THE PASSING OF TIBBOTT VENNER
When Merrylips woke next morning, she thought at first that she was
back at Monksfield. She could hear the sounds that she loved--the
clatter of horses ridden over flagged pavements, and the note of a
trumpet that bade the men dismount and unsaddle. Then she guessed
that Captain Norris and his troop had come to Walsover, as Lieutenant
Crashaw had said they would.
She was all eagerness to see her old friends. So she sprang up and
started to dress. But when she looked for her shirt and her blue
breeches, they were not on the form where she had laid them. In their
place was a girl's long smock and a little gown of gray that Pug had
outgrown.
She was sitting on her bed, looking at the gray gown and winking fast,
when Lady Sybil came softly into the chamber. Lady Sybil understood.
She did not ask questions, nor did she pretend that this was a slight
thing that Merrylips must do.
"Little lass!" she said with a world of meaning. "My little lass!"
"Ay," Merrylips answered. "I am a lass, when all's said. I must put on
this gown, no doubt, and oh! a petticoat is such a pestilence thing in
which to climb!"
Then she stood up, but before she dressed she asked:
"Where hath my mother hid my clothes--my Tibbott clothes?"
Lady Sybil smiled, a little sadly, to see how quick Merrylips was to
guess that it was Lady Venner who had ordered her back into her fit
attire. But she told Merrylips where the little blue suit lay, in a
chest in a far chamber. And as soon as Merrylips had flung on the
girl's frock, she ran and fetched her boy's suit, even the gloves and
the hat, and hung them in Lady Sybil's great wardrobe.
"I'm fain to have them where I may look upon them," she said. "And
maybe, for sport, I'll don them again, only for an hour."
She looked to see if Lady Sybil would forbid, but Lady Sybil said never
a word.
"On Christmas Day," said Merrylips, then. "Shall we say Christmas Day?
I'll go a-masking in them."
So every night, when she laid off her girl's frock, she looked at her
blue doublet and breeches that hung in the wardrobe, and fingered
them, and said to herself:--
"Six days more--" or five, or four, as it might be--"and 'twill be
Christmas, and godmother doth not forbid, and I shall wear my boy's
dress once again."
The days before Christmas went fast in that great, busy garrison house
of Walsover, and they went fast indeed for Merrylips. So much she had
to tell and hear! So many friends she had to greet again!
She found old Roger that had been butler at Larkland. He was carrying a
halberd once more in the Walsover garrison, and he was as eager as any
young man of them all to fight the rebels. She found Stephen Plasket,
who came limping in, the day before Christmas. And a long story he had
to tell of the adventures he had met with in making his escape through
the Roundhead country! Best of all, for Rupert's sake, she found Claus
Hinkel, who had been one of those that had lived through the assault of
Monksfield.
Claus took it all as a matter of course that Rupert was at last
restored to his kinsfolk. Ja, wohl, 'twas bound to happen some day, he
told her. And now, in time, Rupert would be a captain like his father
before him, and he, Claus, would ride in his troop.
"For that I can do, gracious fräulein," the dull-witted fellow said.
"My lord, your high-born father, would have made me a corporal, and
more, perchance. But I said 'No! no!' Here I am well placed, and can
do my part. But if I were set higher, I should be but what you call a
laughing-stock."
Many and many another of the old Monksfield garrison were missing,
besides Lieutenant Digby. But Lieutenant Crashaw, and Captain Norris,
and Captain Brooke, with his arm in a sling, and Nick Slanning, who
limped with a newly healed wound, were all at Walsover.
Merrylips talked with them, but she was shy, almost as if they were
new acquaintances. And they themselves seemed somehow shy of her. Once
Slanning started to tousle her hair, as he had used to do, and craved
her pardon for it. Captain Brooke and Captain Norris were too busy to
speak with a little girl. And since she was no longer a little boy, she
could not run about the courts and stables at their heels.
So she found herself passing many hours with her mother and her
godmother and her sisters. She did not like Pug, for Pug said that Dick
Fowell was a wicked rebel, and would not speak a word to him. But she
liked tall, pretty Puss. For Puss was always asking questions about
Dick, and often and often she spoke with him. Indeed, Dick seemed to
spend more time with Puss than with Longkin, for whose sake it was
that he said that he was staying to keep Christmas at Walsover.
