AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC
Instead of taking them straight into the house, however, Aunt Emma took
the children up a little shady path which very soon brought them to a
white cottage covered with honeysuckle and climbing roses.
"This is where my coachman's wife lives," said Aunt Emma, "and she owns
a small boy who might perhaps find you a pair of stockings, Olly, to put
on while your own are washed."
Olly opened his brown eyes very wide at the idea of wearing some other
little boy's stockings, but he said nothing.
Aunt Emma tapped at the door, and out came a stout kind-looking woman.
"Mrs. Tyson, do you think your Johnny could lend my little nephew a pair
of his stockings while we get his own washed? Master Olly has been
tumbling into a bog by way of making friends with the mountains, and I
don't quite know how I am to let those legs into my dining-room."
"Dear me, ma'am, but Johnny'll be proud if he's got any clean, but I'll
not answer for it. Won't ye come in?"
In they walked, and there was a nice tidy kitchen, with a wooden cradle
in the corner, and a little fair-haired boy sitting by it and rocking
the baby. This was Johnny, and Olly looked at him with great curiosity.
"I've got bigger legs than Johnny," he whispered solemnly at last to
Aunt Emma, while they were waiting for Mrs. Tyson, who had gone upstairs
to fetch the stockings.
"Perhaps you eat more bread and milk than Johnny does," said Aunt Emma,
very solemnly too, "However, most likely Johnny's stockings will
stretch. How's the baby, Johnny?"
"She's a great deal better, ma'am," said the little boy, smiling at her.
Milly and Olly made him feel shy, but he loved Aunt Emma.
"Have you been taking care of her all the morning for mother?"
"Yes, ma'am, and she's never cried but once," said Johnny proudly.
"Well done! Ah! there comes Mrs. Tyson. Now, Olly, sit up on that chair,
and we'll see to you."
Off came the dirty stockings, and Mrs. Tyson slipped on a pair of woolen
socks that tickled Olly very much. They were very thick, and not a bit
like his own stockings; and when he got up again he kept turning round
and round to look at his legs, as if he couldn't make them out.
"Do they feel funny to you?" said Mrs. Tyson, patting his shoulder.
"Never you mind, little master; I know they're nice and warm, for I
knitted them myself."
"Mother buys our stockings in the shop," said Olly, when they got
outside again; "why doesn't Mrs. Tyson?"
"Perhaps we haven't so many shops, or such nice ones here, Olly, as you
have at Willingham; and the people here have always been used to do a
great many things for themselves. Some of them live in such lonely
places among the mountains that it is very difficult for them to get to
any shops. Not very long ago the mothers used to make all the stuffs for
their own dresses and their children's. What would you say, Milly, if
mother had to weave the stuff for it every time you had a new dress?"
"Mother wouldn't give me a great many new dresses," said Milly, gravely,
shaking her head. "I like shops best, Aunt Emma."
"Well, I suppose it's best to like what we've got," said Aunt Emma,
laughing.
Indoors, Olly's muddy stockings were given to Aunt Emma's maid, who
promised to have them washed and dried by the time they had to go home,
and then, when Mrs. Norton had covered up the black spots on his frock
with a clean pinafore she had brought with her, Olly looked quite
respectable again.
The children thought they had never seen quite such a nice house as Aunt
Emma's. First of all it had a large hall, with all kinds of corners in
it, just made for playing hide-and-seek in; and the drawing-room was
full of the most delightful things. There were stuffed birds in cases,
and little ivory chessmen riding upon ivory elephants. There were
picture-books, and there were mysterious drawers full of cards and
puzzles, and glass marbles and old-fashioned toys, that the children's
mother and aunts and uncles, and their great-aunts and uncles before
that, had loved and played with years and years ago. On the wall hung a
great many pictures, some of them of funny little stiff boys in blue
coats with brass buttons, and some of them of little girls with mob-caps
and mittens, and these little boys and girls were all either dead now,
or elderly men and women, for they were the great-aunts and uncles; and
over the mantelpiece hung a picture of a lovely old lady, with bright,
soft brown hair and smiling eyes and lips, that looked as if they were
just going to speak to the two strange little children who had come for
their first visit to their mother's old home. Milly knew quite well that
it was a picture of great-grandmamma. She had seen others like it
before, only not so large as this one, and she looked at it quietly,
with her grave blue eyes, while Olly was eagerly wandering round the
room, spying into everything, and longing to touch this, that, and the
other, if only mother would let go his hand.
"You know who that is, don't you, little woman?" said Aunt Emma, taking
her up on her knee.
"Yes," said Milly, nodding, "it's great-grandmamma. I wish we could have
seen her."
