Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Internet
Archive.
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
[Illustration: Book Cover]
THE ORIEL WINDOW
[Illustration: Title Page
THE ORIEL
WINDOW
BY MRS.
MOLESWORTH
ILLVSTRATED BY
L. LESLIE BROOKE
MACMILLAN CO.
NEW YORK 1896]
COPYRIGHT, 1896,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
To
AMY AND ARTHUR
MY MUCH-ESTEEMED OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS
19 SUMNER PLACE, S.W.,
June, 1896.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I A HAPPY WAKING 1
CHAPTER II THE PEACOCK'S CRY 17
CHAPTER III A STRANGE BIRTHDAY 35
CHAPTER IV WHAT THE SWALLOWS THOUGHT OF IT 53
CHAPTER V JESSE PIGGOT 69
CHAPTER VI A FAIRY TALE--AND THOUGHTS 79
CHAPTER VII AN UNEXPECTED PIG'S HEAD 100
CHAPTER VIII WELCOME VISITORS 119
CHAPTER IX "MY PUPILS" 137
CHAPTER X TAKING REFUGE 159
CHAPTER XI UNDER THE SOFA 175
CHAPTER XII ANOTHER BIRTHDAY 189
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
OFF FERDY WENT AGAIN, A LITTLE BIT FASTER THIS TIME 26
"WHAT IS IT, DEAR? DID YOU CALL ME?" 46
TOOK HER BACK TO COURT IN HER OWN CHARIOT 84
"I'VE DONE 'EM BEFORE FROM ONE OF THE OLD SQUEAKERS UP AT
THE FARM" 103
WATCHING THE SWEET SUMMER SUNSET 116
"WE WORKS IN A SHED THERE, IN A FIELD BY THE SMITHY ... AND
WE'RE AS JOLLY AS SAND-BOYS" 155
"STEP DOWNSTAIRS, IF YOU PLEASE, AND THEN I'LL HEAR WHAT
YOU'VE GOT TO SAY" 178
CHAPTER I
A HAPPY WAKING
I do not think you could anywhere have found a happier little boy than
Ferdy Ross when he woke on the morning of his ninth birthday.
He was always--at least almost always--happy, and he had good reason for
being so. He had everything that children need to make life bright and
joyous: kind parents, a dear sister, a pretty home, and, best of all, a
loving, trusting, sunshiny nature, which made it easy for him to be very
happy and loving, and made it easy too for others to love him in return
and to feel pleasure in being with him. But to-day, his birthday, the
fourteenth of May, he was very particularly, delightfully happy.
What a very long time it seemed that he and Chrissie had been looking
forward to it! Ever since Christmas, or New Year at least. That was how
he and Chrissie had settled to do about their lookings-forwards.
Chrissie's birthday was in September. She was a year and four months
older than Ferdy, so it fitted in very well. As soon as her birthday was
over they began the Christmas counting, and this in one way was the
biggest of all the year, for their father's and mother's birthdays both
came in Christmas week, and it had been found very convenient to "keep"
them and Christmas Day together. So Christmas Day at Evercombe Watch
House, which was Ferdy's home, was a very important day for more reasons
than the great Christmas reasons which we all join in.
And then when Christmas time was over and Ferdy and Christine began to
feel a little dull and unsettled, as children are pretty sure to do
after a great deal of pleasure and fun, there was Ferdy's birthday to
think of and prepare for; for it was not only just looking forward and
counting the days, or rather the months first, and then the weeks and
then the days to their "treat" times, that they divided the seasons
into; there were separate and different things to do, according to
which of the three parts of the year it was. For Christmas, of course,
there was the most to do--all the little things to get ready for the
Christmas tree as well as the presents for papa and mamma and lots of
other people. And for Ferdy's birthday Chrissie had always to make
something which had to be done in secret, so that he should not know
what it was; and for Chrissie's birthday it was Ferdy's turn to prepare
some delightful surprise for her. He was very clever at making things,
even though he was a boy! He was what is called "neat-handed," and as
this little story goes on, you will see what a good thing it was that he
had got into the way of amusing himself and using part of his playtime
in carrying out some of his inventions and ideas.
