“This time it will have to be a tale I remember hearing grandmother
tell,” said the miller one evening, “for I’ve left my book in the town.
The cover was so battered that it had to be mended.”
They were sitting on the steps of the mill. Every week now, and
sometimes twice between Sunday and Sunday, they spent a delightful time
with their friend. Little Peter thought he was the finest man in the
world; and Janet, though she said little, was quite sure there was no
one like him. And, indeed, they were not far wrong, for he was the most
splendid miller that anybody ever saw; he was like a big boy at heart,
though he was a grown-up man with a mill of his own and a horse and cart
in the stable.
There was once a square house (he began) that stood in a garden. Outside
the garden were great trees which had been there for more than a hundred
years, and when the wind blew high and the gales raged in the autumn,
they swayed about and creaked so that anyone might think they must fall
and crush everything near them; but they never did. Up in the top story
of the house was a row of windows belonging to the rooms where the
children lived, and, as the blinds were often left up, you might see the
lights inside and the shadows of the nurse and the little girls moving
about.
Now, high up in the highest tree visible from the nursery lived a family
of Bogeys. They were very nice people. There was Father Bogey and Madam
Bogey and young Master Bogey, their son.
The children had no idea that they lived there, for they never showed
themselves, but lurked hidden in the dark shadows of the boughs. When
the wind blew they swayed hither and thither with the branches, and when
the nursery blinds were up and the firelight shone behind them, Master
Bogey, who was inquisitive, would sit staring and trying to make out
what was going on in the room.
“How I should love to get in and see what it is like!” he would say to
his parents.
And Madam Bogey would answer: “Nonsense! Your father and I have lived
here for ages, and have never tried to get in. We know very well what is
our business and what is not. You can see the little girls every morning
as they come down the avenue with their nurse, and you know that their
names are Josephine, Julia and Jane. What more can you want?”
And Master Bogey would say no more. But that did not prevent him from
being as inquisitive as ever.
Every day as the little girls came out for their walk he would peer down
on them, unseen. Each had her doll in her arms, and the two elder ones
would talk to theirs and carry them as carefully as though they were
babies. But Jane was always scolding hers; once, even, she threw the
poor thing roughly on the ground. She did not suspect for a moment that
Master Bogey was looking down at her, horrified.
At last, one night in winter, his curiosity grew more than he could
bear; for he had not heard the front door bolted nor the key turned, and
he knew that he might never have such a chance of getting into the house
again. The snow lay deep, and his parents were snoring in the fork of
the branches in which the family spent the winter months. Overhead, the
stars were clear and trembling in the frost and the nursery firelight
shone red through the curtains. He slid down, ran across the white
ground and up the front-door steps. Yes, the handle went round in his
grasp, and in another moment he was standing in the hall.
It was easy to see that the servants had been careless that night; not
only was the door unlocked, but the lamps were left burning too. As
Master Bogey paused at the foot of the wooden staircase, it was all he
could do not to turn and run, for the wall beside it was hung with
family portraits of fierce gentlemen and bedizened ladies who stared at
him dreadfully. But he was a sensible fellow, and, as most of them were
half-length pictures, he decided that people who had no legs couldn’t
run after him. He ventured to touch one, and, finding it wasn’t a living
thing at all, he grew as bold as brass and began to look about him.
Christmas was not long over; the yew and the holly were still wreathed
above the frames, making him wonder how these little pieces of trees
could have got inside the house. There were swords and spears and old
fire-arms too, whose use he could not understand. Up he went softly,
nearly jumping out of his skin when a step creaked under his foot, and
he found himself at last on the nursery threshold. The door was ajar and
the firelight bright in the empty room, so in he went.
But suddenly he gave a most terrible start, for the room was not empty
at all; three dolls were sitting on three chairs, watching him intently,
and two of them were looking very severe.
“May I ask, sir, who you are?” demanded the one nearest to the hearth.
Master Bogey was speechless. He turned to run away.
“Stop, sir!” cried the doll again, “and be good enough to answer me, or
I will alarm the house. Who are you? I insist upon knowing.”
“I am Master Bogey,” he stammered.