"I wish you could, Milly. She would have smiled at you as she is smiling
in the picture and you would have been sure to have loved her; all
little children did. I can remember seeing your mother, Milly, when she
was about as old as you, cuddled up in a corner of that sofa over there,
in 'grandmamma's pocket,' as she used to call it, listening with all her
ears to great-grandmamma's stories. There was one story called 'Leonora'
that went on for years and years, till all the little children in
it--and the little children who listened to it--were almost grown up;
and then great-grandmamma always carried about with her a wonderful
blue-silk bag full of treasures, which we used to be allowed to turn out
whenever any of us had been quite good at our lessons for a whole week."
"Mother has a bag like that," said Milly; "it has lots of little toys in
it that father had when he was a little boy. She lets us look at it on
our birthdays. Can you tell stories, Aunt Emma?"
"Tell us about old Mother Quiverquake," cried Olly, running up and
climbing on his aunt's knee.
"Oh dear, no!" said Aunt Emma; "it's much too fine to-day for
stories--indoors, at any rate. Wait till we get a real wet day, and then
we'll see. After dinner to-day, what do you think we're going to do?
Suppose we have a row on the lake to get water-lilies, and suppose we
take a kettle and make ourselves some tea on the other side of the lake.
What would you say to that, Master Olly?"
The children began to dance about with delight at the idea of a row and
a picnic both together, when suddenly there was a knock at the door, and
when Aunt Emma said, "Come in!" what do you think appeared? Why, a great
green cage, carried by a servant, and in it a gray parrot, swinging
about from side to side, and cocking his head wickedly, first over one
shoulder and then over the other.
"Now, children," said Aunt Emma, while the children stood quite still
with surprise, "let me introduce you to my old friend, Mr. Poll Parrot.
Perhaps you thought I lived all alone in this big house. Not at all.
Here is somebody who talks to me when I talk to him, who sings and
chatters and whistles and cheers me up wonderfully in the winter
evenings, when the rains come and make me feel dull. Put him down here,
Margaret," said Aunt Emma to the maid, clearing a small table for the
cage. "Now, Olly, what do you think of my parrot?"
"Can it talk?" asked Olly, looking at it with very wide open eyes.
"It _can_ talk; whether it _will_ talk is quite another thing. Parrots
are contradictious birds. I feel very often as if I should like to beat
Polly, he's so provoking. Now, Polly, how are you to-day?"
"Polly's got a bad cold; fetch the doc--" said the bird at once, in such
a funny cracked voice, that it made Olly jump as if he had heard one of
the witches in Grimm's "Fairy Tales" talking.
"Come, Polly, that's very well behaved of you; but you mustn't leave off
in the middle, begin again. Olly, if you don't keep your fingers out of
the way Polly will snap them up for his dinner. Parrots like fingers
very much." Olly put his hands behind his back in a great hurry, and
mother came to stand behind him to keep him quiet. By this time,
however, Polly had begun to find out that there were some new people in
the room he didn't know, and for a long time Aunt Emma could not make
him talk at all. He would do nothing but put his head first on one side
and then on the other and make angry clicks with his beak.
"Come, Polly," said Aunt Emma, "what a cross parrot you are.
One--two--three--four. Now, Polly, count."
"Polly's got a bad cold, fetch the doc--" said Polly again while Aunt
Emma was speaking. "One--two--six--seven--eight--nine--two--_Quick_
march!"
And then Polly began to lift first one claw and then the other as if he
were marching, while the children shouted with laughter at his
ridiculous ways and his gruff cracked voice.
Then Aunt Emma went behind him and rapped gently on the table. The
parrot stopped marching, stuck his head on one side and listened. Aunt
Emma rapped again.
"Come in!" said the parrot suddenly, quite softly, as if he had turned
into quite another person. "Hush--sh--sh, cat's got a mouse!"
"Well, Polly," said Aunt Emma, "I suppose she may have a mouse if she
likes. Is that all you've got to tell us? Polly, where's gardener?"
"Get away! get away!" screamed Polly, while all his feathers began to
stand up straight, and his eyes looked fierce and red like two little
live coals.
"That always makes him cross," said Aunt Emma; "he can't bear gardener.
Come, Polly, don't get in such a temper."
"Oh, isn't he like the witches on the broom-sticks in our fairy-book,
Olly?" cried Milly. "Don't you think, Aunt Emma, he must have been
changed into something? Perhaps he was a wicked witch once, or a
magician, you know, and the fairies changed him into a parrot."
"Well, Milly, I can't say. He was a parrot when I had him first, twelve
years ago. That's all I know about it. But I believe he's very old. Some
people say he's older than I am--think of that! So you see he's had time
to be a good many things. Well, Polly, good-night. You're not a nice
bird to-night at all. Take him away, Margaret."
"Jane! Jane!" screamed Polly, as the maid lifted up the cage again.
"Make haste, Jane! cat's in the larder!"
"Oh, you bad Polly," said Aunt Emma, "you're always telling tales.
Jane's my cook, Milly, and Polly doesn't like cats, so you see he tries
to make Jane believe that our old cat steals the meat out of the larder.
