"Us, and our donkey"

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

"Us, And Our Donkey"

By

Amy Le Feuvre

Author of

"Me and Nobbles," "Probable Sons," "Teddy's Button," etc.

_Semper fidelis, semper paratus_

_With Illustrations By_ W. H. C. Groome

_Second Impression_

London THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard

By The Same Author

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Bulbs and Blossoms. A Little Maid. The Carved Cupboard. Odd. Eric's Good News. Odd made Even. Heather's Mistress. Probable Sons. His Little Daughter. Teddy's Button. Miss Lavender's Boy. "Me and Nobbles." On the Edge of a Moor. A Bit of Rough Road. A Puzzling Pair. Dwell Deep. A Thoughtless Seven. His Birthday. Bunny's Friends. A Little Listener. Jill's Red Bag. The Making of a Woman. Legend Led. The Mender.

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_The Religious Tract Society_

_4 Bouverie Street London, E. C._

Contents

Chap.

I. Our Move

II. The Knight'S Motto

III. My Secret

IV. Market Day

V. Lynette'S Scrape

VI. Our Visit To The Hall

VII. The Gipsy Camp

VIII. The Donkey Race

IX. The Gipsies' Supper

X. The Chariot Race

XI. Andy And Me

XII. Little Annie Steel

XIII. Our Dreadful Day

XIV. A Donkey In A Night-Cap

XV. An Unsuccessful Search

XVI. Our Knight'S Story

XVII. Found

"Us, And Our Donkey"

Chapter I

Our Move

OF course the boys say I shan't keep it up, but I say I shall. You see, there's such a lot to tell about, for we have come into a fresh village, and everything is strange and new. Denys says every one who writes is a prig, and Aylwin says I shall only write about myself, but I shan't do that, I know, for I think the others are much more interesting than I am. And I don't mean to write all our sayings and doings. There are a good many other people besides ourselves about here, and they will be very interesting, I'm sure. Of course, I may not write as I ought, always. I make good resolutions very often, but the difficulty is to keep them. And, of course, I must describe ourselves a little. I always like to hear what the children are like in books.

So I will begin this chapter by saying that our father's name is John Henry Marjoribanks, and he is a clergyman. Mother died just a year ago. I don't like writing about it, but I think I must. It was such a horrible, awful time. We were very poor, for father was only a curate then, and mother could not afford a thick winter jacket. She cut down hers for me—I hate the very sight of it now—and then she went out one bitterly cold night to see a sick woman, and she came back shivering. And then she got—I really can't spell it, but I know it begins with a 'p' which you don't pronounce. It means inflammation of the lungs—and we had to have a nurse, which cost a lot of money. And none of us were allowed to see her until the last day, when she asked for us, to wish us good-bye. I won't write any more; it makes me cry; we did love mother so. But she told me to try to take her place, for I was the eldest daughter. And I feel I never, never shall, for I'm so forgetful, and can't sit still, and hate needlework. And I laugh at the most solemn kind of things; anybody can make me laugh, and they know it.

Poor father got graver and graver, and Mrs. Glass, our rector's wife, was horrid; she kept interfering so. We always hated her little girls. They were prigs (I think I would rather be a convict than a prig!), and they were always so superior to us.

"Your father has to do what our father tells him," they said one day when we were fighting with them. "And if he doesn't, he'll be sent away."

They seemed to think father was a kind of servant. So we told them what we thought of them, and after that we didn't speak to each other for five whole days. And then the glorious news came at breakfast by the post. Father was going to be the Rector of Warlington, and that meant a church of his own, and a house of his own, and a move. A move is the most splendid thing, we all think. We have had two before, and we would like one every year. This one wasn't quite so nice as usual, because mother wasn't at it. And Aunt Caroline came to see to it. We love the way the house gets more and more untidy, and the last day, when we have to eat our meals off boxes, and everything is in the most hopeless muddle, and the rooms get emptier and emptier, and no one has time to look after us—it is simply ripping!

But I can't stop to describe this move of ours, because it is all over, and I want to hurry on to where we are now. Aunt Caroline came to settle us in, and she's with us now. She's father's sister, and very kind, but a little fussy, we think. She says she feels she never ought to have her needle out of her hand, because we tear our clothes so. We had to come a very long way by train, because we had been living near London, and our new home is in Lincolnshire. We got so tired that we were all asleep when we arrived. Perhaps I had better describe ourselves before I describe the house, and then I shall be able to begin my story quite properly.

Denys is the eldest—he is thirteen; Aylwin is twelve. They always do everything together. Denys is the managing one, and Aylwin generally agrees with him, after he has argued the thing thoroughly out. Everybody thinks they're very nice-looking. I think they are, but when people say to father, "What dear boys! Such thorough little gentlemen," he shakes his head. "They're gentlemen, I hope, but desperate pickles!"

Then I come next. I'm the ugly one of the family. I have reddish hair, and a white face, and greenish-brown eyes. I think I'm quite fair in saying my hair is reddish, because it could be redder. I've seen some a real red, and mine isn't that. The boys say red-haired people are always ugly, and spit-cats. I do flare up, I know, but I try not to. I won't say any more about myself, except that I mean to write books one day, and that's why I'm beginning now to get my hand in. My name is Grisel. Isn't it a dreadful name? It was given me by an old great-aunt, who was my godmother. The boys, of course, call me Gristle and Grizzy. "You couldn't possibly be a beauty with a name like that," said Denys one day to me, when I told him I wished I was like Lynette. "No," I said, "but if I shut my eyes, Grisel sounds like a grim, grey-haired old woman with a beard under her chin, and I suppose I shall grow up like that." "I dare say you will," he said, "but you needn't be grim unless you like. You aren't grim now." So that is one thing I'm thankful for—that I'm not grim!

I find I am writing an awful lot about myself, so I will hurry on. Lynette is nine years old, and very pretty, and a regular mad-cap. She has long fair hair that comes right down to her waist in curly waves, and very big blue eyes, and she is never still a minute unless she is concocting mischief. Then Puff is the last one of us, and he used to be the baby. His real name is George, but we call him Puff because he talks so fast that he puffs like a steam-engine between his words, and he thinks an awful lot of himself, and struts about like a bantam-cock. He is only six, and he is always in pinafores, which he hates, and tries to get rid of whenever he can. We tie them in tight knots behind him. He tried dirtying them as fast as he could at one time, but if he has to have more than one pinafore a day, he has to go without sugar at tea-time, and he can't bear that. He has very curly hair, and a chubby rosy face, and he stamps when he walks, so he wears a lot of shoes out.

Now I will try to describe our house, as it is a delicious one. It is at the corner of a very pretty village with thatched cottages, and it is close to the church. Our big gate is almost side by side with the church gate, but when we go into church, we go down a little narrow path between thick shrubberies, and then we come to a narrow little iron gate which leads into the churchyard exactly opposite the door. Our big gate leads up a broad drive to our hall door, which is built in the side of our house; the stables are this side, and there are a coach-house and harness-room and loft, and two stalls for horses. We haven't a carriage or horse, but they're lovely places to play in.

The front of the house looks over a lovely big lawn; there's a summer-house and a lot of trees one end, and two big elms the other end, and at the bottom of it is a straight gravel path, and on the other side is a huge strawberry-bed. The strawberries divide the flower-garden from the kitchen-garden, which slopes down to a field. There are two fields after this one, and then comes the railway line. Our house is rather on a hill, so the fields slant down, which is a good thing when you're running to catch a train. Then there's a bit of garden that runs up the other side of the house, and that is full of flower-beds, and there's a small greenhouse, and father's study window looks out upon it. At the back of the stables is the yard, with the outhouses and the fowls' run; and then there is a wild bit of grass under a small plantation, and a high wall dividing our garden from the road. I am not good at descriptions, but I hope I've said enough about it outside.

Inside, we have the dining-room and drawing-room and father's study. Then there are a baize door and a long passage leading past the kitchens to the yard. Upstairs, we have our schoolroom over the dining-room; then there are father's bedroom, and Aunt Caroline's, and the spare room; and then there are another baize door and a long passage with our bedrooms and the servants'. Aylwin and Denys sleep together in one room, and Lynette and I in another. Puff sleeps with Aunt Caroline. What we like are the broad low stairs, and the long passages. And there's a lovely country smell about the house. I can't describe it. We've always lived in towns before, but if I shut my eyes, I can tell where I am because of the smell. It's something like burnt wood and hot loaves and lavender all mixed up together, and it made me sniff all over the house when I first got here.

The first few weeks after we came were lovely. We helped Aunt Caroline to arrange the furniture, and father went into Lemworth, our nearest town, twelve miles off, and bought some new carpets and a lot of new furniture. We clapped our hands when we saw it, but father said, "Oh, children, how mother would have enjoyed this!" And then he went into his study and shut the door, and we hushed at once, till we forgot again.

You see, we have run rather wild, but it's all so new to us, and we've never had a proper garden before, and we can hardly believe that everything in it belongs to us. We came here the beginning of June, and we haven't finished eating the strawberries yet, and it will be July to-morrow. Yesterday was the first wet day that we've had, so we all got together in the schoolroom and talked. We always find a lot to talk about, and we began about the lessons. Denys and Aylwin are to walk three miles every day to the clergyman of the next parish, who teaches his own boys and a few others. They will have their dinner there, and not come back till tea-time. Lynette and I shall do lessons with Aunt Caroline. I don't think she will be very strict, but I don't know. She and Aunt Mildred are going to take it in turns to come and keep house for father. They live near London with grannie. We like Aunt Mildred because she plays games with us and tells us stories, and she is quite a young grown-up, but her turn won't come till next autumn, and that seems years away.

"I think six miles every day will be awful rot!" said Denys, swinging his legs upon the table, and looking rather cross. "We ought to have bikes, then we should do it easy!"

"We'll never have them," said Aylwin, "as long as we're a poor parson's sons. When I grow up, I shall make a fortune before I marry, and give every one of my sons a bike on their sixth birthday."

"How will you make it?" scoffed Denys. "Not by working, I know!"

"I shall just find," said Aylwin. "Gold, or diamonds, or oil. I don't care what, but that's how you make your money."

"The gold and diamonds don't come spouting out of the earth as you walk by," said Denys.

"Oh, no, but I shall come across them unexpectedly."

"I wish we could keep a little pony-cart," I said. "I saw one driving through the village yesterday; it was such a darling little pony, and it was tearing along, and a little girl was driving it. I don't know who she is, but I mean to know her. She was dressed in a blue cotton frock and a white straw hat, and she looked rather hot and grubby—that's why I liked her. She wasn't a bit stuck up."

"Ponies cost a lot," said Aylwin. "An old ass wouldn't be bad. If we could make him go, he would take us to school in no time."

"Yes," I said, with a yell of delight, "and I should come with you every morning to drive him back again, because we should want to use him in the daytime. I should come every day to fetch and carry you."

Denys threw the book he was reading at my head. I caught it, and returned it with a better aim. Then we had a regular shindy, and every one joined in. And Aunt Caroline put her head in at the door to tell us to stop. But we began to think about the donkey, and then we determined to save up money to buy one ourselves. We don't often have money given us, but on birthdays we do, and we solemnly promised each other that we wouldn't spend a penny on sweets till the donkey was got.

"We'll be able to ride him in turns, even if we can't afford a cart," said Aylwin.

And then Puff began to speak.

"I'll save all I've ever had, and I'll get a wocking-horse, that'll be muchest better than a old donkey."

"Could you go six miles along the road on a rocking-horse, you booby?" said Denys.

Puff began to agitate himself.

"A old donkey doesn't know how to wock, he only goes straight. I likes wocking, and I don't care nuffin about going along stupid old roads, and I shan't give my pennies at all, at all, and I—"

"Shut up, you little duffer, or we'll hang you by the neck over the banisters. Now, how much tin have we altogether? I'll be treasurer; hand out, sharp."

Before Denys had finished speaking, Lynette and I had rushed to our room to get our purses—Lynette had fivepence-half-penny, I had three shillings.

We gave this amount to Denys, who dropped every bit of it into a money-box of his. He then took from his pocket two shillings and a penny, and Aylwin confessed with sorrow that he was without a penny. Then Puff was forced to part with two treasured farthings, which he did with a burst of tears, and when we counted up we found we had five shillings and seven-pence. It seemed a good deal to us, but very little for a donkey.

"We shall have to earn some money," I suggested.

"That isn't a bad tip, and I've thought how I can do it," said Denys.

"So have I," I said hastily, "but I shan't tell you, and I'll do it next week; it will be awfully jolly."

Lynette was busy hopping round the room on one leg. She stopped for a minute. "I wish we could beg," she said.

"There are no policemen to stop us in the country."

"As if our class could beg!"

Denys was very fond of talking about "our class." I asked him once what class we were, and he said we were second. He said the first-class were the lords and ladies, but I reminded him that mother's grandmother was called Lady Louisa, so we ought to belong to the first-class. He said we must be a cross breed. I don't know what that means, and I don't care.

"P'r'aps father will buy us a donkey if we ask him," said Lynette; "he's much richer now. I'll tell him about it."

She flew out of the room. Father is very fond of Lynette; he never scolds her if she goes into his study any time. We waited, wondering.

And then she came back again with a long face. "He says the move has taken so much money that he can hardly pay all the bills that are coming in."

[Illustration: THEN PUFF WAS FORCED TO PART WITH THE TWO TREASURED FARTHINGS.]

"It will be much greater fun buying the donkey ourselves," said Denys.

"I've thought of a ripping plan for earning money," cried Aylwin.

"Now we've three plans," said Denys, "and we'll do them without telling each other, and this day month we'll call a meeting and produce our money. Lynette, you'll have to think of a way to get money."

She nodded her head with a laugh. "Yes, I've got a way, and I shan't tell any one."

So we gave some cheers then, and had a steeple-chase round the room, until Aunt Caroline put her head in and told us to stop.

When Puff was going to bed that night, he asked father if God had any money. Puff is always asking ridiculous questions, and father always answers him quite gravely; he never laughs at him.

"God is very rich, isn't He, father?"

"All things in heaven and earth belong to Him," father answered.

Puff trotted off to bed quite happy, but he put his head inside the door before he went.

"I've got a vewy good plan," he said.

And we all laughed, because we guessed what it was.

Chapter II

The Knight'S Motto

WE have two weeks' holidays before we begin lessons, and then we shall only have a few weeks of them, and it will be holidays again—the proper summer holidays, for they begin at the end of July.

I am longing to start my plan for earning money, so I thought I wouldn't wait any longer, and I've begun to-day. I don't think I'll tell about it just yet, but I've got father's leave for a little part of it, and I've told him not to tell the others. Lynette never can keep a secret; she wanted to tell me what she meant to do this morning while she was in bed, but I wouldn't let her do it, and I stopped my ears up with my fingers, so she saw it was no good. I'm perfectly certain we shan't keep it secret long; we never can, for some one is sure to tell, or find out. If it was one secret, it would be different, but five secrets couldn't possibly be kept. And I know I shall just long to tell some one mine, for I think it's rather clever—for me.

