A Nursery Entertainment
Chris was delighted to have an excuse to go out in the rain. He sped
away, down the garden, but there were no signs of Noel, then into the
churchyard. When he got there, he found the young vicar, Mr. Wargrave,
in the church porch. He had the door ajar, and to Chris's mystification
seemed to be peeping through the opening.
"Have you seen my little brother?" he asked him.
"Hush!" said Mr. Wargrave, turning round, then he smiled at Chris.
"Don't make a noise," he said, "but have a look at him."
Chris peeped into the church. He caught sight of Noel's fair curly head
at once. It was just above the edge of the pulpit, and two small arms
were waving in the air. This was what he heard:
"And so you see, my frens, God wants you to be good. And my tex' is
'Fight the good fight,' and that's Satan, and I'll say good afternoon
to you now, and mind you come next Sunday and I'll preach about the
wind and rain trying to drown the boat. Amen."
Chris giggled loudly. Mr. Wargrave shut the door.
"We won't disturb him," he said.
"But he's no business there," Chris said; "Mums would be horrified.
Noel thinks he can do anything he likes. He's going to be a clergyman,
he says, so he's practising. He oughtn't to play in the church."
"It isn't play," said Mr. Wargrave. "Would you two boys like to come
over to the Vicarage with me? My brother Ted would like to see you on a
wet afternoon like this."
"I'd love it," said Chris; "but Nurse sent me to fetch Noel in. He's
run away."
"I'll step across with you and ask Nurse to spare you for an hour. I
live close here, you know."
Then he opened the church door with a little clatter. Noel darted
down out of the pulpit. He looked very uncomfortable when he saw his
brother's head peeping from behind Mr. Wargrave.
But he adopted a very careless air as he came down the aisle towards
them.
"Are you come to have a—a service?" he asked the young vicar.
"No, I was coming to fetch a book in the vestry," Mr. Wargrave said;
"and I want you and your brother to come back to the Vicarage to tea
with me. We are going to your house to ask if you may. Perhaps you can
get the permission while I get my book, Chris."
Chris sped away as fast as his legs could carry him. Noel stood still
in the porch, looking out into the rain with grave thoughtful eyes. Mr.
Wargrave was only a moment getting his book, and he joined him before
Chris came back.
Putting his hand on his shoulder, he said, smiling:
"You'll be a preacher by and by, but don't hurry. We have to learn a
lot before we can teach others."
Noel's cheeks became hot and red.
"Did you see anyone in the pulpit?" he asked in a whisper.
Mr. Wargrave nodded.
"I foughted I was quite alone. I only pretended the peoples. I just
wanted to see if I could do it."
"Yes, yes, I understand. We'll forget it."
Mr. Wargrave pitied the small boy's distress and confusion. Chris
reappeared, very breathless and happy.
"Nurse says we can come," he said. And then the three of them walked
down the road a very little way, and turned in at a big iron gate
with a thick shrubbery and a drive, and arrived at an old grey stone
Vicarage, with small casement windows and walls covered with creepers.
The vicar took them straight through a long narrow hall to a room at
the back of the house overlooking a very pretty garden. It was a cosy
room. A bright red carpet was on the floor, and a blazing fire in the
grate. There were bookshelves and many pictures lining the walls. On a
big red-and-white chintz-covered couch by the fire, reclined a boy with
a white face and a cheerful smile. He was a big boy, about fifteen or
sixteen. Chris and Noel looked at him in awe.
"Two small neighbours, Ted," said Mr. Wargrave; "the other side of the
church. They've come to tea. I'll go and tell Mrs. Hurcombe. You amuse
them till I come back. I have my churchwarden waiting to see me."
He left the room. Chris and Noel stood by the side of the couch feeling
a little shy of this strange boy, but when he looked at them and
laughed, they laughed too.
"Don't think me an awful frump tucked up on a couch like this. It's
only for a year. I was at school and hurt my back in the gym. Like to
see how I spend my time?"
