he got there Harry never could tell. On he rushed, tearing off his
clothes as he went. Off flew hat, jacket, collar and shirt, till there
was nothing but trousers and tennis-shoes to pitch away, as in his
little clinging woven drawers only, brave Harry flung himself, fearless
and dauntless, into the sea, and struck out for the round dark object,
poor Alice's head, which it had taken but an instant to point out to
him.
"I can _swim_! I can _swim_!" were the magic words with which he was
able at once to push off the friendly hands that would have drawn him
back, whose owners now stood watching him with flushed faces and tearful
eyes, murmuring many a fervent prayer for his success, or saying aloud
with clasped hands, "The brave boy, the splendid little fellow! It is
her only chance!"
It _was_ her only chance. Long before poor Lilian, for all her headlong
drive, was back with a sailor she had met just outside the village,
Alice would have sunk to rise no more. She had been caught by the
current and carried out far beyond her depth, and when Harry, panting,
labouring, but swimming valiantly still, got near enough to catch the
long plait of hair, and so draw her gently after him to shore, she had
all but lost consciousness. Better so, perhaps, for had she struggled or
clung to him, both would have been lost.
As it was, there were plenty of hands to carry them to land, once they
were within a safe distance; but Harry was the hero, Harry, alone and
unaided, had saved a human life, for of all the score or so of watchers
on the beach, not one knew how to swim.
Was not this worthy to be called his "Reward?" even if the thanks of the
two pretty sisters and their parents had been less fervent and
heartfelt.
Harry and Dora go often to Seacliff now, even without the rest of the
family; for there is a house near there where they are always most
welcome visitors, and where the only fear is that if Harry were not a
very sensible boy, the attentions of Alice and Lilian _might_ spoil him.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BROTHERS AND MUSHROOMS]
Mamma was very fond of mushrooms. I don't mean to say that she was a
greedy person or fond of eating, but if she _had_ a weakness, it was for
mushrooms. When she was a little girl, she had lived in a country place
where they grew in abundance, and she had often told the children how
delightful it was to go mushroom gathering, how pretty the creamy-white
heads looked, sometimes almost hidden in the grass, like eggs in a mossy
nest, and what shrieks of fun and eagerness used to be heard when some
specially fine one was suddenly caught sight of.
[Illustration]
But Mamma's _own_ children, Lancey and Dick--Mamma was not very rich in
children, she had only these two little sturdy boys, Lancey was nine and
Dick was seven--had never had the good fortune to live in a mushroom
country. All they knew of mushrooms was when they sometimes happened to
catch sight of them in the kitchen, when cook had bought a little basket
of them, paying very dear for it, no doubt, because "Missis was so
partial to them." And there was great rejoicing, as you can fancy, when
one autumn Mamma told her little boys that they were going down into the
country to spend September with an old aunt, who lived not far from
where Mamma herself had lived when she "was a little girl."
"And is there those funny things--mush--mush--I forget the name--there?"
asked Dick.
"Mushrooms?" said Mamma. "Oh, yes, in September there will be plenty, no
doubt," she replied.
"And your birthday's in September," said Lancey. "Oh, Mamma, oh, Dick!"
he went on, giving a great spring in his delight, "just think--we can
gather mushrooms for it--nice, _wild_ mushrooms, that taste ever so much
better than the ones you buy in the shops, don't they, Mamma, darling?"
"Than forced mushrooms, you mean, Lancey," she replied. "Yes, forced
mushrooms, that means mushrooms grown in hot-houses, or hot-beds;" for
she saw on the boys' lips the question, "what are forced mushrooms,
please?" "never have the same flavour, I am sure. Besides, one hasn't
the fun of hunting for them, and gathering them one's self. I am sure
you will enjoy that part of it."
"I am sure we shall. I am sure we shall like Fernimoor _much_ better
than the seaside," said both boys--"even though we have liked it very
much," added tender-hearted Dick. He was so afraid of Mamma being at all
hurt, if she fancied he meant that they had _not_ enjoyed the seaside
after all the trouble and expense she and papa had been at to take them
there. For, as he told Lancey afterwards, he was sure he had seen Papa
pay _three_ gold pounds for their railway tickets at the station the day
they came.
[Illustration]
"I hope you will enjoy it very much," said Mamma kindly, "and I am sure
you will, and so shall I. It will be so nice to show my little boys some
of the places I loved when I was as little as they are."
