'An' what o' that?'
'Then is it not against your pride to be a _coachman_?'
'Poor men must pocket pride, Master Charlie, as thou must learn some
day.'
'Well, father, I like it not. Are you _so_ poor, dear heart?'
'Ay, sweet heart, am I.'
'What makes ye so poor?'
'Ill luck, Master Charlie.'
'What in, is your ill luck, father?'
'In all things.'
'Dear heart alive, I'm sorry for ye! When I'm a man, father, you shall
go no more a-coaching; _I_ will work for you.'
'Ay, ay, my brave dear lad. I coach to win ye bread. We're poorer than
the world thinks. But tell them not this, Master Charlie, or they will
dun me.'
'Then I'll dun _them_!' cried the boy fiercely. 'I hate those bailiff
fellows; if they come here, I'll shoot 'em!'
'We'll fight 'em together, boy. See that _thou_ never hast the bailiffs
at thy heels. Here is Deb, _Lady_ Deb by courtesy. Mistress, my rose,
say good-morning to me.'
But Deborah was already in her father's arms.
'Deb,' cries Charlie, 'father drives a coach!' Then seeing Deborah's
round eyes: 'Now don't you clack, Deb; don't you go an' tell it to all
the world, else they will dun father.'
'O me!' Then Deborah's eyes flashed. 'That they shall not--never again!
But I tell you, father; I will coach beside you, and try to drive the
four brave horses! I will not let you work alone!' Deborah's arms were
round her father's neck; she showered kisses on his face.
'Off with ye!' cried Charlie, somewhat fiercely. 'You know that if any
one should coach with father, I should--not a baby like to you.'
'Hush!' said Sir Vincent, laughing. 'Thou art ever ready to fight. I
have spoiled ye both sadly; so Master Vicar tells me. But Deb, I cannot
have thee to help me, little one. Get Dame Marjory to teach thee all
the ins and outs of household work, and to trick thyself out bravely,
so thou wilt be thy father's pride, my rose of Enderby!'
But Deborah laid her head on her father's breast, caressing him.
'Father, you love Charlie best--Charlie is your darling.'
'Who told thee so, sweet heart?'
'My own heart.'
'_Dost_ love me best, father?' asked Charlie; he pushed his curly head
up on to his father's shoulder, and looked up with arch eyes into his
face.
Sir Vincent gazed at him. Ay, the father's rose lay upon his heart, his
'Lady Deb,' his darling; but that wilful rogue, that youthful inheritor
of all his own wild freaks and follies, that young ne'er-do-weel,
Charles Stuart Fleming, the plague of Enderby, was his own soul, the
idol of his darkened life. Sir Vincent pushed him roughly away, and
laid his hand on Deborah's fair hair. 'Love thee better? No; thou
graceless rogue!' he said. 'I love thee both alike. Sweet Deb, thou art
my darling too. Now be off with you both; and see that there is no more
gipsying or ruffling it while I am away; for Jordan Dinnage shall have
orders, if you disobey, to flog ye both with the rope's end; for nought
but that, I fear me, will curb the villainy of either one. Good-bye,
sweet hearts, an' see that ye stir not beyond the gates.'
The gipsies had vanished from that part of the country; not a trace
of them was left; for they knew Sir Vincent Fleming well, and fled
betimes. But Sir Vincent had not been gone three hours, when the
restless roving Charlie was scouring round the park on his pony, and
longing for some fresh adventure and wider bounds. Deborah and little
Meg Dinnage were running after him, and urging on the pony with many a
whoop and yell, with torn frocks and streaming hair.
'Deb,' cried the boy at last, pulling up, 'I am sick o' this. I am
goin' to ride to Clarges Wood, to look for Will; I shall cut across
yonder.'
'But you must not!' exclaimed Deborah; 'you have promised father not to
go beyond the gate.'
'I have never promised that,' said Charlie hotly; 'father asked me no
promise, an' I gave none. It is nothing o' the sort.'
'Nathless it was a promise,' quoth little Deborah stoutly, glancing
from Charlie to Meg Dinnage, and back in distress; 'for we said nought
when father said: "An' see you stir not beyond the gates;" but I kissed
him, an' I said: "I will not."'
'You did not say that, silly!'
'Nay, but to my own self I said it. Father has trusted us; so Dame
Marjory says.'
'I care not for Dame Marjory. I gave no promise; nor am I afeard of a
rope's end. If Jordan Dinnage beat me black an' blue, I'll go! But I'll
not see Jordan till father comes home. Father loves me too well to have
me flogged when he is by;' and with a laugh, Charlie turned his pony's
head; but Deborah sprang after and caught the rein. 'Charlie, Charlie,
stay!' she cried; 'father has trusted you to stay!'
But Charlie was across the boundary and far away; his laughter echoed
back. Deborah flushed, the tears almost started as she gazed after him,
but she kept them proudly back. Little Mistress Dinnage went up to
her playmate and took her hand ('Mistress Dinnage,' as she was called
for her little upstart ways and proud independence) and eyed Deborah
curiously. 'Don't cry,' said she.
'_Cry!_' echoed Deborah scornfully; 'I'm not cryin'.'
'He's a bad boy,' said Mistress Dinnage gravely, with a nod of her head
that way.
Deborah half rebelled at that, then: 'Charlie has broken his word!' and
she flushed again. 'God will never love Charlie. The evil one will take
Charlie to the bad place;' and the bright eyes glistened, but again the
tears were stifled back.
'Not if my dad beats him,' said Mistress Dinnage consolingly; 'then he
will be a good boy, and God will love him again.'
Deborah shook her head. 'Ah, Charlie will only be bad the more. He
laughs at Master Vicar, and cares for nought. But don't tell your
father, Meg, that Charlie's gone away; he will not be good the more for
that; God will not love him better. Charlie must himself tell father,
and that will make it right. So see that you don't tell Jordan, dear,
for I am afraid to see my brave one beat; I had rather have Jordan beat
me than him; it makes me _fear_ to see Charlie beat.'
'An' me too,' said Mistress Dinnage, with infinite relief. 'We will not
tell on Charlie; Charlie would call us "Sneak." Come an' play.'
And the two, putting aside their sorrows, cast care to the winds and
danced away.