Walden
As Avelyn Watson is one of the central figures of this story, it will be
well to go back some months, and follow the events which preceded her
appearance at Silverside. Though apparently trivial enough, they are
important, because if they had not happened, she would have come to
school as a day girl instead of a boarder, and the part which fate put
into her hands to play could never have been acted.
It all began with Daphne forgetting to change her wet stockings. Daphne
had done many imprudent things before, and had suffered more or less
from them. This time Dame Nature, tired of having her laws flouted,
determined to teach her a lesson. The specialist who was called in to
consult with the family doctor made an exhaustive examination of the
case, then pronounced his verdict.
"She mustn't live in the town. If you want her to grow up into healthy
womanhood, a year or two in the country is an imperative necessity."
Up to the time when Sir Basil Hunter delivered this ultimatum, the
Watsons had always lived in Harlingden. Daphne and Avelyn could
remember the old days when Daddy had been alive, and Mother's hair had
been brown and not grey; and she had laughed as gaily and easily as they
did now. That was many years ago, and to David and Anthony, at any rate,
their father was little more than an enlarged photograph on the
dining-room wall. They had all been born in the comfortable, commonplace
house in Gerrard Square, and had taken it and its uninteresting view,
and its smoky little garden, together with the round of town life,
entirely for granted. Then the change came. Mrs. Watson, thoroughly
alarmed at the doctor's diagnosis, and nervous over the health of her
whole family, took immediate steps to carry out his advice. She let the
house in Gerrard Square, and removed into the country. The place she
selected was a tiny village named Lyngates, two miles from the station
at Netherton, and twenty miles away from Harlingden. Its pure air,
gravel soil, and record of sunshine were exactly what Daphne required;
the boys could go in to town every day by train, and thus continue at
King James's School, and Avelyn, who was sufficiently like Daphne to
make the fatigue of a daily train journey seem a risky experiment, could
be sent as a weekly boarder to Silverside.
By a most fortunate chance, Mrs. Watson came across the very little
property she wanted. It was an old farm-house, with a few outbuildings
at the back, and a field or two for poultry--the doctor had suggested
that Daphne should interest herself in poultry. It was smaller by far
than No. 7 Gerrard Square, but big enough for their requirements.
"With present war prices, and income-tax what it is, and four children
to educate, I consider I'm very wise to make the move," she decided,
"though I should never have had the courage to do it if Sir Basil Hunter
hadn't been so emphatic."
So the house, gardens, outbuildings, and fields that composed the small
holding were bought and paid for, and formally transferred by deed from
their former owner, George Hethersedge, yeoman, to the possession of
Helena Watson, widow, and the bargain was complete. That it was a
bargain the children had no doubt. So many extra things were included
that were never even mentioned in the title-deeds--the thrushes and
blackbirds and tits in the garden, the wagtails that flitted up and down
the little stream, the owls that sat and hooted in the elm tree at dusk,
the wild bees' nest in the bank, the ferns in the crannies of the old
wall, the morning view when the sun shone over the valley, and the calm,
quiet sunsets when the sky was aflame with rose and violet. It was the
most exciting experience to explore their new kingdom. They were always
making fresh discoveries. Up till now, beyond their annual summer
holiday at some seaside resort, they had had no practical knowledge of
the country. To live side by side with Nature was like being transferred
into another world.
To Mrs. Watson, no less than to her children, the change was welcome.
She had often pored over Nature books from the library, and they had
been wont to stir in her a vague yearning to get away from bricks and
mortar and chimneys, and spend a sylvan year somewhere far from the
sound of trams or steam hooters. She chafed sometimes against the
monotony of her daily shopping and household cares. She longed for lanes
and woods, but there seldom seemed time to go for walks at Harlingden;
it was a long way from Gerrard Square into the fields. We are such
creatures of habit, that it had never struck her to uproot herself and
reorder the lives of herself and her children; and if Daphne had not
forgotten her galoshes, and thus brought about the visit of Sir Basil
Hunter, the family might have remained town birds to the end of the
chapter. As it was, they stepped into a fresh inheritance. They named
the house "Walden", after Thoreau's famous _Walden_, a book which her
mother loved, and which Avelyn was just beginning to read and
appreciate; the magic of its radiant love of Nature, and the breadth of
its philosophy appealed to her strongly.
