The House That Grew by Mrs. Molesworth
CHAPTER XI
'I MADE SURE OF THAT,' SAID ROLF
We _heard_ it--the surprise I mean--almost before we heard the wheels ofthe fly from Kirke, bringing the visitor that _was_ expected. For thedrive from the lodge is on well-rolled gravel, and as there had been afew showers lately, it was soft, and you scarcely hear a carriage comingin that case.
But what we did hear, as we stood about waiting to welcome Rolfcordially, was a sharp, clear little voice, not talking, but--barking,and then, almost at the same moment, we caught sight of the fly, as itreached the turn at which anything coming up the drive could be seenfrom the Hut.
'I do believe,' I exclaimed, turning to Taisy,--'I do believe he has gota dog!'
Taisy shook her head.
'I don't know of it if he has,' she said; 'and I don't think he wouldhave brought one without asking if he might.'
Taisy looked a little frightened. She felt somehow as if she were ratherresponsible for Rolf, especially on account of the gypsy affair!
'It may be a dog belonging to the flyman,' I went on; 'though in thatcase it would probably be running alongside, and it doesn't sound as ifit were.'
Our doubts were soon set at rest.
When the fly drew up, not at the front--there was no place for carriagesthere, but on a piece of level ground a little towards the back on oneside--out sprang our visitor--a tall, fair boy, a good bit taller thanGeordie, with nice blue eyes and a very sunny look about him,altogether. And--in his arms he held--as if very much afraid of losingit--the dearest, duckiest, little rough-haired terrier you ever saw!
Rolf--for of course it was Rolf--looking just a trifle shy, for whichwe--Geordie and I--liked him all the better--turned at once to Taisy, asif to a sort of protector. But he could not hold out his hand, as it wasall he could do with both hands to keep the frightened doggie fromescaping there and then from his grasp.
'How funny!' I thought. 'Why doesn't he let him go? He wouldn't want torun away from his own master!'
'I can't shake hands, Taisy--but how are you?' Rolf by this time wassaying: 'Will you introduce me to your cousins? This little beggar--Ideclare he's as slippery as an eel, in spite of his coat.'
We needed no introduction--we all pressed round him to look at theterrier.
'Is he so nervous?' said Taisy. 'Has the railway frightened him?'
'Oh no, I don't think so. He was just as bad before we got into thetrain. It's just strangeness' was the rather puzzling reply.
'"Strangeness,"' Taisy repeated, while Geordie and I looked up insurprise,--'strangeness, with his own master holding him?'
Rolf gave a funny little laugh, and grew rather red.
'Oh, but,' he said, 'you see, he doesn't know I'm his master, and Idon't want him to. It isn't worth while. I--I only bought him thismorning from the keeper at Millings--you know Millings?'--Taisy nodded;it was a place near Lady Emmeline's. 'I asked him to be on the lookoutfor one as soon as I knew about coming here. I thought he'd suit MissLanark, as you once said something about her wanting a really nicelittle dog,' and he smiled at me in his frank, boyish way.
It was quite true! Rolf must have a good memory, for it was fully sixmonths ago that I had once said in writing to Taisy that papa had givenme leave to have a dog of my very own if I could get a good-tempered,well-bred one, and that she must let me know if she came across apersonage of the kind. For, though it seems odd that, living in thecountry, we had never had a pet of the kind, it was the case. I thinkpapa and mamma had rather discouraged it, till we were old enough totreat a dog well and not to risk being ill-treated by him!
Since getting papa's leave to have one of my own I had almost forgottenabout it, so many important things and changes had happened.
But for a moment or two I forgot everything but my delight. The weedoggie was so sweet--so just exactly what I had pictured to myself asthe perfection of a pet.
'Oh, thank you, thank you!' I exclaimed, holding out my arms, in whichRolf carefully deposited the little creature, not very sorry, I fancy,at the bottom of his heart to make him over to me, for he must have beenrather a tiresome travelling companion.
'He's a young dog, but full-grown,' Rolf said; 'and very affectionateand good-tempered. I made sure of that. And he's really a lady'sdog--his mother belonged to a lady near Millings, and that has been hishome. She only sold him because she couldn't keep so many. He's a bittimid, they say, or rather nervous--but plucky too; if any one tried tohurt you he'd go for them, the keeper said. But it may take him a day ortwo to settle down.'
