The children were not very fortunate in their nurse. Perhaps this
helped to make them feel lonely and dull sometimes, when there scarcely
seemed real reason for their being so. She was a good woman, and meant
to be kind, and their mother trusted her completely. But she was
getting old, and was rather tired of children. She had had such a lot
to bring up--the four big brothers and sisters of Rafe and Alix, and
before them a large family of their cousins. And I don't think she was
really very fond of children, though she was devoted to tiny babies.
She didn't in the least understand children's fancifulnesses or many of
their little ways, and was far too fond of saying, "Stuff and nonsense,
Master Rafe," or "Miss Alix," as the case might be.
The walk this afternoon would not have been any livelier than usual, so
far as nurse was concerned, but the children were so brimful of their
new ideas that they felt quite bright and happy, and after a while even
nurse was won over to enter into their talk, or at least to answer their
questions pretty cheerfully.
For though of course they had not the least idea of telling her their
secret, it was too much on their minds for them not to chatter round
about it, so to say.
"Have you ever seen a fairy, nurse?" said Alix; and, rather to her
surprise, nurse answered quite seriously:
"No, my dear. Time was, I suppose, as such things were to be seen, but
that's past and gone. People have to work too hard nowadays to give any
thought to fairies or fairyland."
But on the whole this reply was rather encouraging.
"You must have heard of fairies, though," said Rafe. "Can't you
remember any stories about them?"
Nurse had never been great at story-telling.
"Oh dear no, Master Rafe," she replied; "I never knew any except the
regular old ones, that you've got far prettier in your books than I
could tell them. _Sayings_ I may have heard, just countryside talk,
when I was a child. My old granny, who lived and died in the village
here, would have it that, for those that cared to look for them, there
were odd sights and sounds in the grounds of the old house down the
lane. Beautiful singing _her_ mother had heard there when she was a
girl; and once when a cow strayed in there for a night, they said when
she came out again she was twice the cow she had been before, and that
no milk was ever as good as hers."
The children looked at each other.
"I wonder they didn't turn all the cows in there," said Rafe
practically.
"Why didn't they, nurse?"
"Oh dear me, Master Rafe, that's more than I can tell. It was but an
old tale. You can't expect much sense in such."
"Whom did the old house belong to? Who lived there?" said Alix.
"Nobody knows," said nurse. "It's too long ago to say. But there's
always been good luck about the place, that's certain. You've seen the
flowers there in the summer time. Some of them look as beautiful as if
they were in a proper garden; and it's certain sure there's no wood near
here like it for the nightingales."
This was very satisfactory so far as it went, but nurse would say no
more, doubtless because she had nothing more to say.
"I do believe, Rafe," said Alix, when they were sitting together after
tea, "that the old garden is a sort of entrance to fairyland, and that
it's been waiting for us to find it out."
Her eyes were shining with eagerness, and Rafe, too, felt very excited.
"I do hope mamma will let us have all to-morrow to ourselves," he said.
"You see, one has to be very careful with fairies, Alix--all the stories
agree about that. We must go to work very cautiously, so as not to
offend them in any way."
"You're always cautious," said Alix, with a little contempt; "rather too
cautious for me. Of course we shall be very _polite_, and take care not
to spoil any of the plants, but we'll have to be a little venturesome
too. And," she went on, "you may count that they've invited us. The
wren brought a regular message. I only hope they're not offended with
us for not going to-day."
"If they're good kind of fairies," said Rafe sagely--"and I think
they're sure to be--they wouldn't have liked us to be disobedient; and
you know mamma's awfully particular about our coming in the moment we
hear the bell ring."
"Yes," said Alix; "that's true."
Mamma's heart was extra soft that evening, I think. She had seen so
little of the children lately that she was feeling rather sorry for
them, and all the more ready to agree to any wish of theirs. So they
had no difficulty in getting her consent to their picnic plan for
to-morrow. And the weather was wonderfully settled, as it sometimes is
even in England, though early in the year.
So the next morning saw them set off, carrying a little basket of
provisions and a large parasol, full of eagerness and excitement as to
what might be before them.
They did not cross the lawn as they had done the day before, for they
had a sort of feeling that they did not wish anyone to see them start,
or to know exactly which way they went. It added to the pleasant
mystery of the expedition. So they went straight out by the front
gates, and after following the high road for a quarter of a mile or so,
entered a little wood which skirted the grass-grown lane along one side,
and from which they made their way out with some scrambling and
clambering at only a few yards' distance from the entrance to the
deserted garden where they had last seen the wren.
The sight of the gate-posts reminded Alix of the bird, and she stopped
short with some misgiving.
"Rafe," she said, "do you think perhaps we should have waited for her at
the ilex tree? I never thought of it before."
"Oh no," said Rafe; "I'm sure it's all right. We've come to the place
she led us to. She didn't need to show us the way twice! Fairies don't
like stupid people."