It was Puss too that told Merrylips about Lady Sybil. After she left
Larkland Lady Sybil had gone among great folk in foreign lands, and
borrowed money for the king. It was difficult, delicate work, such as
few might be trusted with. Then she had brought the money over seas
with her, through dangers of storm and of pursuit by the enemy's ships
that might have daunted the courage even of a man. And when she had
done this task, she had gone to the king's headquarters at Oxford, and
there, with her skill in nursing, she had tended the wounded soldiers,
and thus had come by an illness that had been almost mortal.
Merrylips pondered all this. She had always seen Lady Sybil gracious
and gentle and quiet. She had not guessed that she had courage and
constancy equal to that of a soldier. She had not dreamed that women
could have such courage.
But Merrylips was not always with the women, for Rupert and Flip were
near enough of her age to make her a comrade. Flip would have been a
little scornful, perhaps. He could not forgive Merrylips for having had
such adventures, while he sat tamely at home and got his lessons.
But Rupert would have her with them in every sport and study in which
she could bear a part. He liked her in her girl's dress, and told her
so.
"Thou art fairer than any girl or woman in all the world," he said,
"except it be my aunt Sybil."
Rupert was very proud of the beautiful kinswoman that had taken him for
her own. At first he was half ashamed to show his pride and love, but
very soon, of his own will, he imitated Merrylips, as he did in many
things, and would come with her to sit by Lady Sybil in the twilight
and ask questions and talk of what was near his heart.
One evening, the eve of Christmas, as it chanced, they three were
together. They sat in the great oriel window of the long gallery.
Merrylips was at Lady Sybil's side, where she could look out and see
the frosty stars, and Rupert was on a cushion at her feet. They had
been speaking, as they sometimes did, of how, when Rupert had had
lessons for a couple of years, as was fitting for such a young boy, he
should have a commission as an officer of the king, and of all the fine
things that he should have and do in years to come.
Then after a silence Rupert spoke, in the darkness:--
"Good Aunt Sybil, I ha' been thinking, if 'twere not for what Merrylips
did and I did mock her for, I should never ha' been more than a
horseboy all my life."
And he went on, with his head against Lady Sybil's knee:--
"For if she had not had the heart to pity Dick Fowell, why, then, she
had never known him. And so, at Ryeborough, he had been but as any
rebel officer, and she had never dared call on him for help. And," he
said truthfully, "I know not what would ha' happened me then, there
at the Spotted Dog. But surely we should never have come into Lord
Caversham's presence, and there would 'a' been none to say with surety
that I was my father's son. So 'tis all thanks to Merrylips that I am
here, because she had pity on Dick Fowell. Had you thought on that,
good aunt?"
"Why, indeed, I may have thought it, Robin, lad," said Lady Sybil, and
in the darkness Merrylips felt her cheeks burn hot.
Now the next day was Christmas, and when Merrylips woke, she went to
the wardrobe to take down her Tibbott clothes. But just then Lady Sybil
came into the chamber, and with her came Mawkin. Across her arm Mawkin
bore a little gown of russet velvet. It had puffed sleeves and a short
bodice, and the square neck and short sleeves were edged with deep lace.
"Oh!" said Merrylips. "'Tis for a little girl. Is it for me?"
"For thee. A fairing that I brought thee out of France," said Lady
Sybil.
Merrylips looked up from the dainty gown and laughed.
"Indeed," she said, "I fear you are bribing me, godmother, not to wear
my Tibbott clothes."
"Nay," said her godmother, "don them this day, at whatever hour liketh
thee best. Thy mother hath given her free consent."
Merrylips looked at the blue doublet and breeches, and she looked at
the gown of russet velvet. She hesitated, for indeed she wished to do
as she had planned. But the russet gown was pretty, and she did not
like to slight her godmother's gift. Besides she had all day in which
to wear her boy's dress.
So she let herself be clad in the velvet gown. There went with it a
fine wrought smock, and silken stockings, and dainty shoes of soft
brown leather. Last of all Lady Sybil fastened round her neck a slender
chain of silver, with a tiny heart-shaped pendant.
"Wear this, dear, in the place of the ring that thou hast worn so
long," she said. "And that I will lay by for now, with our Robin's
ring--" for so she called Rupert--"until such time as thy finger is big
enough to fit it snugly, and then thou shalt have it for thine own."