It scarcely looked like it--already the little round, rough head wasnestling against me, and the nice little cold, black nose rubbing myfingers approvingly, while Taisy and George pressed up to me to see him.
'What's his name, Rolf?' asked the former. Geordie did not speak; Ithink for a minute or two he was feeling just a little jealous--orenvious rather of Rolf--as _he_ had not been able to give me a dog, whenhe saw how delighted I was. But he was too good and unselfish to letthis feeling last, and when the terrier gave him a friendly lick inreturn for a patronising little pat, Dods's kind heart was completelywon.
'His name,' Rolf repeated thoughtfully; 'I'm afraid I forgot to ask. Buthe'll soon get used to any name. It's often more the tone than theactual sound that a dog notices.'
'I know,' said Taisy in her quick way; 'call him "Rough." It's not veryuncommon perhaps, but it would suit him--his coat--so well, and it israther like "Rolf" too.'
We had just decided this when mamma's voice, coming towards us from theHut, made us turn round.
'What are you all about?' she asked. 'I heard the fly come some minutesago. Welcome to Eastercove, Rolf,' she went on, holding out her hand,which our visitor was now able to take. 'I hope you have had a pleas----Oh! so you have brought your dog,' and she looked a very littlestartled; 'take care, Ida. Is he quite good with strangers?'
'Oh, but,' I began, and then I suddenly remembered that without mamma'sleave I had no right to accept Rolf's gift. 'He's mine--my own dog,' Iwent on; 'that's to say if you will let me have him. You know papa saidI might have a dog,' I added pleadingly; 'though of course it isdifferent now. And he is quite good-tempered and gentle.'
'Yes,' Rolf repeated; 'I made sure of that.'
They were the first words mamma had heard him speak. He had not had achance of thanking her for her 'welcome,' nor she of finishing hersentence about his journey, so taken up had we all been by Master Rough!But at least it had had the good effect of setting us all at our ease.
Then I went on to explain about Rolf's having remembered what Taisy hadtold him ever so long ago about my wish to have a dog--by the bye, itwas lucky that I had not already got one! That possibility had neverstruck Rolf; he had only been turning over in his mind what he could doto please us, whom he thought very kind to 'take him in,' and mammaturned to him in the pretty way she does, which always makes people likeher.
'It was very good of you,' she said,--'very good and thoughtful,' andshe too patted the new pet--_very_ gently; mamma is a little afraid,perhaps wisely so, of strange dogs--so that in her case he thought a wagof his tail sufficient notice of her attention instead of a lick, forwhich omission, if mamma had known of it, she would have been grateful!'Do you think,' she went on, turning to us three, 'that among you, youcan look after him properly and prevent his getting into any trouble,or straying away in the woods?'
'And getting shot by mistake for a rabbit?' said Geordie. 'He is so likeone!'
We all laughed at this; for nothing in dog shape, _little_ dog shape, atleast, could be less like a bunny than Rough, though perhaps it was not_very_ respectful of Dods to joke at mamma's fears. But she did notmind, and by this time we were all feeling quite at home with Rolf, andhe with us. So we went in together to tea, where he and the two littleones had to be introduced to each other, and Rough exhibited to Denziland Esme's admiring eyes. He had fallen asleep in my arms, feeling happyand comfortable again, and probably thinking I was his old mistressrestored to him after
'Mamma need not say, "_Among_ you, will he be looked after?"' I thoughtto myself. 'The darling will have looking after enough from hisowner--myself. I only hope the little ones won't tease him, or interferewith him, even out of kindness.'
That first evening of Rolf's visit left a very pleasant remembrance, andit was only a beginning of many happy days.
He seemed to bring with him just what we needed (though Taisy had done agood deal, rather of the same kind). It prevented our getting too muchtaken up with our own affairs, or becoming too 'old-fashioned,'--Geordieand I especially--as Hoskins called it, and I don't know that there is abetter word to express what I mean.
