THE JOURNEY TO THE HALL.
At length the day arrived for the journey of the children to Jubilee
Hall. It had seemed as if it would never come, so ardently did they
look forward to the visit; and now it was a picked day, so gloriously
sunshiny and fine, and with just enough breeze to prevent the heat
from being too oppressive.
The carriage, or rather the pony phaeton, stood already at the door,
and the children, impatient of delay, listened to the last words and
injunctions of their mother with somewhat less attention than was
their wont; for though they were often disobedient and wild, and
extraordinarily foolish, still they loved their mother with all their
heart; and when she pointed out their faults to them, they made
ardent resolutions of amendment, and determined to make their future
conduct so good and faultless, that all past errors or mischief
should be forgotten. But this morning their thoughts were busy with
the pleasures of Jubilee Hall and its thousand and one enjoyments, so
that their mother's words fell like hailstones on a glass roof, which
touch the surface for a moment only to rebound and fall at a greater
distance.
"Harry, love, you will be sure not to play any practical jokes while
you are away."
"Oh, mother!"
"Well, you know what I mean; not jokes which are either unkind or
mischievous: some jokes are quite innocent, while others do untold
harm."
"Oh, of course, mother; but the carriage has been at the door such
ages, and the horse is awfully fidgety."
"The horse is not half so fidgety as I am," replied their mother
smiling, "sending such a set of wild creatures into a strange house
full of company. But, Fred darling, you are the eldest of all, and
therefore I am sure you will try to behave well;--and don't burst
through any of Aunt Marian's rules so as to follow up your own fancy;
promise me that."
"I'll burst through nothing, I promise you, mother, unless it's my
clothes, and that I can't answer for, as Tracy has made all my
garments an inch smaller than usual."
"And above all, Fred," said Mrs. Malcomson, lowering her voice so as
only to be heard by her eldest son, "above all, Fred, you'll not
touch anything or go any place where you are forbidden, nor take
anything which is not strictly your own."
"Oh, mother, I never do so now."
"I know you have been much better lately, Fred, but still we have had
trouble more than once on that point; and though in this house things
may readily be forgiven and forgotten, in a strange house you might
lose your character and all your promised pleasure by one act of this
kind. Aunt Marian is ever so good-natured and generous, but she is
very particular about truth and honesty and uprightness; so you'll
remember all I have said, will you not, Fred?"
"I'll remember every word as right as a trivet, see if I won't.
Good-bye, old mother;" and with these words human endurance came to
an end, and Fred, throwing his arms around his mother's neck, rushed
out into the hall, and from thence with one bound was seated in the
phaeton outside.
Mrs. Malcomson hurried after her children to see that they were
safely stowed away, and that the coachman had the reins; for Fred was
not a particularly good whip, and Harry was too good a whip, for he
generally whipped the horse up into a furious gallop: and as Mrs.
Malcomson lifted Kathleen up into the hind seat of the phaeton beside
Harry, she whispered, "You'll remember, darling, all I said, and
remind the boys each night about their prayers."
"I will," nodded Kathleen, with rather tearful eyes; for now that the
moment for parting had come, she did not like leaving her mother's
side, to whom, when at home, she always clung like a shadow.
"You'll take great care of your sister, boys," cried she as the pony,
raising himself high in the air on his hind legs, made a plunge
forward, "and you'll not let her do anything foolish."
"Oh yes; we'll wallop her well if she does anything wrong, I'll
promise you. Good-bye once again, and write us awful long budgets of
home news," cried Fred.
"And tell old Mother Duffy to send us a stave to say particularly how
she liked her last cup of tea," shouted Harry as the phaeton turned
round the curve of the avenue and disappeared from sight.
Mrs. Malcomson also turned away with the good-bye smile still
lingering about her lips, and re-entered the porch. But ere she had
crossed the hall the smile had quite faded away from her face; for
dim misgivings began already to fill her heart, lest, after all,
instead of the pleasures so much anticipated by the boys, some
trouble might arise, either from their thoughtlessness or impatience
of restraint, which would make the visit end in disappointment and
distress; and, above all, her heart misgave her about Fred, whose
conscience was the most pliable of the three, and who sometimes, to
gain a desired end, would turn aside from the obstacle of truth, and
gain by crooked ways what he could never attain by straight.
But no misgivings of coming evil dimmed the brightness of the boys'
pleasure. On the contrary, their spirits rose at every fresh turn of
the road, which brought them nearer to their destination; and Brien,
the coachman, had by no means an easy time of it trying to keep their
hilarity within bounds.
