dear! ain't you very cold,
missie? And was you overtook with sleep, and did you spend the night here?
Why, I 'spect your poor pa and ma were in a fine fright about you, Miss
Maggie."
"Oh, do, they are not," answered Maggie, shaking herself, and running up to
Jim, and taking hold of one of his hands. "They know nothing at all about
it, Jim. They are all in their beds, every one of them, sound, fast asleep.
Even my new Cousin Ralph is asleep. He said I was a muff, but I 'spect he
is. Isn't it 'licious being up so bright and early, Jim?"
"Well, no, missie, I don't think it is. I likes to lie in bed uncommon
myself, so I do. I 'ates getting up of a morning, Miss Maggie; and whenever
I gets a holiday, don't I take it out in my bed, that's all!"
"Oh, you poor Jim!" said Maggie in a very compassionate tone. "I didn't
know bed was thought such a treat; I don't find it so. Well, Jim, I'm glad,
anyhow, you're obliged to be up this morning, 'cause you and me, we can be
company to one another. I'm going with you into the stable-yard now."
"Oh! but, missie, I has to clean out Snowball's stable, and get another
stable ready for Master Ralph's pony Raven, and that's all work that a
little lady could have no call to mix with. I think, missie, if I was you,
I'd go straight back to my bed, and have another hour or two before Sir
John and her ladyship are up."
But Maggie shook her head very decidedly over this proposition.
"No," she said, "I'm going to the stable-yard; I'm going to look at
Snowball. I don't think very much of Snowball; I think he'll have to be
sold."
Jim opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows a trifle at this proof of
inconstancy on Maggie's part, but he thought fit to offer no verbal
objection, and the two walked together in the direction of the stables.
Here the large stable clock attracted the erratic little maid's attention;
she suddenly remembered the dreadful feeling of shame which had swept over
her when Ralph had asked her to tell him the hour. She had earnestly wished
at that moment that she had been a good child, and had learned how to tell
the time when Miss Grey offered to teach her. It would never do for Ralph
to discover her deficiency in this matter. Perhaps Jim could teach her. She
turned to him eagerly.
"Jim, do you know what o'clock it is?"
"Yes, missie, of course; it's a quarter-past six."
"Oh! how clever of you, Jim, to know that. Did you find it out by looking
up at the stable clock?"
"Why, of course, Miss Maggie; there it is in front of us. You can see for
yourself."
Maggie's face became very grave, and her eyes assumed quite a sad
expression.
"I want to whisper something to you, Jim," she said. "Stoop down; I want to
say it very, very low. I don't know the clock time."
Jim received this solemn secret in a grave manner. He was silent for a
moment; then he said slowly:
"You can learn it, I suppose, Miss Maggie?"
"Oh, yes, dear Jim; and you can teach me."
Jim began to rumple up his hair and to look perplexed.
"I--oh! that's another thing," he said.
"Yes, you can, Jim; and you must begin right away. There's a big, round
white thing, and there are little figures marked on it; and there are two
hands that move, 'cause I've watched them; and there's a funny thing at the
bottom that goes tick-tick all the time."
"That's the pend'lum, Miss Maggie."
"Yes, the pend'lum," repeated Maggie glibly. "I'll remember that word; I
won't forget. Now, go on, Jim. What's the next thing?"
"Well, there's the two 'ands, miss; the little 'and points to the hours,
and the big 'un to the minutes."
"It sounds very puzzling," said Maggie.
"So it is, miss; so it is. You couldn't learn the clock not for a score of
days. I took a week of Sundays over it myself, and I'm not to say dull. The
clock's a puzzler, Miss Maggie, and can't be learned off in a jiffy,
anyhow."
"Well, but, Jim, Ralph mustn't find out; he mustn't ever find out that I
don't know it. It would be quite dreadful what Ralph would think of me
then; he wouldn't ever, ever believe that I could turn out as well as Jo.
You don't think Jo such a wonderful girl, do you, Jim?"
"Oh, no, Miss Maggie; I don't think nothing at all about her. I'd better
get to my work now, miss."
"Yes, but you must teach me something about the old clock, just to make
Ralph s'pose I know about the hour."
"Well, miss, you can talk a little bit about the pend'lum, and the big 'and
and the little 'un, and you can say that you think the stable clock is
fast; it is that same, miss, and that will sound very 'cute. Now I must go
to my sweeping. William will be round almost immediately, and he'll be ever
so angry if I have nothing done, so you'll please to excuse me, miss."
Maggie left the stable-yard rather discontentedly.
