THE EMPTY HUTCH.
At breakfast that morning Lady Ascot noticed how tired Maggie looked--her
blue eyes were swollen as if she had been crying, her pretty cheeks were
very red, and she did not come to table with at all her usual appetite.
Maggie always breakfasted with her father and mother. She also had her
early dinner at their lunch, but her own lunch and tea she took in the
schoolroom with Miss Grey. Miss Grey was now present at the
breakfast-table, and so also was Ralph. Ralph was a very slight and thin
boy, with a dark face and bright eyes. He looked uncommonly well this
morning, remarkably neat in his person, and altogether a striking contrast
to poor disheveled little Maggie. Maggie felt afraid to raise her eyes from
her plate. When her mother noticed her fatigue and languor, she knew that
Ralph's quizzical and laughing gaze was upon her, and that his lips were
softly moving to the inaudible words:
"Little muff, she got up in the middle of the night! She got up in the
middle of the night!"
Maggie would have been quite saucy enough, and independent enough, to be
indifferent to these remarks of Ralph's, and perhaps even to pay him back
in his own coin, but for the loss of the rabbits. Bianco and Lily were
gone, however; the hutch was empty; it was all the little princess' fault,
and, in consequence, her versatile spirits had gone down to zero. With all
her faults--and she had plenty--Maggie was far too honest a child to think
of concealing what she had done from her cousin. She meant to tell him, but
she had dreaded very much going through her revelation, and she felt that
his contempt and anger would be very bitter and hard to bear. Maggie always
sat next her father at breakfast, and he now patted her on her hot cheeks,
looked tenderly at her, and piled the choicest morsels on her plate.
"The little maid does not look quite the thing," Sir John called across the
table to his wife. "I think we must give her a holiday. Miss Grey, you
won't object to a holiday, I am sure, and Ralph and Maggie will have plenty
to do with one another."
"If you please, sir," here burst from Ralph, "do you mind coming round with
me after breakfast and seeing to the accommodation of the rabbits and
pigeons? I think my rabbits want a larger and better hutch, if you please,
Uncle John."
"All right, my boy, we'll see about them," replied the good-natured uncle.
"Hullo, little maid, what is up with you--where are you off to?"
"I--I don't want any breakfast. I'm tired," said Maggie, and before her
father could again interrupt her she ran out of the room.
Her heart was full, there was a limit to her endurance; she could not go
with Sir John and her Cousin Ralph to look at the empty hutch. She wondered
what she should do; she wished with all her heart at this moment that
Ralph had never come, that he had never brought those tiresome and
beautiful rabbits to tempt her to open the door of their prison, and so
unwittingly set them free. She ran once more into the garden, and went in a
forlorn manner into the shrubbery; she had a kind of wild vain hope that
Bianco and Lily might be tired of having run away, and might have returned
to their new home. She approached the rabbit-hutch; alas! the truants were
nowhere in sight; she stooped down and looked into the empty home; and just
at this moment voices were heard approaching, the clear high voice of her
boy cousin, accompanied by Sir John's deeper tones. Maggie had nothing for
it but to hide, and the nearest and safest way for her to accomplish this
feat was to climb into a large tree which partly over-shaded the
rabbit-hutch. Maggie could climb like any little squirrel, and Sir John and
Ralph took no notice of a rustling in the boughs as they approached. Her
heart beat fast; she crouched down in the green leafy foliage, and hoped
and trusted they would not look up. There was certainly no chance of their
doing that. When Ralph discovered that his pets were gone, he gave vent to
something between a howl and a cry of agony, and then, dragging his uncle
by the arm, they both set off in a vain search for the missing pets--Bianco
and Lily. No one knew better than poor Maggie did how slight was their
chance of finding them. She wondered if she might leave her leafy prison,
if she would have time to rush in to nurse or mother before Ralph came
back. She thought she might try. It would be such a comfort to put her head
on mother's breast and tell the story to this sympathizing friend. She had
just made the first rustling in the old tree, preparatory to her descent,
when Sir John's portly form was seen returning. He was coming back alone,
and, after a fashion he had, was saying aloud:
"Very strange occurrence. 'Pon my word, quite mysterious. Whoever did open
the door of the hutch? Surely Jim would not be so mischievous! I must
question him, and if I think the young rascal is telling me a lie, he
shall go--yes, he shall go. I won't be humbugged. And Ralph, poor lad! It's
a disgrace to have my sister's son annoyed in this way on the very first
morning of his visit. Why, hullo, Maggie, little woman! What are you doing
up there?"