Good-bye, Polly, good-bye. You're an ill-natured old bird, but I'm very
fond of you all the same."
"Do get us a parrot, mother!" said Olly, jumping about round his mother,
when Polly was gone.
"How many more things will you want before you get home, Olly, do you
think?" asked his mother, kissing him. "Perhaps you'll want to take home
a few mountains, and two or three little rivers, and a bog or two, and a
few sheep--eh, young man?"
By this time dinner was ready, and there was the dinner-bell ringing. Up
ran the children to Aunt Emma's room to get their hands washed and their
hair brushed, and presently there were two tidy little folks sitting on
either side of Aunt Emma's chair, and thinking to themselves that they
had never felt quite so hungry before. But hungry as Milly was she
didn't forget to look out of the window before she began her dinner, and
it was worth while looking out of the window in Aunt Emma's dining-room.
Before the windows was a green lawn, like the lawn at Ravensnest, only
this lawn went sloping away, away till there was just a little rim of
white beach, and then beyond came the wide, dancing blue lake, that the
children had seen from the top of the mountain. Here it was close to
them, so close that Milly could hear the little waves plashing, through
the open window.
"Milly," whispered Aunt Emma when they were all waiting for pudding, "do
you see that little house down there by the water's edge? That's where
the boat lives--we call it a boathouse. Do you think you'll be
frightened of the water, little woman?"
"No, I don't think so," said Milly, shaking her little wise head
gravely. "I am frightened sometimes, very. Mother calls me a little
goose because I run away from Jenny sometimes--that's our cow at home,
Aunt Emma, but then she's got such long horns, and I can't help feeling
afraid."
"Well, the lake hasn't got horns, Milly," said Aunt Emma, laughing, "so
perhaps you will manage not to be afraid of it."
How kind and nice Aunt Emma looked as she sat between the children, with
her pretty soft gray hair, and her white cap and large white collar.
Mrs. Norton could not help thinking of the times when she was a little
girl, and used always to insist on sitting by Aunt Emma at dinner-time.
That was before Aunt Emma's hair had turned gray. And now here were her
own little children sitting where she used to sit at their age, and
stealing their small hands into Aunt Emma's lap as she used to do so
long ago.
After dinner the children had to sit quiet in the drawing-room for a
time, while Aunt Emma and father and mother talked; but they had
picture-books to look at, and Aunt Emma gave them leave to turn out
everything in one of the toy-drawers, and that kept them busy and happy
for a long time. But at last, just when Olly was beginning to get tired
of the drawer, Aunt Emma called to them from the other end of the room
to come with her into the kitchen for a minute. Up jumped the children
and ran after their aunt across the hall into the kitchen.
"Now, children," said Aunt Emma, pointing to a big basket on the kitchen
table, "suppose you help me to pack up our tea-things. Olly, you go and
fetch the spoons, and, Milly, bring the plates one by one."
The tea things were all piled up on the kitchen table, and the children
brought them one after another to Aunt Emma to pack them carefully into
the big basket.
"Ain't I a useful boy, Aunt Emma?" asked Olly proudly, coming up laden
with a big table-cloth which he could scarcely carry.
"Very useful, Olly, though our table-cloth won't look over tidy at tea
if you crumple it up like that. Now, Milly, bring me that tray of bread
and the little bundle of salt; and, Olly, bring me that bit of butter
over there, done up in the green leaves, but mind you carry it
carefully. Now for some knives too; and there are the cups and saucers,
Milly, look, in that corner; and there is the cake all ready cut up, and
there is the bread and butter. Now have we got everything? Everything, I
think, but the kettle, and some wood and some matches, and these must go
in another basket."
"Aunt Emma," said Milly, creeping up close to her, "were you ever a
fairy godmother?"
"Not that I know of, Milly. Would you like me better if I had a wand and
a pair of pet dragons, like old Fairy Blackstick?"
"No," said Milly, stroking her aunt's hand, "but you do such nice
things, just like fairy godmothers do."
"Do I, little woman? Aunt Emma likes doing nice things for good
children. But now come along, it's quite time we were off. Let us go
and fetch father and mother. Gardener will bring the baskets."
Such a merry party they were, trooping down to the boathouse. There lay
the boat; a pretty new boat, painted dark blue, with a little red flag
floating at her bows, and her name, "Ariel," written in large white
letters on the stern. And all around the boathouse stretched the
beautiful blue water, so clear and sunny and sparkling that it dazzled
Milly's eyes to look at it. She and Olly were lifted into the boat
beside Aunt Emma and mother, father sat in the middle and took the oars,
while gardener put the baskets into the stern, and then, untying the
rope which kept the boat tied into the boathouse, he gave it a good push
with one hand and off she went out into the blue lake, rising up and
down on the water like a swan.
"Oh! mother, mother, look up there," shouted Olly, "there's the
mountain. Isn't that where we climbed up this morning?"