He drew a table by the side of his couch nearer, and showed them on
a wooden tray a complete set of dolls' furniture. There was a most
beautiful little cabinet of polished wood, which opened and shut its
doors, six chairs with red leather seats, a four-post bedstead, a
polished square table, and two chests of drawers.
"Oh!" cried Chris. "Did you make these all yourself?"
"Yes, and a lot more. They go to an Arts and Crafts Depot and sell like
old boots. And I made them myself with the help of a book only, so I
feel rather swanky over them."
"I wish Dinah could see these," said Chris.
"Here's something you may like better."
He produced a little canoe, and then a tiny tram and a wheelbarrow and
a cart.
"It passes the time," he said.
"Don't you never go out of doors?" asked Noel, looking at him gravely.
"Not often. I have to be wheeled out in a flat pram, and I hate it. But
when summer comes, I can lie on a rug on the lawn and then I shall feel
first rate."
Chris was fingering the toys lovingly.
"I wish I was clever," he said with a little sigh.
"Can you make houses?" asked Noel eagerly. "Could you make a church?"
"He's mad on church," said Chris; "we've only just dragged him out of
it. He's been in India, and doesn't know England."
"Tell us about India," said Ted, smiling at Noel.
Noel launched forth at once, waving his hands and getting quite excited
as he described his home in India and the native servants, and all
the pets he had kept out there. Chris openly yawned, but Ted was
interested, and when Mr. Wargrave returned all three boys were talking
fast and freely. Tea was brought in by a very smiling housekeeper, and
they had a merry time.
But Chris watched Ted gravely, and at last he said to him:
"I couldn't laugh like you do if I had to lie on my back all day long.
I'd have to die straight off if I couldn't jump up and run about."
"That's how I felt first of all," said Ted simply. "But of course it
doesn't say much for your pluck if you can't face pain. And I came
to see that I must make the best of it, and that I could be thankful
that I wasn't blind or deaf and dumb, or covered over with loathsome
sores. And—I—well, I've been helped along by remembering that there's a
suffering corps in God's army, as well as a fighting corps."
Chris looked at him with big eyes.
Here was a big boy talking about God. He could not understand it.
But after tea, he was made very happy by having a lesson in
wood-carving from Ted.
Noel went off with Mr. Wargrave to his study.
He sat on the deep window-ledge there, and swinging his legs, told the
vicar all about his Christmas tree.
Mr. Wargrave was a good listener.
"I think it's splendid," he told him. "And then at Christmas perhaps
you'd be able to make numbers happy. If I had a tree like that, I would
ask a lot of children out of the village, and there are some in the
Union, about a mile off on the high road. I'm the chaplain there, and I
always feel sorry for the children. They don't have many pleasures. If
you love Ted, he'll make you a lot of toys for your tree."
"Oh, will he?" Noel was radiant. "And I'll have a very big party. Mums
will let me. I'll have all the children who live here. I do wish it was
Christmas time."
"Oh, don't wish that. We have the lovely summer coming first. All of us
are happy in summer-time. The flowers and the bees and butterflies, and
the birds and squirrels and rabbits—they all love the warm sunshine.
And you will, too."
"I don't like it when the sun is very hot," said Noel thoughtfully;
then his thoughts took another turn. "What's a hypercrit?"
"Someone who pretends to be what he is not."
Noel frowned.
"And a 'cocky beggar'? I thoughted beggars were poor ragged men who
asked for money: they were in India."
Mr. Wargrave smiled.
"Oh, that's a boy's expression for anyone who thinks a lot of himself.
I suppose your brother has been calling you that?"
"If you speak about God at all, you're a hypercrit," said Noel. "I
'spect Chris doesn't know what it means: it's too long a word for him.
I'll tell him so. I don't pretend half as much as they do; they're
always pretending in their games. Why is it wrong to talk about God?"
"It isn't wrong; it ought to be the natural thing with every one of us.