"And to teach us how to find musherrooms," said Dick, quite satisfied he
had got the hard word right this time.
Fernimoor turned out to be very nice, quite as nice as the boys'
pleasantest fancies had pictured it. The old-fashioned house was the
funniest and prettiest in the world, so was the garden, and the uncle
and aunt were the kindest and nicest of old uncles and aunts. There was
only one disappointment--and that was the mushrooms!
There had been a good crop of them, said Auntie, a week or two ago, but
since then it had been so dry--the whole season had been unusually
dry--that there were none at all. Possibly in another ten days or so,
_if_ it rained, there might be another crop, but then one scarcely dared
wish for rain, it would be so bad for the harvest.
So Mamma and her two little squires wandered about the fields in vain,
seeking for the pretty creamy egg-like balls among the grass, which
Mamma had so often described.
"It can't be helped," she said. "It's better than if it had done nothing
but rain. That would have spoilt our visit, even if we had had
basketfuls of mushrooms."
But Lancey and Dick didn't seem quite sure that they agreed with her.
They had got the idea of mushrooms so in their heads that I don't think
they would have grumbled even if it _had_ rained.
"If only there are some before Mamma's birthday, it won't matter so
much," said hopeful little Dick.
[Illustration]
Mamma's birthday was the thirteenth of September, and that year it fell
on a Monday. All Friday and Saturday it had rained--really poured--and
every one was surprised that Lancey and Dick did not grumble at it. By
Sunday morning it cleared, and Lancey who was dressed first, ran out
into the garden for a stroll before breakfast. Here he met a friend of
his--an under-gardener, who had come to do some little piece of work
about the hot-houses, which could not be neglected even on Sunday.
"Fine morning, Master Lancey," said the lad. "My, how it did pour
yesterday!"
"Griffith," said Lancey, "will the rain have brought up any mushrooms,
do you think?"
"Bless you, yes. See here, Master Lancey, just you go down the lane to
the left of the lodge till you come to a cottage, then creep through the
gate opposite--it's awkward to open, but you'll easily get through--and
see if you don't find mushrooms. There'll be lots by to-morrow if we've
some sun to-day."
"It's to-morrow I want to get them--to-morrow morning early," said
Lancey. "Thank you, Griffith."
[Illustration]
After breakfast, Dick in turn went out for a little fresh air--_he_
strolled towards the stables, as he was very fond of one of the dogs
there. On his way he came across a groom called Nicholls.
"Good morning, Nicholls," said Dick. "Should you think, Nicholls,
there'd be any mushrooms by to-morrow morning?"
"Sure to be, Master Dick. If you're up early, I'll show you the best
field in the place for them. Come out to the stable-yard as soon as
you're dressed, and I'll show you the way."
"Thank you, Nicholls," said Dick. "Yes, I'll come. Don't tell anybody
else, Nicholls."
[Illustration]
"No, no, sir, we'll keep it a secret."
Lancey and Dick went to church together and were together as usual all
day. But strange to tell, not one word was said by either boy to the
other about their plans for the next morning. Some mischievous sprite
had put it into their heads, for almost the first time in their lives,
to have a secret, and not a kind secret either, each from the other.
"I'm the eldest," thought Lancey. "I think it's only fair I should get
the mushrooms for Mamma's birthday."
"Lancey's bigger and stronger than I am," thought Dick. "If he went with
me, he'd gather ever so many more, and Mamma wouldn't think it was me at
all that had got them."
Monday morning came. The boys slept in separate rooms at Auntie's. Each
had a tiny dressing-room with a sofa-bed, so it was easy to get up and
dress without "brother" knowing. Lancey was first, but it took him some
little time to find Griffith, and to ask him again where to go, which he
had partly forgotten. Dick was luckier, for Nicholls was waiting for
him, and took him by what he called a short cut, to the field he had
described, and helped him over the hedge, telling him the mushrooms grew
thickest "a bit up the field."
Up the field trotted Dick, but he had not gone far before he stopped
short in surprise. Who was that coming towards him from the other end?
And "who can that be?" thought the new-comer, as a small, stout figure
caught _his_ eye--a round, brown-holland little person, not unlike a
mushroom button on two legs. "I do believe," he said aloud, "I do
believe it's Dick."
"I do believe," said Dick. "I do believe it's Lancey."