Though the Watsons' Walden was quite unpretentious, it was certainly
more comfortable than the shanty in Concord, Massachusetts, where Henry
David Thoreau spent his immortal two years and two months. There was a
sitting-room on each side of the little hall, a big kitchen and pantry
behind, and four bedrooms upstairs. Outside, across the yard, was a
cottage, with a lower room which could be used as a den for fretwork,
painting, carpentering, or the pursuit of any other cherished hobbies,
and an upper storey containing two extra bedrooms for emergencies. The
stable and barn were interesting, and held dim, cobwebby recesses, where
bats hung head downwards, and a brown owl sometimes perched blinking
upon the cross-beams.
In front was a small raised garden, bordered by a very wide ivy-covered
stone wall. The house stood on the slope of a steep hill, so that this
wall overtopped the road below like a crag. When you leaned your arms on
its golden sweet-scented ivy blossom, or sombre berries and smooth
leaves, you could look out over a tract of country that spread for
miles--green meadows, hazel copses bursting into leaf, thick woods that
hid the stream whose rushing waters yet made themselves heard, the reedy
reaches of a river, and fir-clad hills that melted faint and blue into a
misty horizon. There was a patch of gravel in front of the wall, and a
rustic garden seat, dilapidated, but firm enough for occupation. The
site made a natural outdoor parlour: a yew tree, grown slantwise with
the prevailing wind, formed an umbrella overhead. At the side of the
cottage, between the yard and the kitchen garden, purled a shallow
little brook, at the edge of which grew watercresses and marsh
marigolds. It was spanned by a bridge made of rough slabs of stone.
Beyond the stables lay a couple of small meadows, containing an upper
reach of the stream, and a little marshy tract interspersed with gorse
and alder bushes.
The Watson family had reviewed the whole premises slowly, critically,
and with unbounded satisfaction.
"It's the sort of place you read about in a novel," sighed Daphne, whose
tastes were romantic. "Somehow you feel as if anything could happen
here--interesting things, I mean. Mysteries and tragedies, and--and
even----"
"Love affairs!" finished Avelyn promptly. "Perhaps they may--sometime."
Avelyn was at the stage when life is full of dreams. It was her constant
amusement to imagine all kinds of delightful but wildly improbable
future happenings for Daphne, for herself, and for the boys. The number
of castles in the air which she constructed would have built a city.
They were all shadowy and unsubstantial, but none the less fascinating
for that. Walden appeared to her, as to Daphne, an appropriate setting
for golden visions.
David and Anthony, still in the age of blunt uncompromising frankness,
regarded the new home from a practical standpoint.
"It's top-hole!" decided David. "I'll have a thingumjig--what d'you call
it?--lathe, I mean, inside that cottage, and a joiner's bench. There's a
man in the village who says he's got one to sell cheap, and a vice with
it. I'm going to make a rabbit hutch, and all sorts of things."
"There are trout in that part of the stream up the field," beamed
Anthony. "Not very big ones, but certainly trout. I saw them jump. The
boy who brought the telegram yesterday told me that he catches them
with his hands. He knows of sixteen birds' nests on the road to the
station, and he's got a young hedgehog at home. I'm going to just sit
and sit in the field when it's getting dark till I see one for myself."
"I shall grow ten years younger when I've had a summer here," announced
Mrs. Watson to her flock. "You won't know your poor old mother very
soon. The country air's making her so frisky and juvenile, she wants to
run about like a girl!"
"_Do_, Muvvie darling! We love you in your skittish moods," implored
Avelyn. "When you wear that short skirt and that rush hat you don't look
a day older than Auntie Belle--truly! You never climbed up step ladders
in Gerrard Square!"
"I've begun to do many things I never did before," laughed Mrs. Watson,
"partly from necessity. If I could have found anybody else to go up the
step ladder, perhaps I shouldn't have tried. We've all got to work if we
want to make the place look nice. It'll be worth it when we've
finished."