“La! what a name!” exclaimed the doll upon the next chair. And she held
up her fine satin muff and giggled behind it.
“Yes, and what a shock of hair!” said the other. She held up her muff
and giggled too.
Poor Master Bogey was ready to cry.
The two dolls who had spoken were almost exactly alike: they had round
pink faces and round blue eyes; on either side of their cheeks hung
beautiful golden curls—no wonder they laughed at the black mop on his
dusky head. They really were the most elegant ladies. They wore frilled
silk pelisses, with handsome ruffles at the neck; large silk hats, tied
under their chins with bows, and enormous sashes. On their feet were
openwork socks and bronze shoes with rosettes; their muffs we know all
about. The only difference between them was that one was dressed in blue
and the other in pink. Their mouths were like rosy buttons; to look at
them, who could guess that such rude words had ever come out of them?
(My grandmother always used to make that remark, for she had a good
bringing-up and knew manners.)
The third doll was not nearly so fine as her companions. To begin with,
she had no muff, and her sash was tied round her waist, and not halfway
down her skirt, which showed at once she was out of the fashions in the
doll world. Her frock was plain and torn and she had lost one shoe; all
the same, she had a dear little face. When she saw poor Master Bogey’s
downcast looks, she got off her chair and went to him.
“Don’t mind what they say,” she said. “They have just got new dresses
and it makes them proud. They mean no harm. Your hair is very nice, and
it is a great blessing to have so much.”
You may fancy how grateful Master Bogey was!
She held out her hand, and he took it.
“Come,” she said, “let us go and sit at the other end of the room. You
are a stranger, and I have heard nurse say that one should always be
polite to strangers.”
[Illustration: “SHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT.”]
So they went, and the ladies in blue and pink cried out “Pooh!” very
loud and both at the same time.
“Take no notice,” whispered the doll.
It was not long before she persuaded Master Bogey to confess his
curiosity about the house and the people in it, and he began to enjoy
himself immensely. He heard all about the pictures that had astonished
him so much, and how the holly and yew branches had managed to get on to
the frames, and about the Christmas party which was just over. He saw
the rocking-horse, and even had a ride on it; the cupboard where nurse
kept the jams for tea, and the door which led to the attics overhead.
But the most delightful part of all was when he led his companion to the
window and showed her the tree in which he lived standing black in the
whiteness and the starlight.
“You can’t see my parents, for they are asleep,” he remarked; “but I
_think_ that round sort of bump where the branches fork is the back of
my mother’s head. I wish you could see all of it.”
“Does she know where you are?” asked the doll.
“Well, no,” replied he, “she doesn’t; she had gone to bed when I left,
and I really couldn’t wake her. But I’ll tell her everything in the
morning, and all about you, and how charming you are.”
“I’m afraid she’ll punish you,” said the doll, sighing. “I only hope she
won’t throw you out of the tree.”
“Gracious!” cried Master Bogey, “what an idea! Why, my mother is the
best mother in the world! I know what put that into your head, all the
same. I saw one of the little girls throw her doll on the ground once,
when I was looking down from the branches. It wasn’t you, I trust?”
“Indeed it was,” said she; “that was Miss Jane, and I am her doll. I am
very unhappy, for she is dreadfully cruel to me. Sometimes she bangs me
on the floor and puts me in the corner for hours. And look at my
clothes! The others are lucky—they belong to Josephine and Julia. They
have each got a new dress, but this ragged one is all I have, and only
one shoe.”
The tears ran down her face, poor little thing!
“Show me Miss Jane, and I will go and kill her!” cried Master Bogey, in
a rage.
“Oh no, no!” begged the doll. “If you did that, I might be thrown away.
No one would care to keep a shabby thing like me. I might be flung into
the ashpit.”
“I would soon go and fetch you if you were,” said Master Bogey
gallantly. “But show me Jane; if I could even shake my fist at her I
should be happier.”
“Will you promise not to do any harm if I take you to the
night-nursery?” said she.
He promised, and they went, hand in hand, down the long passage to the
room where Josephine, Julia and Jane slept.
They went in on tiptoe. The sisters were sleeping in a row in their
little white beds with frilled curtains; they really looked very pretty
with their hair lying spread upon the pillows.