To-day is Saturday. Aunt Caroline has a practice for church every Saturday afternoon, and we all go to it. It is a dear old church, and I like to think that it belongs to us. Aunt Caroline plays the harmonium—there is no organ, and we have a funny choir; Denys calls it a scratch pack. There is one old man who used to be the clerk, and say the responses when no one else did. He has the most awful wheezy voice, and he is always a good line behind everybody else. He has to clear his throat so often that it takes up the time. His name is Nathan Porter. Denys said to him last Saturday: "Look here, don't you bother to sing so loud; we'll do it for you. I should think you're jolly well tired of sitting in the choir. Why don't you retire, and sit in the middle of the church, and put a cushion behind your back?" He was quite offended, and tapped his stick on the aisle very solemnly: "Look 'ee here, laddy, I be a fixture in these parts; ye passon folk pass away like the grass that withereth. I hath seed four passons in my time, and they all comes and turns us topsy-turvy first year of office, but not one on them turns me out of me seat, what I hath had these forty year or so. I hath singed in this 'ere 'oly sanctury since I were a lad, and sing I will, till I goes up to the sanctury above, and does my singin' there!" Denys felt awfully small, and said nothing at all after that. Then there's a lame young woman who does dressmaking, and the schoolmistress, and four school-children, and Denys and Aylwin and I make up the rest.

I like the choir practices, but the boys rather grumble sometimes. They had been playing cricket in the lower field early this afternoon. I was fielding for them, as Lynette was busy with her secret, and we all came in dreadfully hot, and had a rush to wash our hands and tidy ourselves by four o'clock. The church seemed very cool and still after the hot field outside, and somehow I always feel good when I'm inside it. There is only one painted window in the church, the rest are clear glass, and you can see the green trees waving outside, and the blue sky, while you are singing. It makes me go into dreams, and sometimes as I look-out, I forget where I am, and then the boys nudge me and whisper, "Wake up, Grizzy; look-out for a whopper of a wasp!" They know how I hate wasps, and I almost scream out loud, and then I find they're only humbugging. It is very difficult to be always good when you're with boys; they sometimes make you laugh, and sometimes make you lose your temper. And I have such a longing to be good when I'm in church, or when it's a beautiful day and everything is quiet and still, and especially when I look up into the sky at sunset, and see all the golden flames and pearly blue streaks and crimson clouds. It sends a little shiver over me, and I just whisper to myself, "O God, make me good, make me good!"

Denys and Aylwin have lovely voices; they ring out through the church like—well, I was going to say like a bell, but they're sweeter than that, they're like finger glasses when you wet your fingers and rub the edge of them! Father says I haven't a bad voice, but it's nothing by the side of the boys'. Mother used to sing beautifully—but I don't talk about her—it makes me cry—and then I hate the boys seeing me. I often wonder why it should be such a shameful thing to cry; I suppose it is because it is babyish. Denys is awfully hard on any of us who cries, even if we hurt ourselves awfully. He says the finest people in the world are the North American Indians, and they would smile all the time they were being scalped. But I can cry at the least thing; the tears simply pour out of me, and I can't keep them back. Even the boys' voices at the choir practice make me feel weepy. I wish I was a North American Indian!

When the practice was over this afternoon, I stayed behind in the church with Aunt Caroline to tidy up the choir-books, and father came in. He looked about him with a pleased smile, then walked over to an old tomb in the chancel, and called me to his side. There was a figure of a knight carved in stone—we think it is such a pity that his nose is broken, as it spoils his face, but father pointed out some words that were written on the shield at his feet. "Grisel, those are the words I should like placed upon my grave as an epitaph—that is, if I lived worthy of them. Read them to me, child." So I read them, though I did not understand them: "'Semper fidelis! Semper paratus!'"

"Always faithful, always ready!" said father. "Not sometimes, Grisel. How few of us can put the 'semper' before our virtues!"

I don't always understand father, but I said nothing, until the sun shone through the coloured glass window, and sent patches of red and blue all over the knight. Then I smiled. "Oh, father, isn't it a lovely little church? And aren't you glad it all belongs to you? It's our very own, isn't it? It's so lovely to think of it."

He shook his head at me.

"It is not my church, Grisel; it is my Master's."

"Yes, I know that," I said soberly.

"Only a steward," said father in a low tone, more as if he were talking to himself than to me. "Moreover, it is required in stewards that a man be found faithful, 'semper fidelis!'"

Aunt Caroline came up to us.

"It is tea-time, Grisel: run along indoors."

I went, feeling rather sorry to leave the cool church. I wish we could have all our meals out-of-doors. Tea in the summer is so hot. I went into the dining-room. The venetian blinds were down; there was a hot steamy smell from the urn which had just been brought in. Aylwin was chasing the flies away from our plates of bread-and-butter, Denys was trying to make Puff walk on his head, and Lynette was nowhere to be seen. I was just going to hunt her up, when she burst into the room. Her hair was flying, her face was red and hot and sticky, her pinafore was sticky too.

She danced round the room, singing at the top of her voice, "I've done it—hurrah! hurrah!" And then she suddenly stood still, and held out a sixpence.

"My first earnings!" she cried. "I've beat you all!"

I approached her cautiously, then said, "I know what you've been doing, I can smell you!"

"You're not to say! Catch, Mr. Treasurer; I'm going to wash!"

She darted out of the room. Puff looked solemnly at me.

"Her 's been making toffee in the kitching!"

The boys began to laugh.

"Easy enough to guess her old secret, but who's given her sixpence for it, I'd like to know?"

"Perhaps father or Aunt Caroline," I said, "but we mustn't try to find out till she tells us. It wouldn't be 'good form.'"

"Good form" is really Denys's word; he's always saying it.

"It isn't 'good form' to be a prig!" he said.

"I know that as well as you!"

"Then don't you be it, Grizzy!"

Aunt Caroline came in, and we stopped; we're so easily in the middle of a fight before we know where we are, but I hate being called Grizzy, and I'm not a prig!

She sat down and poured out tea for us. And then Lynette came in, looking sleek and shiny with the washing she had given herself.

"Dear me, child, how hot you are!" Aunt Caroline said.

And Lynette's face did look like a boiled lobster still.

"I've been working so hard!" she said. "I wouldn't be a cook for a thousand pounds!"

Father came in then; he always sits down and has a cup of tea with us, but he doesn't have his proper meal till eight o'clock. He and Aunt Caroline have that together; it's the only meal we don't have with them.

None of us were very hungry for tea; it was so hot, and there was only bread-and-butter—no cake, and no jam, and no strawberries. Of course we don't have those kind of things every night.

Then the boys went out into the garden, and I had to help Aunt Caroline put out all our best clothes for Sunday, and put buttons on the boys' shirts, and do a lot of mending. She makes even Lynette help on Saturday evening. We only keep two servants, cook and Emma, so they can't do our mending. Emma gives Puff his evening bath, and he leads her rather a dance over it, as his head is washed on Saturday, and he turns head over heels in the water and makes an awful noise and mess.

Lynette is awfully proud over her sixpence. I can't earn any till next Tuesday, but I'm going to have great fun then. And now I must stop writing, for I'm to go to bed. Lynette has just come up to me and said:

"Grisel, do guess how I got that sixpence; I'm dying to tell you."

"It's to be a secret," I said.

"Yes, but you can keep secrets, can't you?"

"I know you sold your toffee to some one," I said, "but I don't know who bought it. Emma did, perhaps; I know she is fond of sweets."

"Emma! As if I would take sixpence from her! A very important person gave it to me, nobody in this house."

That made me curious, but I wouldn't let her see I was.

"Father wouldn't let you sell toffee to strangers," I said.

"This isn't a stranger." Then she whispered into my ear: "Mrs. Ribbon. Don't you tell the boys!"

I gasped. Mrs. Ribbon is a great friend of ours, though we have not known her very long. She keeps the village shop. She is very fat and very good-natured. She has a grown-up son who is great friends with Emma. He has painted outside the shop door a little piece of poetry. We think it is splendid:

"If once you come, you come again, You never come to us in vain."

And Mrs. Ribbon really has everything that everybody wants in her shop. She told us she had everything when first we came, and we didn't believe her. Aylwin went in and asked her for a Brazil stamp—he collects stamps. She said she would have them in a week, for they were on order. We didn't believe her, but on Tuesday, which is market day at Lemworth, she sent her son Tom to a very good stationer's there, where they keep packets of foreign stamps, and he brought back not only a Brazil one, but some others that Aylwin had been trying to get for a long time. Then Denys went to her, and said he wanted to buy a white mouse. She went straight out to the back-yard, and brought one for him to see. I said that she caught a common mouse and painted it white, but he said No, it was a real one, only she wanted more money than he could give for it. We found out afterwards that Tom keeps quite a happy family in the back-yard—pigeons, and guinea-pigs, and mice, and canaries, and a lovely black bull-dog.

There's such a nice mixed smell in Mrs. Ribbon's shop. We sometimes try to describe it to each other. Denys says it's a kind of soapy, oniony, treacley, hot-cakey, coffee sort of smell. I say it's a matchy, bacony, appley, cheesey sort of smell. And Aylwin says it's a sugary, cabbagy, tallowy, leathery kind of smell. I really think it's all those things put together, with a lot more added to them. She is always sitting there smiling, and we love to watch her selling. First it is some peppermints, then a piece of pickled pork, then six yards of calico, then a saucepan, cups and saucers, a pony's halter, bootlaces, some ink, some patent medicine, some turnips, or biscuits—I can't possibly write them all down, but she always knows where everything is, and never loses her head.

I told her one day that keeping shop must be a most exciting thing to do, as you never knew what you would be asked for! And she said, "Bless your heart, missy, I knows their wants better 'n they do theirsel's!" Which shows she is a most clever woman.

"Did Mrs. Ribbon buy your toffee?" I asked Lynette.

"Yes, I took it over and showed it to her, and asked her if she didn't think it good, and I told her I wanted to earn some money. And she said it was lovely, and if it sold well, she'd buy some more from me next Wednesday."

I felt a little jealous. We have always made toffee since we were quite small, so it's very easy. I taught Lynette how to do it first. Of course it was clever of her to think of it, but it's no trouble for her to take it over to Mrs. Ribbon to sell. And when I think of what I have got to do . . . but I mustn't say, in case the boys see this book.

"I don't know if Aunt Caroline will like you using all the butter and sugar up!" I said a little crossly.

"Oh, cook will make that right; she says she will. I'm to give her one penny out of every sixpence I make, and she'll keep it to get more butter if she wants it!"

"I'm sure she won't let you mess in her kitchen every day," I said.

"I shan't do it every day. Cook will let me do it as often as I like; she said she would."

I knew that was true, for Lynette always gets her way with every one, she coaxes so. I don't know why I felt cross, but I did, and then I was cross with myself for feeling cross, and that made me crosser still. Lynette was so awfully pleased with herself that she couldn't keep still.

"None of you have begun to do anything yet," she said; "I'm at the top of you all."

"Go on to bed," I said; "you fuss and bother so that I can't write a bit!"

So she has run out of the room calling me "crosspatch," and I shall have to go to bed too, and say I'm sorry before we go to sleep, because we always do that in case we don't wake up alive in the morning.

We heard a dreadful story once of a boy who wouldn't forgive his sister before she went to sleep, and she never woke up; she died in her bed of heart disease. I am rather glad it is Sunday to-morrow, because none of us can think of earning any money, so we can't get in front of each other. I never do like people getting in front of me; we all like to be the front one ourselves.

Chapter III

My Secret

I HAVEN'T written in this book for over a week, so I shall be very busy now doing it. I think I'll tell about Sunday first. We all have a boiled egg on Sunday morning for breakfast; that's the first nice thing that happens, if we don't count our clothes. I'm afraid Lynette and I rather like our best white dresses. We are only just out of our mourning, and it is nice to be in white instead of black. Our hats are white straw with white ribbon; father always likes our things to be very plain. I think Lynette looks rather like an angel on Sunday; if she had wings, she would be exactly like one. And I do think it's very nice to know you're dressed better than on any other day in the week; it makes you feel good.

We had to be rather quick over breakfast, because Aunt Caroline had to go off to Sunday school. She comes back in time to go to church with us. It was another very hot day, and the sun streamed in through the church windows and made us hotter still. It kept coming into my eyes—I was very uncomfortable—and then it settled on a farmer's bald head. He didn't like it at all; he kept flicking his head with his handkerchief as if he were beating off flies. And then he spread his handkerchief over his head, and he looked so funny that I struggled and struggled to keep from laughing, and in the end I exploded, and made such a noise that father stopped reading the lesson and looked at me. I was ready to cry then, I felt it was such a disgrace. And I honestly had tried not to laugh, but it would come in spite of me. I felt miserable till father got up to preach, and then I listened. I always like father's sermons; he never says long words, and he always tells us something new out of the Bible.

He began telling the story of the centurion, and he took for his text the verse: "I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it." Father said this was the picture of a faithful servant. And then he told us that Jesus Christ said those three words to us, only father changed the order of them, He said it was Come, Go, Do.

And he said that was our Christian life. We must "come" first before we could "go," and then we must "do." We must "come" and give ourselves up to Jesus as His soldiers and servants, and get Him to forgive us our sins, and make us His own. And we must "go," and tell others—to our friends first, and then to those who don't know about Jesus. We must "go" straight into the world from our knees; some had to go far away—from England and home. Father talked about missionaries a good deal, and he said there were others who could "do" in their own homes, just doing what Jesus told them all day long. I could understand every word of it, and even the boys listened, because father called it a sermon preached by a soldier, and they like anything about soldiers.

I began to think a lot before I came out of church; the boys asked if I was worrying over my secret, but I told them I wasn't. After dinner we all went out on the lawn, and learnt our collects and bits of the catechism. Aunt Caroline went off to Sunday school again, but father came out and sat in an easy-chair under the elms and talked to us about our collects. We said them to him. Then the boys went off and so did Lynette, but I stayed, for I hoped father would say something about his sermon. He did presently; he put out his hand and laid it on my shoulder. I was sitting upon the grass close to him.

"Did you listen to my sermon, Grisel?"

"Yes, father."

"And which command of those three have you obeyed? Are you going to be one of Christ's faithful servants?"

"I think I have 'come,'" I said shyly.

Father did not say anything.

"But I don't quite understand the 'going,'" I said. "I couldn't go into all the world and preach the Gospel!"

"I heard your aunt ask you if you couldn't help her by teaching the infants' class at Sunday school; I think you could 'go' to that."

"Oh, father!" I said, looking at him with startled eyes. "I'm not old enough. The boys would say I was more of a prig than ever, if I did it; they're always calling me a prig now!"

"The question is whether Christ's commands or the boys have most weight with you."

I hung my head, then faltered out:

"A prig is such 'bad form.'"

Father laughed aloud.

I added hastily: "I do hate a prig so myself, father, and teaching in Sunday school would be very priggy."

"Very well," said father; "I will say no more."

I didn't feel comfortable. Puff came up at this minute and launched himself on father's knees, so I left them, and went up to the schoolroom and got a story-book out of the Sunday bookshelf. I sat down and read till tea-time, for I didn't want to think. I really cannot teach a class. I shouldn't know what to say, and the infants stare so, and I know Denys would laugh at me.

We went to evening church after tea, but I'm afraid I tried not to listen to the sermon.

And when we were singing the evening hymn—

Sweet Saviour, bless us ere we go, Thy Word into our minds instil, And make our lukewarm hearts to glow With lowly love and fervent will—

I felt the tears come into my eyes, because I knew I had a lukewarm heart.

I was rather glad when Monday came, because I was very busy making preparations for Tuesday. Aylwin asked father at breakfast if he could go into the hayfields for the whole day with Mr. Cummins—he's the farmer who has father's glebe farm. And father said he might, if Mr. Cummins liked to have him.

I envied Aylwin, because I simply adore hayfields. "You're going to have a nice lazy day," I said to him, "when you ought to be carrying out your plan!"

"Shut up, old Grizzly!" he said. And then he ran off laughing.

Denys looked after him for a minute as if he would like to have gone too.

"I'm going to be ferociously busy," he said. "My plan is ripe for carrying out to-day."

