THE DAUNTLESS THREE.
The next morning Miss Sophronia kept her bed; her cold, she said, was
too severe to admit of her joining the family at breakfast. Margaret
waited on her with an uneasy sense of guilt in general, though she could
not accuse herself of any special sin. She did her best to be
sympathetic and dutiful, having been brought up to respect her elders
sincerely. But she was puzzled all the same, and when it came to any
question between her cousin and her uncle, there were no more doubts.
She must put herself out of the way as much as possible, and give up,
wherever her own pleasure was concerned,--where it was any matter
connected with Uncle John, she would be the Rock of Gibraltar. This
being settled, the Rock of Gibraltar brought raspberries for Cousin
Sophronia's breakfast, and made her room bright with flowers, and tried
to make cheer for her. The poor lady was rather subdued, and told
Margaret she was a cherub child; then declared she would not be a burden
on any one, and sent the girl away to "amuse herself."
"Be happy as a butterfly, my dear, all the morning; don't give me a
thought, I beg of you. If Frances would have a new-laid egg ready for me
at eleven--positively a new-laid one, Margaret! Perhaps you would bring
it yourself from the hen-yard. I have no confidence in servants, and it
would make a pleasant little trip for you. So important, I always say,
for the young to have something useful to mingle with their sports.
Boiled three minutes and a half, my love! I doubt if I can eat it, but
it is my duty to make the attempt. Bless you! Good-bye! If you happen to
have nothing to do about twelve, you might bring your work and sit with
me. I am the most sociable creature in the world; I cannot endure to be
alone when I am ill; but don't have me on your mind, my love, for a
single instant."
All the duties attended to, Margaret spent a delightful hour, with
Elizabeth's assistance, in making ready the rooms for the newcomers. The
little girl was to have Peggy's room, next her own, and that needed
nothing save fresh flowers in the vases, and fresh ribbons on the
curtains. But the boys were to have the old nursery, the great room that
ran across the whole width of the house, on the third floor. It was a
pleasant room, with dormer windows facing east and south, a great
fireplace, with a high wire fender, and a huge sofa, covered with red
chintz dragons. A funny sofa it was, with little drawers let in along
the sides. John Montfort and his brothers used to lie on this sofa, when
they had the measles and whooping-cough, and play with the brass
drawer-handles, and keep their treasures in the drawers. The windows
were barred, and there was a gate across the landing, at the top of the
stairs. Elizabeth had suggested taking away the gate and the bars, "such
big young gentlemen as these would be, most likely, sir!" but Mr.
Montfort shook his head very decidedly.
"If they are Montfort boys, Elizabeth, they will need all the bars we
can give them. Master Richard was twelve, when he squeezed himself
between these, and went along the gutter hanging by his hands, till he
came to the spout, and shinned down it. Never make things too easy for a
Montfort boy!"
In one corner stood a huge rocking-horse, with saddle and bridle of
crimson leather, rather the worse for wear. He was blind of one eye, and
his tail had seen service, but he was a fine animal for all that.
Margaret hunted about in the attic, and found a box of ninepins.
Marbles, too; Uncle John had told her that there must be marbles
somewhere, in a large bag of flowered purple calico, with a red string.
They had been there forty years; they must be there still. She found
them at last, hanging from a peg of one of the great beams. On the beam
close by was written:
"This is my Peg. If any Pig touches my Peg,
that Pig will be Pegged. Signed, JOHN MONTFORT."
"Oh," thought Margaret, "what a pleasant boy Uncle John must have been!
What good times we should have had together!" And then she reflected
that he could not possibly have been so nice a boy as he was an uncle,
and was content.
The marbles, and the rocking-horse, and--what else ought there to be?
Tops! Uncle John had said something about tops. Here Margaret screamed,
and fled to the attic door. Something was moving on the beam by which
she had been standing, perched on a chair. Something rolled slowly
along, half the length of the beam, and dropped to the floor and rolled
towards her. Laughing now, Margaret stooped and picked up a great ball,
a leather ball, striped red and black. On one of the red stripes was
written, in large, unconventional letters, "Roger." It was her father's
ball! Margaret held the toy very tenderly in her hands, and tried to see
the worn, thoughtful face she remembered so well, a rosy boy's face,
full of light and laughter. She had seen, yesterday, strangely enough,
her uncle's boyish looks, revealed in a flash of mischief; it was less
easy to see her father's.