"I don't know how I should bear it, Ferdy," Christine used to say
sometimes, "if you were one of those tiresome boys that do nothing but
fidget and tease their sisters when they want to sit still and work
quietly for their dolls. Just think of Marcia Payne now. These two
_horrible_ boys, Ted and Eustace, think there is nothing so nice as to
snatch away her work and throw it into the fire or out of the window, or
to nearly _kill_ her poor dolls with their cruel tricks. I really don't
know how poor Marcia ever gets their clothes made, for it takes _all_ my
time to keep my children tidy, even though you never worry me," and
Chrissie sighed, for she was a very anxious-minded doll-mother.
Ferdy's presents to his sister were very often for her dolls, rather
than for herself, though, like most mothers, it pleased her much more,
she used to say, for her dear pets to be kindly treated than any
attention to their little mamma could do.
She was very amusing about her dolls. She used to talk about them in
such an "old-fashioned" way that if any grown-up person had overheard
her, I think they would have laughed heartily. But Chrissie took care to
keep all private conversation about her four girls and two sons for
herself and Ferdy only.
Besides these _big_ dolls, she had a large party of tiny ones who lived
in the doll house, and I think Ferdy's prettiest presents were for this
miniature family. These small people really were almost as much his as
Chrissie's, for he took the greatest interest in them, especially in
their house and their carriages and horses and in all kinds of wonderful
things he had made for them. Several of the doll-house rooms were
entirely furnished by him, and he was builder and paper-hanger and
cabinet-maker and upholsterer for Doll Hall, all in one. But now I think
I must return to the history of his ninth birthday.
The fourteenth of May--just about the middle of the month which is the
best loved, I almost think, of all the twelve. And oh it was such a
lovely day! Ferdy woke early--though not quite as early as he had meant
to do, for when he bade his sister good-night he told her he would be
_sure_ to knock at her door not later than five. But the sun was a good
way up in the sky when he did wake--so far up indeed that Ferdy got
quite a fright that he had overslept himself altogether, and it was a
relief to see by the old clock which stood on the landing just outside
his door that it was only half-past six.
"And after all," he said to himself, "now I come to think of it, I don't
believe mamma would have liked me to wake Chris so very early. I
remember last year, on _her_ birthday, she had a headache and was quite
tired by the afternoon with having got up so soon."
He rubbed his eyes,--to tell the truth he was still rather sleepy
himself, though it _was_ his birthday,--and downstairs he heard the
servants moving about and brushing the carpets. The schoolroom would
certainly not be in order just yet; it never took him very long to have
his bath and dress, and he knew by experience that housemaids are not
the most amiable of human beings when little boys get in their way in
the middle of their cleanings and dustings.
So on the whole Ferdy decided that the best thing to do was to go back
to bed again and not get up till Flowers--Flowers was Chrissie's maid,
and she looked after Ferdy too, since nurse had left to be married--came
to wake him at his usual time, for he could hear no sound of any kind in
his sister's room, though he listened well, outside the door.
It was very comfortable in bed, for May mornings, however lovely, are
often chilly. And as Ferdy lay there he could see out of the window,
and enjoy the sight of the clear bright sunshine and the trees moving
softly in the wind, their leaves glittering green and gold, and even
silver, as the gentle breeze fluttered them about. The birds too, they
were up and about of course; now and then there came quite a flight of
them, and then one solitary soarer would cross the blue sky up at the
very top of the window--he would see it for half a moment, and then it
disappeared again. On the whole, he had more view of sky than of
anything else from his bed, though when standing by the window he could
see a good long way down the road, and, by craning his neck a little,
some way across the fields past the church.
For the Watch House stood at the very end of the village, near the
church, so that strangers often thought it must be the Vicarage, and
envied the vicar for having such a charming home, whereas the real
Vicarage was a pretty but small cottage-like house, quite at the other
side of the church, and not nearly as old as it was, or as the Watch
House was.