He was so thoroughly a boy, though the very nicest kind of boy--notashamed of being a 'gentleman,' too, in lots of little ways, which manyboys either despise, or are too awkward and shy to attend to. I don'tmean to say that he was the least bit of a prig--just the opposite. Heoften forgot about wiping his feet, and was rather particularly cleverat tearing his clothes, but never forgot to open the door for mamma andus girls, or to tug at his old straw hat or cap when he met us! Or moreimportant things in a sense--such as settling mamma's 'boudoir,' as wegot into the habit of calling Miss Trevor's present, in the best place;and seeing that her letters were taken in good time to the lodge for thepostman, and things like that.
And looking back upon those days now that I am so much older, I can seethat he must have had a good deal of 'tact' of the truest kind, asmamma says it really means care for other people's feelings, not tomake dear old Geordie at all jealous,--actually, indeed, to take awaythe touch of it which Dods did feel at the beginning.
Before a couple of days had passed, all the boys were the best offriends. Of course, I made Rolf leave off calling me anything but 'Ida,'and to Esme he was quite a slave. Rather too much so. He spoilt her, andit was the only thing Taisy and I were not quite pleased with him for,as it did make her much more troublesome again at her lessons.
But there came a day when even he got very, very vexed with Esme. Ithink I must tell the story. She won't mind even if she ever reads this,for she is _much_ more sensible now, and often says she wonders how weall had patience with her.
It had to do with Rough, my doggie.
Dogs, as I daresay you, whoever you are, know, if you have had much todo with them, are not always fond of children, or perhaps I should say,are not fond of _all_ children. They hate fidgety, teasing ones, whowill pull and pinch them for the fun of making them snap and snarl, orwho _won't_ let them have a peaceful snooze on the hearthrug, if theythemselves--the tiresome children, I mean--are inclined for noisyromping. If I were a dog, I should do more than snap and snarl in such acase, I know!
Esme was not as bad as that. She was a kind-hearted little girl, andnever meant to hurt or worry any one. But she was a terrible fidget, andvery mischievous and thoughtless. It would have been better for herperhaps to have had a rather less free life than ours at the Hut was.There was no one whose regular business it was to look after her. Out oflesson hours she might do pretty much as she liked. Mamma knew she wouldnever do anything really naughty, or that she thought so, anyway, and wetrusted a good deal to the boys, who, even little Denzil, were soparticularly steady-going, and whom she was generally with.
But after Rolf came, he and George naturally went about together a gooddeal, just as Taisy and I did, and I don't think any of us realised howcompletely Esme had the upper hand of Den.
If I was to blame about her, by not keeping her more with Taisy andmyself, I was well punished for it by the fright she gave us, as youwill hear.
It was rather a hot day for the time of year--still only spring. We fourelder ones had gone for a good long ramble in the farther off woods,taking our luncheon with us, and for some reason--I think I _was_, inmy own mind, a little afraid of Rough's getting trapped or somemischance of the kind--I had left my doggie at home, as safe as couldbe, I thought, for he was under Hoskins's care, and she was nearly asfond of him as I myself.
He would have been far safer, as it turned out, if we had taken him withus.
Esme must have been 'at a loose end' that afternoon, from what she toldme afterwards. Denzil had got some little carpentering job in hand--hewas rather clever at it, and at dinner-time, Esme, as well as he, toldmamma about it--so she was quite happy, thinking they had got goodoccupation, and that there was no fear of any 'idle hands' trouble.
But Miss Esme, as was her way, got very tired of handing Den the nailsand tools and things he wanted, and of watching his rather slowprogress, and told him she must really go for a run.
'All right,' said Denzil; 'but don't go far.'
He told us this part of it himself, when he came in for some blame inhaving 'let' Esme' get into mischief. This sounds rather hard upon him,doesn't it, considering he was fully a year younger than she? but, as Ihave explained, he was such a solemn old sober-sides, that we had allgot into the way of treating him as if he were the responsible one ofthe two.
'No,' Esme replied, she would not go far; nor did she.
She strolled about--I can see her now as she must have looked thatafternoon--her hands behind her back, her black legs--she was a talllittle girl for her age--showing rather long and thin beneath her big,brown Holland overall, her garden hat tilted very much to the back, herlovely goldy hair in a great fuzz as usual, and her bright hazel eyespeering about for something to amuse herself with.