"Mine will be ripe to-morrow," I said.

And then I went out into the garden to talk to old Baldwin. He is our gardener. We have never had a gardener in our lives before, but then we have had no garden. He's a very nice old man, but he won't take orders from anybody, not even father.

"The garden be my job," he said to him one day, "and sermons be your'n, and 'tis no manner of use of mixin' 'em up together. Might as well mix onion seed and lavender. You be trained to preach, I be trained to garding, and we both knows our own bizness best."

He is always ready to talk to us, and I'm afraid I've told him a part of my plan. He and father have both heard a bit of it, but then they had to, or I couldn't have done it.

I was busy till dinner-time, and then Aunt Caroline said to me:

"Grisel, I want you to take some soup to an old woman who lives half a mile out of the village. You can take Puff with you; a walk will do him good."

"Oh, Aunt Caroline!" I said. "Need I go this afternoon? I wanted to do something in the garden so much."

"I notice that whenever I ask you to do anything, Grisel, you always want to do something else. It isn't a great hardship to go half a mile with some soup to a sick woman. I can't go myself, for I am returning a call with your father."

I made a wry face, and then I thought this might be one of the "go's" father talked about. Anyway, it was better than teaching a Sunday class, so I tried to look pleasant, and got Puff ready and started with him. Lynette came out to the gate with us, and took advantage of opening it to have a good swing on it.

"Hurrah!" she cried. "I'm going to make some more toffee. I shall beat you all hollow, you are such slow-coaches!"

She was so excited that she swung herself a little too violently, and the next minute she was flying off the gate upon the ground.

"Pride will have a fall!" I called after her, as she picked herself up and rubbed her grazed elbows, and then I hurried on with Puff.

He was, of course, full of talk, as he always is.

"I shall wide the donkey nex' week," he said, "and I shall have first turn 'cause it's me that gotted it!"

"When is it coming, then?" I asked him.

He looked thoughtful for a minute, then said:

"I said it must be a vewy clean one, newly washed, not like the donkeys when we went to the seaside, and it must have blue eyes, and teaf that doesn't bite. I expect it about four days after to-morrer."

I laughed.

He looked so earnest as he trotted along, and then he panted out:

"It'll be the bestest donkey in the world, 'cause I've asked the richest Person in the world to get it, and if He gived a million pounds for it, He wouldn't mind a bit, 'cause He is so rich."

"I don't think you should speak of God like that Puff—it isn't reverent."

"I didn't say who it was, you horrid fing; you've guessed my secret, and it's a shame."

Puff looked ready to cry, and came to a standstill in the middle of the road. I took hold of his hand and hurried him on.

"Never mind! I won't tell any one, I promise you."

And then I began to tell him a story to take his mind off.

It was a long hot walk to Mrs. Tapson's. I'm sure it was more like a mile than half a mile, but we got there at last. It was a dear little cottage in a garden by itself off the road. The door was partly open, so I went in, and a man who was making up the fire turned round when he saw me.

"Soup for mother?" he said, smiling, when I told him why I came. "I be right down grateful for it, that I be. She be upstairs in bed with cruel rheumatics, and I be tending on her like a baby. To-morrer be my day to Lemworth, and I leaves the village sharp at eight and don't come back till seven at night, and I were just trying to cook a bit o' bacon pie to last her, but the soup be grand."

He had taken the jug from me, and was looking in it.

"There be plenty o' this for a drop to-day as well as to-morrer," he said. "Well, I thank 'ee kindly, missy. Go on up and see mother, will 'ee? She dearly likes a bit o' company."

So I climbed the little narrow stair, and Puff came thumping after me. I am rather afraid of sick persons generally, but I liked this old woman. She had a clean frilled night-cap, and a wonderful patchwork quilt, and her face was quite bright when she saw us. She said she had heard about us, and was I the little lady with the lovely hair? I laughed as I shook back my red mane, and told her that was Lynette. And then Puff began to talk to her, and of course he told her about the donkey—he was full of it.

"Puff doesn't quite understand about prayer," I said, explaining. "He thinks he is bound to get everything he asks God for. He asks to have his toys mended, and I generally have to be the mender, because he goes on expecting miracles so."

"Ah, dearie," said Mrs. Tapson, "the Lord does love to hear the baby chatter, I'll be bound, same as I used to listen to my Bob's, though well I knew I couldn't and wouldn't give him half he asked for. But pray away, sonny, pray away; 'tis the habit of prayer will make you a strong soul, if so be you sticks to it, and you be an example to us older folk, for sure you be."

Puff didn't understand her. He grew restless and stumped downstairs, and I got up to go, and then I found out that Bob Tapson, her son, was the carrier. And then I told her my secret; I felt I simply must tell somebody, and I told it all, every bit of it. She was quite interested, and told me her son would look-out for me and keep a seat for me in the cart.

There! I am letting the cat out of the bag, so I think I had better tell my whole plan. Father said I could have any vegetables and flowers that Baldwin could spare me, because we have such a lot of them. And I had been busy picking flowers and arranging them in nosegays, and tying up lettuces that were weeded out, and onions, and cabbages, and a lot of odd things, and I had found an old hamper in the stable, and Baldwin helped me to pack it, and my idea was to go to Lemworth Market in the carrier's cart and sell my vegetables and flowers myself, like lots of our village women and children do. Of course you can go to Lemworth by train, but it is a very long way round, and you have to change trains, and the carrier is cheaper. When I heard that I should have to be off at eight o'clock and not come back till seven at night I wondered how I should do it, as I should be missed, and perhaps Aunt Caroline might make a fuss and try to prevent me if she knew.

I walked home with Puff, feeling rather worried. I should have to go without my breakfast, that was certain, because we don't have breakfast till eight o'clock. I could easily get off so early, because no one would see me—but would they think something had happened to me? And then I thought I would leave a note for father and explain, and ask him not to tell. So I cheered up, and directly we got in I rushed off to the garden and went on packing my hamper. When we came to tea, Aunt Caroline told us that father had been sent for to take a funeral in the next parish, for the clergyman was away.

"And he is going to sleep the night there," she said. "He won't be back till to-morrow afternoon, for there is a wedding in the morning he must take as well."

So my note to him was no good. I felt rather puzzled, and then I thought of what I could say to Aunt Caroline. So I wrote this note before I went to bed:

"DEAR AUNT CAROLINE,—If I am missing all day, this is to tell you that I am not drowned, but quite well. And I shall come back at seven o'clock, and it is because I am carrying out my plan, which is a secret.

"Your loving niece,

"Grisel.

"P.S.—It isn't mischief, but good business."

Aunt Caroline said before we went to bed that she had hardly seen any of us all day, and that she hoped we hadn't been getting into mischief. Aylwin looked as scarlet as a poppy, and said he was dead tired, and Denys looked rather crestfallen.

"I've worked hard enough to earn ten shillings," he said, "and I mean to make that before very long, I can tell you."

"I don't like all this talk about money, children," said Aunt Caroline. "You seem to think of nothing else. It is so mercenary and unchildish."

"But it's to get a donkey," we all shouted.

Aunt Caroline didn't say any more.

Chapter IV

Market Day

I WOKE up at four o'clock the next morning.

I had been dreaming all night that I was trying to catch trains, and just missing them, and trying to hide from Aunt Caroline. I was so glad when it got light at last and I could get up. I was very excited, for it was a regular adventure, and we do love adventures. I had thought out everything. I did not want people to know who I was, so I put on a very old cotton frock and my pinafore over that—the one I wear in the garden—and then I plaited my hair in a tight pig-tail and stuffed it into a cotton sun-bonnet, and drew that well over my face. Aunt Caroline bought these cotton sunbonnets at Mrs. Ribbon's—she said they were just the thing for Lynette and me to wear in the garden, but we never go out in the village with them, because we don't like to look like the village children.

I didn't wear gloves, and I had to dress very quietly so as not to wake Lynette, but I was ready at last, and then I put my note on the dressing-table for Lynette to see and take to Aunt Caroline. I stole on tiptoe down the stairs, for it was very early, and I did not want the servants to see me, and then I opened the hall door as gently as I could and let myself out of the house. Baldwin had carried the hamper to the stable the night before, and the only difficulty was in getting it down to the gate. It was very heavy, but I did it at last. I had to drag it along the drive most of the way, and I kept looking up at the house to see if any one was peeping at me. I left it outside the gate, for the carrier's cart always passed along the road at the corner, and then I walked as quickly as I could to Mrs. Tapson's cottage. Bob Tapson had told me if I came there early, I could get a comfortable seat by him, before the village people got in. I found him harnessing his horse. He looked quite surprised when he saw me, but he didn't recognise me in my sun-bonnet.

"I don't want the village people to know what I am doing," I said. "You won't tell them, will you? And I've left my hamper just outside our gate. I thought you would fetch it, and lift it in by me."

"That I will, missy," he said heartily. "You be a early bird. Have you had some breakfast?"

I took out of my pocket two thick slices of bread-and-butter which I had coaxed cook to give me the night before. She thought I was extra hungry and wanted something to eat before I went to bed. He smiled and went indoors, and then brought me out a lovely cup of tea. He had just been having some himself. Then he went up to say good-bye to his old mother, and asked me if I would like to see her. So I went up, and she took hold of my hand and smiled at me.

"You be a brave little lass to go," she said, "and I tell 'ee who will help 'ee there. You ask for Mary Dutton; she be my own sister what lives two mile out of Lemworth, and she'll let 'ee stand by her stall and see to 'ee. Bob will take your goods right in to her."

"I've never been to a country market before," I confessed to her; "I shall be so glad if she will help me."

And then I went down and climbed up into the big covered waggon which was standing in the yard. I could not help feeling glad that Aunt Caroline had told me to take the soup to Mrs. Tapson, for she was making it all so easy for me, and it seemed so strange that her son should be the carrier. Bob was very good; he put a footstool in the corner of the waggon just behind him, and I was quite comfortable. Then we started; it was delicious to be really off, but I thought we were never going to get through the village. Only three women got in, but nearly every one sent parcels or messages. Bob brought my hamper in, and then one of the women looked at me.

"Whose be that little lass?" she asked.

I didn't turn my head, and Bob said rather crossly, "She have come wi' me."

And she said no more, for she was so busy talking to the other women that she quite forgot me.

I sat still and loved my ride, only we went so slowly that it seemed like years and years, and my legs got rather cramped. I was tired too, for I had been awake so early, and I actually found myself nodding before we came to Lemworth. It seemed quite a big town, and I was almost frightened when we got to the market; there were such a lot of people, and everybody pushed so.

I let them all get out first. We were quite full up, because so many people had got in on the way. And then Bob shouldered my hamper and told me to follow him. It was a lovely market; there were rows of chickens, and ducks, and fruit, and flowers, and butter, and eggs, and everybody was laughing and talking at the top of their voices. There were such funny old country-women and men; children were crowding round the sweet-stalls, and farther down there was the little market. It was like the pictures I have seen of fairs, only there were no "Punch and Judys" or peep-shows.

Bob took me right along to the corner stall, where a dear old woman sat. She was very like Mrs. Tapson, only she had a fatter face. He told her who I was, and she laughed and begged me to tell her all about it. So I did, and then she unpacked my hamper, and made room for me to put my things on the corner of her stall. I began to enjoy myself very much, and I longed that the boys could see me. And my bunches of flowers were prettier than any I saw, because I had arranged them very carefully.

But for a long time no one bought anything, and I began to feel very nervous. I never shall forget the first person who took hold of my flowers and asked me how much they were a bunch. I said twopence—Mrs. Dutton had told me to ask that—and she took six bunches from me. I could have got up and danced round the market, I was so delighted. And soon after that two ladies came along with baskets. They stopped and said "Good-morning" to Mrs. Dutton and asked her if she had any lettuces. She said she hadn't, but told them I had some nice ones. They looked at mine and bought four, and they bought a bunch of parsley from me, and three beetroots, and they gave me ninepence, and one of them turned to the other and said:

"Is she not a little picture in her neat dress? If only the poor would always dress their children as sensibly as her mother dresses her, we should not have such extravagance amongst the lower classes. She is quite an example to her class!"

And I nearly laughed aloud when I heard them. Later on I sold four cabbages, and three bunches of sweet peas, and some carrots. By the end of the afternoon I had sold all I brought except two cabbages and a vegetable marrow, and Mrs. Dutton bought those from me—she keeps a little, greengrocer's shop, and said they would come in handy. I forgot to say that at one o'clock I went with Mrs. Dutton into a large room joining the market where they sold cups of tea and buns and meat pies. I felt very hungry, but I didn't want to spend much of my money which I had earned, so I got a penny cup of tea and a penny bun, and Mrs. Dutton gave me one of her big apples.

Bob Tapson came along to tell me that his cart would start at four, and long before that the women were packing their baskets up and leaving. I counted up my money and found I had actually four shillings and a penny! I was so proud and pleased. And Mrs. Dutton seemed pleased too. I felt I should like to sit in the market and sell every day. Everybody seemed so good-natured and kind to each other. And the jokes they made when they gave each other change, and the stories they told of their own and their neighbours' complaints, would have made the boys roar. They generally began each sentence with "Well, there, my dear," and "You don't say so!"

I was quite sorry to leave the market, but I climbed up into the cart and got my own seat again. It seemed quite an endless way coming back. There was an old man who smelt very strongly of beer and who kept laughing at nothing at all, and some girls who were screaming with silly jokes, and trying to make Bob Tapson look at them. I felt dreadfully tired, and then I got the fidgets and couldn't get comfortable, and then at last I went fast asleep and never woke up till Bob put me down at the Rectory gate.

"Well, missy, have you had a good time?"

"Yes," I said, trying to wake up; "how much is it I have to pay you?"

"Oh, nothing at all—you didn't take no room. And mind you come and tell mother all about your day. She'll be proper interested to hear about it."

I shook hands with him and thanked him very much, and then I carried my empty hamper back to the stable, and opened the hall door and went quietly in. I was rather afraid of Aunt Caroline.

Lynette came running downstairs.

"Oh, you wicked girl! You'll catch it; father has come home, and he is awfully angry with you; and what have you been doing? We've been guessing all day—and do you know, I've found out what Denys is doing. Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I'm tired," I said; "can I have some tea? Where is Aunt Caroline?"

"They're all in the garden, watering the flowers. Grisel dear, darling, dearest, do tell me what you've been doing."

But I wouldn't tell her then. I was feeling rather uncomfortable, so I thought I'd better go to father straight and tell him. I ran out into the garden. Aunt Caroline came towards me at once.

"Grisel, this is very naughty of you. Where have you been? And what have you been doing all day? You ought to know better than to absent yourself without leave in such a manner."

"I want to tell father; it's a secret," I said.

Aunt Caroline was always very good when we said we wanted to go to father. She called father, who was filling the water-can from the garden tap, and then she walked away and left us. Denys says it's very "good form" when she does that.

Father put on his spectacles and looked at me.

"You have made your aunt very anxious to-day, Grisel; I am not pleased with you."

"Please listen, father. It's about the vegetables and flowers you said I could have. I've been selling them to help to buy our donkey."

And then I told him as fast as I could just what I had been doing. And once he laughed, and then I knew I shouldn't get a big scolding. But I got a little one, and he said I must not think of doing such a thing again, which made me miserable.

"No, Grisel. I don't like my little daughter to be alone amongst a lot of rough people, however kind-hearted they may be. It is not suitable. Your mother would not have allowed it, I am sure. And you ought to have asked permission first. I am afraid you must have known you would not get it. Speak up and tell the truth."

My cheeks got scarlet.

"I did think—at least, I was afraid you might not let me," I said, "but I wasn't disobedient, for I didn't know it for certain!"