“That is Josephine,” said the doll, pointing to the eldest, “and the
next is Julia, and the one nearest the door is Jane, my mistress.”
Josephine and Julia were smiling in their sleep, but as they looked,
Jane turned over and tossed, grinding her teeth.
“I am afraid she is having a bad dream,” explained the doll.
“Serve her right! I wish she could have two at once!” said Master Bogey.
At last he thought it was time for him to be getting home, and the doll
said she would go down with him to the hall. He was very sad, for he did
not know when he should see her again; and she was sad, too.
“The very first time they leave the door open I will come back,” said
he.
“Oh, I hope it will be soon!” she said. “Whenever Jane is bad to me I
will think about you, and every night I will look out and try to see
you.”
“And I will look for you,” replied Master Bogey, as he slipped out of
the front door.
Next morning he told Madam Bogey all that he had done, and, though she
read him a long lecture on curiosity, she could not help being
interested.
“A good whipping is what Jane wants,” she remarked, “and if I were her
nurse she should get it.”
Every night the doll and Master Bogey looked across the snowy space to
try and get a glimpse of each other, but, though he could see her
against the firelight through the windows, she could not see him where
he sat in the dim tangle of branches. Madam Bogey watched too, but she
was short-sighted and soon gave it up, though her good heart ached to
think of the poor little creature and all she had to endure. She and
Master Bogey talked about it a great deal.
One night, as he looked from his tree towards the nursery, he saw Miss
Jane, with one of her sisters, standing by the window-sill. He knew it
was Jane, because she was the only one of the little girls who had a
pigtail; he could see its outline as it hung behind her head, with a bow
sticking out, like a fat insect, at the end of it.
Each had put her doll to stand on the window-sill, inside the pane. He
couldn’t tell whether it was the blue or the pink lady who was there,
but he saw the shadow of a smart hat. He hoped very much that his friend
was looking out for him, and he waved his hand. All at once she slipped
on the sill and fell out of sight! He saw Jane stoop down, her pigtail
sticking out farther than ever as she did so, and drag her up by the
arm, shaking her—oh, so cruelly! She began to slap her, first on this
side, then on that; he almost fancied he could hear her crying. Again
and again she struck her, and Master Bogey shouted and threw up his arms
in despair. Oh, how hard it was that he could not reach her!
“Mother!” he cried. “Oh, mother! Look! look!”
Up came Madam Bogey, hurrying to see what was the matter with her son.
When she saw how dreadfully the poor doll was being treated, she was
almost as angry as he was; and after Jane and her sister had disappeared
from the window with their dolls, she still sat talking to him. It was
quite late when he went to bed at last, and she stayed beside him and
held his hand. He cried himself to sleep with rage and pity.
Now, Father Bogey had been away for some time on business, and when he
returned next day his wife and he had such a long consultation that
Master Bogey thought it would never be done. They sent him to a
different tree while it was going on. He sat there rather crossly,
looking at them as they nodded and shook their heads and nodded again.
He knew it was all about something very interesting. When they called
him back he was quite pettish.
“Sit down, boy,” his father began, very solemnly, “and try to look more
intelligent. When I was your age I was setting up house. As you are an
only child I have tried not to spoil you, and I may say that, on the
whole, you have been a good son; but now it is time you were settled. I
hear from your mother that you have made the acquaintance of a young
lady in the house opposite. From what you have told your mother of her
manners, she must be of a good disposition and naturally refined. If you
have any mind to marry her she shall have a hearty and fatherly welcome,
and your mother and I will give up the whole of the top branches to you.
You had better think it over.”
Master Bogey did not take long to do that. He clapped his hands with joy
when he thought that he might see his dear doll again, and never part
from her any more, for he knew that she would be thankful to escape from
cruel Jane and the rude ladies in blue and pink. The only difficulty
was, how was he to get at her?
Evidently the servants had been blamed for their carelessness. Since his
adventure the front door had been locked and the windows bolted as soon
as it grew dark. He ran round the house every night, looking eagerly for
some chink or crack large enough for him to squeeze himself in through;
but there was nothing big enough, for he was a well-grown lad, and as
tall as his father.