_It_, Ferdy's home, was very, very old. And the story went that long
ago some part of it had really been a kind of watch tower, though there
was nothing remaining to show this except the name and the fact that you
could, from the upper windows especially, see a very long way. The
nicest window of all was one in Mrs. Ross's own sitting-room, or
"boudoir," as it was sometimes called. This was a corner room on the
floor just below the children's, and the beauty of it was this
window,--an oriel window,--projecting beyond the wall, as such windows
do, and so exactly at the corner that you could see, so to say, three
ways at once when you were standing in it: right down the village street
to begin with, and down the short cross-road which led to the church,
and then over the fields between the two, to where Farmer Meare's
duckpond jutted out into the lane--"the primrose lane"--as not only
Ferdy and Christine but all the children of the neighbourhood had long
ago named it. For here the first primroses were _always_ to be found,
year after year; they never forgot to smile up punctually with their
little bright pale faces before you could see them anywhere else.
Chrissie sometimes suspected that the fairies had a hand in it.
Everybody knows that the good people "favour" certain spots more than
others, and perhaps Chrissie's idea was right.
Any way this oriel window was a charming watch tower. Ferdy always said
that when he grew to be a man he would build a house with an oriel
window at each corner.
But again I am wandering from the morning of Ferdy's birthday, when he
lay in bed wide awake and gazed at as much as he could see of the
outside world, that lovely May morning.
It _was_ lovely, and everything alive seemed to be thinking so, as well
as the little hero of the day--birds, trees, blossoms--even the insects
that were beginning to find out that the warm days were coming, for a
great fat blue-bottle was humming away with the loud summery hum which
is the only nice thing about blue-bottles, I think. And not always nice
either perhaps, to tell the truth. If one is busy learning some
difficult lesson, or adding up long columns of figures, a blue-bottle's
buzz is rather distracting. But this morning it was all right, seeming
to give just the touch of summer _sound_ which was wanting to the
perfection of Ferdy's happiness as he lay there, rather lazily, I am
afraid we must confess--a little sleepy still perhaps.
What a nice beautiful place the world is, he thought to himself! How can
people grumble at anything when the sun shines and everything seems so
happy! In winter perhaps--well, yes, in winter, when it is very cold and
grey, there _might_ be something to be said on the other side, even
though winter to such as Ferdy brings its own delights too. But in
summer even the poor people should be happy; their cottages do look so
pretty, almost prettier than big houses, with the nice little gardens in
front, and roses and honeysuckle and traveller's joy climbing all over
the walls and peeping in at the windows. Ferdy did not think he would at
all mind living in a cottage, for Evercombe was a remarkably pretty
village, and to all outside appearance the cottages were very neat and
often picturesque, and the children had never been _inside_ any, except
a few of the clean and nicely kept ones where their mother knew that the
people were good and respectable. So they had little idea as yet of the
discomfort and misery that may be found in some cottage homes even in
the prettiest villages, though their father and mother knew this well,
and meant that Ferdy and Christine should take their part before long in
trying to help those in need of comfort or advice.
"I suppose," Ferdy went on thinking to himself--for once he got an idea
in his head he had rather a trick of working it out--"I _suppose_ there
are some people who are really unhappy--poor people, who live in ugly
dirty towns perhaps," and then his memory strayed to a day last year
when he had driven with his father through the grim-looking streets of a
mining village some distance from Evercombe. "That must be horrid. I
wonder any one lives there! Or very old people who can't run about or
scarcely walk, and who are quite deaf and nearly blind. Yes, they can't
feel very happy. And yet they do sometimes. There's papa's old, old
aunt; she seems as happy as anything, and yet I should _think_ she's
nearly a hundred, for she's grandpapa's aunt. She's not blind though;
her eyes are quite bright and smily, and she's not so very deaf. And
then she's not poor. Perhaps if she was very poor--" but no, another
aged friend came into his mind--old Barley, who lived with his already
old daughter in the smallest and poorest cottage Ferdy had ever been in.
"And he's quite happy too," thought the little boy, "and so's poor
Betsey, though she can't scarcely walk, 'cos of her rheumatism. It is
rather funny that they are happy. The worst of all would be to be lame,
_I_ think--'cept p'r'aps being blind. Oh dear! I _am_ glad I'm not old,
or lame, or blind, or things like that. But I say, I do believe the
clock's striking seven, and--oh, there's Flowers! I might have run in to
see Chrissie just for a minute or two first if I hadn't got thinking.