"I'm coming down if you'll just wait a minute, father," called down Maggie.
"Oh, please, father, stand close under the tree, and don't let Ralph see
us. I'm coming down as hard as ever I can. There, please stretch up your
hand, father; when I catch it I'll jump."
"Into my arms," said Sir John, folding her tight in a loving embrace. "My
darling, you are not well. You are all trembling. What is the matter,
little woman?"
"Nothing, father; only I wanted to speak to you so badly, and I didn't want
Ralph to hear. I heard you say that perhaps Jim did it, and you'd send him
away. 'Twasn't Jim, 'twas me. I'm miserable about it--'twas all me,
father."
"All you? Mag-Mag, what do you mean?"
"I let them out, father. I gave poor Bianco and Lily some nice lettuce
leaves just here under the tree. See, they have not quite finished what I
gave them. While they were feeding I thought I'd clean the hutch to please
Ralph, and I ran round to the hay-rick for some fresh hay, and when I came
back Bianco and Lily were gone. I spent all the time before breakfast
looking for them, but I couldn't see them anywhere. Poor Jim had nothing to
do with it, father. I did see Jim this morning. I think he's an awfully
good boy. Father, Jim had nothing to do with opening the door of the
hutch--it was all me."
"Yes, Maggie, so it seems. Ah! here comes Ralph himself. Now, my dear
little maid, you really need not be frightened. I'll undertake to break the
tidings to Master Ralph. You were a good child to tell me the truth,
Maggie."
"I can't find them anywhere, uncle," called back Ralph, in his high voice.
"Who could have been the mischievous person? Don't you think it was very
wicked, Uncle John, for any one to open my hutch door? I expect some thief
came and stole them. I suppose you are a magistrate, Uncle John; I hope you
are, and that you'll have a warrant issued immediately, so that the person
who stole my Bianco and Lily may find themselves locked up in prison. Why,
if that is not Maggie standing behind you. How very, very queer you look,
Maggie!"
Sir John laid his hand on Ralph's shoulder.
"The fact is, my lad," he said, "this poor dear little maid of mine has
come to me with a sad confession. It seems that she is the guilty person.
She gave your rabbits something to eat, and let them out in order that they
might enjoy their meal the better. Then it occurred to her to get some
fresh hay for the hutch, and while she was away Bianco and Lily took it
into their heads to play truants. You must forgive Maggie, Ralph; she meant
no harm. If the rabbits are not found I can only promise to get you another
pair as handsome as money can buy."
While his uncle was speaking Ralph's face had grown very white.
"I don't want any other rabbits, thank you, Uncle John," he said. "It was
poor little Jo gave me Bianco and Lily, and I was fond of them; other
rabbits would not be the same."
"I only hope, Ralph, your pets will be found. I shall send a couple of men
to search for them directly. In the mean time, you must promise me not to
be angry with my poor little girl; she meant no harm."
"Oh, I'm not angry," said Ralph; "most girls are muffs; Jo isn't, but then
she's not like other people." He turned on his heel and sauntered slowly
away.
It is difficult to say how the affair of the rabbits would have terminated,
and how soon Maggie would have been taken back into Ralph's favor, but just
then, on the afternoon of that very day in fact, an event occurred which
turned every one's thoughts into a fresh channel.
Lady Ascot received a telegram announcing the dangerous illness of her
favorite and only sister--it was necessary that she and Sir John should
start that very night for the North to see her. The question then arose.
What was to become of the two children?
"Send us to mother, of course," promptly said Ralph.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Sir John; "why, I declare if it isn't a good thought.