As ill-luck would have it, she found the 'something' in the shape of mypoor darling Roughie!
Hoskins had allowed him to go out with a bone to the front of the Hut,where he was lying very comfortably in the sunshine, on a mat, which heconsidered his own property. He had left off nibbling at the bone, andwas half or three-quarters asleep.
Now when Esme is--no, I must in fairness say 'was,' she is so differentnow--in one of her idle yet restless humours, it irritated her somehowto see any one else peaceful and quiet, even if the some one else wasonly a dog.
'You lazy little beggar,' she said to Rough. I don't really know thatshe said those very words, but I am sure it was something of the kind,and so I think I may 'draw on my imagination' a little in telling thestory. 'You lazy little beggar, why don't you get up and go for a run?You are getting far too fat.'
And--she told me this herself--she gave him a 'tiny' kick, not so as tohurt him--that I quite believe, but dogs have feelings about otherthings than being actually hurt in their bodies. He had been blinking upat her good-naturedly, though he was not, as I said, very fond of her.Nor was she of him.
But now, at the kick, or 'shove,' I think she called it, he gave aslight growl. And no wonder--it was not the sort of thing to sweeteneven a sweet-tempered dog's temper--when he was doing no harm and onlyasking to be left alone in peace. Esme, however, declared that it wasthe growl that made her wish to tease him.
She put her hand into the pocket of her blouse, meaning to take out herhandkerchief to 'flick' him a little and make him wake up. But in thispocket, unluckily, besides the handkerchief were some nails and screwsand such things which she had put there for convenience while beingsupposed to 'help' Denzil, by handing them to him as he wanted them. Andwhen she touched them, they rattled and jingled, thoroughly rousing poorRoughie, who opened his eyes and growled again, this time more loudly,and Esme, delighted, rattled and jingled, and again he growled.
Then a wicked idea came into her head.
She had heard of naughty boys tormenting cats in a certain way.
'It can't hurt him,' she thought; 'it will only make him run, which isgood for him.'
And she darted into the Hut, and through it to Rolf's tent, where, as Isaid, there was a small compact cooking stove, and among the thingsbelonging to it a small but strong tin kettle. Esme looked at it. Ibelieve she was more afraid just then of damaging the kettle than ofharming the dog!
Still she lifted it and considered for a moment.
'No,' she thought, 'it's quite light; it can't hurt him. And it w
By ill-luck, her other pocket held a good piece of stout string. She satdown and quietly tied up the kettle, so that the lid was secure, havingfirst dropped into it enough nails and screws to make a woful clatter,but taking care that no jingle should be heard as yet. It is wonderfulhow careful a careless child can be if bent on mischief!
SHE FASTENED THE ONE END OF THE STRING ROUND HIS POORLITTLE BODY.]
Then speaking for once most gently and caressingly to Roughie, who wasso surprised that he lay quite still, she fastened the other end of thestring to his tail, and round his poor little body too. 'I didn't wanthis tail to be pulled off,' she said afterwards--fortunately, for histail _might_ have been badly hurt.
Then when all was ready, she got up cautiously, and walking away a fewsteps, called Rough very sweetly. But he was rather suspicious; he firstgot up and stretched himself--there was a faint jingle--poor wee man, helooked behind him--no, Esme was not there; he moved, more jingle andrattle, again she called, and he, beginning to be frightened, turnedtowards her, on which the cruel little thing 'shoo'ed' him away. Shedescribed it all perfectly. And then the idea must have seized him ofescaping by flight from the unseen terror. He ran--of course the noisegot worse; he ran faster, and it grew louder--faster still--oh, my poorRoughie!--louder still, Esme laughing--at _first_, that is to say--toherself, till his doggy wits began to desert him, and a sort ofnightmare agony must have seized him.
And then--too late--the naughty girl saw what she had done.
CHAPTER XII
'WELL--ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL!'
What I described in the last chapter will explain the scene that met oureyes, and the sounds that reached our ears, as we got near the Hut.