Harry amused himself for some time in making the most appalling
grimaces at the passers-by, until a very irate old gentleman on
horseback rode up to the side of the phaeton and threatened to
horsewhip him if he went on with such tricks. Kathleen was so
frightened she burst out crying, which seemed to appease the old
gentleman's wrath, for he rode on without making any further remark;
and for some time Harry only confined his attentions to Brien,
pushing his hat suddenly down on his eyes, or snatching it off and
rattling his stick inside of it, which set the pony off at a furious
pace, and terrified all the passers-by.
"I shall have a nice story to tell your mamma when I get home," said
Brien grimly, as he re-adjusted his hat, and gave it one solemn
sideways shake. "It's likely she'll be sending me back again to
fetch you to-morrow when she hears the tricks you are up to."
"Pooh," replied Harry, "I'd like to see you tell her anything about
it. Had you never a bit of a spree when you were young yourself, eh?
But you're such an old land-crab, I don't suppose you ever were
young: at the same time, I'm awfully fond of you, in fact I love you
like my own child;" and Harry, stretching forward, threw his arms
round the old man's neck and leaned his head in an attitude of mock
affection on his shoulder.
"Now, Master Harry, keep off with you, and let me drive straight.
You nearly made me run the pony against that wall; do be easy, that's
a good lad."
"Then you won't tell mother about that old cross-cat on horseback?"
"Not a word of it, if you'll leave me in peace."
So with this and other equally judicious management, Brien managed to
convoy his noisy troop along the road until they reached the little
village of Drummond, where they were to rest the pony, and get some
refreshment at the inn.
Here Fred and Harry were in their element; for, having no one to
overlook them (Brien being busy with the pony), they both adjourned
to the farmyard followed by Kathleen, who did not like remaining in
the inn by herself, and who vainly tried to induce them to remain
indoors; but the loud and furious gobble of a turkey-cock had caught
the boys' ears, and they rushed in, eager for the fray, waving their
canes, and gobbling aloud in imitation of the angry bird.
Kathleen, who, unfortunately, had on a little scarlet cloak, no
sooner became aware of the turkey's presence than she dashed into a
cowshed and cried loudly for help; but the boys were too excited to
think of her, and they prodded the bird with their canes, and worried
him so successfully, that at last they actually drove him straight
into the shed where their sister had rushed for shelter. The
turkey-cock, with every feather on end and his crimson neck inflated
to the full, charged in his anger and fright at the red cloak and its
owner. Poor Kathleen shrieked with terror, and having nothing but
her parasol to defend herself with, beat with all her force at the
bird, much oftener missing it and striking the hard paving-stones of
the cowshed, until at last the stick of her new parasol snapped
suddenly in two, and the pretty silk cover, with its glossy fringe,
flew aside into a pool of dirty water on the ground. This was a real
misfortune, and the boys, somewhat appalled by the consequences of
their "lark," hunted the animal back into the yard, and tried to
console Kathleen for the sad fate which had happened to her new and
most precious belonging. But Kathleen's tears flowed fast; for not
only was her mother's parting gift destroyed, but the front of her
pretty new print dress was all spotted and streaked with the mud
which, in lifting her parasol out of the dirt, had fallen upon it;
and the anguish of having to make her appearance in such a plight was
almost more than she, with all her sweet temper, could endure.
The landlady at the hotel was, however, exceedingly kind and
forgiving; and although she scolded the boys heartily, and threatened
to write to their father, still she brought Kathleen into the
kitchen, and sponged her dress and took out the stains, and then she
devoted herself to the unhappy parasol, which she cleaned
wonderfully, and got her husband to splice and mend, so that
Kathleen's tears were soon dried up, and by the time luncheon was
over, she was as cheerful and pleasant as ever, and had quite
forgiven the boys for their share in her trouble.
When they remounted and were all settled in the carriage, Fred made a
desperate attempt to get possession of the reins; but Brien knew that
he would be held responsible for the safe conduct of his charge and
the safety of the phaeton, and he refused positively to give them out
of his own hands. And though Fred first sulked and afterwards abused
him roundly, it was all no use; and Brien, as well as Kathleen, who
was growing almost sick with nervousness and apprehension, felt no
small relief when they entered by a handsome turreted gate the long
avenue of Jubilee Hall, and, a few minutes later, found themselves
opposite the large iron-clamped door which guarded the entrance of
the Hall.