As she stood meditating, the sound of wheels was heard outside. Margaret
ran to look out of the little gable window, then clapped her hands
together, in amazement and pleasure. The children had come!
When she reached the verandah, they were already standing there, facing
Mr. Montfort, who had come out by an early train, and was standing
looking at them with amused attention, holding the little girl's hands
in his.
"And what are your names, my dears?" he was saying.
"Basil, Merton, and Susan D.," replied the elder boy, promptly, while
three pairs of sharp eyes were fastened on the strange uncle.
"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" said Mr. Montfort under his breath.
He had no idea that any one could hear him, but a shriek of laughter
startled him, and made Margaret jump.
"That's what Puppa calls us!" cried Basil, springing lightly up and down
on the tips of his toes. "We didn't know whether you would or not; he
said you would pretty soon, anyhow. How do you do, Uncle John? We are
very well, thank you. I am thirteen, and Mert is twelve, and Susan D. is
ten. Puppa hopes we shall not be troublesome, and here are the keys of
the trunks."
The boy drew a long breath, and looked round him with an air of triumph.
"Well, I should think you would know it!" said his brother. "Been saying
it all the way over here."
"More than you could do!" retorted his elder.
"Wouldn't do it anyhow, so there!" said the younger.
[Illustration: "THE LITTLE GIRL HAD NEVER STIRRED, BUT STOOD GAZING UP
AT THE BIG MAN WHO HELD HER HANDS."]
These last remarks had been carried on in an undertone, the set speech
having been delivered slowly and with much dignity. Finally each boy
kicked the other's shins surreptitiously, and then both stared again at
their uncle. The little girl had never stirred, but stood gazing up at
the big man who held her hands so lightly and yet so kindly, and who had
such bright, deep, quiet brown eyes. Margaret, standing in the doorway,
scrutinised the three, and felt a sinking at the heart. Basil Montfort
was a tall boy for his age, slender and wiry, with tow-coloured hair
that stood straight on end, thin lips that curled up at the corners with
a suggestion of malice, and piercing gray eyes, which he had a trick of
screwing up till they were like gimlet points. The second, Merton, was
decidedly better-looking, with pretty curly hair, and blue eyes with an
appealing look in them; but Margaret fancied he looked a little sly; and
straightway took herself to task for the unkind fancy. The little girl
was Basil over again, save that the tow-coloured hair was put back with
a round comb, and the gray eyes widely opened, instead of half shut,
when she looked at any one. All three children were neatly dressed, and
all looked as if they were not used to their clothes.
"Well," said Mr. Montfort at last, after a long, silent look at each one
in turn, "I am very glad to see you, children. I hope we are going to be
good friends. Boys, I was a boy myself, just two or three years ago,--or
it may be four,--so you can ask me about anything you want to know.
Susan, I never was a girl, you see, but that need not make much
difference. Your Cousin Margaret--oh, here _is_ your Cousin Margaret!
She will be good to you, and--and in short, you are all very welcome to
Fernley, and there is a swing in the garden, and the rest you can find
out for yourselves."
Margaret came forward, and shook hands with the boys, and kissed the
little girl warmly. Evidently Susan D. was not used to being kissed, for
she blushed, and her brothers giggled rather rudely, till they caught
Mr. Montfort's eye, and stopped.
"Young gentlemen," said Uncle John, with an emphasis which brought the
blood to Basil's cheek, "dinner will be ready"--he looked at his
watch--"in an hour. I daresay they would like something now, Margaret;
crackers and cheese, gingerbread,--what? You'll find them something."
Mr. Montfort nodded kindly, and strode away to his study. Margaret was
left alone with the three strange children, feeling shyer than ever
before in her life. The meeting with the three cousins of her own age,
two years ago, was nothing to this.
"Are you hungry, boys?" she asked.
"Starving!" said Merton.
"He isn't," said Susan D. "He's been eating all the way, ever since we
left home. He's a greedy,--that's what he is." Then, scared at her own
voice, she hung her head down, and put her finger in her mouth.
"Oh, well," said Margaret, "I daresay you would all be hungry before
dinner-time, so suppose we come into the pantry and see what we can
find. Will you come with me, Susan, dear?" She held out her hand, but
the little girl evaded it, and followed in the rear, holding her own
hands behind her back.
"Will you call me Cousin Margaret?" the girl went on. "And shall I call
you Susie, or do you like Susan better?"
Susan not replying, Basil replied for her. "Susan D. we call her; but
Puppa calls her Sudden Death when she acts bad; she mostly does act
bad."