Yes, there it was, the beautiful green rocky mountain, rising up above
Aunt Emma's house. They could see it all so clearly as they got farther
out into the lake; first the blue sky, then the mountain with the little
white dots on it, which Milly knew were sheep; then some trees, and in
front, Aunt Emma's house with the lawn and the boathouse. And as they
looked all round them they could see far bigger and grander mountains
than Brownholme, some near and green like Brownholme, and some far away
and blue like the sky, while down by the edge of the lake were hayfields
full of flowers, or bits of rock with trees growing on the top of them.
The children hardly knew what it was made them so quiet; but I think it
was because everything was so beautiful. They were really in the
hill-fairies' palace now.
"Aren't there any water-fairies in this lake, mother?" whispered Milly,
presently, looking down into the clear blue water, and trying to see the
bottom.
"I can't tell, Milly, I never saw any. But there used to be
water-fairies in old days. After tea suppose we ask Aunt Emma to tell us
a story about a king in olden times whom the water-fairies loved; she
used to tell it to me when I was small, and I liked it best of all
stories. But, Olly, you must sit still, or the boat will go tipping over
to one side, and father won't be able to row."
"Do let me row, father," begged Olly.
"Not yet, old man--I must get used to the boat first, and find out how
to manage her, but presently you shall come and try, and so shall Milly
if she likes."
On they rowed, farther and farther from the shore, till Aunt Emma's
house began to look quite small, and they could hardly see the gardener
working on the lawn.
"Father, what a long way we've come," cried Milly, looking all round.
"Where are we going to?"
"Well, presently, Milly, I am going to turn the boat a little bit, so as
to make her go over to that side of the lake over there. Do you see a
big rock with some trees on it, far away, sticking out into the lake?"
"Yes," said the children, looking very hard.
"Well, that's where we're going to have tea. It's called Birdsnest
Point, because the rocks come out in a point into the lake. But first I
thought I would bring you right out into the middle of the lake, that
you might see how big it is, and look at the mountains all round."
"Father," said Olly, "if a big stone fell down out of the sky and made
ever such a big hole in the boat, and the water came into the hole,
should we all be dead?"
"I daresay we should, Olly, for I don't think I could carry mother, and
Aunt Emma, and Milly, and you on my back, safe home again, and you see
none of you can swim but me."
"Then I hope a big stone won't come," said Milly, feeling just a little
bit frightened at Olly's suggestion.
"Well, big stones don't grow in the sky generally, Milly, if that's any
comfort to you. But do you know, one day long ago, when I was out rowing
on this lake, I thought all of a sudden I heard some one shouting and
screaming, and for a long time I looked and waited, but could see
nothing; till at last I fancied I could see, a long distance off, what
looked like a pole, with something white tied to it. And I rowed, and
rowed, and rowed, as fast as I could, and all the time the shouting and
screaming went on, and at last what do you think I saw? I saw a boat,
which looked as if something was dragging it down into the water. Part
of it had already sunk down into the lake, and in the part which was
still above the water there were three people sitting, a gentleman, and
two little girls who looked about ten years old. And they were shouting
'Help! help!' at the top of their voices, and waving an oar with a
handkerchief tied to it. And the boat in which they sat was sinking
farther and farther into the water, and if I had'n't come up just when I
did, the gentleman and the two little girls would have been drowned."
"Oh, father!" cried Milly, "what made their boat do like that? And did
they get into yours?"
"There was a great hole in the bottom of their boat, Milly, and the
water was coming through it, and making the boat so heavy that it was
sinking down and down into the lake, just as a stone would sink if you
threw it in. How the hole came there we never quite knew: I thought they
must have knocked their boat against a sharp rock--in some parts of the
lake there are rocks under the water which you can't see--and the rock
had made the hole; but other people thought it had happened in some
other way. However, there they were, and when I took them all into my
boat you never saw such miserable little creatures as the two little
girls were. They were wet through, they were as white as little ghosts,
and when they were safe in my boat they began to cry and shake so, poor
little souls, though their father and I wrapped them up in our coats,
that I did want their mother to come and comfort them."
"Oh, but, father, you took them safe home to their mother, didn't you?
And do tell me what she said."
"They had no mother, Milly, they had only their father, who was with
them. But he was very good to them, and I think on the whole they were
happy little girls. The Christmas after that I got a little parcel one
morning, and what do you think was in it? Why, two photographs of the
same little girls, looking so neat and tidy and happy, I could hardly
believe they were really the same as the little drowned rats I had
pulled out of the water. Ask mother to show you the pictures when we get
home; she has them somewhere. Now, Olly, would you like to row?"
"Oh, father, don't bump against any rocks," said Milly, whose thoughts
were very full of the little girls.
"Don't you trouble your head about rocks, old woman. I know a good deal
more about this lake than those little girls' father did, and I won't
take you into any harm. Come along, Olly."