I--" but then came an interruption.
An eager tap at the door,--not Flowers's tap he knew at once,--and in
reply to his as eager "Come in" a rush of little bare feet across the
floor, and Chrissie's arms round his neck in a real birthday hug.
"Flowers is just coming. I meant to wake _so_ early. I've brought your
present--mine's always the first, isn't it, darling?"
And Chrissie settled herself at the foot of the bed, curling up her cold
toes, and drawing her pink flannel dressing-gown more closely round her
that she might sit there in comfort and regale her eyes on her brother's
delight as he carefully undid the many papers in which her present to
him was enfolded.
It was a very pretty present, and Ferdy's natural good taste knew how to
admire it, as his affectionate heart knew how to feel grateful to
Chrissie for the real labour she had bestowed upon it. "It" was a
writing-case, embroidered in silks of many lovely shades, and with a
twisted monogram of Ferdy's initials--"F. W. R."--"Ferdinand Walter
Ross"--worked in gold threads in the centre of the cover. It was a very
good piece of work indeed for a little girl of Chrissie's age, and
promised well for her skill and perseverance in days to come. Ferdy's
eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Oh, Chrissie," he said, "you've never made
me anything quite as pretty as this! How clever you are getting, and how
did you manage to work it all without my seeing?"
"It _was_ rather difficult," said Chrissie, with satisfaction in her
tone. "Ever so many times I had to bundle it away just as I heard you
coming. And do you know, Ferdy, it's a very ancient pattern--no, pattern
isn't the word I mean."
"Design?" said Ferdy. He knew some words of this kind better than
Chrissie, as he was so often planning and copying carved wood and
brasswork and such things.
"Yes, that's what I mean--it's a very ancient design. Miss Lilly drew it
for me from an old book-cover somebody lent her, and she helped me to
arrange the colours. I _am_ so pleased you like it, Ferdy, darling. I
liked doing it because it was such pretty work, but if it hadn't been a
present for you, I think I would have got tired of it--it _was_ rather
fiddly sometimes. And after working ever, ever so long, I didn't seem to
have done hardly any."
"I know," said Ferdy thoughtfully. "I think that's always the way with
any really nice work. You can't scurry it up. And it wouldn't be worth
anything if you could."
But just then there came a tap at the door, and Flowers's voice sounding
rather reproachful.
"Miss Chrissie," she said, "I couldn't think where you'd gone to. I do
hope you've got your dressing-gown and slippers on, or you will be sure
to catch cold."
"All right, Flowers," said Chrissie, "I'm _quite_ warm;" and as the maid
caught sight of the little pink-flannelled figure her face cleared, for,
fortunately for her peace of mind, the pink _toes_ were discreetly
curled up out of sight.
Who could expect a little girl to remember to put on her slippers on her
brother's birthday morning, when she had been dreaming all night of the
lovely present she had got for him?
"Many happy returns of the day, Master Ferdy, my dear," Flowers went on,
growing rather red, "and will you please accept a very trifling present
from me?"
She held out a little parcel as she spoke. It contained a _boy's_
"housewife," if you ever saw such a thing. It was neatly made of
leather, and held needles of different sizes, strong sewing cotton and
thread, various kinds of useful buttons, a sturdy little pair of
scissors, pins, black and white, small and large, and several other
things such as a school-boy might be glad to find handy now and then.
"Mother always gives one to my brothers when they leave home," said the
maid, "and I thought as no doubt Master Ferdy will be going to school
some day--"
"It's capital, Flowers," Ferdy interrupted; "thank you ever so much;
it's first-rate. I needn't wait till I go to school to use it. It's just
the very thing I'm sure to want when I go yachting with papa next
summer--this summer--in uncle's yacht. It's _capital_!"
And Flowers, who had not been very long at the Watch House, and had felt
rather uncertain as to how her gift would suit the young gentleman's
taste, smiled all over with pleasure.
Master Ferdy had certainly a very nice way with him, she thought to
herself.
"Miss Christine," she said aloud, "you really must come and get dressed,
or instead of being ready earlier than usual, you'll be ever so much
later."
And Chrissie jumped down from the bed and went off to her own quarters.