And unluckily the 'we' did not mean only us four--the two bigger boysand Taisy and I. For as we were passing through that part of the nearwoods which skirts the Eastercove gardens--we always took care not to govery close to the house or more private part of the grounds, as, nice asthe Trevors were, mamma said we must never risk their feeling that theplace was not quite their own for the time being--just, I say, as wepassed the nearest point to the house, we came upon them, all three ofthem--Mr., Mrs., and Miss. No, I think I should say all _six_ of them,for trotting round old Mrs. Trevor's heels were of course the threepugs. And, of course too, huddled up under one arm, was the bundle ofmany-coloured knitting; she was working as she walked, and when shestopped to speak to us, one or two balls rolled on to the ground, sothat before Rolf and Geordie had time to touch their caps almost, theywere both on their knees, trying to catch the truants before they rolledfarther away.
'We were coming to see you all,' said Miss Trevor smiling; 'do you thinkyour mother is at home and disengaged?'
'I think so,' I replied, and then I went on to explain that we had beenout for several hours on a private picnicking expedition of our own, andwe all joined in saying, 'Do come,' for we liked the Trevors very much,especially Miss 'Zenia.' We were a little frightened of Mr. Trevor; hewas so tall and thin, and had the name of being tremendously learned,but they were all very kind, though I have nothing _very_ particular totell about them. Mrs. Trevor always made us laugh, with her dogs and herknitting, but she _was_ so good-natured.
So we strolled on together, in the pleasant, still, sunshinyafternoon--Rolf and Geordie talking to Mr. Trevor, who was not at all'awe-inspiring' when he got on the subject of his own schooldays, for weheard them all laughing most heartily now and then.
Taisy declared afterwards that she had picked up balls of wool at leasttwenty times during that walk, as she kept beside Mrs. Trevor. Andseeing that their mistress was thus engaged, the three dogs--they werereally very well-behaved--took to following rather demurely, all threetogether, while I chatted to Zenia.
It was not till we were very near the Hut that any unusual soundsreached us.
I was just talking about Roughie to Miss Trevor, descanting on hisperfections, when a sort of queer yelping gasp, or gasping yelp, made usstand still for a moment.
'What can that be?' I said.
'Oh, nothing,' said Miss Trevor. 'One hears all sorts of funny animalsounds in the woods, I have learnt to know. You are rather like ananxious mamma, Ida, who has been out and left her baby too long. For Ican see you at once think of the dear doggie,' and she laughed a little,though of course quite kindly.
I laughed too, and we walked on--we were just a few steps in front ofthe others.
But--again in another moment I stopped, this time holding up my hand,and saying, 'Hush!'
Then I turned, and I fancy I had grown quite white already.
'Miss Trevor,' I said, 'it _is_ Rough, and there must be somethingdreadful the matter. Just listen.'
There was the same gasping yelp, almost like a choking human cry, andthe strangest rushing and clanking, jingling sounds, all mixed together.
'Was he chained up? Can he have broken loose?' said Zenia breathlessly.'It sounds like----'
'"Chained up,"' I repeated indignantly; 'my sweet little Roughie! Oh no,no!' I cried, as I rushed off.
It was rather rude, I am afraid, to repeat her words like that, but shewas far too kind to mind.
'Geordie, Geordie, Rolf,' I cried, 'come quickly! There is somethingdreadfully the matter with Rough.'
So indeed it seemed, for the noise grew louder, and mingled with it nowwere a child's calls and shrieks.
'Roughie, Roughie,' I distinguished in Esme's voice; 'darling Roughie,come to me. Don't be so frightened, darling. I didn't mean it--oh, Ididn't mean it!'
And this was what I _saw_.
Esme, hair streaming, eyes streaming, scarlet with terror, rushing overthe ground in front and at the side of the Hut, lost to sight for amoment among the trees, then out again, after _something_--a small, wildanimal, it seemed--that was tearing before her, evidently trying toescape from her, or from--yes, what was that strange thing rushing after_it_? Another still smaller wild beast of some kind, or what? No, it wasnothing alive; it was a metal thing of some kind, rattling, clanking,jingling, and--oh, horrors!--tied to my poor pet's little body.
I saw it all at once--affection quickens one's eyes, they say--I took itall in before there was time for any explanation, though Esme screamedto me as she flew on: 'Oh, Ida, Ida, I didn't mean it! Stop him, stophim!'