If we love anyone very much, we can't help talking about them. But—"
Mr. Wargrave hesitated; then he went on:
"Boys and girls, and grown-up people too, are shy sometimes of telling
people what they feel deeply in their hearts; and when children play
about with each other, they keep their thoughts about God and heaven
to themselves, and don't quite understand anybody talking freely about
it. I'm not saying they are right. But it makes us more reverent if we
speak about God very gravely, almost in a whisper."
Noel listened and nodded his head.
"I'll try."
And then he caught sight of a case of butterflies, and for the next
half-hour hung over it entranced, whilst Mr. Wargrave talked about
butterflies and their ways.
When Chris and Noel's visit was over, they went home and described all
the glories of the Vicarage to Diana, who was quite curious about them.
She was wild to see the dolls' furniture.
"I don't see why I shouldn't go straight in to-morrow. I'll ask Mums if
I may. That ill boy would be very glad to see me. Mums was only saying
the other day that visiting sick people was a very nice thing to do."
When Mrs. Inglefield returned home, three eager children met her in the
hall.
She was quite pleased that the boys had gone to tea at the Vicarage.
"Lady Alice was telling me about that poor boy. It is a dreadful trial
for him to be laid up like that for a year, or perhaps longer."
"But he's quite happy," said Chris. "He laughs like anything!"
"Yes, he has a brave cheerful spirit. I shall be very glad for you to
know him. He must be a nice boy."
Two or three days afterwards, Diana got her chance. Mr. Wargrave came
to call, and spoke to her in the hall as he was leaving. Diana was
always outspoken.
"I don't want to be rude," she said, "but I'm just dying to see the
dolls' furniture at your house. Could you ask me to, do you think? I
wouldn't expect tea. I wouldn't be as mean as that, but just to see
them."
"You shall come in now," he said, smiling, "if your mother will let
you. Ted will be only too delighted to show you all his toys."
Mrs. Inglefield, who was standing by, gave her permission, and Diana
danced off, and was a good hour away. She came back to the nursery with
glowing eyes.
"He not only makes toys," she said to the boys emphatically, "but he
makes poetry! He said some to me!"
The boys were impressed. Ted and his doings were much discussed amongst
them for the following days.
The weather kept them indoors a good deal. It was rain and wind every
day, and the nursery was a small room for three active children. One
morning Nurse, sitting at her work there, was visited by Mrs. Budd.
Chris and Noel were busy in a corner with their bricks, Diana was
finishing her story, but as she scribbled off the last sentence she
caught a fragment of conversation between Nurse and her visitor.
"I always felt she would be dull here. She misses the master, of
course, and she's been accustomed to a life in India. I feel fair
worried when I sees her so quiet knitting for the boys, and tears in
her eyes all the time."
"'Twill be better in the fine weather when there's plenty of gentry
round her to keep her from dullness."
Diana shut up her papers and went over to the window. She had what
Nurse called her "thinking cap" on!
After their early dinner she called the boys to her and said:
"Look here, I promised to keep Mums from feeling dull. It's come upon
her, and we've got to do something."
"What?" asked Chris.
"We'll give her an entertainment," said Diana grandly. "And I'll tell
her it's coming, so that will take away the dullness, to feel it's
coming. We'll do it after tea."
"What can we do?" asked Chris helplessly.
"I've thought it all out. I'll read her my story. It's finished, and
she's never heard any of my stories. It's awfully exciting. And you
and Noel can learn something to recite, like we did with Miss Carr to
Granny once."
"We can dance," said Chris, romping round the room, "and dress up! Oh,
that will be the thing, Dinah!"
Mrs. Inglefield was feeling rather lonely that afternoon. She had been
writing to her husband, and now she was knitting socks for Chris, and
thinking about his schooling. She was in her boudoir. Presently she
heard a sharp rattat at her door, a little giggle, and then a note was
pushed through the bottom of the door.
She picked it up and opened it.
"OUR DEAR MUMS,—"
"We're sorry you are dull, but we are not going to let you be
any more. At half-past five we invite you to our Grand Entertainment.
Tickets free. The performance will be thrilling."
"YOUR LOVING CHILDREN."