"That is where you did wrong, and you know it. Don't do such a thing again. And now go in and have something to eat."

"And I may keep the money?" I asked.

"Yes; I have no objection this time, but you must find another way of disposing of the vegetables than of selling them yourself in the market."

So I went into the dining-room, and Aunt Caroline had been getting my tea ready. She didn't say much, but before I had finished eating, the boys and Lynette burst in.

"Now, you sinner, own up! What have you been doing with yourself?"

"'Good business' indeed! We saw your letter; it was an awfully cheeky one!"

"And Aunt Caroline was in a jolly wax, I can tell you."

I quietly produced my purse, and poured out my silver and copper upon the table.

"There!" I said. "Can any of you beat that?"

"Four shillings!" exclaimed Denys, grabbing it like any old miser. "Ah, well, it isn't bad for a girl! Tell us how you did it."

"That's my secret!" I said.

It was my triumphant moment. But I knew I could not keep it much longer. I did so want to tell them all about it.

"Well!" said Lynette. "I know what Denys has been doing these last two days. Ask him how much he has got, Grisel!"

Denys grinned and held out his hand.

"I've had an adventure to-day," he said. It was a half-crown he held out.

I got up from my tea and danced round the table. "We shall soon be rolling and rolling in money," I cried.

"Wallowing!" put in Aylwin. "But I haven't begun to roll yet. You'll have to wait till the end of this week for my little million!"

Then we all pursued each other round the table, and Denys sang—

When the money comes rolling in, boys, And our silver turns to gold, We'll then buy a noble steed, boys, And ride like the knights of old.

Denys can always spout poetry whenever he likes. We were so delighted that we sang it at the top of our voices and danced faster and faster, till we got into a regular war-dance, and then at last tumbled down on the top of each other in a regular heap of arms and legs. And then we got up, rather out of breath, and I shouted:

"'Pax!' If you tell your adventure, Denys, I'll tell mine."

"Ladies first!" he said, with a grin.

So I began in a great hurry, for I thought it would astonish them, and it did.

At first Denys and Aylwin wished they had done it themselves—I know they did, though they wouldn't say so. And then Denys put on his soberest face and said:

"I don't think you and Lynette are playing the game fair. Anybody can make money out of father's things! Why, I could go into his study and take some of his books and sell them!"

"Oh!" I gasped. "That would be sac—sacrilege!"

"The flowers and vegetables aren't yours to sell," said Denys, "nor more is Lynette's butter and sugar she uses for her toffee."

"Oh, but," we both cried, "father has given leave."

"And I pay for mine," said Lynette; "and it's a lot harder work in the stuffy hot kitchen than sitting in a market and selling, and not half the fun!"

"Father gave me leave," I repeated, "so it's quite, quite fair."

"Well, but we've all a right to sell the flowers and stuff," said Aylwin.

"No," I said firmly, "only those who thought of doing it. It was my plan."

"Well, if you thought of doing it yesterday, I shall think of doing it to-morrow; why shouldn't I? And I've been working much harder than any of you, and I'm going on all this week."

"But I can't go on," I said dolefully; "I'm not to do it again, father says."

"Like to hear my adventure?" asked Denys.

"He's dying to tell about himself," said Lynette mischievously.

We were all attention, but Denys would not begin at once. He hummed and hawed, and then, just as he was settling down to tell us, in came Aunt Caroline and packed us off to bed.

"It will keep till to-morrow," said Denys.

And I was almost glad, for I was so sleepy and tired that I fell asleep directly my head touched the pillow.

Chapter V

Lynette'S Scrape

DENYS told us his adventure the next day. I'll write it down as he said it, because it will be easier. He had been up and down the river near us trying to fish.

"I had no luck the first day at all," he confessed, "so yesterday I went higher up; it's a long way from here, and I got into a jolly shady part, where I saw the fish simply leaping to get to me! And then they began to bite, and I had a lovely time. Some of them were rather small, but they were good trout, and I soon had my basket full. The next thing was to sell them, so I thought I'd make a visit to a few farmers about here on my way home and see if they would buy any. And then I saw a rather big house standing back in a lot of trees, so 'nothing venture, nothing have,' I said to myself, and up I went to it as fast as my legs could carry me. Just before I got to the house, I saw an old chap sitting in a garden-chair and smoking a big pipe. So I took off my hat to him, and he stopped me and asked me who I was.

"'I'm a kind of fish-hawker,' I said. 'I'm selling fish, and I thought your cook might like to buy.'

"He stared at me as if I were a chimpanzee.

"'Have the goodness to open your basket,' he said.

"I showed him my basket with pride. He glared at me.

"'Where did you get these fish—in what part of the river?'

"I pointed it out to him.

"'I've only had luck to-day,' I said; 'I suppose I didn't go to the right spot first. I'll let you have the lot for two shillings, sir. Beautiful and fresh, just caught.'

"He gave a laugh.

"'Who turned you into a fish-seller?' he asked.

"'I turned myself,' I said. 'I'm trying to earn an honest penny to buy a donkey.' And then I told him our plan.

"He seemed awfully tickled, but took out half a crown, and gave it to me.

"'Take the fish up to the house,' he said; 'and bring me a basket again to-morrow.'

"Well, I went on up to the house, and gave my fish in, but there was a groom standing by who asked me where I had got it. I told him.

"'It's lucky Morris didn't nab you,' he said. 'That's the mester's private bit of water, and he prosecutes like mad if any one dares to trespass.'

"I didn't say anything, but just walked off, and then I began to feel rather beastly. I knew now why the old chap had grinned so. But I wasn't going to be made a fool of, so I marched up to him and told him I'd like him to take his half-crown back.

"'I've found out it's your own fish, sir,' I said. 'I'm sorry I trespassed. I won't do it again.'

"'Here!' he said. 'You keep what you've earned. We'll consider you're fishing there with a permit from me. It isn't often I get a chance of buying my own fish! I used to be a keen fisherman once, but my gout has stopped all that.'

"'Well,' I said, 'if you think it square and fair, I'd like to keep the money, for I did have a lot of trouble with those fish. But I won't fish there again; I'd rather not, for your keeper will be nabbing me. I'm much obliged to you, sir. Good afternoon.'

"So I took off my hat and came off, and he laughed as if it were a good joke—but I've got the half-crown."

"Well," I said slowly, "it seems you aren't much better than us after all, for you are catching fish that aren't yours."

"But I'm not going to do it again," said Denys hastily. "I shan't go near the old chap's place. I shall try miles away from him. I know father has fishing rights a part of the way."

"Who is the old gentleman?" I asked.

"He is the Squire of Benton—General Walton his name is; he didn't ask my name, which showed he was a gentleman."

"You said he asked you who you were, the first thing," said Aylwin.

"Yes—he meant my occupation," said Denys grandly. "Gentlemen don't ask each other their names; it isn't good form."

"Well now, as all the plans are known, I'll tell you mine," said Aylwin. "I'm a farm labourer, and I'm doing more work than all of you put together!"

We roared with laughter.

"All right!" said Aylwin, getting very red in the face. "You go and ask old Cummins! He was telling father on Sunday what a busy week he was going to have with his hay, and how he was one man short, and how difficult it was to get labourers. I went to him early Monday morning, and told him I'd work as well as any labourer if he'd give me pay, and he finally said he'd give me lad's pay, because I told him what I wanted money for. I didn't want him to think I was so hard up as to take his labour if I hadn't a purpose. And I've been working hard ever since, and I shall get my pay Friday night, when he hopes to get all the hay in."

We rather admired Aylwin's plan, but we began to wonder how long it would be before we got enough money. I suddenly thought of another plan, and I rushed straight off to Mrs. Tapson's to ask about it. This was to send a hamper in by Bob every Tuesday and let Mrs. Dutton sell it for me. Mrs. Tapson thought it a splendid idea, so I came home and asked father if I could do it, and he said Yes, as long as Baldwin only gave me what could be spared.

And then we all felt a little flat, because now our secrets were known there was no mystery, and we love mysteries. Next week we begin lessons. I wasn't a bit surprised when Lynette came rushing to me the next afternoon, saying:

"Oh, Grisel, I'm in the awfullest scrape; do help me!"

Lynette always comes to me when she has been doing anything outrageous, and she always gets into scrapes when she has nothing to do. She told me she had been swinging on the gate, when she saw passing down the road the little girl I had seen before in the pony-cart. She was quite by herself, and she went into Mrs. Ribbon's shop and left her pony outside, without any one to hold it. Lynette followed her out of curiosity, and then without thinking—Lynette never thinks when she wants to do a thing—she jumped into the pony-trap, and drove it down the village.

"It was only for fun, Grisel," she said. "I meant to come back in two minutes, and she wouldn't have known. But I gave the pony a little flick with the whip, and he tore like the wind, and I couldn't stop him. When I knew I couldn't stop him—" here Lynette's eyes twinkled with mischief—"I sat back and prepared to enjoy myself. We tore along like furies, and then we came to Cross Glen village, and he turned up through some big open gates. Then I began to get frightened, for I know our squire lives there; father told me so. Such a big house, Grisel! And directly we got up to it the pony stopped short, and a butler came down the steps, looking quite scared when he saw me.

"'Where is Miss Clarice?' he asked.

"I got out of the trap as quick as I could.

"'She's in our shop,' I said, 'and the pony ran away with me.'

"Then I felt awfully frightened, Grisel, and I ran away down the avenue, and hid amongst some shrubs at the bottom, for fear any one would see me. At last I ventured out, and climbed over the hedge, and came home by the fields. I'm so hot and tired."

"But how awful of you, Lynette! Where's the little girl?"

"I don't know. I suppose she walked home. Do go across to Mrs. Ribbon's and find out, Grisel. I hope they don't know it was me!"

"Go yourself!" I said crossly.

Then Lynette put her arms round my neck.

"Darling Grisel, I do love you so! You will just go, won't you? Because nobody will know you have anything to do with it."

So of course I had to go, and Mrs. Ribbon was in an agitated state of mind as she told me what had happened.

"'Tisn't often one of the little ladies from the Hall comes to my humble shop," she said: "And then! You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard the pony galloping away! I was just servin' her with a ounce of Miss Lynette's toffee, and I were makin' her laugh when I telled her who made it, when we heard a noise, and her and I runs to the door, and there we seed Miss Lynette, her hair a-flying like a golden cloud in the air, a-tearin' round the road just for all the world like one o' these motor machines.

"'Stop her!' cried Miss Clarice. 'She's run away with my pony!'

"But one might as well stop a flyin' swaller! Then I begged the little missy to sit down in my shop and wait. But she were real angry, and she stamped her foot, and said, 'My mother will have that toffee girl punished.'

"And then she marches out and down the road. And if Lady Laura do hear of it, she will come up and ask me why I didn't let someun' hold the pony, and like enough she'll make it hot for me. I wouldn't do nothin' to offend her ladyship for all the world, for this be her house, and I be her tenant."

"Well, I'm very sorry, Mrs. Ribbon, but you know what Lynette is. The toffee has kept her quiet for a little, but she's always doing something she oughtn't. Do you think the little girl has got home safely?"

"How am I to tell? I've never seed or heard nothing since."

I came home thoughtfully. I hate being a tell-tale. That's one of the things which are bad form—that, and bragging, and lying, and being a prig. But I knew that father would find it out, and there's nothing he hates more than finding out things. He likes us to tell our scrapes at once. So I told Lynette to go and tell him, but she wouldn't, so I said I should, and then of course she called me names, and father came into the room when we were in the middle of a regular quarrel about it.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Lynette won't tell you something!" I said, and then I ran out of the room.

Of course she did when I had gone, and father took her into his study and talked to her for ever so long, and she came out crying. She told me after that father made her write a little note of apology, and he wrote himself to Lady Laura and told her how it happened. He told Lynette he was continually being made ashamed of his children, and that made Lynette cry awfully; it always does. But he kissed her before he sent her away; father is very fond of Lynette—he says she reminds him of mother.

The very next afternoon, which was Friday, Lynette and I were having one of our washes in the bathroom. It is great fun. We fill the bath half full of water, then we wash everything we can get hold of Puff was there helping us. We wash all our combs and brushes first, and all Lynette's dolls' clothes, and odd pocket-handkerchiefs, and our lace tuckers, and anything about the house that looks dirty. Puff was bringing us all kinds of things, and he had just plunged an old fur monkey of his in the bath and we were laughing at his draggled look, when Emma came hurrying in.

"Miss Grisel, you and Miss Lynette are to go down to the drawing-room at once; there's company, and your aunt says you're to come now!"

"Oh, bother!" I said. "Who is it, Emma?"

Lynette and I were in our petticoats; we had taken off our dresses because we splash so.

"It's the Lady Laura Londesburg and her little girl."

Lynette and I looked at each other with frightened faces.

"I won't go down," said Lynette—"I won't."

But Emma was dragging us into our bedroom and helping us to get into our tidy frocks.

"We must, Lynette. Oh dear, I wish you hadn't done it. I should like to be friends with that little girl!"

"I shouldn't, and I shan't!"

Lynette spoke crossly, and she wriggled away from Emma, who was trying to brush her hair with one of our brushes we had just washed.

"Go away, Emma. I shall keep them waiting hours and hours for me. I shan't be ready for 'years!'"

Emma went off in a huff.

And then I coaxed Lynette to be good, and in a minute or two she brightened up—she is never cross more than five minutes—and she was quite ready to come downstairs.

"I shall pretend I don't know anything about it," she said; "father is out, so he won't tell!"

So we came into the drawing-room, and I was more frightened than Lynette was. There sat the little girl on a chair, looking very pretty in a white silk frock and hat, and Lady Laura was talking very fast to Aunt Caroline. Everybody in the village is afraid of Lady Laura—why, I don't know; she didn't look stern, and when she saw us she laughed out loud.

"Which of you wrote me that pretty little note? I have come to forgive you, and ask you to tea with my little girls to-morrow. Will you come?"

Lynette didn't look a bit ashamed of herself.

"It's me you have to forgive, please," she said; "I didn't mean to do it."

Then Lady Laura shook hands with us, and we shook hands with Clarice. She frowned rather at Lynette, but smiled at me.

"Have you got a nursery?" she asked.

"No, but a schoolroom. Will you come and see it?"

She followed us at once; Lady Laura said she might. We walked upstairs without speaking, but at the top of the stairs Lynette said, "Would you like to see our bath?"

She stared first, and then said "Yes," and we took her along.

We forgot we had left Puff there by himself, and when we went in we found he had got our old cat and her two kittens in the water, and was trying to wash them all. The kittens were nearly drowning. We were so excited in getting them out, that we forgot to be shy, and Clarice began to talk as fast as we did. She told us that she was a twin, and her twin sister was called Beatrice, but that she had sprained her foot, and couldn't walk, and the doctor said she must lie down for a long time.

Puff looked at her for a minute, then he said:

"Would you like to wash somefing? My pinbefore is vewy dirty!"

He was tugging at it as he spoke, and I scolded him. Lynette was drying the poor cat and kittens, and when they looked more comfortable, we carried them downstairs to the kitchen to dry. Then we let the dirty water go away in the bath, and turned on some more, and Clarice got awfully excited, and we gave her a dirty old woollen sheep of Puff's to wash.

We told her how we had tried to wash a rag doll once—it was Lynette who did it—and she came rushing downstairs, saying, "She's bleeding fast, come and look!"

And Aunt Caroline was awfully frightened, for Lynette's hands were all red, and it was trickling red all down her pinafore. Aunt Caroline screamed, and rushed upstairs, and there she saw the bath water quite red, and it all came out of the red frock the doll had on. Of course she had thought it was I who was bleeding.