Olly was helped along the boat by mother and Aunt Emma till his father
caught hold of him and pulled him on to his seat, where he let him put
his two small paws on one of the oars, and try what he could do with it.
Mr. Norton pulled too; but Olly thought it was all his doing, and that
it was really he who was making the boat go.
"Don't we go fast, father?" he cried out presently, his little face
flushed with pleasure and excitement. "You couldn't row so fast without
me, could you, father?"
"You little fly-on-the-wheel," said his father, smiling at him.
"What does that mean, father?"
"Never mind, you'll know when you're bigger. But now look, children, how
close we are coming to the shore. And quick, Milly, quick! What do you
see over there?"
Mr. Norton pointed over the water to a place where some green rushes
were standing up out of the water, not very far from the edge. What were
those great white and gold things shining among the rushes; and what
were those large round green leaves lying on the water all about them?
"Water-lilies! water-lilies!" cried Milly, stamping her little feet with
delight. "Oh, mother, look! it was on one of those leaves that the old
toad put little Tiny in my fairy-book, don't you remember? Only the
little fishes came and bit off the stalk and set her free. Oh, I wish we
could see little Tiny sitting on one of those leaves!"
"Well," said Aunt Emma, "there's no saying what you may find in these
parts if you look long enough. This is a very strange country. But now,
Milly, look out for the lilies. Father's going to take us in among them,
and I'll hold you, while you gather them."
And presently, swish went the boat up against the rushes, and there were
the lovely white lilies lying spread out on the water all round them,
some quite open and showing their golden middles, and some still buds,
with their wet green cases just falling off, and their white petals
beginning to unclose. But what slippery stalks they had. Aunt Emma held
Milly, and father held Olly, while they dived their hands under the
water and pulled hard. And some of the lilies came out with such short
bits of stalk you could scarcely hold them, and sometimes, flop! out
came a long green stalk, like a long green snake curling and twisting
about in the boat. The children dabbled, and splashed, and pulled, to
their hearts' content, till at last Mr. Norton told them they had got
enough and now they must sit quite still while he rowed them in to the
land.
"Oh, father, just those two over there!" pleaded Milly, who could not
bear leaving so many beauties behind.
"No, Milly, no more. Look where the sun is now. If we don't make haste
and have our tea, we shall never get back to Ravensnest to-night."
Milly's face looked as if it would like to cry, as the boat began to
move away from the rushes, and the beautiful lilies were left behind. I
told you, to begin with, that Milly was ready to cry oftener than a
sensible little girl should. But Aunt Emma was not going to have any
crying at her picnic.
"Who's going to gather me sticks to make my fire?" she said suddenly, in
a solemn voice.
"I am! I am!" shouted both the children at once, and out came Milly's
smiles again, like the sun from behind a cloud.
"And who's going to lay the table-cloth?"
"We are! we are!"
"And who's going to hand the bread and butter?"
"I am!" exclaimed Milly, "and Olly shall hand the cake."
"And who's going to _eat_ the bread and butter?"
"All of us!" shouted the children, and Milly added, "Father will want a
_big_ plate of bread and butter, I daresay."
"I should think he would, after all this rowing," said Mr. Norton. "Now
then, look out for a bump!"
[Illustration: "So they put Olly up on a tall piece of rock, and he
sang."]
Bump! Splash! there was the boat scraping along the pebbles near the
shore; out sprang Mr. Norton, first on to a big stone, then on to the
shore, and with one great pull he brought the boat in till it was close
enough for Aunt Emma and Mrs. Norton to step on to the rocks, and for
the children to be lifted out.
"Oh! what a nice place!" cried Milly, looking about her, and clapping
her hands, as she always did when she was pleased. It was a point of
rock running out into the lake, a "peninsula" Milly called it, when she
had been all round it, and it was covered with brown heather spread all
over the ground, and was delightfully soft and springy to sit upon. In
the middle of the bit of rock there were two or three trees standing up
together, birch trees with silvery stems, and on every side but one
there was shallow brown water, so clear that they could see every stone
at the bottom. And when they looked away across the lake, there were the
grand old mountains pushing their heads into the clouds on the other
side, and far away near the edge of the lake they saw a white dot which
they knew was Aunt Emma's house. How the sun shone on everything! How it
made the water of the lake sparkle and glitter as if it were alive! And
yet the air was not hot, for a little wind was coming to them across the
water, and moving the trees gently up and down.
And what was this under the trees? Why, a kind of fireplace made of
stones, and in front of it a round green bit of grass, with tufts of
heather all round it, just like a table with seats.
"Who put these stones here, Aunt Emma?" asked Olly, as she and mother
and Mr. Norton brought up the baskets, and put them in the green place
by the stones.