Walden had been empty for two years before its owner sold it, and,
though it was in a fair state of repair as regarded masonry and
woodwork, it sadly needed decorating. The question of its repapering
and painting had been the one hitch in the proceedings, for, when Mrs.
Watson had sought to obtain estimates for its renovation, she found
that, in the present war-time shortage of workmen, no firm would
undertake to carry out a job so far in the country. For three horrible
days matters had seemed at a dead-lock, and the purchase of Walden (not
quite concluded) had trembled in the balance. But Daphne's white cheeks
brought all Mrs. Watson's native obstinacy to the fore. She was
determined not to be vanquished. She enquired in the village, and
secured the services of an old soldier who used to be handy-man at the
Vicarage, and with his experienced aid and the willing, though unskilled
hands of her young flock, she determined to do up Walden herself. She
secured lodgings for a few weeks at a farm close by, and the family
devoted the Easter holidays to the purpose. It was a new experience for
them, and they enjoyed it thoroughly. Armed with pails of distemper and
whitewash brushes, they splashed away at the walls, painted woodwork,
stained floors, or laid linoleum. They made a delightful discovery in
the dining-room, for, when they came to tear down the old wall paper,
they found an overmantel of ancient oak beams. The fireplace was large
and old-fashioned, with ingle nooks on either side, the woodwork had
been completely covered with paper and plaster, but when this was
cleared away, and it was cleaned, stained, and varnished, it presented a
most quaint and handsome appearance. The great beam that spanned the
hearth had a flat surface, and on this Mrs. Watson decided to carve a
motto. The family put their heads together over it for many days. They
looked up mottoes in books, and consulted their friends, but could not
find exactly the right one. Daphne and Avelyn were in favour of English,
but Mrs. Watson and the boys plumped for Latin, and finally evolved the
following:--
POST LABOREM HAEC REQUIES HAEC FELICITAS.
(After work, here is rest and happiness.)
"When you've finished your lessons in the evenings, we can make a circle
round the fire and talk about the day's doings; and it will seem a
centre for the whole house and for our lives," said Mrs. Watson. "I
believe this little home is going to be far more precious to us than
Gerrard Square."
To the children the doing up of the establishment was the utmost fun.
Thoreau himself could not have obtained more enjoyment from his "Walden"
than they did from theirs. There were many humorous incidents; as when
Anthony sat down in the colour wash pail, or when Daphne dropped a pot
of pink paint on the top of David's head, or when Avelyn poured in
paraffin by mistake, instead of methylated spirit, to thin the varnish.
It was a proud day when at last colour wash and paint were dry, and the
floor was swept and cleaned, and the vans arrived and the furniture was
carried in. Mrs. Watson had sold most of the heavy possessions which
they owned in Gerrard Square, and had bought in their place tasteful
antiques which suited the house far better, and gave it an air of quaint
culture and comfort. When all was arranged it looked a charming little
abode, and thoroughly in harmony, from the black beams of its ingle nook
to the carved settle and gate-legged oak table, or the framed samplers
on its walls.
Many surprising incidents happened in the first days of occupation. Very
early one morning, as Daphne and Avelyn lay in bed, they were awakened
by a tweeting and whirr of wings, and found that a pair of newly-arrived
swallows had flown in through the open window, and were whirling
overhead, evidently with designs on the big cross beam for nesting
purposes. The sight of the girls, who sat up in bed, seemed to annoy
them, for they twittered with anger, scintillated rapidly round the
room, then flashed out through the window into the spring sunshine.
"Well," exclaimed Daphne, "this certainly is living in the country!
Actually swallows in our bedroom!"
"The poor darlings!" declared Avelyn. "They've had a horrible
disappointment. They'd made up their minds to have their nest on that
beam. I remember Martin Jones pulled down a swallow's nest before he
whitewashed, and said they had built there last year, and had got in
because the window was broken. They must think we're dreadful intruders.
They were scolding us as hard as they could in bird language."
"Shall we hang out a notice: 'To Let, Eligible Quarters for Swallows'?"
laughed Daphne. "We might even put nesting boxes round the walls, and
extend the invitation to other birds."