At last a bold plan came into his mind. He decided to get in in broad
daylight, hiding in some empty room till everyone had gone to bed and
then making his way to the nursery. As soon as he could persuade his
love to elope with him, they would steal downstairs, unlock the front
door, and let themselves out. When he told Madam Bogey of this plan she
was in a dreadful state, and said it was much too dangerous; but he was
determined. It is terrible to think what love will do!
So one afternoon he began to make his way to the house by short stages.
From tree to tree he dodged, and just before dusk he had reached a small
yew growing in a shrubbery near the front-door steps without being seen
by anyone. He heard the great bell clang which called servants and
stablemen to tea; and when he thought they were all safe in the
servants’ hall, he flew up the steps like a lamplighter, and in at the
door. Opposite to it was a large drawing-room, which the doll had told
him was never used in winter, and in he went. There was a sofa there,
with a long chintz cover touching the floor; and he crawled under this,
and lay down as still as a mouse. How his heart beat when a maid came to
draw the curtains! How he longed to catch her by the ankle and make her
scream! But he did nothing so silly; he only lay and longed for the
night, when he might get upstairs.
It was so still that his own footsteps made him jump. It was quite dark,
too, as the lamps were out, and he could only feel his way; but he got
safely to the top of the nursery stair, and began tiptoeing up the
passage. A chink of light under the day-nursery door showed him the fire
was still in.
One thing is certain, and that is that luck favours brave people. Master
Bogey went in, and the first thing he saw was his dear doll at the
window, looking out, no doubt, for a glimpse of himself in the tree. The
pink lady and the blue lady were asleep in their chairs by the hearth,
their eyes shut, their muffs in their laps and their hats tied firmly
under their chins.
The poor doll ran to him and put her arms round his neck. She looked
very woebegone and her clothes were more tattered than ever. She had no
shoes at all now.
“I’ve come to take you away,” said Master Bogey. “You must come back to
my tree and we will be married at once, and then I can see you every day
for the rest of my life.”
“Do you _really_ mean it?” asked the doll.
“Yes, yes!” cried he. “Come at once, this very moment, before anyone
catches us. My father and mother are waiting for you, and we are to have
the top branches to live in.”
The poor little thing could hardly believe her ears. She liked Master
Bogey better than anyone she had ever seen, and now she was going away
from cruel Jane, and the blue and pink ladies, who sneered at
everything. She held his hand tight and they went stealing out. She was
so happy she did not know what to do.
They felt their way along safely till they got almost to the hall, and
then, alas! alas! Master Bogey missed his footing on the last flight of
stairs and rolled from the top to the bottom. Bump, bump, he went, and
landed in a heap on the mat. He had just time to pick himself up before
a door opened and the mother of Josephine, Julia and Jane came out of
her bedroom with a candle in her hand. She could not see into the hall,
but she began to come downstairs.
Master Bogey and the doll went straight to a corner where rows of coats
hung from pegs, and got behind the thickest fur cloak they could find.
He took her up in his arms, so that her little white feet should not
show underneath it; his own black ones he kept quite still. In the light
of the candle they only seemed like dark shadows.
The lady held up her light and looked round. She was much prettier than
any of her daughters, and though her hair was now in a pigtail like
Jane’s, it really suited her. She peeped under tables and behind chests,
and then she came to the row of cloaks and began prodding them to see if
anyone was hidden behind them. It was an awful moment.
What saved them was the fact that Bogeys are seldom very tall; though
young Master Bogey was such a fine-grown lad, he was scarcely three feet
high. Jane’s mother prodded the cloak just above his head and passed on
without feeling anything. Just then a man’s face looked over the
banisters above.
“What are you doing there?” cried Josephine, Julia and Jane’s father.
“I thought I heard a noise,” said the lady, “so I came to look.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “you are always imagining burglars. Go back to
bed, and don’t be such a goose.”
When she had gone, Master Bogey and his love came out of their
hiding-place. It took but a moment to unlock the door and draw the
bolts. They shut it softly after them and ran down the steps and out
into the shadows, where Father Bogey and Madam were waiting to embrace
their daughter-in-law.
Then they all went up into the tree, where, as I have heard, they lived
happily together ever after.