"Well, Olly, long ago, when all your uncles and aunts were little, and
they used to come here for picnics, they thought it would be very nice
to have a stone fireplace, built up properly, so that they needn't make
one every time. It was Uncle Richard's idea, and we had such fun
building it up. The little ones brought the stones; and the big ones
piled them together till you see we made quite a nice fireplace. And it
has lasted ever since. Whenever I come here I mend it up if any of the
stones have tumbled down. Numbers of little children come to picnic here
every summer, and they always use our fireplace. But now, come along
into the woods, children, and gather sticks."
Off they ran after Aunt Emma, and soon they were scrambling about the
wood which grew along the shore, picking up the dry sticks and dry fern
under the trees. Milly filled her cotton frock full, and gathered it up
with both her hands; while Olly of course went straight at the biggest
branch he could see, and staggered along with it, puffing and panting.
"You grasshopper, you!" said Mr. Norton, catching hold of him, "don't
you think you'd better try a whole tree next time? There, let me break
it for you." Father broke it up into short lengths, and then off ran
Olly with his little skirts full to Aunt Emma, who was laden too with an
armful of sticks. "That'll do to begin with, old man. Come along, and
you and I'll light the fire."
What fun it was, heaping up the sticks on the stones, and how they did
blaze and crackle away when Aunt Emma put a match to them. Puff! puff!
out came the smoke; fizz--crack--sputter--went the dry fir branches, as
if they were Christmas fireworks.
"Haven't we made a blazey fire, Aunt Emma?" said Olly, out of breath
with dragging up sticks, and standing still to look.
"Splendid," said Mr. Norton, who had just come out of the wood with his
bundle. "Now, Olly, let me just put you on the top of it to finish it
off. How you would fizz!"
Off ran Olly, with his father after him, and they had a romp among the
heather till Mr. Norton caught him, and carried him kicking and laughing
under his arm to Aunt Emma.
"Now, Aunt Emma, shall I put him on?"
"Oh dear, no!" said Aunt Emma, "my kettle wouldn't sit straight on him,
and it's just boiling beautifully. We'll put him on presently when the
fire gets low."
"Olly, do come and help mother and me with the tea-things," cried Milly,
who was laying the cloth as busily and gravely as a little housemaid.
"Run along, shrimp," said his father, setting him down.
And off ran Olly, while Mr. Norton and Aunt Emma heaped the wood on the
fire, and kept the kettle straight, so that it shouldn't tip over and
spill.
Laying the cloth was delightful, Milly thought. First of all, they put a
heavy stone on each corner of the cloth to keep it down, and prevent the
wind from blowing it up, and then they put the little plates all round,
and in the middle two piles of bread and butter and cake.
"But we haven't got any flowers," said Milly, looking at it presently,
with a dissatisfied face, "you always have flowers on the table at home,
mother."
"Why, Milly, have you forgotten your water-lilies; where did you leave
them?"
"Down by the water," said Milly. "Father told me just to put their
stalks in the water, and he put a stone to keep them safe. Oh! that'll
be splendid, mother. Do give me a cup, and we'll get some water for
them."
Mother found a cup, and the children scrambled down to the edge of the
lake. There lay the lilies with their stalks in the water, close to the
boat.
"They look rather sad, mother, don't they?" said Milly, gathering them
up. "Perhaps they don't like being taken away from their home."
"They never look so beautiful out of the water," said mother; "but when
we get home we'll put them into a soup-plate, and let them swim about in
it. They'll look very nice then. Now, Olly, fill the cup with water, and
we'll put five or six of the biggest in, and gather some leaves."
"There, look! look! Aunt Emma," shouted Milly, when they had put the
lilies and some fern leaves in the middle of the table. "Haven't we made
it beautiful?"
"That you have," said Aunt Emma, coming up with the kettle which had
just boiled. "Now for the tea, and then we're ready."
"We never had such a nice tea as this before," said Olly, presently
looking up from a piece of bread and butter which had kept him quiet for
some time. "It's nicer than having dinner at the railway station even."
Aunt Emma and mother laughed; for it doesn't seem so delightful to
grown-up people to have dinner at the railway station.
"Well, Olly," said mother, "I hope we shall often have tea out of doors
while we are at Ravensnest."
Milly shook her head. "It'll rain, mother. That old gentleman said it
would be sure to rain."
"That old gentleman is about right, Milly," said Mr. Norton. "I think it
rains dreadfully here, but mother doesn't seem to mind it a bit. Once
upon a time when mother was a little girl, there came a funny old fairy
and threw some golden dust in her eyes, and ever since then she can't
see straight when she comes to the mountains. It's all right everywhere
else, but as soon as she comes here, the dust begins to fly about in her
eyes, and makes the mountains look quite different to her from what they
look to anybody else."
"Let me look, mother," said Olly, pulling her down to him.
Mrs. Norton opened her eyes at him, smiling.
"I can't see any dust, father."
"Ah, that's because it's fairy dust," said Mr. Norton, gravely. "Now,
Olly, don't you eat too much cake, else you won't be able to row."
"It'll be my turn first, father," said Milly, "you know I haven't rowed
at all yet."
