[Cover Illustration]
All That Happened
In A Week
[Illustration]
_A Story for Children_
T. Nelson and Sons
[Illustration: “Do you live in that nice place among the baskets?”
_Page 51._]
ALL THAT HAPPENED
IN A WEEK _A STORY_
_FOR LITTLE CHILDREN_
By
Jane H. Findlater
❦
LONDON, EDINBURGH,
DUBLIN, & NEW YORK
THOMAS NELSON
AND SONS
_CONTENTS._
_I._ _The Arrival_, 9
_II._ _The Wasps_, 15
_III._ _The Doctor_, 20
_IV._ _The White Stones_, 27
_V._ _A Very Bad Child_, 32
_VI._ _A Day in Bed_, 41
_VII._ _The Adventure in the Lane_, 49
_VIII._ _The Ship_, 60
_IX._ _The Washing Day_, 69
_X._ _The Sea Beasts_, 79
_XI._ _The Last Day at Seafield_, 86
_All that happened in a week!_
CHAPTER I.
THE ARRIVAL.
One summer afternoon many years ago a child, called Peggy Roberts,
arrived at the door of her aunt’s house in an open carriage. Peggy was
just eight years old. She had been in the train since early in the
morning, and was very tired when the carriage stopped at the door of
Seafield. Then she noticed that everything round her was new and
different from things at home, and she forgot about feeling tired. The
house was exactly like the tea-caddy that stood on the dining-room
side-board at home, and had been brought from China by her uncle—that
is to say, it was quite square, and you felt as if you could lift off
the top like the lid of the tea-caddy.
[Illustration]
Right up to the windows there grew such a lovely rose-tree, covered all
over with branches of bright red roses.
“O Martin, let me get some of the roses!” Peggy cried, standing still on
the steps of the house.
Martin was her aunt’s maid, a stout, cross-looking woman, who always
refused to allow Peggy to do anything she wanted.
“No, no, Miss Peggy, come in for your tea; the roses are far too high
up,” she said. Peggy looked up at the beautiful dangling branches, and
her mouth went down at the corners; she thought nothing would make her
happy unless she got one of them.
It must have been because she was so tired that she began to cry about
nothing in this way. The coachman was more good-natured than Martin,
however, for he stood up on the box of the carriage and gathered a bunch
of the roses. “Here, missie,” he said, leaning down from his high seat,
and handing them to Peggy.
“Oh! oh! oh!” Peggy cried, burying her nose in the lovely red bunch.
But then something horrid happened: a whole family of great, fat, brown
earwigs came hurrying and dropping out of the roses, in the greatest
speed to get away. Down went the roses on to the steps, and Peggy cried
in earnest now.
There was nothing she hated like earwigs, and to have a whole nest of
them fall out on her frock was too much for her altogether. And then
Martin was so pleased.
“See there, Miss Peggy; that’s what you get for wanting to pick
flowers!” she said. But she did brush away the earwigs, and stamped upon
the biggest of them to Peggy’s great disgust. Then they went into the
house, and she had to speak to her aunt; and, of course, she had nothing
to say to her.
Tea was on the table. A different kind of bread was there from the
home-bread Peggy knew. She went and stood beside the table and looked at
it, then put out her finger and touched it.
“Don’t touch things on the table!” said Aunt Euphemia.
“I’m sorry!” said Peggy, and wanted to cry again. But the door opened,
and such an exceedingly nice cat came walking in, just as if the house
belonged to it, that she forgot all about crying.
She ran to the cat, and went down on her knees on the carpet to stroke
him.
“He is called Patrick,” said Aunt Euphemia; “take care that he does not
scratch you.”
But Patrick did not mean to scratch. He rubbed his big yellow face
against Peggy in the most friendly way, and then walked to the tea-table
and jumped up on a chair and mewed twice, very loudly, exactly as if he
were asking for his tea.
“Patrick is very punctual,” said Aunt Euphemia.
She poured out a saucer of milk for him, and put it on the floor. Peggy
sat down on the carpet to watch him take it. His little red tongue was
so rough and funny, she laughed out aloud at seeing it dart in and out
of the milk. Patrick never paused for a minute till he had licked the
saucer so dry that you would have thought it had been washed. Then he
licked his long, yellow whiskers, and walked away to the other end of
the room, jumped on to the sofa, and was fast asleep in a minute. Peggy
wanted to waken him, and make him play with her; but Aunt Euphemia
wouldn’t allow her. As her own tea was brought in at that moment,
however, she became interested in it.
Martin came in with Peggy’s pinafore, and glanced at the tea-tray while
she put it on. “I’ll just bring a kitchen cup for Miss Peggy,” she said,
adding aside to Aunt Euphemia, “_She’s an awfu’ breaker!_”
Peggy blushed hotly. She knew that she often broke things, but it was
horrid of Martin to remind Aunt Euphemia of it just then. She had wanted
to take tea out of one of those nice cups with the roses on them; it
wouldn’t taste a bit nice out of a kitchen cup. But it was of no use to
object. Martin always had her way, so the kitchen cup was brought, and
an ugly kitchen plate also. It was wonderful how good tea tasted after
all, and the strange bread had a nice salt taste, and the strawberry jam
was different too. Altogether, Peggy enjoyed tea very much.
When it was done, she went across to the sofa to see what Patrick was
doing. He opened his green eyes, and looked at her sleepily. One of his
paws was lying out on the cushion. Peggy took it up in her hand and felt
the funny little pads of black skin on his feet. She knew, because she
had a cat at home, that if you give a cat’s paw ever such a tiny squeeze
with your hand, its claws pop out from between the little pads of black
skin. She had sometimes done it to old Tuffy at home; so she gave
Patrick’s paw the tiniest squeeze possible, just to see the claws slide
out from their sheaths. But instead of receiving this in Tuffy’s kind
way, Patrick put out his paw in a furious rage at her, and buried all
his claws in her arm. Oh, what a howl Peggy gave, and what long, red
scratches appeared down her arm! Then Patrick jumped down from his
pillow with an angry fizz, and walked out of the room.
Aunt Euphemia rang the bell without a word.
“Martin,” she said, “put Miss Peggy to bed; she has been teasing
Patrick!”
And Peggy, sobbing with pain, went off to bed.
[Illustration]