It was not yet half-past six, and breakfast would not be on the table for
two long hours. What should she do? After all, perhaps she was a muff to
get up in the middle of the night; perhaps she was the silly one, and
Ralph, so snug and rosy and comfortable in his little bed, was the wise and
good one. Some things very like tears came to Maggie's bright blue eyes as
she turned back again to the garden, for she was beginning to feel a little
tired, and oh! very, very hungry. She wondered if Jo ever got up at four
o'clock in the morning, and if Ralph had ever called Jo a muff; but of
course he had not. Jo was doubtless one of those unpleasant model little
girls about whom nurse sometimes spoke to her on Sunday: little girls who
always did at once what their old nurses told them, who never rumpled their
pinafores, nor made their hair untidy, nor soiled their clean hands, but
walked instead of running, and smiled instead of laughing. Nurse had spoken
over and over of these dear little lady-like misses. These little girls
delighted in doing plain needlework, and were intensely happy when they
conquered a fresh word in their reading, and they always adored their
governesses, and were rather sorry when holiday time came. When nurse spoke
about these children, Maggie usually interrupted her vehemently with the
exclamation. "I hate that proper good little girl!" and then nurse's small
twinkling brown eyes would grow full of suppressed fun, and she would
passionately kiss her spoiled darling.
Maggie, as she walked through the garden, where the dew was still
sparkling, quite made up her mind that Jo belonged to this unpleasant order
of little maids, and she determined to dislike her very much. As she was
sauntering slowly along she passed a small narrow path which led into a
shrubbery; directly through the shrubbery was another path, which branched
out in the direction of Maggie's neglected garden; suppose she went and did
a little weeding in her garden; or no, suppose she did what would be much
more enchanting, suppose she paid a visit to Ralph's rabbits! Ralph had
complained the night before of the hutch where his pets had been put; he
had grumbled at its not being bright enough, and large enough, and clean
enough. Suppose Maggie went and furbished it up a little, and looked at
Ralph's pets, and gave them some lettuce leaves to eat.
In a moment she had flown through the shrubbery, had passed the little
neglected garden and the half-finished rockery, and was kneeling down by
the hutch where Ralph's rabbits had made for themselves a new home.
There they were, two beautiful snow-white creatures, with long silky hair,
and funny bright red eyes, and pink noses. They had not a black hair on
either of their glossy coats. Ralph had said they were very valuable
rabbits, and because of the extreme purity of their coats he had called
them Lily and Bianco. Maggie, too, thought them lovely; she bent close to
the bars of the hutch and called them to her, and tried to stroke their
noses through the little round holes. Bianco was very tame, but Lily was a
little shy, and kept in the background, and did not allow her nose to be
rubbed. Maggie showered endearing names on her; no pet she had ever
possessed herself seemed equal to Ralph's snow-white rabbits. After playing
with them for a little she ran into the kitchen garden to fetch some
lettuce leaves, and with a good bundle in her arms returned to the
rabbit-hutch. At so tempting a sight even Lily lost her shyness, and
pressed her nose against the bars of her cage, and struggled to get at the
tempting green food.
"They shall come out and eat their breakfasts in peace and comfort, the
darlings!" exclaimed Maggie. "Here, I'll make a nice pile of it just by
this tree, and I'll open the door, and out they'll both come. While they
are eating I can be cleaning the hutch. What a nice useful girl I am, after
all! I expect Ralph will think I'm quite as good as that stupid old Jo of
his. Come along, Bianco pet; here's your dear little breakfast ready for
you. Oh, you darling, precious Lily! you need not be afraid of me. I would
not hurt a hair of your lovely coat."
Open went the door of the hutch, and out scampered the two white rabbits.
They bounded in rabbit fashion toward the green lettuces, and when Maggie
saw them happily feeding, she turned her attention to the hutch.
"No, this is not a proper hutch," she said to herself. "It's not large
enough, nor roomy enough, nor handsome enough. I don't wonder at poor Ralph
being put out--he felt he was treated shabby. I must speak to father about
it. There must be a new hutch made as quick as possible. Well, I had better
clean this one while the dear bunnies are at their breakfast. I'll see if I
can get some fresh straw. I'll run round to the yard and try if I can pull
some straw out of one of the ricks. I really am most useful. Good-by,
Bianco and Lily; I'll be back with you in a moment, dear little pets."
The rabbits did not pay the slightest heed to Maggie's loving words. It is
to be feared that, beautiful as they were in person, they possessed but
small and selfish natures; they liked fresh lettuces very much, and when
they had eaten enough they looked around somewhat shyly, after the manner
of timid little creatures. The whole place represented a strange world to
them, but as there was not a soul in sight, they thought they might
explore this new land a little. Bianco bounded on in front, and looked
back at Lily; Lily scampered after her companion. In a short time they
found themselves on the boundary of a green and shady and pleasant-looking
wood. In this wood doubtless abounded those many good and tempting things
to which rabbits as a race are partial. They went a little further, and
lost themselves in the soft green herbage. When Maggie returned to the
rabbit-hutch, with her arms full of straw and her rosy cheeks much flushed,
Bianco and Lily were nowhere to be seen.