"Well, don't you catch any crabs, Milly," said Aunt Emma.
"Catch crabs, Aunt Emma!" said Milly, very much puzzled. "Crabs are only
in the sea, aren't they?"
"There's a very big kind just about here," said Mr. Norton, "and they're
always looking out for little children, particularly little girls."
"I don't understand, father," said Milly, opening her eyes very wide.
"Have some more tea, then," said Mr. Norton, "that always makes people
feel wiser."
"Father, aren't you talking nonsense?" said Olly, stopping in the middle
of a piece of cake to think about what his father was saying.
"Very likely, Olly. People always do at picnics. Aunt Emma, when are you
going to tell us your story?"
"When we've washed the things and put them away," said Aunt Emma, "then
Olly shall sing us two songs, and I'll tell you my story."
But the children were so hungry that it was a long time before they gave
up eating bread and butter, and then, when at last tea was over, what
fun it was washing the cups and plates in the lake! Aunt Emma and Olly
washed, and mother and Milly dried the things on a towel, and then
everything was packed away into the baskets, and mother and Aunt Emma
folded up the table-cloth, and put it tidily on the top of everything.
"I did like that," said Milly, sighing as the last basket was fastened
down. "I wish you'd let me help Sarah wash up the tea-things at home,
mother."
"If Sarah liked to let you, I shouldn't say no, Milly," said Mrs.
Norton. "How soon would you get tired of it, old woman, I wonder? But
come along, let's put Olly up on a rock, and make him sing, and then
we'll have Aunt Emma's story."
So they put Olly up on a tall piece of rock, and he sang "The Minstrel
Boy," and "Bonnie Dundee," and "Hot Cross Buns," just as if he were a
little musical box, and you had nothing to do but to wind him up. He had
a sweet, clear, little voice, and he looked a delightful brown gipsy, as
he sat perched up on the rock with his long legs dangling, and his curls
blowing about his face.
"There!" said Olly, when he had shouted out the last note of "Hot Cross
Buns." "I have singed three whole songs; and now, Aunt Emma, tell us
about the king and the fairies. Krick, please."
"It must be 'krick' indeed," said Aunt Emma, "if we want to get home
to-night."
For the sun had almost sunk behind the mountains at their back, and the
wind blowing across the lake was beginning to get a little cold, while
over their heads the rooks went flying, singing "caw, caw," on their way
to bed. And how the sun was turning the water to gold! It seemed to be
making a great golden pathway across the lake, and the mountains were
turning a deep blue, and plash, plash, went the little waves on the
rocks, so softly they seemed to be saying "Good-night! good-night!"
"Well," said Aunt Emma, settling herself on a soft piece of heather, and
putting her arms round Milly and Olly, "Once upon a time there was a
great king. He was a good king and a wise man, and he tried to make all
the people round about him wiser and better than they were before he
came to rule over them; and for a long time he was very powerful and
happy, and he and the brave men who helped him and were his friends did
a great deal of good, and kept the savage people who lived all about him
in order, and taught them a great many things. But at last some of the
savage people got tired of obeying the king, and they said they would
not have him to reign over them any more; so they made an army, and they
came together against the king to try and kill him and his friends. And
the king made an army too, and there was a great battle; and the savage
people were the strongest, and they killed nearly all the king's brave
men, and the king himself was terribly hurt in the fight. And at last,
when night came on, there were left only the king and one of his
friends--his knights, as they were called. The king was hurt so much
that he could not move, and his friend thought he was dying. They were
left alone in a rocky desert place, and close by there was a great lake
with mountains round it--like this, Olly. It was very cold, and the moon
was shining, and the king lay so still that once or twice his friend
almost thought that he was dead. But at last, about the middle of the
night, he began to speak, and he told his friend to take his sword that
was by his side and to go down to the side of the lake and throw it as
far as he could into the water. Now, this sword was a magic sword. Long
before, the king was once walking beside this lake, when he suddenly saw
an arm in a long white sleeve rising out of the lake, and in the hand at
the end of it was a splendid sword with a glistening handle. And the
king got into a boat and rowed as fast as he could till he got near
enough to take hold of the sword, and then the arm sank down under the
water and was seen no more. And with the sword the king won a great many
battles, and he loved it, and never would part with it; but now that he
was dying, he told his friend to take the sword and throw it back into
the lake where he had found it, and see what would happen. And his
friend took it, and went away over the rocks till he came to the edge of
the lake, and then he took the sword out of its case and swung it above
his head that he might throw it far into the water; but as he lifted it
up the precious stones in the handle shone so splendidly in the
moonlight that he could not make up his mind to throw it into the water,
it seemed such a pity. So he hid it away among the rushes by the water
side, and went back to the king. And the king said, 'What did you see by
the lake?'
"And the knight said, 'I saw nothing except the water, and the
mountains, and the rushes.'