Clarice loved that story. Presently we were sent for, and then we found that Clarice's frock was simply soaking, and so was her hat. She was what I call a messy washer. We tried to dry her.

But when we got downstairs Aunt Caroline was dreadfully cross, and Lady Laura looked a little cross too. Clarice had to have Lynette's best white frock—it just fitted her, and Aunt Caroline said to Lady Laura:

"I assure you I never know from moment to moment what will happen. I can't tell you how distressed I am."

But Clarice's face was beaming.

"I enjoyed myself so awfully much, mummy. I never have such a nice time at home!"

And then Lady Laura smiled.

"I expect you have your hands full, Miss Marjoribanks, but I must have no washing when they come to tea with my little girls."

And then they drove away in a grand carriage and pair, and Lynette and I had dry bread for our tea because we let Clarice splash herself.

I think that kind of thing is very unfair. We often get unfair punishments from Aunt Caroline, but never from father. Aunt Caroline thinks we ought to be more grown-up than we are. And we privately think to ourselves that grown-ups are the dullest people in the world. And they have the dullest time in the world, so we don't mean to be like them before we can help it.

Chapter VI

Our Visit To The Hall

LYNETTE and I were very excited about going out to tea. We wanted to dress ourselves long before Aunt Caroline would let us do so. Emma was going to walk with us, and she talked a good deal about the squire's big house. I wish they all came to our church, but they don't; they attend another church nearer to them. I think the boys were rather jealous of us, but I reminded them that there were no boys, and Denys said a girls' tea-party was poor fun. Lynette was in wild spirits; I told her if she did anything to disgrace us, I would run off home and leave her. Of course she called me a prig, but I didn't care, for when Lynette gets excited, she doesn't mind what she does.

She sobered down when we got up to the big front door. I think she was rather frightened. I was, I know, when the footman took us up a very broad staircase lined with pictures and books, and along huge passages that seemed as if they would never end. At last he threw open a door, and announced:

"The young ladies from the Rectory."

And then we found ourselves in a lovely big nursery, and Clarice came up and shook hands with us. She took us over to the window where Beatrice was lying on a sofa. She was just like Clarice, only her cheeks were paler and her face thinner. There was rather a nice governess in the room—Miss Tudor was her name, and Lynette actually asked her if she was any relation to the Tudor kings! She didn't mean it for cheek, she really thought she might be. She didn't seem offended, for she laughed and said she was afraid she wasn't.

And then Clarice began showing us her big dolls' house and all her toys. Lynette sat down on the floor at once by the dolls' house, and I sat by the sofa and talked to Beatrice.

"Clarice told me about your washing," she said; "I wish I'd been there. Tell me more."

So I told her about our donkey, and how we were trying to get money, and she was frightfully interested.

And then Clarice came running up to us.

"Oh, Bee, we're having such fun with our dolls' house; Lynette has been telling me such lovely things to do. We're making burglars climb down the chimney and hide under the beds, and—" here she lowered her voice to a whisper—"when Miss Tudor goes out of the room, we're going to make a fire happen, and then we're going to be firemen, and get the garden syringe, and syringe it with water."

Beatrice's eyes shone, but I had to spoil that game. I told them how we had done that to our old dolls' house once. The boys did it. They put a lighted match under one of the dolls' beds. Of course it was awfully exciting, but the whole place caught on fire, and all our dolls were burnt. And though it was great fun putting it out with water, mother came in and made us promise we would never, never attempt such a thing again. And I said, "If we make a mess with water again, we shall never be allowed to come here."

Lynette looked at me very crossly.

"You're so stupid, Grizzy, you never like any fun!"

I think it's very hard to be thought stupid when you're trying to be good, but I didn't say anything more, and then Lynette thought of something else, and the next thing they were doing was turning the dolls' house into a castle besieged with soldiers, and she and Clarice were soon shrieking at the top of their voices as the lady dolls were racing about trying to hide from the soldiers, and some of them were being caught and killed.

Beatrice told me how tired she was of lying on a sofa, and how she longed to get up and run round the room. And then she showed me some of her books, and we played a funny game together—something like parlour croquet—and then came tea. We were all the greatest of friends by tea-time, and Clarice told us there were no other little girls like us for miles and miles. Then we asked them to tell us all the clergymen's names who lived near, and their families, and then all the squires, and theirs, and they appeared to know everybody. The families seemed to be mostly grown-ups, except where the boys are going to school, and there are no girls there. It is funny, because where we've come from, we knew quantities of girls and boys, and here in Lincolnshire there seems hardly any. The country is empty, I suppose. I know every house seems to be either the squire's or the clergyman's. Nobody else seems to live in this part.

Beatrice said to me after tea, when Miss Tudor was out of the room:

"I'm so glad you aren't good. I thought clergymen's children were always very goody; I shouldn't have liked you a bit if you had been like that."

"Wouldn't you?" I said slowly, and feeling a little uncomfortable. "I don't want to be goody, but I try to be good."

She stared at me.

"But it's much more fun to be naughty."

"I don't know," I said. "It seems so at the time, but it isn't afterwards!"

"I wish there was no 'afterwards' in the world!" said Beatrice impatiently. "This is an 'afterwards'—my lying on this horrid old sofa, I mean. You see, I sprained my foot trying to climb a tree like a boy. Miss Tudor told me to come down, but I laughed at her and went up higher, and then I tumbled!"

"How dreadful!" I said. And then added, while I felt my cheeks get hot and red, "That's just the kind of thing I should have done. It's the only thing I want to be grown-up for—it's so awfully easy to be good then."

"I like to be naughty best," said Beatrice firmly—"it's more fun."

"I wish you knew father," I said; "he likes us to have plenty of fun. He keeps saying to Aunt Caroline, 'A loose rein, Caroline, with my wild young colts, and as few orders and commands as you can help, for it only incites to disobedience.'"

"What a nice father!" said Beatrice.

"He says," I went on, warming with my theme, "that if we obey God's commands, we shall obey his. When I was a little girl, I used to read over the Commandments in church, and I thought I never broke one of them. I know better now. Father told us of three commands last Sunday; they're lovely and short. 'Come,' 'Go,' 'Do.'"

Beatrice seemed rather interested.

"Tell me more. You are a funny girl; one moment you roar with laughter, and the next you preach a sermon!"

So I told her as much as I could of father's sermon. "It's what a faithful servant does," I said. "There's a knight buried in our church who was 'always faithful' and 'always ready.' Father says he tries to be that, and of course he is, but, when I don't forget, I'm going to try to be it too!"

"And do you often forget?"

"Nearly always," I said, sighing.

Then Lynette and Clarice interrupted us; they wanted to dress up, so I went with them into Clarice's bedroom, and we all put on different things and came back and visited Beatrice. Clarice was an old beggar woman in a shawl and apron, and a long black skirt, and a red handkerchief tied round her head. And Lynette was an Indian in bath towels and striped silk rug. And I was a fashionable American lady, with a long train I made out of a counterpane, and some feathers and flowers in my hair. And we all told her our stories and said we had come over to England to see her because we heard she was so rich and good. And then Lynette said she would give an Indian dance, and she got up on the table, and spun round and round till she made us giddy, and Beatrice laughed till she cried.

And then we were told that Emma had come to take us home. So we said good-bye, and they begged us to come again soon.

We enjoyed ourselves awfully, and Lynette said to me coming home:

"You see, it was rather a good thing I drove off in the pony-carriage, for that has made us know Clarice and Beatrice."

"No," I said, "it was a good thing you told father about it, as he made you write the note. And I believe that made Lady Laura come to see us."

When we got home, we found the boys very busy counting out their money. Denys had made one shilling and tenpence by some fish which he had caught and sold at two or three different farm-houses, and Aylwin had three shillings from Mr. Cummins. He had given him sixpence a day for his work in the hayfield.

"It has been earned by the sweat of the brow," Aylwin said proudly, "but it's all I shall get, for there are no more hayfields to be worked. And it's school next week."

We counted our money up anxiously; it was not nearly enough to buy a donkey, but we were hopeful about getting more. Lynette could go on making toffee, and I could go on picking flowers, and sending vegetables to market. Denys could go on fishing, for the farmers' wives all liked to get fish, but Aylwin would have to get some other plan quickly.

"Shan't!" he said. "I have worked harder than the whole lot of you put together. I've done my share nobly!"

"Three shillings isn't very much," I said.

"It's the quality, not the quantity, you have to consider," said Aylwin, beginning to argue. "These three shillings repre—sent—" he brought out the long word with a slow drawl—"a huge lot of heavy toil. Which would you value most for a birthday present—a book that some one threw away and which was picked up and given to you, or a book that had taken the earnings of a year to buy, and had quite exhausted the strength of the one who bought it?"

I was much impressed, but Denys wasn't a bit.

"You're a lazy sluggard," he said; "I know you rested half the time in the hayfields, and drank lots of cider."

Then after a lot more talking, Aylwin said he would take one whole week's rest, and then start another plan.

"My body is so tired that my brain won't think, and I must rest it thoroughly. And I tell you, I'll take care my next plan is as jolly easy as yours is!"

When Saturday choir practice came round again, and I was singing away just opposite the knight, I thought of father's sermon and of "Semper fidelis, semper paratus." I thought of what father wanted me to do. But I still felt I hadn't the courage to do it. Denys would laugh at me, I thought, and I should never hear the last of it. We hate children who are always trying to teach others how to behave, and if I had a class, he would be always teasing me about it.

Before I went to bed, I added a little bit in my prayers. I asked God to make me brave enough to do it. And then I felt almost afraid of being made brave. It was dreadful of me, and my last prayer was made in bed before I went to sleep. I said, "O God, answer my prayer, even if I don't want You to."

On Sunday morning we were all at breakfast. Aunt Caroline very often gets up from the table and leaves us to finish by ourselves, as she has to go to the school.

She was just leaving us, when to our astonishment Denys sprang up from his seat too, after hastily swallowing the last drop of his tea. He was rather red in the face, but he said:

"I'm coming to school with you, Aunt C. I'm going to take the infants' class."

Aunt Caroline took it very quietly, but if a cannon had been roared off in our ears, we couldn't have been more astonished.

"I have so often suggested that one of you should do it," said Aunt Caroline. "The poor babies cannot understand my class at all."

Denys dashed out of the room.

Aylwin cast up his eyes to the ceiling, and raised his hands mockingly. "Sky, fall!" he ejaculated.

Lynette began to giggle.

"Fancy Denys teaching the infants! He won't know what to teach them except 'good form'!"

I felt literally crushed to the earth. If only I had known!—If only I had known! The very one I was afraid of, was doing what I ought to have done; I had lost my opportunity for ever. I went out into the garden and had a good cry in the shrubbery. And oh, how I admired Denys! He is always doing those kind of things. He never talks, and sometimes pretends he doesn't care, and then he suddenly gets up and goes and does it. It makes me wish so to be like him.

"I'll have a good joke over this baby teaching," said Aylwin to me, as we walked to church together.

"No, you mustn't," I said, "because it's very good of Denys to do it, and I know it's father's sermon last Sunday has made him. It nearly made me, only I was afraid you would all laugh at me, and so I didn't, and Denys has done it instead. And do you know, Aylwin, all breakfast I was getting up courage to say what he did, and—I was just too late."

Aylwin looked at me curiously, but he said nothing, and when we saw Denys at dinner-time, none of us said anything to him about it; we just pretended nothing had happened. I'm wondering so if Denys is getting good. He always says he isn't; I think he would be simply furious if I was to say he was. But we never can talk about good things to each other—we think it's priggish.

Now I must come to Monday morning, and to the great surprise that came to us. Puff has been saying every day that he is going to get a letter from God with the money for the donkey. And every morning, he runs out to the postman. I don't know what he thinks of him, but we heard Puff say the other morning:

"Are you tru'fully sure there's no letter for me, for I'm 'specting one from God, and it will be a heavy one, I can tell you!"

On Monday he brought the letters in and gave them to father; and, sorting them out, father said suddenly:

"Is there a Master George Marjoribanks in the room?"

"It's me!" yelled Puff, dancing round him in a perfect frenzy of excitement. "Let me open it my own self! Oh! It hasn't any money at all."

He was holding it in his hand, and there was bitter disappointment in his voice.

"Open it!" said father, in a curious tone.

Puff opened it. Three postal orders were done up in a sheet of paper, and across it was written:

"From Granny. For a donkey."

And the postal orders were for £1 each.

We could hardly believe it. Granny very seldom gave us money—only on birthdays. Of course I knew that Aunt Caroline must have told her how hard Puff was praying for it and expecting it. Puff's face was a study when it was explained to him. His eyes looked as if they were going to start out of his head, and then he puffed out his chest.

"O' course," he said. "I knows very well what's happened. Father says God gives a lot of His money to peoples to take care of, and so He was too busy to send it Hisself, so He tolded granny to do it."

"I think you've hit upon the truth, Puff," said father, kissing his curly head.

Puff looked round at us with great solemn eyes.

"It's me that's gotted it," he said. "My plan is the bestest one of all."

We were too surprised to speak. Father murmured to himself:

"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."

And then we couldn't help sending up a wild cheer. The donkey was as good as bought, and we would have some money over. Denys said at once that it would do for a saddle, but father said that we might get a second-hand cart and a donkey too for three pounds, perhaps. But father always thinks things are cheaper than they are.

Chapter VII

The Gipsy Camp

"AND now where can we buy the donkey?" We were all lying out on the lawn under the trees. Puff was the only one who couldn't keep still. Every now and then he would dart out into the sun, chasing a butterfly or pursuing a bee. It was a very hot afternoon.

"You generally see donkeys grazing somewhere," said Aylwin, leaning over towards Lynette and tickling her ear with a bit of grass, "but I haven't set eyes on a donkey since we've come here."

"Let's go and tell Mrs. Ribbon we want one," I said, and then I chanted:

"If once you come, you come again, You never come to us in vain."

"She'll produce it from the back-yard," said Denys, "and it will be a mangy one, I can tell you. No, the only people who have real good donkeys are gipsies, and we shall have to find them first of all."

"Hurrah! We'll all go and visit a gipsy camp," shouted Aylwin.

"Mrs. Ribbon will tell us where to find one," said Lynette.

"Wait a bit," said Denys. "We'll put up a notice in the village like they do in the police stations. I'll make it out."

"Oh, but we may as well try Mrs. Ribbon first," I urged. "I should love to hear her say, 'I'm afraid I can't do it for you.'"

So we all started to our feet and swooped over to the village shop. There were two women gossiping over the counter, but when they saw us, they went off, and we quite filled the shop. Of course Puff insisted on coming too. Oh, how hot it was! The flies were swarming over everything. Mrs. Ribbon's face looked as if she had put some sticky syrup over it to attract the flies—they were dotted about her like currants in a cake. She kept flicking them off with her handkerchief, but she smiled upon us as she always does. She never does anything but smile at everybody.

"If you please, we want a gipsy camp," said Denys, in a business-like tone.

She looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. Mrs. Ribbon loves a joke—that's why we like her so.

"How much have you got to pay for it?" she asked. "They be expensive, Master Denys."

"Oh, if you find us one, we'll pay afterwards," said Denys.

"A gipsy camp be a big order," said Mrs. Ribbon thoughtfully. "You must give me more particulars. How many gipsies do you want, or is it only their camp?"

We saw she was laughing at us, so Aylwin pointed to the motto outside.

"The first time we come here in vain, Mrs. Ribbon, we'll take that notice down. We want a regular gipsy camp—with live gipsies in it."