"Don't neither!" muttered Susan D., scowling.
"Do teither!" retorted both brothers in a breath.
"She ain't shy!" Basil went on. "She's sulky, that's all. Merton's shy,
and I ain't. I'll tell you things, when you ask me; they won't, half the
time."
"Well, I haven't asked you anything, yet, have I?" said Margaret,
smiling, and feeling more at ease with this boy, somehow, than with
either of the others. "What can you tell me that is pleasant about
them?"
"That's so!" said Basil, and his lips parted suddenly in a smile that
positively transfigured his plain face. "Well, Mert's the best boxer,
and he can sing and draw. I'm the best runner, of course, 'count of my
legs being long, you see." He held up a long, thin leg for Margaret's
inspection. "Some fellows called me Spider once, and Susan D. scratched
their faces for 'em. She's great at scratching, Susan D. is."
"My dear!" said poor Margaret. "I thought you were going to tell me the
pleasant things, Basil."
"Ain't I?" said the boy, innocently. "She was standing up for me, you
see. She always stands up for me; Mert is a sne---- well, what I was
going to say, she's a pretty good runner, for a girl, and she can shin a
rope too, better than any of us. Mert can hang on longest with his
teeth."
"What _do_ you mean, child?" cried Margaret, laughing. Basil flashed his
brilliant smile on her again.
"Tables," he explained. "Yes, please, crackers; and quite a lot of
cheese, please."
"Greedy Gobble!" interjected Merton.
"Well, I like that!" said Basil. "Who ate my sandwich, when I was
looking out of the window? I tell you what, I'd punch your head for two
cents, young feller!"
"Boys," said Margaret, decidedly, "I cannot have this! While you are
with me, I expect you to behave decently."
"Yes, ma'am!" said both boys, with ready cheerfulness; and Basil
continued his explanation.
"We see which can hang on to a table longest, don't you know, by your
teeth. Did ever you?"
"No, I certainly never did; and--I don't think you'd better try it here,
Basil. It must be very hard on your teeth, besides ruining the table."
"It ain't healthy for the table," Basil admitted. "You ought to see the
tables at home! It makes like a little pattern round the edge,
sometimes. Quite pretty, I think. Say, are you the boss here?"
Seated on the pantry dresser, swinging his legs, the young gentleman
seemed as much at home as if he had spent his life at Fernley. The two
other children were eating hastily and furtively, as if they feared each
bite might be their last. Basil crunched his crackers and nibbled his
cheese with an air of perfect unconcern. "Are you the boss here?" he
repeated.
"Am I in authority, do you mean?" asked Margaret, who could not abide
slang of any kind. "No, indeed, Basil. Your Uncle John is the head of
the house, in every possible way. I hope you are all going to be very
good and obedient. He is the kindest, best man in the whole world."
"I think he's bully," said Basil. "I guess you're bully too, ain't you?
And it's a bully place. Hi, Mert, there's a squirrel! Look at him
running up that tree. My! Wish I had a pea-shooter!"
"Bet you couldn't hit him if you had!" cried Merton, as all three
children watched the squirrel with breathless interest.
"Bet I could!" said Basil, contemptuously.
"Guess he could hit it when you couldn't hit a barn in the next county!"
cried Susan D. in a kind of small shriek; then she caught Margaret's
eye, blushed furiously, and tried to get behind her bread and butter.
"I say! can we go out in the garden?" cried Basil.
"Yes, indeed, but wouldn't you like to come up and see your rooms first?
Such pleasant rooms! I am sure you will like them."
But none of the children cared to see the pleasant rooms. Receiving
permission to play till they heard the dinner-bell, they fled suddenly,
as if the constable were at their heels. Margaret saw their legs
twinkling across the grass-plot. They were yelling like red Indians.
Susan D.'s hat blew off at the third bound; Basil shied his cap into a
bush with a joyous whoop, then snatched off his brother's and threw that
after it. Merton grappled him with a shout, and they rolled over and
over at the feet of their sister, who bent down and pummelled them both
with might and main, shrieking with excitement. As Margaret gazed
aghast, preparing to fly and interfere, she heard a quiet laugh behind
her, and turning, saw Mr. Montfort looking over her shoulder.
"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" he said. "Separate them? On no
account, my dear! They have been shut up for hours, and their muscles
need stretching. Don't be alarmed, my child; I know this kind." Poor
Margaret sighed. She did not know this kind.