They stared at each other for a few minutes, not quite sure what to say
or do. Then they thought better of it and burst out laughing.
"It's no good doing without each other," said both together.
The mushrooms were plentiful, and the gathering of them proved quite as
nice as Mamma had told them. And it was two very happy little boys who
carried up a splendid plateful with "many happy returns" to her door
that morning.
But when Mamma had kissed and thanked them, each looked at the other.
"Mamma," said both together, "we weren't going to have been quite good
about them," and then they told the whole. "But it was all right at the
end," they said, "and oh, Mamma, how do you like the mushrooms cooked?
Fried or with sauce? Auntie told us to ask."
"I don't mind," said Mamma, "they are sure to taste good any way, now
that they are flavoured with Lancey's and Dick's brotherly love."
[Illustration]
A REMARKABLE WATCH.
[Illustration]
"May we bathe this morning, Mamma?" said the children, putting their
heads in at the door of the drawing-room.
Mamma glanced at the time-piece.
"It is rather late," she said doubtfully. "You would have to be very
quick. Which of the big ones are going with you?"
"None of them," answered Joan, the smallest of the small party. "They've
all gone for a walk except Lilly, and she's drawing in the garden, but
I'm sure she'd come if we asked her. Lilly's always so kind--if only
you'd say we might."
"It _is_ so fine and sunny, and the tide won't suit again for ever so
many days," added two or three imploring voices.
"Very well, then if Lilly will go you may bathe, but you _must_ be
quick. I can't have luncheon kept waiting again," said Mamma.
In another moment loud eager cries from the garden reached her through
the open window. "Lilly, Lilly, where are you? Mamma says if you will
come--" and then the voices faded away in the distance.
"Poor Lilly," thought Mamma, with a smile. "I wonder if it's a shame of
me to let those wild children torment her. I dare say she was counting
on a quiet morning."
But whether Lilly was disappointed or not, no sign of anything but
content and pleasure appeared on her pretty, bright face when the little
group of bathers, all brushed up and tidy again, took their places round
the luncheon-table.
"That's right," said Mamma. "You really have been very expeditious this
morning. Whom am I to praise?"
She knew before it came what the answer would be.
"Oh, Lilly. Lilly, of course," said Joan, always ready to be
spokeswoman. "Lilly made us promise to do exactly as she told us before
we went."
"She timed us," said Bill.
[Illustration]
"Yes," Joan went on, "wasn't it a good plan? Lilly put her watch on a
rock and gave us five minutes to undress in, and a quarter of an hour
to stay in the sea, and ten minutes to dress in. Bill and Humphrey were
in the gentlemen's dressing-room, of course--that's what we call the
other little bay--and Lilly had to roar out to them, 'one minute more
only,'--'two minutes more,' just like a railway man at a station. It
_was_ such fun, and--"
[Illustration]
"My dear Joan, you will never eat your dinner if you chatter so," said
her mother, "and we can't wait for you. I am going a long drive this
afternoon, and I shall only just have time," and Mamma looked at her
watch. "I hope I am a little fast," she added. "What time do you make
it, Lilly dear? Your watch is always to be relied on."
Lilly's hand instinctively went to her watch-pocket--then she suddenly
looked up with a rather startled expression.
"My watch!" she exclaimed. "I must have left it up stairs.
Mamma--_might_ I run up for a moment and see, if you don't mind?"
Mamma nodded. She knew that Lilly's watch was one of the girl's most
prized treasures. It was a handsome, though rather bulky one, which had
been left to her by her godmother, and Lilly cared for it both because
she had loved her godmother, and also for its own sake. It kept
excellent time, and never got out of order as the little fairy-like
watches that are now the fashion are rather apt to do.
Lilly's moment extended to several minutes without her coming back, and
the faces round the table grew rather concerned-looking.
"May I--" Joan was beginning, but just as she spoke Lilly appeared. She
was pale, and almost seemed as if she had difficulty in keeping back her
tears.
"Mamma," she said, "I can't forgive myself, I am dreadfully afraid my
dear watch is gone. I must have left it on the shore."
Up started Bill and Humphrey.
"You'll let us go, Mamma. We don't care about any more dinner. We know
where Lilly left it--no one's likely to have been there."
"And the people about here are so honest," said Joan.
"But," said Mamma, "was the stone where you laid it, Lilly, out of reach
of the tide? It was almost low tide when you bathed."
All looked startled at this, but the boys persisted.