Naughty, naughty Esme!
_He_ had already rushed past me--within a few yards, that is tosay--without seeing me, whom he generally caught sight of before youcould think it possible. Blinded by terror--yes, and deafened too--hedid not know I had come; he could not hear his own 'missus's' voice.
And he was dreadful to look at: his tongue was hanging out; his wholelittle head seemed spattered with foam; he was rushing like a madthing, even though, by the gasping sound he made, you could tell he wasexhausted, and had scarcely any breath left.
No wonder that, as the boys hurried up behind me, they and Mr.Trevor--Mr. Trevor especially--thought he _was_ mad.
Mr. Trevor kept his presence of mind, I must say, under what _he_thought the dreadful circumstances. He almost pushed his mother andsister and Taisy into the porch, and tried to push me in too. But Ievaded him.
The boys and Esme were quite out of reach--_they_ were tearing after_her_, shouting to her to 'Come back, come back!' which did not tend tolessen the uproar. And when _I_ started in pursuit, as of course I did,it must have seemed to any one looking on as if we had all gone madtogether! Indeed, Taisy owned to me afterwards that, terrified as shewas, she had hard work to keep down her laughter, especially when sheheard me turn upon dignified Mr. Trevor, and in answer to his despotic--
'Go back, Miss Lanark, go back; I insist upon it,' shout back,'Nonsense; I will _not_ go back.'
And as I heard his next words--
'The dog must be shot at once. Boys, is there a gun about the place?' Igrew desperate, for
Then a new idea struck me. Instead of rushing round like theothers--like the boys that is to say, for by this time Esme had droppedin front of the porch, whence Zenia Trevor had dragged her in, and shewas now sobbing on Taisy's shoulder--instead of rushing after Roughie, I'doubled' and _met_ him, my arms outstretched, and using every endearingand coaxing tone I could think of. And oh, the joy and relief when,almost dead with exhaustion by now, he flew into my clasp, and, pantingand nearly choking, faintly rubbed his poor little head against me!
'He knows me, he knows me!' I shouted. 'He is not a bit mad; he is onlywild with terror.'
But I had some trouble to get the others to believe me; _their_ frighthad only increased tenfold when they saw me catch him. In somemarvellous way Mr. Trevor had got out the gun--I have always suspectedthat Taisy or Hoskins or one of them had already thought of it--andstood within a few paces of my dog and me. But for my having him in myarms, he would have made an end of Roughie, and certainly I would neverhave told this story.
As it was, for a moment or two he--Mr. Trevor, not the poor pet--wasvery angry.
'Miss Lanark!' he shouted, 'you are mad yourself to touch him. Has hebitten you?' for I was crying so by this time that I had hidden my facein Rough's coat.
'_Bitten_ me!' I exclaimed, looking up and not caring if Mr. Trevor sawmy tears or not,--'_bitten_ me! How can you imagine such a thing? Lookat him.'
And, indeed, it was a sight to melt any heart and disarm any fears!Roughie was lying quite still, nestling against me as close as he couldget, only quivering now and then and giving little sobbing sighs, justas a tiny child does after some violent trouble and crying.
I believe he was already asleep!
Mr. Trevor approached cautiously.
'He--he certainly looks all right now,' he said. 'Can it have been a fitof some extraordinary kind, then, or what can----'
'There is no mystery about it,' I said, 'except the mystery of how anyone _could_ be so cruel. Didn't you hear the rattling, Mr.Trevor--didn't you see--_this_?'
And I gave a gentle tug to the string, still firmly fastened to the poorlittle man; but gently as I did it, the horrid kettle and things in itjingled slightly, and at once Roughie opened his eyes and began toshake.
I soothed him again, but Mr. Trevor did the sensible thing. He laid downthe gun, calling to the boys as they hurried up not to touch it, andtaking out his penknife cut the string, close to the kettle end first,and then handed the knife to me, to cut the string again where it wasfastened to my dog.
Rolf and Geordie could scarcely speak.