To anyone who wished to study natural history, Walden certainly offered
advantages. There was a friendly robin that domesticated itself, and
would fly into the dining-room at meal times, hop on to the table, and
even perch upon the loaf. He would haunt the kitchen in quest of crumbs,
and grew so cheeky that when Ethel, the maid, who resented his
occasional flounders into her pudding dishes, drove him out through the
window, he would merely fly round the corner and pop in again through
the open door.
As at first the Watsons possessed neither dog nor cat, their garden
became for that spring at any rate a veritable bird sanctuary. A pied
fly-catcher built in the thatch of the summer-house, a pair of
gold-crested wrens swung their dainty cradle under a pine bough, a
nettle creeper nested in the long grass of the orchard, cole tits and
blue tits haunted the yew tree, a family of young water wagtails issued
from a hole under the stone bridge, and a wood pigeon took possession of
the top storey of a fir tree, to say nothing of the blackbirds,
thrushes, robins, and other everyday birds that availed themselves of
the hospitality of the bushes.
"I thought I owned Walden, but I'm beginning to doubt it," said Mrs.
Watson. "It seems to me that the wild creatures put in a prior claim,
and come unasked to share it."
"They're welcome, bless 'em!" murmured Avelyn, fondling a newly-fledged
and quite undismayed young missel-thrush, which she had temporarily
taken from its nest just outside the drawing-room window.
Some of the incidents which happened were decidedly funny. The Watsons
were not used to the country, and had to learn by experience. One
morning they had left some washing in the field, and found that a
neighbour's calves had strayed through a hole in the hedge and were
contentedly sucking stockings and pyjamas, and reducing them to a
jelly-like pulp. It took several sharp lessons before the family grasped
that cardinal rule of country life: "Keep your gate shut". On the first
Sunday of their occupation they had gone to church, and on returning had
strolled into the dining-room, to find three pigs comfortably in
possession. A wild scene ensued, for the intruders, instead of allowing
themselves to be chased through the door, careered madly round and round
the table, squeaking and grunting in protest, and finally jumped on to
the sofa, and made their exit through the open window, knocking over
books, work-baskets, and pots of geraniums in their hurried flight, and
completely flattening a bed of young pansies that had just been planted.
One night the family, who had sat up later than usual, heard stealthy
steps in the garden, and, fearful of burglars, issued forth in a body,
armed with the poker and other implements of aggression, only to find a
melancholy donkey cropping the grass beyond the laurel bushes, with
apparent appreciation of its superior juiciness.
These little adventures, however, added a spice of excitement to their
existence. They agreed that life at Walden was supremely interesting.
Daphne, who was nearly eighteen, had finished with lessons, and for the
summer term Mrs. Watson allowed Avelyn also to stay at home and run
wild. She had been growing fast, and a rest was considered good for her.
David and Anthony left the house every morning at half-past seven,
walked to Netherton Station, caught the train to Harlingden, and
proceeded to King James's School, where they spent the day and dined,
returning home by about six in the evening. They were sturdy boys of
fourteen and twelve, and enjoyed the daily expedition. Time had often
hung heavy on their hands out of school hours in Gerrard Square; it was
now agreeably filled in with a railway journey and a walk across fields
where birds' nests might be found, and where they sometimes saw stoats
and squirrels.
To the whole family the first sylvan spring and summer had been one long
round of delight. By the end of August they felt that town had faded
away from their mental vision, and that they had become "sons of the
soil".
In September Avelyn began school again as a weekly boarder at
Silverside. She had left The Hawthorns the preceding Christmas, and the
nine months' absence, with the intervening removal to Lyngates, had very
much blurred its memory. She had liked some of the girls, though she had
never made any really intimate friends there. She had been mildly sorry
to leave, but the regret had soon worn off. She had come to Silverside
quite ready to hallmark herself with the stamp of her new school, and
centre her interests there. To find that the greater part of "The
Hawthorns" was now incorporated with "Silverside", and that the boarders
identified her with her old set, had struck her somewhat as a shock.
What attitude she should adopt she could not quite determine. She wanted
to think over the situation carefully before she committed herself to
either side.