"All the more reason to go at once," they said, and off they set.
Lilly would fain have gone too, but she gave in to her Mother, and sat
quietly, trying to eat, though I fear her luncheon was flavoured by some
drops of salt water.
And in a few minutes the whole party started down the road to meet the
boys and hear the news.
Alas! as soon as Bill and Humphrey appeared, even in the distance, all
hopes were gone. Both boys shook their heads sadly.
"You saw nothing of it?" asked their Mother eagerly. Poor Lilly was past
speaking.
"Nothing--as well as we could make out, the tide must have covered the
stones where the girls dressed, some time ago," they replied.
"Then I fear there is nothing to be done," said Mamma. "Poor Lilly, I am
so sorry for you."
"And to think it was all my own carelessness," sobbed Lilly. "My dear
watch and chain--there was the chain too, Mamma."
But Lilly was so seldom careless, and even if she had been so for once,
it was in the service of others, that no one would let her blame
herself, and all the family joined to try to console her.
"There is one chance," said Bill to Humphrey, when they were
alone,--their Mother and elder sisters having gone out for the
afternoon,--"the watch is heavy, and the sea is calm. It _may_ be left
there when the tide goes back. Let's see--it will be high tide by about
five, and low again by eleven. Those stones should be uncovered by ten
o'clock, and it is bright moonlight just now. I tell you what, Humphrey,
we'll get Mamma's leave to sit up later to-night, and we'll go off to
the shore and have another try for the watch and chain."
Humphrey's eyes sparkled with sympathy.
"We'll say nothing to Lilly--it would be cruel to raise her hopes again
on such a chance," he said. "We'll only tell Mamma."
The plan was carried out. At ten o'clock that evening, just as poor
Lilly was going to bed, and thinking sadly how strange it seemed to have
no watch to wind up, two small figures might have been seen in the
moonlight, carefully picking their way among the stones over which the
little waves were still softly lapping, for the special group of small
rocks they were in search of was not yet uncovered.
It was more difficult than they had expected to find the exact spot. The
moonlight and the sheen it cast on the water were rather dazzling. The
boys crept along slowly and carefully.
"I say, what a beautiful night it is," said Bill. "It's a good thing the
watch is a gold one; if it were silver there wouldn't be much chance of
seeing it--everything looks silver, and--"
But Humphrey interrupted him.
[Illustration]
"This is the place--I'm sure it is--look, the smooth sand just beyond is
where the girls jumped in, and--"
In his turn he was interrupted.
"You're right," cried Bill, "and--I do believe--no, there's a little
wave hiding it again--now, look, Humphrey--_isn't_ there something
glittering still more than the wet stones, down there--on that smooth
flat rock?"
Yes--another wave or two came gently lapping in, as if to say good-bye
to the treasure they had been playing with, and then the boys stepped
forward over the slippery stones, and Bill stooped down and quickly
stood up again, with a shout of triumph, for the rescued prize was in
his hands.
"And it really doesn't seem much the worse," said he and Humphrey to
each other, as they made their way home.
Lilly was not in her first sleep--she was too unhappy to fall asleep as
quietly as usual--when a tap at the door made her jump up. There stood
her brothers, and behind them Mamma, smiling with pleasure, and for a
minute or two Lilly's delight almost stupefied her. She could scarcely
believe it was her own dear watch that Bill held out, and when she did
believe it, she could not kiss and thank him and Humphrey enough.
The watch had to go to a watch-doctor, of course, and it cost several
shillings to put it right, but that is now many years ago, and it still
keeps time as well as ever.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE BLACKBERRY ELF
By
MRS MOLESWORTH.]
Nora and Hilary were staying in the country with their cousins. It was a
new part of the world to them, for their own home, though not actually
in a town, was not far from one, and therefore far less rich in wild
flowers and mushrooms and blackberries, and all such delightful things
than the _real_ country place where these fortunate cousins lived.
[Illustration: THE ELF]
Had it not been for the newness and the freedom of it all, they might
have found it a little dull, for there was only one child in the family
at all near their ages--Nora was eight and Hilary six--and this was a
boy of seven called Cecil. Cecil was very much younger than his brothers
and sisters, and seemed even younger than his age, for he was small and
delicate, and very quiet. Hilary, a great big strong fellow, seemed much
older; indeed if you had seen the two together you would certainly have
guessed that Cecil and not his cousin was the, so to say, town-bred boy.