Violet wouldn't mind having you both on a visit for a fortnight or so, and
Miss Grey could go with you, so that your mother need have no extra
trouble. Remember, Ralph, you are bound to us for the summer, my boy, and
we only lend you to your mother for a few days. You quite understand?"
"Lend me to mother; no, I'm sure I don't understand that," said Ralph. "Oh!
Maggie," he exclaimed suddenly, in all his old brightest manner, "if we go
to London, you'll see Jo!"
"I'll go off this very moment and telegraph to my sister," said Sir John;
"the children and Miss Grey can start to-morrow morning. It's all arranged.
It is a splendid plan."
In five minutes the plan was made which was to exercise so large an
influence over little Maggie, which was, in short, completely to alter her
life. Sir John sent off his telegram, and in the course of the afternoon
his sister, Mrs. Grenville, replied to it. She would be ready to receive
Ralph and Maggie the next day, and would be pleased also to have Miss Grey,
Maggie's governess, accompany the children. Maggie had never seen London;
and Ralph became eloquent with regard to its charms.
"It will be delightful for you," he said; "of course I am rather tired of
it, for I have been everywhere and seen all the sights, but it will really
be very nice for you. You are young, you know, Maggie, and you'll have to
go to the places where quite the little children are seen; Madame Tussaud's
is one, and the Zoological Gardens is another. Oh, won't it be fun to see
you jumping when the lions roar!"
At these words of Ralph's Maggie turned rather pale, and perceiving that he
had made an impression, he proceeded still further to work on her feelings,
describing graphically the scene at the Zoo when the lions are fed, the
cruel glitter in the eyes of the hungry beasts, and the awful sound which
they make when they crush the great bones of meat provided for them.
"You mustn't go too near their cages," said Ralph; "nobody knows how strong
a lion is; and though the cages are made with very large bars of iron, yet
still----" Here Ralph made an expressive pause.
Maggie opened her blue eyes, remained quite silent for a moment, for she
did not wish Ralph to suppose that she was really afraid of the lions, and
then she said softly:
"I'm not going to the Zoo--at least not at first. I'm going to do my
lessons with Miss Grey in the hours when the lions are fed. I know it's
very good of me, but I'm going to be good, 'cause I am so sorry about your
rabbits, Ralph."
"So you ought to be," said Ralph, turning red; "but weeks and weeks of
being sorry won't bring them back. When people do very careless and
thoughtless things, being sorry doesn't mend matters. You ask mother, and
she'll explain to you. But please don't say anything more about Bianco and
Lily. I want to know what you mean by saying that you'll do your lessons at
the hour the lions are fed. You do your lessons at the hour that most suits
Miss Grey, don't you?"
Maggie nodded.
"Yes," she said, "I'm going to please poor Miss Grey too; I'm going to be
very good."
"Well, Miss Grey won't like to be kept at home in the afternoons teaching
you your lessons--she'll like to be out amusing herself in the afternoon. I
call that more thoughtlessness. You'll have to do your lessons in the
morning, and the lions are fed at three o'clock, so that excuse won't
serve."
"I'm not going to the Zoo," continued Maggie, who began to feel decidedly
worried. "If Miss Grey wants to be out in the afternoon, I'll go to Madame
Tussaud's then. I don't like that Zoo, and I'm not fond of lions; but I
expect Madame Tussaud's must be a nice sort of place."
"Oh--oh--oh," said Ralph, beginning to jump about on one leg; "you see the
chamber of horrors before you make up your mind whether it's a nice sort of
place or not. Why, at Madame Tussaud's you always have your heart in your
mouth because you don't know whether the wax figures are alive or not; and
you are always saying, 'I beg your pardon;' and you are always knocking up
against people whom you think are alive and want to speak to you, when they
are only big wax dolls; and whenever you give a little start and show by
your face that you have made a mistake, the real live people laugh. I can
tell you, Maggie, you have to mind your p's and q's at Madame Tussaud's."
"I won't go," said Maggie; "I need not go unless I like;" and then she
walked out of the room, beginning seriously to debate in her poor little
mind on the joys of having a playmate, for Ralph contrived at every turn to
make her feel so very small.