"And the king said, 'Oh, unkind friend! Why will you not do as I ask
you, now that I am dying and can do nothing for myself? Go back and
throw the sword into the lake, as I told you.'
"And the knight went back, and once more he lifted the sword to throw it
into the water but it looked so beautiful that he _could_ not throw it
away. There would be nothing left, he thought, to remember the king by
when he was dead if he threw away the sword; so again he hid it among
the rushes, and then he went back to the king. And again the king asked,
'What did you see by the lake?' and again the knight answered, 'I saw
nothing except the water and the mountains.'
"'Oh, unkind, false friend!' cried the king, 'you are crueller to me
than those who gave me this wound. Go back and throw the sword into the
water, or, weak as I am, I will rise up and kill you.'
"Back went the knight, and this time he seized the sword without looking
at it, so that he should not see how beautiful it was, and then he swung
it once, twice, thrice, round his head, and away it went into the lake.
And as it fell, up rose a hand and arm in a long white sleeve out of the
water, and the hand caught the sword and drew it down under the water.
And then for a moment, all round the lake, the knight fancied he heard a
sound of sobbing and weeping, and he thought in his heart that it must
be the water-fairies weeping for the king's death.
"'What did you see by the lake?' asked the king again, when he came
back, and the knight told him. Then the king told him to lift him up and
carry him on his back down to the edge of the lake, and when they got
there, what do you think they saw?"
But the children could not guess, and Milly pressed Aunt Emma's hand
hard to make her go on.
"They saw a great black ship coming slowly over the water, and on the
ship were numbers of people in black, sobbing and crying, so that the
air was full of a sound of weeping, and in front sat three queens in
long black dresses, and with gold crowns on their heads, and they, too,
were weeping and wringing their hands.
"'Lift me up,' said the king, when the ship came close beside them, 'and
put me into the ship.' And the knight lifted him up, while the three
queens stretched out their hands and drew him into the ship.
"'Oh, king! take me with you,' said the knight, 'take me too. What shall
I do all alone without you?' But the ship began to move away, and the
knight was left standing on the shore. Only he fancied he heard the
king's voice saying, 'Wait for me, I shall come again. Farewell!'
"And the ship went faster and faster away into the darkness, for it was
a fairy ship, till at last the knight could see it no more. So then he
knew that the king had been carried away by the fairies of the lake--the
same fairies who had given him the sword in old days, and who had loved
him and watched over him all his life. But what did the king mean by
saying, 'I shall come again'?"
Then Aunt Emma stopped and looked at the children.
"What did he mean, auntie?" asked Milly, who had been listening with all
her ears, and whose little eyes were wet, "and did he ever come back
again?"
"Not while the knight lived, Milly. He grew to be quite an old man, and
was always hoping that the fairies would bring the king again. But the
king never came, and his friend died without seeing him."
"But did he _ever_ come again?" asked Olly.
"I don't know, Olly. Some people think that he is still hidden away
somewhere by the kind water-fairies, and that some day, when the world
wants him very much, he will come back again."
"Do you think he is here in this lake?" whispered Milly, looking at the
water.
"How can we tell what's at the bottom of the lake?" said Aunt Emma,
smiling. "But no, I don't think the king is hidden in this lake. He
didn't live near here."
"What was his name?" asked Milly.
"His name was King Arthur. But now, children, hurry; there is father
putting all the baskets into the boat. We must get home as quick as we
can."
They rowed home very quickly, except just for a little time when Milly
rowed, and they did not go quite so fast as if father were rowing alone.
It was quite evening now on the lake, and there were great shadows from
the mountains lying across the water. Somehow the children felt much
quieter now than when they started in the afternoon. Milly had curled
herself up inside mother's arm, and was thinking a great deal about King
Arthur and the fairy ship, while Olly was quite taken up with watching
the oars as they dipped in and out of the water, and occasionally asking
his father when he should be big enough to row quite by himself. It
seemed a very little time after all before they were stepping out of the
boat at Aunt Emma's boathouse, and the picnic and the row were both
over.
"Good-bye, dear lake," said Milly, turning with her hands full of
water-lilies to look back before they went up to the house. "Good-night,
mountains; good-night, Birdsnest Point. I shall soon come and see you
again."
A few minutes more, and they were safely packed into a carriage which
drove them back to Ravensnest, and Aunt Emma was saying good-bye to
them.
"Next time, I shall come and see you, Milly," she said, as she kissed
Milly's little sleepy face. "Don't forget me till then."
"Then you'll tell us about old Mother Quiverquake," said Olly, hugging
her with his small arms. "Aunt Emma, I haven't given Johnny back his
stockings. They did tickle me so in the boat."
"We'll get them some time," said Aunt Emma. "Good-night, good-night."
It was a sleepy pair of children that nurse lifted out of the carriage
at Ravensnest. And though they tried to tell her something about it, she
had to wait till next morning before she could really understand
anything about their wonderful day at Aunt Emma's house.