"But bless your heart, I only sells things for folks to buy. Live gipsies aren't to be bought and sold in this here Christian country."

We began to feel rather small. Mrs. Ribbon is too clever for us.

"We'll put up a notice," said Denys; "I told you we should have to do it. It's the 'information' about a gipsy camp we want to buy, Mrs. Ribbon, but we won't trouble you any further."

We all marched out of the shop with our heads very high in the air.

"She'll be sorry she didn't help us now," said Denys.

And then we came home, and he wrote out on a big sheet of father's sermon paper, in his best handwriting:

"Wanted immediately. Information of the nearest gipsy camp. To be brought to the Rectory within a week.—DENYS MARJORIBANKS."

Then the question was where to put this, and we determined we wouldn't let Mrs. Ribbon have the pleasure of putting it in her shop window. Denys thought of a beautiful place. At the cross-roads, just at the beginning of our village, there is a big-signpost. We got some paste and went off there at once. On the way, I said:

"You'll have to offer a reward, Denys."

He hadn't thought of that, but he quickly added it on the paper—"The informer will be suitably rewarded."

We pasted it high up, so that everybody should see it, and then we came home. After tea Denys went off on two visits to it, to see if it was sticking properly. The last time he went, he said there were two men and a boy reading it.

"I didn't let them see me," he said—"I hid behind the hedge, but they seemed very much interested."

"I think it would have been better to ask for information about a donkey," I said.

But the boys both exclaimed at this.

"The gipsy camp is half the fun," Denys said.

"Perhaps they don't have camps in Lincolnshire," said Lynette.

This hadn't struck us. We began to be very interested in gipsies and their ways now. We asked father a lot about them, and he told us that once he had often visited a gipsy camp, as there was a man ill there; we didn't tell him why we asked, but Puff was anxious to know whether they stole boys and girls. The very next day a boy came to the back-door and asked to see Denys. It was very fortunate he was home, for we were going to begin lessons the day after.

Denys came in after a few minutes, very excited.

"I've got the information," he said. "Farmer Brown, up on the high road to Lemworth, always lets tramps and gipsies camp out on a waste bit of ground of his; and this is the month they generally come, because they always attend Lemworth Fair, and that's in about a week from to-day."

"We're in luck!" said Aylwin. "How much did you give him?"

"Sixpence. He was quite satisfied. I shall take it out of the money-box, of course."

"I should like to get the donkey to-morrow," I said; "it seems so stupid to wait so long."

But the boys said it was well worth waiting a week to choose a real donkey out of a real gipsy camp. And then lessons began. The boys were away all day. Lynette and I did lessons all the morning with Aunt Caroline, and Puff pretended to do some too. The afternoons we had to ourselves, but there was always something to take to a sick villager, or a message to some one.

One day father heard me grumbling, for I wanted to read a new story-book that had been got for the school library, and I had been out once for Aunt Caroline, and now she wanted me to go again.

He shook his head at me.

"'Semper paratus,'" he murmured. "You're not making a good servant, Grisel."

"But I'm not Aunt Caroline's servant," I said rather quickly.

"I thought you were one of Christ's servants," he said gravely. "Your little daily duties are the duties He gives you. You can't separate His service from your service at home; they're one and the same thing. Do you ever think of His commands day by day, child?"

"I forget so," I murmured.

"An unfaithful servant is such a disappointment," father said, in his soft low voice.

Then I began to cry. I couldn't help it.

"I don't believe I shall ever be a faithful, ready servant, father."

"Why not? This errand of your aunt's was one of the 'go's,' was it not?"

"I suppose it was," I murmured.

"Do you consider yourself in the service of Christ?" he asked me.

"I hoped I was, father. I want to serve Him, because He has died for me, and I do love Him for it—a little, not as much as I ought to. I think the 'come' you told us about is easier than the 'go.' And as for the 'do,' I haven't thought about it at all. And, father, I'm dreadfully sorry I didn't take the Sunday school class; Denys was too quick for me."

"I wonder if you have taken in, Grisel, that you must 'come,' every day, as well as 'go.' A servant comes to his master for orders the first thing in the morning, every day. Did you go to your Master this morning for His orders?"

"No, father," I said, "I rather hurried my prayers this morning—I got up late."

"Ah, that is the cause of unfaithfulness, Grisel. I have been in my Master's service many more years than you have. If I try to carry out His orders without going to Him continually, I get into trouble at once. It is 'come' and 'go' all day long, Grisel."

"But," I said perplexedly, "I can't keep going upstairs and saying my prayers, father. I shouldn't have time."

He looked at me meditatively.

"'Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors.'"

Father has a way of quoting texts to himself which makes one think. Then he added:

"We must live close to the Master, child, to get the listening attitude. It doesn't come quickly. You may take years to learn it, but remember it was a child who said, 'Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.'"

"That was Samuel," I said. "Father, are you angry with me that I didn't take that class? Because I'll take it now, whenever Denys wants to give it up."

"Oh, Grisel," said father, as he turned to leave the room, "when will you learn to put your Lord and Master before me?"

I got into a long fit of thinking then. Of course it was Jesus Christ who ought to be angry with me, not father, so I went upstairs and asked to be forgiven, and I made a promise in my heart that I would try to be a ready servant, and not grumble if I were sent a hundred errands in the day. I think, if it isn't wicked to say so, grown-ups never mind interrupting children. They often say to us, "Don't interrupt me now; I'm reading, or writing," but when we're reading or writing or painting we can never say that to them, and we are always being interrupted.

We heard a good deal about the fair that was coming off at Lemworth, and we asked father if we could go to it, but he said No. And then the boys asked him if we could all go out for the day on Saturday, which was a holiday, and take our lunch with us.

"We want to go a long walk," Denys said, "just to see if some gipsies have got a donkey that would do for us."

And father said we might, and told us that we could make inquiries, but must not buy—we must leave that to him. We thought Saturday would never come. But it came at last, and we started off directly after breakfast. Puff roared and cried because he couldn't come with us, and Aunt Caroline began to promise him all kinds of treats to quiet him.

We started, and went about two miles along the hot, dusty high road, then we climbed over a fence and kept along in the fields. And we talked hard the whole time; the boys were telling us about the other boys at their school. I'm going to call it a school, though it isn't a proper one. There's one boy there that Denys says he knows he shall fight before long. He comes from London, and talks as if his father is a duke, and he has a scorn for "parsons' sons," as he calls them.

"I don't think it's 'good form' for gentlemen's sons to fight," I said.

I always like to use Denys's words against him.

"He'd go down like a sausage!" said Denys. "I'd love to get my knuckles into him. But I'll leave him alone unless he runs down parsons, and then I'll give him a licking!"

"Do you think we're sure to find the gipsies at home?" asked Lynette presently. "Don't you think they'll be at the fair?"

This had not suggested itself to us. We stopped to consider it, and then we began to feel hungry, and so we sat down on the grass and ate our lunch.

"All the donkeys can't be at the fair," said I.

"Do gipsies always have donkeys?" asked Lynette. "Do they ride them?"

"Oh, shut up, and don't ask so many beastly questions," said Denys a little crossly.

It seemed a long way to Farmer Brown's waste bit of ground, but we came to it at last, and there to our delight was a caravan, a dirty-looking tent, and a lot of grimy children playing about. One swarthy woman was washing some clothes in a big saucepan.

But there were no donkeys to be seen, only one old white horse grazing close by.

"I'm afraid they're at the fair," whispered Aylwin. "Go ahead, Denys, and do the polite."

Denys can always do that. The village people love him because he takes off his cap to them. He walked straight up to the woman and raised his straw hat.

"Good-morning, ma'am; may we have the pleasure of speaking to you for a minute or two?"

She took her hands out of the saucepan and stared at us as if we were wild animals.

"We have been waiting for you to arrive for a long time. I don't know who is the—the boss of your camp, but I should like to see him on business."

"Are ye sarcing?" she asked a little roughly.

"We're all in serious earnest," said Denys. "We want—if you would like to know—to buy a donkey, and we conclude you have one to sell!"

The woman laughed, then she called out:

"Jim! Come and tell the young gent that 'e's come to the wrong quarters for donkeys!"

A man lounged round the corner. He was a real gipsy. I am sure he was, because he had a lot of buttons all over him, and a red and yellow handkerchief round his neck, and a big ring on one of his fingers.

"Us don't deal in no donkeys!" he said, sticking a pipe in his mouth, and looking at us out of the corners of his eyes. "How much be 'ee goin' to give for un?"

"Father will settle that," said Denys grandly. "We want a ripping good donkey, one that will go like the wind, and we want him sent to Warlington Rectory for us to see one evening, after six o'clock, without fail."

Denys is always awfully business-like, just like a grown-up man. But we all felt dreadfully disappointed not to see any donkeys.

Lynette stole away to the caravan and peeped in, then she came back to the woman.

"Do show me the inside of your little house," she said in her coaxing way. "I should love to live in a caravan."

The woman good-naturedly led the way, and Aylwin and I followed, while Denys talked to the man. It was quite lovely inside. There were little pictures, and muslin curtains, and brass pans hung on the walls, but it didn't smell very nice—stuffy and oniony, I thought. Lynette was delighted. Then she said:

"Do tell me—we won't tell anybody—but do you ever steal children now, or is it only in books you do? Are any of those children out there stained with walnut-juice?"

The woman laughed out loud.

"Would 'ee like to come 'long wi' us, missy?"

"Oh, awfully!" exclaimed Lynette. "Just for a few weeks, you know, in the holidays. I should think it would be lovely to be stolen."

The woman shook her head.

"Children be more bother than they're worth," she said; "us bain't likely to want more 'n we have, as 'tis!"

Lynette was quite disappointed. Then Aylwin asked her if she could tell fortunes, and she shook her head. So we told her we were afraid she wasn't a proper gipsy at all, and then she said if we wanted our fortunes told, we must go to the fair.

So then we found out the proper fortuneteller was there. Then we asked her if they all sat round the fire in the evening, and ate stews of chicken and rabbit, and Aylwin said we should love to be invited to supper one night, and she laughed till she shook herself all over. Then Denys called us.

"It's all right," he said; "we're going to have some donkeys sent to choose from, the day after to-morrow. We'll have to wait till then."

Then Aylwin asked him to ask the man to invite us to a proper gipsy supper one evening. And Denys asked, and said we could pay fourpence a head. And the man grinned, and told us to come on Tuesday night at nine o'clock. So then we wished them good-bye and came away.

I don't know how it is, but we're always getting disappointments. We expected to see a beautiful donkey and come home with everything settled, and we thought we should see a crowded gipsy camp, with an old kind of witch that told fortunes, and men with earrings in their ears, and dancing and feasting going on, and perhaps a stolen child crying behind a tree. At least, that is what Lynette and I expected, and it all seemed so tame.

But Denys said that the man knew some one who kept a lot of donkeys to sell, and he was at the fair. And he said he would tell him we wanted one, and he'd bring them along.

"I've given him till Monday evening," said Denys grandly; "and I've thought of a ripping plan. We'll put up another notice at the cross-roads, and tell people to bring their donkeys for us to choose from, the same evening."

"It'll be a kind of donkey-show," said Aylwin, capering in the road. "We'll have hordes of them driven in!"

So we cheered up, and looked forward to Monday. We always like something to look forward to. That's the best of making plans, and that's why we're never dull. Beatrice and Clarice say they are very often, but I told them they should make up plans as we do. We walked home quite contentedly, but when we began to talk about the gipsies' supper-party, I felt rather uncomfortable, for I didn't believe father would like Lynette and me to go to it. I told Denys so.

"Oh, well," he said, "you had better not go. Aylwin and I will, because father used to go into a gipsy camp; he told us so, and he had supper with them once. He said some of them are the most sober, respectable people there are."

"But we should love to come," I said a little discontentedly. "I do wish all the delicious things weren't wrong!"

"Don't be a prig!" said Aylwin.

And Lynette said excitedly:

"I mean to go—I don't care what old Gristle does; I shall be there if I'm punished ever so much afterwards!"

I didn't say any more, but I felt rather sober all the way home after that.

Chapter VIII

The Donkey Race

PUFF was awfully disappointed when we arrived home without the donkey. Denys put up the notice on the signpost directly after tea. We all went along and helped him. He wrote up:

"Wanted. A high-class donkey. To be brought to the Rectory on show, Monday evening at six o'clock." And he headed it with the words, "Important and immediate."

I said he ought to have put "first-class" donkey, not "high-class," and Aylwin said "fast-class" would have been better still, but Denys said that "first-class" would make all donkey-owners sit up. I don't know what he meant, and he didn't explain.

Then I had to go indoors and help Aunt Caroline with the mending, for it was Saturday night. She had let us off the choir practice, because we had been out. But before we went to bed, she took us to the piano in the drawing-room, and we sang over the chants and hymns to make sure we knew them. And then Aunt Caroline said to Denys:

"Are you coming to school to-morrow?"

And he answered very gruffly, "I s'pose so."

Then I said:

"I would take a class if you had another, Aunt Caroline."

"I don't think there are enough children, Grisel. I wanted you to do it a long time ago."

"What do you teach them, Denys?" asked Lynette.

Denys simply left the room, whistling loudly.

I wondered very much what he taught them, but when I asked Aunt Caroline she said:

"Denys is the best of the lot of you underneath, Grisel. It is a pity boys always think they must hide their feelings. He keeps the infants in perfect order, teaches them their text and hymn, and tells them a Bible story beautifully."

I sighed, for I wished so much that I had been brave enough to do it.

On Monday afternoon Lynette came rushing to me.

"Oh, Grisel, I've been over to Mrs. Ribbon's, and she says she knows of a beautiful donkey, and she could have told us long ago if we had asked her, instead of going off to the gipsies. She says it belongs to a farmer, and he wants to sell it."

"Well," I said, "tell her to tell him to send it in for us to look at to-night."

"I told her, but she said she had no one to send and tell him."

"Where does he live?"

"I don't know."

So I ran across to Mrs. Ribbon at once, and found out. It was rather far off across the fields, but I thought I might go if Aunt Caroline would let me. She was just going out with father. They were going to some meeting in Lemworth, and father was going to take the chair at it. They told me I could go, and said we mustn't wait tea for them.

"But you'll be back in time to choose our donkey, father?" I said anxiously.

He smiled.

"I think we shall have to advertise for one," he said: "I doubt if you will have any donkeys arrive, my dear child."

"We expect loads!" I cried out gleefully as I ran away.

Lynette said she would come with me, so we set off across the fields. We didn't hurry, as it was very hot; we picked dock-leaves and ferns to fan our faces. At last we came to the farm. It looked bigger than our Rectory, and had a lovely garden. There was a gentleman lying on a cane couch on the lawn and a lady was sitting by the side of him. I wondered if we had made a mistake, but we had to go across the lawn to get to the front door, so I asked them if Mr. Donnyball lived there. The lady smiled.

"Yes, dear, he does. Go up to the house and you will find his wife there. We are only lodging here."

I went on, but Lynette lingered behind. She likes to make friends with strangers; I don't much. I rang the bell, and a farm servant came out, but she soon called the farmer's wife, who was very nice when she knew who I was. I recognised her at once, as she and her husband always come to church Sunday morning, and sit in the middle pew.

"Ah," she said, "come in, dearie. Me and John always say you sits up like cherubs in the church, and sing so pretty-like, 'tis a treat to hear you; and your dear good father do preach like one of the 'postles. Come in, and I'll fetch you a bit of my home-made cake and a glass of milk. And what is your message, dearie?"