'Who can have done it?' they exclaimed. '_Could_ Esme have been so----'
'Cruel and naughty,' I interrupted,--'yes, I am afraid so, though I_couldn't_ have believed it of her. Geordie, pick up the kettle please,without jingling if you can help it, and please throw away the horridthings that are in it.'
'No, no, don't throw them away!' exclaimed a newcomer on the scene.'They're my nails and screws.'
It was Denzil.
'And my kettle,' said poor Rolf, rather dolefully, for he was proud ofhis cooking stove and all its neat arrangements, and the kettle lookednearly as miserable for a kettle as Roughie did for a little dog!
I turned upon Denzil very sharply, I am afraid.
'Did you know of it, then?' I said.
Poor Denzil looked very frightened.
'In course not, Ida,' he said. 'I came out to ask Esme for my nails. Shehad a lot of them in her blouse pockets, and she got tired of helping meand forgot to give me them back.'
'I'm very sorry,' I said. 'No, I am sure you would never do such athing, Den.'
Then I got up, very carefully, not to disturb my poor doggie, who wasreally asleep by this time, and we all--Mr. Trevor and the three boysand I--went to the group in the porch, whose anxiety was alreadyrelieved by seeing us more tranquil again. Taisy had been dying to rushout to us, but Esme, sobbing in her arms, was not easily disposed of.
She--Esme--had begun an incoherent confession of her misdoings, but nowmamma stopped it.
'Is it all right?' she asked eagerly, speaking to Mr. Trevor. 'The dogis _not_ mad then? What was it?'
Mr. Trevor glanced, still a little doubtfully, at Roughie in my arms.
'I--yes, I think he is all right again,' he replied. 'He certainlyrecognised his mistress's voice, which is the best sign. I do not thinkit was any kind of fit; it was just terror. He must be a nervous littlecreature.'
'Yes,' said Rolf; 'he is awfully nervous, though he is not cowardly.'
'A fine distinction, as applied to a dog,' said Mr. Trevor smiling. 'Butif--you all knew it, how----'
A howl--really it was a howl--from Esme interrupted him.
'Oh, I know, I know!' she wailed. 'It was all my fault. But I only meantto tease him and make him run. I didn't mean--oh, Ida, I didn't mean--tomake him go mad. Will you ever forgive me? Rough will never look at meagain, I know.'
She was mistaken. The prettiest thing happened just then: Roughie,placidly asleep, though giving little quivers and sobs still, wasawakened by the noise she made. He opened his eyes, and his mouth--whatDenzil called 'smiling'--a little; I think he meant to give a friendlylick, but finding nothing handy for this, he contented himself with avery cheerful tail-wagging, first glancing up at Esme, who was bendingover him, as much as to say, 'I do forgive you heartily.'
I have always said that dogs--nice dogs--are sorry for people when theysee them crying. Since that day I have been sure of it.
But the first effect of Rough's magnanimity was to bring forth anotherburst of sobs and tears from poor Esme.
Yes, I too forgave her from that moment.
'Oh, Ida! oh, mamma! oh, everybody!' she cried, 'do forgive me! You see_he_ does.'
So now we fell to petting and soothing her; it never took very long toget up Esme's spirits again, happily. Before bedtime, except forreddened eyes, you would not have known there had been anything thematter, but from that day to this Roughie has had no kinder or truerfriend than her.
We were all feeling rather overstrained. Mr. Trevor, I _fancy_, a littleashamed of the great fuss he had made, though perhaps I should scarcelyspeak of it like that, and I think we all felt glad when mamma saidbrightly--
'Well--all is well that ends well! Will you join us at our schoolroomtea and forgive its being rather a scramble after all this upset?' Sheturned to the Trevors, but before they had time to reply there came ahalf-laughing but rather distressed appeal from Mrs. Trevor.
'My dears,' she said, addressing everybody as far as I could make out,'will some of you disentangle me? The dogs and I have all got mixed uptogether--naughty, naughty!' and she switched powerlessly with aknitting needle at the poodles, who this time were really enjoyingthemselves in a good ball-of-wool chase, as the excitement of Rough'sstrange behaviour had actually made the old lady leave off knitting forfully five minutes!