"P.S.—It will be done in the Nursery—punctule."
So Mrs. Inglefield had enough to keep her expectant and smiling. She
heard a good deal of noise overhead for the next hour or so. But
punctually at half-past five she presented herself at the nursery door.
It was opened by Noel, who had a pink paper cap on his head, and his
body and legs all wound round and round with coloured handkerchiefs and
ribbons.
He gave her a very low bow and led her to Nurse's armchair, which was
draped in an old red shawl.
It was the seat of honour. Then she was presented with a programme.
AFTERNOON ENTERTAINMENT
An acrobatic exhibishon.
Two gentlemen's duel.
An Authoresses story.
Beautiful Poem resited by motor-car and horse.
General Dance and Wind up.
All can join.
A row of chairs divided the audience from the performers.
The entertainment opened by Chris standing on his head in the
corner, and Diana balancing a doll's tray of tea-things on his feet.
Catastrophe was saved by her snatching the tray away, as his feet began
to shake.
Then Noel and Chris had a fencing bout with two hoop sticks. Mrs.
Inglefield drew a long breath when it was over and neither combatant
was hurt. The next item on the programme was:
"An Authoresses story."
Diana made her appearance in one of Nurse's best gowns. A wreath of ivy
was round her head. She had sheets of paper in her hand and commenced
to read in a high sing-song voice.
The story was about a miserable ragged little girl in London who was
given sixpence and a kiss by a beautiful lady one afternoon when she
was selling matches in the streets. The lady's face and dress was
described with much detail. Mrs. Inglefield had no difficulty in
recognizing herself as the lady. The little girl's name was Sally, and
she fell in love with this lady and used to follow her round in London
every day, only at a distance. At night she dreamt of her. And then
one day the lady was nearly run over by a motor. Sally dashed into the
middle of the road and saved her, but got knocked down herself and had
her leg broken. Then the lady burst into tears at her bravery, and told
her coachman, who had arrived on the scene, to take her home in her
carriage. She was carried to the "most beautiful house in London." Her
bedroom was "covered with pink satin curtains and cushions all over the
place." Sally was placed in bed, and a doctor sent for who mended her
broken leg.
"But suddenly Mrs. Field fell on her knees by the bed and seized the
broken leg:"
"'It is her, my long-lost daughter,' she cried. 'I know the scar which
she had as a baby. My nurse lost her one day when she was wheeling her
pram in Kensington gardens!'"
"And all was true, and Sally's leg mended very soon, and she never had
to go back to the old woman who made her sell matches, but she lived
with her darling mother ever after. And she grew up and married a
relation of the Royal Family. But she always remembered her ragged time
and gave money to match-girls. This is the moral and the end."
There was much applause when the young authoress sat down.
Then the children retired into the night nursery. After a time, with
a rush and a fierce snorting noise, Chris tore backwards and forwards
several times.
"A motor-car!" said Mrs. Inglefield, clapping her hands.
Then Noel entered, galloping up and down and whinnying so loud that
Mrs. Inglefield called out very quickly:
"A horse!"
And then he and Chris stood together and recited the following poem:
CHRIS. "I shriek and everybody flies!
I tear along beneath the skies,
I stop as quickly, for I feel
My master's hand upon the wheel."
NOEL. "I trot along the hard high road,
To journey slowly is my mode.
We want to see, to feel, to smile,
To scent the beauty of each mile."
CHRIS. "Past meadows, villages I fly,
No time to see as I go by!
The wind, the air is all I feel,
Beside the hand upon the wheel."
NOEL. "My master's hand is on my rein,
His eyes are in the country lane.
I canter on up hill, down dale,
Through grassy fields and lovely vale."
CHRIS. "I scorch up hills, I fly along,
My warning 'honk' is all my song.
Towns, rivers, sea, all pass away.
A hundred miles we do each day."
NOEL. "But cars can't hunt, or ride at will
Through woods, or up untrodden hill,
Nor soak their souls in beauty fair,
That's only done through my brown mare."