She talked so fast that I could hardly get in a word. But I told her at last, and she said:

"Well, to think of your wanting a donkey, now! It's like this: we takes in lodgers at times, and a Captain and Mrs. Roger's have come all the way from London—they have relatives in Lincoln; and he is crippled since the war, and we thought as how our old Nell would draw him out nicely in a wicker chair, but she turns nasty at the sight of it and refuses to move, so we think o' gettin' a small Welsh pony. MY husband's brother breeds 'em, and so I was saying to Mrs. Ribbon the other day, we shouldn't be keepin' Nell. You see, my little boy used to ride her—" Here she began to cry, so I knew her little boy was dead, and I said I was very sorry.

Then she made me sit down in such a nice cool hall, and called Lynette in, and we both had a glass of milk and a piece of cake, and she promised she would send the donkey up that evening by one of the farm lads. I was delighted, and we wanted to see the donkey, only she had gone to the mill for some flour. Then we said good-bye and came away, but Mrs. Rogers and her husband spoke to us from the lawn. Lynette, of course, had told them everything, and the Captain looked at us and laughed.

"How much are you going to give for the old brute?" he said.

And then I explained that we were having a donkey-show to choose from.

"Oh!" he said. "I think I must come along and see the show."

And Lynette clapped her hands and begged him to come.

But Mrs. Rogers shook her head—she didn't want him to come; she said he wasn't well enough.

And then Lynette said:

"I'll write you a letter and tell you about it, if you like. Aunt Caroline lets us write letters for composition when we're doing lessons."

So Mrs. Rogers said that would be very nice, and we came away.

"They're so nice," said Lynette, skipping along. "I think Captain Rogers has forgotten to grow up—he talked just like the boys do. Mrs. Rogers keeps looking at him, and once she said, 'Charlie, don't shock the child.' That was when he said he didn't care a hang for the old doctors, and he was going steeple-chasing in a bath-chair! I said I couldn't possibly be shocked by anything in the world, because I wasn't grown-up, and it was only grown-ups who were shocked.

"And then he said in a solemn whisper to me: 'You take a straight tip from me and don't you move from where you are. Nine years old is old enough for anything. If you sleep head-downwards you'll stop growing. It's a tragedy to be grown-up, I can tell you.'"

"I think he sounds almost as nice as Aunt Mildred," I said. "I wish he would come and see us."

"I'll write him a letter and ask him to," said Lynette.

When we got home it was tea-time, and the boys were just back from school. They were rather scornful over our donkey.

"If it's Mrs. Ribbon's donkey, we'll beat that when the others arrive," they said.

And we told them it was not her donkey, but Mr. Donnyball's.

We got very excited as six o'clock arrived, and Puff climbed on the front gate to be the first to see them come. We waited and waited till nearly half-past six, and then up came Nell. She looked a perfect beauty, fat and clean, and a pretty grey colour. The boy who led her looked very proud of her. And then, as we were all crowding round her, up came, in a perfect cloud of dust, four ragged, miserable-looking beasts, and a man and boy were driving them.

Then business began. I wished father was there, but Denys didn't seem at all afraid of choosing. We were all walking round these four donkeys when an old woman came up with another one, and hers was in much better condition. It was getting quite exciting; a crowd of village children was round us, and more kept coming. We now had six donkeys, and father wasn't in. The four mangy-looking donkeys belonged to the gipsies' friend, the nice black one belonged to a friend of Mrs. Tapson's, and there was the fat grey one from the farm.

Denys was quite important. He presently whispered to Aylwin something, and Aylwin threw up his cap and shouted "Hurrah!" So then we knew it was something nice, and so it was.

"Look here," said Denys in a loud voice, "we want a donkey who'll go, and we've got to find out the best of the lot. We'll have a donkey race for one mile, and the one who comes in first will be our choice."

The village children all cheered at this, and we joined them; the man with the shabby donkeys didn't look over-pleased.

"I've brought these 'ere vallyble beasts o' mine near ten mile; didn't know a racehorse were asked for. Yer can't look for a flier from them wot have done ten mile on a broilin' afternoon."

"Well," said Denys, who was always very just, "we'll have a handicap, and we'll give them a fair start. We'll have the race on the high road; it's half a mile to the old oak-tree that was struck by lightning. I've measured it, so I know it's just half-way between the milestones. We'll race them there and back. We'll have the winning-post outside our gate."

Then he asked Mrs. Tapson's old friend, Mrs. Rowe, how far her donkey had come. She said five miles. Bob Tapson had seen our notice on the signpost and sent her word, and she had come in her donkey-cart.

So then Denys began arranging the race.

"We'll have to have jockeys," said Aylwin excitedly, "and I'll be one. I'll ride the grey beast."

"I'll ride the black one," said Denys.

That was Mrs. Rowe's donkey.

But Mr. Donnyball's farm lad said he ought to ride Nell because he knew her ways, so Aylwin took the best of the four brown ones, and the boy who brought them rode another, and the man was going to ride another, but Denys told him he was too heavy weight. Lynette and I begged to ride too, but Denys wouldn't let us. He said we might hold the tape at the winning-post, so we went into the house to get it, and when we came back we found two village boys were mounted on the other donkeys. They were all to ride bareback, but they were allowed to have the halters on.

It was great fun; every one got very excited, and when we got the donkeys out on the road all in a row, the whole village seemed to have turned out to see us.

Denys gave the ten mile donkeys two hundred yards' start, Mrs. Rowe's black donkey had one hundred yards' start, and the grey one that had only come a mile started from our gate. It all seemed to take up a good deal of time to arrange. Denys said we ought to fire a pistol off, but we hadn't got a proper one, so we got our dinner gong, and I went up the road a short way off, so that they all could hear, and then I struck it with all my might.

They were off, but the whole of the village children started running after them, and the screams and yells were something fearful. Lynette and I longed to run too, but we had to hold the tape, so we got ready as soon as possible. One of the brown donkeys wouldn't go at all: he sidled into a ditch and nobody could move him. The man who brought him ran up and began swearing and beating him. Lynette and I were quite frightened. I told Baldwin to go after him and make him stop. Of course cook and Emma and Baldwin all came to the gate to look on.

It seemed a long time before they came back, but we heard cheers, and then we saw Denys on the black donkey coming up in fine style. He simply galloped in to the winning-post, and the others were nowhere to be seen.

At last Aylwin appeared: he had been thrown twice; he said his donkey bucked, and just as he was telling us so, the creature did it again, and he went over his head into a bed of stinging-nettles. I couldn't help laughing, though I felt very sorry for Aylwin. Then the farm boy came along, but his donkey lay down on the road and rolled him off every few minutes, how he got on at all I don't know. The other donkeys were no good at all, they didn't even get as far as the oak-tree; they stood still in the road and wouldn't budge. As Denys said to the man, we wanted a donkey to go, not to stand still.

The man was very unpleasant, and he swore a good deal, and he said he meant to be paid for his journey, and then he went off to the public-house to wait till father came home. Of course we hadn't a doubt which donkey was the best—the winner. And Mrs. Rowe was very pleased. She said her Andy was a splendid trotter, and she said she would sell us her donkey-cart and harness too very cheap if we liked, so we all went off and looked at it. It was very shabby, but she said it only wanted a fresh coat of paint and would look as good as new.

And then we asked her the most important thing of all—the price. She said she didn't want the donkey or cart any more, for she was going to live in Lemworth, so she would let us have it very cheap; and then she said she would take four pounds ten shillings for the whole concern. It seemed a bargain, but then we hadn't got as much as that. Denys counted up that he only had about seventeen shillings in our money-box, and then there was granny's three pounds.

Whilst we were still talking to her, father and Aunt Caroline came up the hill from the station. Though father was very tired, he helped us at once. He asked a lot of questions about the donkey, how old he was, and how long she had had him, and if he had any vicious tricks, and how fast he could go, and then we told about the races, and father said he must see the others. And then in the middle of it all, Aunt Caroline called Lynette and me to come to bed. She had taken Puff in with her when she arrived. So we were obliged to go, but we felt quite sure that father would choose Andy.

[Illustration: HE WENT OVER HIS HEAD INTO A BED OF STINGING NETTLES.]

And so he did, and Aylwin put his head in at our bedroom door to tell us that father had bought the cart as well. We were to give him as much money as we had earned, and he would add the rest. Mrs. Rowe came down to four pounds, and that was what father paid her.

Lynette and I were awfully disappointed not to see the donkey put into the stable. We found out in the morning that Baldwin turned him into our field next the kitchen-garden. Baldwin said he knew all about donkeys and their ways.

We got up very early to go out and see him, and Lynette took him a carrot. He came up to us at once and took it, but when we tried to get on his back, he galloped off.

After breakfast father and Aunt Caroline came out to look at him. The boys had gone off to school. Father said they could paint up the little cart quite well, and he would get the harness done up for us. And Aunt Caroline said that a donkey-cart would be very useful in many ways. We were all delighted about it. After our lessons were over, Lynette and I went to the stable and took down all the harness, and made Baldwin explain how it was put on. And then we got into the cart and found out that it would hold the five of us quite well if we squeezed up. And then we went out to the field and tried to catch Andy.

I don't think we could have been happier if we had had a beautiful carriage and a pair of horses given to us. Puff was most excited. He got rather cross when he found he couldn't get near Andy, but at last we got him in a corner and put Puff on his back. Then we walked slowly round the field. Lynette was holding Andy by his tail in case he ran away, and I was holding Puff on. The boys came home and found us in the field. They got a halter, and then we each had a ride on him in turns, and at last, as Andy was quite tired, and lay down on the ground, we left him and went into the house, and Aylwin whispered to me:

"We're off to the gipsies' supper to-night!"

Chapter IX

The Gipsies' Supper

IT is so dreadful when in the bottom of your heart you want to be good, to find yourself wanting most frightfully to do what you know isn't good. All the delicious things seem to be wrong. And I think this gipsies' supper seemed the most delicious thing I had ever heard of. After tea, I walked round and round the path in the garden and thought about it. I knew perfectly well we shouldn't be allowed to go—certainly we girls should not. But we were always in the garden till bedtime, so it would be quite easy to slip away without being seen, and the walk there in the dusk would be jolly, and the supper, with the fire, and the gipsies all sitting round, would be simply entrancing, and then the walk back afterwards by moonlight would be so unusual. I simply ached and longed to do it.

And then I thought to myself that of course if I meant to be a faithful servant, I couldn't go to anything that my Master wouldn't like me to, and so I must ask Him about it first. And I hope it isn't priggish to write it down, but I went into the shrubbery close to the church, where no one could see me, and told Jesus Christ all about it, and asked Him to make me stop at home if it was wrong to go. And when I got up I felt quite, quite sure I mustn't go, and I knew I must try and prevent Lynette from going too. So then I went to find her. I'm afraid I felt very disappointed; particularly when I saw the boys stealing down the drive.

I ran after them.

"Are you going?" I said.

"Yes; you had better be quick if you're coming," said Denys.

"I'm not coming," I said; "where's Lynette?"

"Trying to be as good as yourself!" said Aylwin in a mocking voice.

The tears would come into my eyes.

"Oh, I wish, I wish I could come!" I said.

And then I ran into the house, for it just struck me I was like Balaam, who wanted to go when God didn't want him to. But I was glad the boys were going off by themselves without Lynette.

I went all over the house calling to her, but I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I thought she might have gone to wish Andy good-night, so I went down to the field, and all over the garden, and asked Baldwin and Emma and cook if they had seen her, but none of them had. And then Aunt Caroline told me it was bedtime, and asked me where Lynette was. I told her I could not find her, but she didn't seem to take it in. She told me not to wait, but to go to bed myself, and Lynette must follow. So I said good-night to father, who was in the study, and then I went upstairs, and I felt lonely and miserable, and began to wish again I had gone with the boys. And then I wondered if Lynette had gone with them after all. I remembered what she said, that she meant to go, however much she might be punished afterwards. I was in bed, rather worrying over it, when Aunt Caroline came in.

"Where is Lynette, Grisel? Emma says she can't be found, and the boys too—where are they?"

I was silent, for it isn't "good form" to tell tales. We never do.

Aunt Caroline would make me speak. She said she would fetch father up if I didn't, so then I said:

"I know where the boys are, Aunt Caroline, but I'd rather not say. And I don't know if Lynette is with them or not."

"But you must say where they have gone, Grisel; it is very naughty of them to go off like this."

"They won't come to any harm," I said, "but they'll be in rather late."

"I shall speak to your father about it at once."

Aunt Caroline knew we would never tell tales of each other, and I was sorry for her, because she looked so anxious.

No one came near me for some time, and then father did, and when I heard his step, I was tempted to hide my head under the clothes and pretend to be asleep. But I didn't, for he put his hand on my head. And when he does that, it's like a kiss, and I feel I can tell him anything.

"Well, little woman, has Lynette not turned up yet? What pickles you are! Your poor aunt is quite upset."

"I'm so sorry, father, but Lynette never told me she was going, and I never saw her go."

"You know where the boys are?"

"Yes, father."

He was silent a minute, then he said:

"I am afraid you must tell me. I can't have one of my little daughters out of the house at this time of the night without knowing where she is."

So then I told him—I had to; and he heaved a sigh.

"It's very wrong of them, and they must know it. I am disappointed in Denys!"

"Oh, father," I said, squeezing his hand, "if only you were a boy again, I'm sure you'd like to do it yourself. Fancy! They may be sitting round a camp fire, eating rabbit stew, and hearing gipsy songs being sung! Why is it wrong to do it? I wish it wasn't!"

Father smiled.

"Well, Grisel, it might not do the boys much harm, but gipsies are not fit company for my little girls, and Denys ought to have known better. Why, Lynette is a baby!"

He walked towards the door, then he gave a little nod at me.

"Good child!" he said, and then he left the room.

I heard the hall door shut immediately after, so I knew that he had gone to meet them coming back. I tried to keep awake, but I couldn't, and I never woke till the next morning.

I looked over towards Lynette's bed, and found she was there right enough, and when she woke up she was very sleepy and cross.

"Do tell me all about it," I said. "Did you go with the boys?"

"Of course I did, you stupid! I told you I would go. I ran out before they did, in case you might try to stop me, and I waited on Mrs. Ribbon's doorstep till they came by, and then I joined them."

Lynette stopped, then she added mischievously:

"Denys wanted to send me back, so I told him I wasn't one of his Sunday scholars, and he didn't like that at all. He said he would punch my head for cheek, if I didn't look-out."

"Do tell me about the supper," I said eagerly.

"There was none," said Lynette crossly. "It was all for nothing, and my legs ached with tiredness. When we got there, it was all dark, and the van and the tent were gone, and there wasn't a single person there. But there was a piece of paper nailed to a tree, and in awful bad letters it was written:

"'THE GIPSIES' SUPPER First catch your hare, then cook it.'

"Denys said it was quite a clever joke for gipsies, but he and Aylwin were awfully angry, and so was I."

"It was just a sell, then!" I said.

And I tried not to feel glad. I'm not properly good at all. I wish I was. I felt much gladder now that I hadn't gone, for I didn't miss anything. And I ought to have been just as glad if they really had had a ripping good supper.

"It's too bad," grumbled Lynette; "we're all going to be punished for nothing at all, for we never had the supper."

The boys were very quiet at breakfast. I knew father must have given them a good scolding, and neither they nor Lynette were to go out into the garden after tea. They had to stay up in the schoolroom. Father doesn't often punish, and it's more the disgrace than the punishment itself that we mind. Though after tea is our favourite time in the day, because lessons are over, and we meant to ride the donkey in turns round and round the field to get him accustomed to us. Just before the boys went off to school, Denys said to me in the hall:

"I don't wonder grown-up people are always saying the world is getting worse, and everybody is quite different from what they used to be, I know jolly well the gipsies are!"