It was quite impossible not to laugh, but Mrs. Trevor herself laughed asheartily as any one, and at last, by turning her round and round as ifwe were playing at blind man's buff, and catching up first one poodleand then another, we got her free.
And of course the wool looked none the worse!
That laughing set us all still more at our ease, and by the time we hadsobered down, Hoskins appeared to announce tea. And after the kindTrevors had said good-bye and gone, Denzil set us off laughing again byannouncing in his solemn way that he didn't believe Mr. Trevor was atall ill; he ate such a lot of buttered toast!
This affair of poor little Roughie was, I think, the most exciting thingthat happened to us all that spring and summer at the Hut. And thougheverybody, starting with the good-natured wee man himself, forgave Esmethoroughly, we were none of us allowed to _forget_ it. For my dogbehaved in the funniest way. Nothing for at least a fortnight wouldpersuade him to leave my room, where he installed himself in what heevidently thought
But by degrees he got over it, and became his own happy little selfagain.
I think it was the very day after this thrilling experience that we gotanother really cheering and hopeful letter from papa. And once thishappier turn of things began, it kept on pretty steadily; the onlydrawback to our thankfulness being that he could name no date--no_probable_ one even--for his return. So the lengthening days followedeach other till we got to midsummer, and then came July and August,specially lovely months that year, during which the sun looked down on abusy and happy party in the queer encampment that was our home for thetime.
In September Rolf left us for the big school he was bound for. We missedhim sadly, though we had the cheering _hope_ that his aunt would let himcome to us again for the winter holidays.
And so she did!
A few days before Christmas he and Taisy--Taisy had spent the autumnwith her grandmother--arrived again, together this time, though lesslike snails, as they had left their houses behind them when they wentaway. And some changes in the arrangements were made. Taisy hadGeordie's room, and Geordie, to his great delight, took up his quartersin her waggon, as mamma did not like the idea of a girl's beingoutside--even though so near--through the long, dark nights. It was nota cold winter; it is never very cold at Eastercove, and where the Hutstands it seems even milder than higher up. So Rolf stuck to his tent,and was very pleased to have an excuse for keeping his patent stovegoing all the time. Those holidays came to an end only too soon.
In March, just about a year after he had left, came the news of papa'sreturn being fixed for June. It all fitted in. The Trevors had taken thehouse for twelve months, and with the fine weather meant to go back totheir own home in the north. And now there was no talk of letting ourdear home again, or, as far as we could see, of ever leaving it exceptfor pleasant reasons. But we kept the Hut just as it was, for papa tosee. Rolf would not even have his tent moved till after that summer, andTaisy's waggon is to this day somewhere about the premises, and mammastill has her movable 'boudoir' wheeled about to different parts of thegrounds, as it suits her.
* * * * *
It is nearly three years since I made the last entry in my 'Hut' diary,from which I have written out this history of 'The House that Grew.' HowI came to do so I will explain.
We have been through some very anxious times lately about Rolf. He is asoldier, and very soon after he got his commission his regiment went toIndia, and he with it. I will not tell the particulars, as he might notlike it, but he 'came in' almost at once for some _very_ active service,up in some of those dreadfully out-of-the-way places, where there are sooften disturbances with the natives, which in England do not attractmuch attention, unless you happen to have close personal interest inwhat is happening, as we had, for Rolf had become almost like anotherbrother to us, spending half his holidays at Eastercove. AndGeordie--oh, I forgot to say he _did_ get the scholarship!--and he, by ahappy coincidence, had been at school together.
Well--one sad day there came news that Rolf was badly wounded. We havebeen waiting and waiting--and I think the anxiety 'got on my nerves,' aspeople say. For one day mamma spoke seriously to me, when she found mesitting idle, just longing for letters.
'Ida, dear,' she said, 'you must get something to do--something _extra_,I mean, to interest you.'
And after talking a little, the idea of writing out my 'Hut' diary cameinto my head, and, as you see, I have done it!
* * * * *
And I have been, if I deserved to be so, rewarded for following mamma'sadvice.
Rolf is coming home--on leave--'invalided,' it is true, but his wound isnot so bad as reported; indeed, according to _him_, not bad at all!
Papa and Dods are just off to Southampton to meet him and bring himstraight here.
THE END
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