Cecil had never been so happy in his life as since the two little
visitors had come to stay with him. They seemed to find out all sorts of
new things that had never struck him before; pleasures and interests
springing all about and close at hand which he had never thought of.
They found everything delightful; as the summer gradually faded into
autumn, and the bright flowers grew scarcer and less tempting to gather,
the wild fruit in its turn began to ripen. Day by day the children
watched the blackberries with the greatest eagerness, as the small red
heads steadily got rounder and deeper in colour, till at last one day
some of the big people said in the children's hearing, "a couple of
days' sunshine and the blackberries will be at their prime; there's a
splendid show of them this year."
Nora and Hilary could scarcely keep from jumping with joy, and they made
Cecil nearly as eager as themselves. The sun seemed to enter into their
feelings, for the very next morning he showed a more smiling face than
for some time past, and continued in this amiable humour for several
days, so that the children were able on the third day to set off, armed
with baskets nearly as big as themselves, for a regular good
blackberrying.
[Illustration]
All went well for some time. They had been told where and how far they
might go, and though it took _rather_ longer than they had expected, to
fill even one of the baskets, they worked on cheerfully, nowise
disheartened, chattering to each other from time to time, when a strange
thing happened.
Nora was just saying that the _only_ thing she was ever afraid of in the
woods was "snakes," and Cecil was assuring her that he was quite certain
there were none in "our woods," when he was startled by her giving a
little scream.
"What's the matter?" he called out, half thinking that a snake had
appeared after all.
"Hush, Cecil, oh, hush!" said Nora in a low and startled voice; "come
here, and you, Hilary, come close here, but don't make any noise."
Wondering, and a little frightened, the two boys crept through the
bushes to her side.
"What is it, Nora?" they both whispered in an awestruck tone.
[Illustration]
"I don't know," she replied. "Cecil, do _you_ know of anything _queer_
in these woods? Are there any dwarfs or--or creatures like in fairy
stories? For I am sure I saw a very, very little black or dark-brown man
with a red jacket and cap--he wasn't as high as up to my
waist--scrambling among the bushes over there, and picking and eating
blackberries."
Cecil and Hilary stared at her.
"You must have fancied it, Nora," said Cecil. "I never heard of a--" but
he was interrupted by a sort of smothered scream.
"There, there," whispered Nora, clutching hold of both the boys, "there
he is again!"
And sure enough there "he" was, and just exactly as Nora had described
him. A tiny dark-brown creature, like a wee old man, with a little red
jacket, and a small red skull-cap on the top of his head. He seemed to
have come up suddenly from among the bushes; he was holding the branch
of a blackberry tree in one hand, and with the other greedily plucking
and eating the fruit as fast as he could.
"Who can he be?" said Nora, who had grown very pale.
"I wish I'd a gun here," said Hilary, who was rather given to boasting.
"Nonsense," said Nora, "if he's some kind of a man,--and he can't be an
_animal_--animals don't wear jackets and caps--it would be very wrong,
and if he's a--a wood-spirit, or anything like that, shooting would be
no good."
But Hilary and she had raised their voices in this discussion without
knowing it. Suddenly the small man turned round, placed one hand behind
his big black ear, as if listening, and then, seemingly catching sight
of the children, sprang forward, stretching out his two long arms before
him in a curious way towards the little group.
A group no longer--with a scream, or three screams joined into one, the
children had turned and fled. How they got through the thick growing
bushes without being torn to pieces I am sure I cannot tell. Fear lends
wings, I suppose. However that may be, I know it was in a wonderfully
short time that they found themselves, panting and shaking, breathless
and trembling, but safe, inside the shelter of their own garden gate.
"Oh, Nora!"
"Oh, Cecil!"
"Oh, Hilary!"
"I never was so frightened in my life," each exclaimed in turn.
"If we hadn't _all_ seen it, we might think it was fancy," said Nora.
"I'm afraid the big ones will say it's fancy as it is," said Cecil, "and
they will so laugh at us."
"Then we won't tell them," said Nora, "at least we'll wait a little and
see. But I daren't go into the woods again; I really _daren't_."
"Not without a gun," said Hilary.
"Rubbish," said Nora.
They kept their own counsel all that day, though strongly tempted to
confide in one or other of the big ones. But after dinner that evening,
when they went into dessert, Cecil's father called them to him.