And that was all he ever said about the gipsies' supper-party.

For the next few days we were all very busy getting the donkey-cart ready. Father let the boys have some paint. Mrs. Ribbon got it for them; they chose the brightest green they could get. We wanted scarlet, but it seems red paint is the most expensive, and we had to have the cheapest. Denys and Aylwin are very good painters; they've done a lot of things before, and they don't make themselves in a mess. I do; and when they let me paint the shafts, I just covered my hands all over, and my dress too; the brushes got so full of paint, that the paint ran down the handle and covered me with it. I suppose I try to be too quick. However, Lynette and I cleaned the brass parts of the harness, and we got a brush and groomed Andy. We caught him and brought him into the stable. He seemed to like it, and I'm sure we did. And all the time Denys was trying to settle how we could buy a saddle.

"Of course we must have one," he said. "We can't always go about in the cart. I shall have to go on fishing for a bit, and you'll have to fish too, Aylwin, and Lynette can go on toffeeing."

"And I'll go on selling vegetables and flowers," I cried. "We can all go on doing it till we get enough."

"And Puff can go on praying," said Aylwin.

"You're not to be irreverent!" I said.

"I'm not," said Aylwin. "I really do think his prayers were answered, because granny must have been made to send the money. She never has done such a thing before."

"Cook is always saying, 'God helps those who help themselves,'" I said.

"Yes," said Denys, "and I'd rather earn the money than have it arrive in a letter."

So we set to work again, but we found time to have some rides on Andy, though we had to ride bareback.

The next thing that happened was our school-treat. We always love school-treats, but when we lived in a town we used to go out in wagonettes to the country. Here they're held in fields or gardens close by.

Lady Laura always has the children in her park, and they march from our village with flags, and the next village joins us, and so it is a very big thing indeed.

The day before the treat Denys came back from school with a black eye and a cut just above it. He told me at once he had been fighting "the Sausage." That's the boy with thick legs, who's so nasty.

Father asked Denys at once about it, and Denys said:

"I kept my hands off him too long, father. He got to think he could say anything. He said the convicts in prison were nearly all parsons' sons, because their fathers were all snivelling hypocrites. I told him to take it back, and he looked me full in the face and said:

"'Your snivelling dad may lay down the law in the pulpit, but his bounder of a boy won't dictate to me, I can jolly well tell you!'"

"And then I went for him, and he actually ran away, and picked up a stone and flung it at me. I wouldn't have minded having a fist in my eye—but a stone! We all howled and yelled at him, and he tried to take refuge in old Gray's study, but we had him out of that, and we made him stand up, and I gave him a jolly good licking. And it was a good thing I did it and not some of the others, for I knew when to stop, and if young Gray had got at him I believe he would have half killed him!"

"Yes," Aylwin chimed in, "and he went blabbing to old Gray, and he told him he jolly well deserved what he had got."

Father did not say much. He seems to understand boys, but just before we went to bed, Denys came to me, when no one was near, and he said:

"Look here, Grizzy, I'll hand you over the infants' class to teach. I can't keep it up. I can't tell them not to fight when I do it myself. I separated two boys in the village yesterday. It was a mistake my trying to do it, but I wanted to carry out the 'go' we heard about. And then there was that scrape, taking Lynette out at night. I can't keep it up, it's no good."

"All right," I said, "but I'm afraid I won't be much better. Must you never do one wrong thing if you teach a class?"

"I won't be a hypocrite," Denys said, and then he ran off.

When father heard of the class being handed over to me, he shook his head at Denys. "My boy, do you know why you failed?" he said. "You put the cart before the horse: you began to 'go' before you had 'come.'"

Denys got very red and didn't say anything for a minute, and then he said:

"How do you mean?"

"You were like a civilian insisting upon marching out to battle with soldiers, and considering himself a soldier, when he had never enlisted and couldn't draw soldier's rations, or uniform, or arms."

Denys said no more, but I saw he was thinking hard. And I began to think over it too, and I think I see what father meant. He often tells us that though he gave us to God in our baptism to be His soldiers and servants, the time must come when we must do it ourselves. And he says we need not wait till our confirmation to do it. And I am wondering if I have got my uniform and arms to fight. After all, if I have given myself to be Christ's soldier and servant, He will look after me, and give me all I want.

Denys didn't much like the idea of going to the school-treat with his black eye, and father told him he must please himself about it.

"If you stay at home," he said, "you might like to drive your donkey over to Morton Relton. It's five miles from here, and I want a message taken to a farmer there."

So Denys quite cheered up, and said he would do it. The school-treat was on Saturday, so of course we all had a holiday.

All of us except Denys started with the school-children at two o'clock. Even Puff trudged along, though it was a long walk for him. We joined the other school-children at Cross Glen village, and then we all walked up through the big gates to the Hall.

Clarice and Beatrice were waiting on the steps. They were awfully excited when they saw us. Beatrice was much better, and was able to limp about on crutches. We stayed with them a little whilst the school-children went on. There were all kinds of games in the park, and races, and a Punch and Judy, and then came tea. One thing surprised us at tea—all the plum cake was buttered; the children won't eat any cake unless it is buttered. I think it is only a custom in our part of the country. It seemed very funny to us, and I thought everybody must be very rich in Lincolnshire; we could never afford to have it, I know. I wish we could. Aunt Caroline told me to see that Puff didn't eat too much of it, because he is rather greedy.

We told Beatrice and Clarice all about our donkey and cart and how we got it, and then we planned that they should come over to our village in their pony-carriage. It's the one thing they are allowed to do alone. And then we'll bring out our donkey-cart, and we'll have a race with them. I believe Andy will go quite as fast as their pony, though Lynette said the pony tore like the wind when it ran away with her.

There were a lot of grown-up people at the school-treat. We kept away from them as much as we could, because it's very dull when you have to talk to them; they are never very interesting, and they always think if they know father, they ought to know us. But presently a lady came up to me when I was playing at "nuts and may," and I saw she was Mrs. Rogers.

And in a few minutes she took me off to see her husband, who was sitting under a tree with several other grown-up people. We had been so busy that Lynette had quite forgotten to write the letter she promised, and Captain Rogers wanted to hear if we had got a donkey.

"We heard old Nell had misbehaved herself, but I didn't wonder at that," said Captain Rogers.

So I told him everything, and how our cart was painted and the harness done up, and we were still trying to earn enough money to buy a saddle. Then he asked how we were doing it, and when he heard of the boys' fishing, he told me to tell them that he was awfully fond of fresh-water fish and would like some for breakfast every morning if they could bring some. So then I went and fetched Aylwin and told him I had got him a customer. Aylwin didn't like coming at first, but when he knew Captain Rogers was a man, he didn't mind. And in a minute he was talking as hard as ever he could to him. Captain Rogers is such an easy man to talk to. He told us he had got his steed and was going to crawl about the lanes in a bath-chair, but he said it as if he liked it, and Aylwin told him he could have great fun if he was game for it.

"A bath-chair and fun don't seem to fit," said Captain Rogers gravely.

"You could race in it," suggested Aylwin.

"Yes," I put in, "we're going to have a chariot race next week. I'm going to get Denys to mark out the course. Beatrice and Clarice are coming in their carriage, and if you could come in your bath-chair there will be three of us."

"It sounds ripping, only must we drive three abreast? For the lanes aren't over wide."

"I had thought of a big field," I said; "round and round, you know, like the Romans used to drive in the ampi—something."

"Have you got any laurel crowns?"

"Yes," I said excitedly, "we have lots of laurel in the shrubbery, and we'll make them."

"Oh, Charlie, what nonsense you talk!" said Mrs. Rogers, with a laugh, but her eyes looked quite sad.

My face fell, for I thought it might be all chaff. So I begged her to help us have the race.

She said to me, "The doctors won't let my husband go out of a foot's pace, dear; he must not be shaken."

"Never mind," said Captain Rogers cheerfully; "I'll be umpire, and give the crowns away."

"And we could have a tortoise race," said Aylwin, "and that could be an easy crawl; last in, best man."

"I think you'll all have to come over to our big field close to the farm. Mr. Donnyball has cut his hay and isn't ploughing it up for a bit."

"That will be lovely," I said. "If you could fix a day, I would tell Beatrice and Clarice about it. Saturday is our best day, because it is a holiday."

"Next Saturday then, sharp at two o'clock, and we'll have tea down by the river, which runs at the bottom of the field."

"There's the choir practice," whispered Aylwin to me; "we're always missing it. I do wish Aunt Caroline would change the day. It's our only holiday."

I felt rather impatient that he had reminded me of it. Father had been talking to us about it. He said children nowadays thought of nothing but amusement, and exercised no self-denial. And if they took up a thing, they never stuck to it if it interfered with their pleasure. I knew he meant the choir practice, as we had been rather irregular lately, but I was simply longing to have the race, and it seemed such a pity to put it off.

"When do your summer holidays begin?" asked Captain Rogers, seeing our hesitation.

"The last of this month," I said; "at least the boys' do. I believe Aunt Caroline is going to keep Lynette and me at lessons longer. She says we have lost such a lot of our time because of our move."

"Well, let us put off the race till the 1st of August," suggested Captain Rogers. "That will be a Thursday, and you can be practising for it beforehand."

"Yes," I said, cheering up, "we will. Andy must beat Clarice's pony; we'll make him."

"And where's the lady of the hair?" asked Captain Rogers.

I knew he meant Lynette, so I called her, and then I went back to the games, and Lynette stayed and talked.

I found out Clarice and Beatrice, and told them about it, and they were awfully delighted. They said their mother had known Mrs. Rogers when she was a little girl, and had recommended her to bring her husband to the farm, so she would be sure to let them come.

Soon after, we came home, and we told Denys about it. He said he must be charioteer, for girls couldn't drive, but I said Clarice was going to drive their pony, so I should drive Andy. We almost got into a quarrel over it, until Aylwin said that he should offer to be their charioteer, and then it would make us quits.

And then Lynette and I suddenly thought we would cover our cart with flowers and make it lovely. So we were all friends again, and longed for the 1st of August to be here.

Chapter X

The Chariot Race

I WAS rather frightened of teaching Denys's class, but I asked Aunt Caroline what to do, and she told me, and I got my Bible and read over the story of Samuel till I knew it by heart. And the next morning I walked into the schoolroom with Aunt C., quite happy, for I felt as if I was really "going" at last. (I must call Aunt Caroline "Aunt C." like the boys, because it will take a shorter time to write.) I had my class in the corner of the room away from Aunt C. There were four little boys and three little girls, and none of them were older than six. They smelt of soap and pomatum, and had very shiny faces and hair.

One of the boys, Freddie Galt, couldn't or wouldn't sit still, and the three little girls were watching what he was doing the whole time instead of attending to me. Freddy first pretended to catch a fly in his hands, and then he offered it in turn to every one. And when they held out their hands for it, he opened his and slapped them hard. I couldn't keep him still, and at last I said to him very sternly, "Freddy, if you can't keep still, I shall take you on my lap like a big baby, and hold you there."

He stared at me in fright. If I had said I would whip him, I don't believe he would have been half so frightened. And he stopped fidgeting and was as good as gold all the rest of the time.

I told them the story of Samuel, and then I told them that God wants all of us to be His servants and do what He tells us. Another boy, Bertie, said at once:

"I never hears God a-callin' me in bed."

"No," I said, "but when you're going to do something naughty, He speaks to you in your heart and tells you not to do it."

They seemed to understand this, and then one of them said thoughtfully:

"God can't slap us. He be too far away."

I told them how close He was, and how He loves us, and how we must try to be good to please Him, not from fear of being punished.

But I don't know if they understood. They seemed to think the only reason they must be good was not to be slapped or punished. And then the smallest of the little girls said, nodding her head at me:

"I loves Jesus always, I does. When I'm good girl, I loves Him, and when I'm naughty girl, I does."

"You can't love Him if you grieve Him," I said. "Jesus is grieved when you're naughty."

"I loves Him just the same," she repeated.

And I felt it was no good telling her she oughtn't to love Him, so I took no notice. But I was rather glad when the class was over. I felt so hot and tired, and I told father after church I thought it was very difficult to teach little children. He asked me what I had said to them. And I told him, and he said:

"Keep to the Bible, Grisel; the seed sown comes up after many days. Tell the little ones of their loving Saviour Who died for them, and Who lives quite close to them now, and is willing to help them every hour of the day. If your heart is full of Him, child, it will be easy to talk to others about Him."

"But," I said, "my heart is so full of such lots of other things, father. I can't help it. I'm not properly good at all."

"Do you love your Saviour?"

"Oh, I hope I do, I think I do, but I'm always doing what I oughtn't to do."

"Don't be always looking at yourself, but look up at Him, and try to do all things faithfully for Him."

He said no more. Father never says very much to us, but he always seems just to say the thing you want. And if I try to be faithful all day long, I expect that will keep me straight.

We had a discussion with the boys about being faithful. It was rather a funny place to have it—in our donkey-cart. We went out after tea yesterday evening for a drive. Denys drove, and Puff sat up on the front seat with him, Lynette and Aylwin and I crammed in behind. It was lovely. We drove right through the village, and everybody came to their doors to look at us.

And then when we were out of sight of houses, we talked. It began with Andy.

"I wonder if he knows us by this time," Lynette said.

"He'd be an ass if he didn't," said Aylwin quickly.

And then we all laughed at him.

"He is an ass," I said—"that's just the reason: if he was a dog, he would be much cleverer."

"All dogs aren't clever," said Denys.

"But they're faithful," I said. "You always hear of faithful dogs, never of faithful donkeys."

"What is it to be faithful?" said Lynette—"Full of faith?"

"No," said Denys, "a dog has no faith at all."

"I think," I said slowly, for I was thinking it out, "to be faithful is to be always the same and never change. If you love a person once, you love him always. If you do a thing once, you do it always."

"A faithful knight," said Denys, "is a man who never fails his lady. She can be sure of him."

"What is a faithful servant?" Lynette asked.

"One who doesn't shirk his work," said Denys.

"I think you can't be faithful unless you love," I said.

"Yes, that's the tip," said Aylwin; "if a dog doesn't love his master, he can't be faithful, nor can a knight be faithful if he doesn't love his lady, nor a servant, nor a friend. They must go together."

"'Semper fidelis,'" I murmured.

"Don't you pretend you can quote Latin, Grizzy; you only got that off the old chap's tomb in church."

"Yes, I did. What a lot faithful means! You must love, and be thorough, and certain, and always the same, and never fail your master. It's rather difficult to do all that."

"If you really love a person, you would do it naturally without thinking about it; a dog does," said Denys.

"I suppose you would," I said, and then I began to wonder how big a love I had for my Master.

But Puff suddenly turned the conversation by saying:

"I'm going to have a effelun net' birfday, and he'll be my very own. I shan't have only a bit of him, like this ole donkey."

"What bit of the donkey have you got?" Lynette asked.

"He has one-fifth of it," said Denys. "Go on, you Puff-Bag, tell us about your 'effelun.' Who will give it to you?"

"God," said Puff, nodding his head most earnestly. "It'll be mine very own, and I shall wide on him, and he'll be bigger than our house."

At this moment we passed an old woman carrying a bundle of sticks over her back.

"Hi!" Denys called out to her. "Are you going far? Would you like us to take your load for you?"

She said Yes, and then called down blessings on our head. She pointed out her cottage higher up the road; she had been gathering the sticks in the wood and seemed to find them pretty heavy. Denys told her we would leave them on her doorstep, so we rattled on.

"When I went to Morton Relton the other day, while you were at the school-treat," said Denys, "I offered every one that