"You seem to know a great lot about fairies," said Alix, who had no idea
of being snubbed herself, though she was fond of snubbing other people;
"so I think you'd better settle what we're to do."
"I expect we'll find the wren inside the gate," said Rafe; and they made
their way on in silence.
There was no difficulty in getting into the grounds, for though the gate
on its rusty hinges would have been far too heavy for the children to
move, there was a space between it and the posts where the wood had
rotted away, through which it was easy for them to creep. First came
Rafe, then the basket, next Alix, and finally the big parasol.
It was a good while since they had been in the Ladywood garden, and when
they had got on to their feet again, they stood still for a minute or
two looking round them. It was a curious-looking place certainly; the
very beauty of it had something strange and dream-like about it.
Here and there the old paths were clearly to be traced. The main
approach, or drive, as we should now call it, leading to where the house
had been, was still quite distinct, though the house itself was entirely
gone--not even any remains of ruins were to be seen, for all the stone
and wood of which it had been built had long since been carted away to
be used elsewhere.
But the children knew where the old hall had actually stood--a large,
square, level plateau, bordered on three sides by a broad terrace, all
grass-grown, showing in two or three places where stone steps had once
led down to the lower grounds, told its own tale. Along the front of
this plateau, supporting it, as it were, there was still a very
strongly-built stone wall banked up into the soil. The children walked
on slowly till they were near the foot of this wall, and then stood
still again. It was about five feet high; they seemed attracted to it,
they scarcely knew why--perhaps because it was the only remaining thing
actually to show that here had been once a home where people had lived.
"I daresay," said Alix, looking up, "that the children used to run along
the terrace at the top of that wall, and their mammas and nurses would
call after them to take care they didn't fall over. Doesn't it seem
funny, Rafe, to think there have _always_ been children in the world?"
"I daresay the boys jumped down sometimes," said Rafe. "I'd like to
try, but I won't to-day, for I promised mamma to take care of you, and
if I sprained my ankle it would be rather awkward."
They had forgotten their little quarrel, and for the moment they had
forgotten about the wren.
She was nowhere to be seen.
What was to be done?
"If we were only looking for a nice place for our picnic," said Rafe,
"nothing could be better than the shelter of this wall. With it on one
side, and the parasol tilted up on the other, it would be as good as a
tent."
"But we're not only looking for a picnic place," said Alix impatiently.
"The only thing to do is to poke about till we find _something_, for I'm
perfectly certain the wren didn't bring us here for nothing; and then,
you know, there's even what nurse told us about this garden."
Alix's words roused Rafe's energy again; for he was a trifle lazy, and
wouldn't have been altogether disinclined to sit down comfortably and
think about dinner. But once he got a thing in his head, he was not
without ideas.
"Let's follow right along the wall," he said, "and examine it closely."
"I don't know what you expect to find," said Alix. "It's just a wall,
as straight and plain as can be."
And so indeed it seemed from where they stood.
"I'll look all along the ground, in case there might be a ring fixed in
a stone somewhere, like in the _Arabian Nights_. That's a regular fairy
sort of plan," said Alix.
"Very well," agreed Rafe; "you can do that, and I'll keep tapping the
wall to see if it sounds hollow anywhere."
And so they proceeded, Alix carrying the basket now, and Rafe the
parasol, as it came in handy for his tapping.
For some moments neither of them spoke. Alix's eyes were fixed on the
ground. Once or twice, where it looked rough and uneven, she stooped to
examine it more closely, but nothing came of it, except a little
grumbling from Rafe at her stopping the way. To avoid this she ran on a
few paces in front of him, so that when, within a few yards of the end
of the wall, her brother suddenly stopped short, she wasn't aware that
he had done so till she heard him calling her in a low but eager voice.
"What is it?" she said breathlessly, hurrying back again.
"Alix," he said, "there's some one tapping back at us from the other
side. Listen."
"A woodpecker," said Alix hastily; "or the echo of your tappings."
She was in such a hurry that she didn't stop to reflect what silly
things she was saying. To tell the truth, she didn't quite like the
idea of Rafe having the honour and glory of the discovery, if such it
was.
"A woodpecker," repeated Rafe. "What nonsense! Do woodpeckers tap
inside a wall? And an echo wouldn't wait till I had finished tapping to
begin. It's just like answering me. Listen again."
He tapped three times, slowly and distinctly, then stopped. Yes, sure
enough there came what seemed indeed like an answer. Three clear, sharp
little raps--clearer and sharper, indeed, than those he made with the
parasol handle. Alix was now quite convinced.
"It sounds like a little silver hammer," she said. "Oh, Rafe, _suppose_
we've really found something magic!" and her bright eyes danced with
eagerness.
Rafe did not reply. He seemed intent on listening.
"Alix," he said, "the tapping is going on--a little farther off now, and
then it comes back again, as if it was to lead us on. It must be on
purpose."