In the velvet dress, it seemed to Merrylips, when she glanced into
the mirror, that she looked taller and older. So she bore herself more
shyly and quietly than ever she had done. She would make up for it, she
thought, and romp with the noisiest, when she had put on the Tibbott
clothes.
But she was glad that she had put on the girl's dress first. For that
Christmas morning there was dancing in the long east parlor. And
Merrylips danced a minuet with Munn. She was much afraid lest she had
forgotten Lady Sybil's teachings and should make false steps and vex
him. But she found that she could dance fairly, and Munn was very
gallant to her. Then Flip would dance with her too. And Merrylips found
it no less pleasant to be treated courteously by her brothers than to
go to fisticuffs with them.
Of course there was great feasting that day in the hall at Walsover.
But at last the candles were lit, and the women rose and left Sir
Thomas and his officers to drink their wine. But before they left the
room Sir Thomas stood up in his place and proposed a health to Lady
Sybil Fernefould. All those who were present must have known of her
courage and her devotion to the cause they served, for they drank
her health, every man of them, with full honors and cheers that made
Merrylips' heart beat quicker.
When Lady Sybil had thanked them, sweetly and fairly, Captain Norris
leaned across the table and spoke in a low voice to Sir Thomas. Sir
Thomas smiled and called Merrylips to him.
She went gravely, in her girl's frock. Under so many eyes she was
glad that it was a girl's frock. Her father helped her to stand upon
the stool beside him. Then Captain Norris, who she thought had quite
forgotten her, spoke respectfully, as if he spoke of a grown woman, and
bade them drink a health to Mistress Sybil Venner, a brave and loyal
servant of the king!
She could not believe that it was for her that the cups were drained,
and the swords flashed out, and the cheers given. She looked at all the
faces that were turned toward her--Captain Norris, and Captain Brooke,
and Crashaw, and Slanning, and Dick Fowell, and her brothers, and all
her father's officers, kinsmen and friends whom from of old she knew.
She pressed her two hands to her throat, and for an instant she wanted
to cry.
She could not speak as Lady Sybil had spoken to thank them. She put out
her two hands uncertainly, and then, for it was Christmas, when men's
hearts are tender to little children, they came to her, one by one,
those tall officers, and kissed her hand, with all courtesy.
Well, it was over, all but a memory that she should never lose! She
was out of the hall, and up in her chamber. There presently Lady Sybil
sought her, and found her on her knees, by a chest that stood beneath
the window. She was folding away the little suit that Tibbott Venner
had worn.
"Little--lass?" said Lady Sybil, and stroked her hair.
"Yes," said Merrylips.
Her face was still rosy, and her eyes sparkled with the thought of what
had happened in the hall.
"For since I cannot be a boy," she hurried on, "I will not play at
being a boy. Besides, there be some things that a truly boy must do and
bear and see--Oh, godmother! There at Monksfield, that day when I found
Dick--I knew then that I was fain to be a girl.
"And some things too," she added, in a lower voice, "a girl may have
perchance that belong not to a boy. Oh, godmother, is't strange and
wicked that I should think so?"
"Nay, not strange," said Lady Sybil, "nor all wicked, perchance. Only
see to it that thou still art brave and true, even as a lad."
"Or as you are, sweet godmother," whispered Merrylips. "Surely you
are as brave and loyal, every whit, as if you were a soldier like my
father. And I'll try to be such a gentlewoman as you--indeed I'll try!"
So speaking, Merrylips shut the lid of the chest. She smiled, but she
gave a little sigh, too, as she said:--
"Fare thee well! I'm a lass--godmother's lass--henceforth! Fare thee
well, Tibbott Venner, forever and ever!"
Printed in the United States of America.
* * * * *
Books by BEULAH MARIE DIX
MERRYLIPS
LITTLE CAPTIVE LAD, A. Ill. by Will Grefe.
SOLDIER RIGDALE. Ill. by Reginald Birch.
BLITHE MCBRIDE. Ill. by J. Henry.
HUGH GWYETH: A ROUNDHEAD CAVALIER. Ill. by James Daugherty.
TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS, THE. Ill. by Blanche Greer.