Freaks on the Fells: Three Months' Rustication Part 12

Mr Sudberry now came to the conclusion that there must be a secret understanding between this remarkable couple; and he was right. Many a time during the last two weeks had Master Jacky, all unknown to his parents, made his way to old Moggy's hut--attracted thereto by the splendid "lollipops" with which the subtle old creature beguiled him, and also by the extraordinary amount of affection she lavished upon him.

Besides this, the child had a strong dash of romance in his nature, and it was a matter of deep interest to him to be a courted guest in such a strange old hovel, and to be fondled and clothed, as he often was, in Highland costume, by one who scowled upon everyone else--excepting her little dog, with which animal he became an intimate friend. Jacky did not trouble himself to inquire into the reason of the old woman's partiality--sufficient for him that he enjoyed her hospitality and her favour, and that he was engaged in what he had a vague idea must needs be a piece of clandestine and very terrible wickedness. His long absences, during these visits, had indeed been noticed by his mother; but as Jacky was in the habit of following his own inclinations in every thing and at all times, without deigning to give an account of himself; it was generally understood that he had just strayed a little farther than usual while playing about.

While this was going on in Moggy's hut, George had been despatched to inform Mrs Sudberry of their safety. The distance being short, he soon ran over the ground, and burst in upon his mother with a cheer. Mrs Sudberry sprang into his arms, and burst into tears; Mrs Brown lay down on the sofa, and went into quiet hysterics; and little Tilly, who had gone to bed hours before in a condition of irresistible drowsiness, jumped up with a scream, and came skipping down-stairs in her night-gown.

"Safe, mother, safe!"

"And Jacky?"

"Safe, too, all of us."

"Oh! I'm _so_ thankful."

"No, not _all_ of us," said George, suddenly recollecting Peter.

Mrs Sudberry gasped and turned pale. "Oh! George! quick, tell me!"

"Poor Peter," began George.

"Please, sir, I've bin found," said a meek voice behind him, at which George turned round with a start--still supporting his mother.

Mrs Brown, perceiving the ludicrous nature of the remark, began to grow violent on the sofa, and to kick a little. Then Mrs Sudberry asked for each of the missing ones individually--sobbing between each question-- and at each sob Tilly's sympathetic bosom heaved, and Mrs Brown gave a kick and a subdued scream. Then George began to tell the leading features of their misfortunes rapidly, and Mrs Brown listened intently until Mrs Sudberry again sobbed, when Mrs Brown immediately recollected that she was in hysterics, and recommenced kicking.

"But where _are_ they?" cried Mrs Sudberry, suddenly.

"I was just coming to that--they're at old Moggy's hut, drying themselves and resting."

"Oh! I'll go down at once. Take me there."

Accordingly, the poor lady threw on her bonnet and shawl and set off with George for the cottage, leaving Mrs Brown, now relieved from all anxiety, kicking and screaming violently on the sofa, to the great alarm of Hobbs, who just then returned from his fruitless search.

"My son, my darling!" cried Mrs Sudberry, as she rushed into the cottage, and clasped Jacky in her arms. She could say no more, and if she had said more it could not have been heard, for her appearance created dire confusion and turmoil in the hovel. The lost and found wanderers started up to welcome her, the little dog sprang up to bark furiously and repel her, and the old woman ran at her, screaming, with intent to rescue Jacky from her grasp. There was a regular scuffle, for the old woman was strong in her rage, but George and Fred held her firmly, though tenderly, back, while Mr Sudberry hurried his alarmed spouse and their child out of the hut, and made for home as fast as possible. Lucy followed with George almost immediately after, leaving Fred to do his best to calm and comfort the old woman. For his humane efforts Fred received a severe scratching on the face, and was compelled to seek refuge in flight.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 13.

VISITING THE POOR.

For some time after this the Sudberry Family were particularly careful not to wander too far from their mountain home. Mr Sudberry forbade everyone, on pain of his utmost displeasure, to venture up among the hills without McAllister or one of his lads as a guide. As a further precaution, he wrote for six pocket compa.s.ses to be forwarded as soon as possible.

"My dear," said his wife, "since you are writing home, you may as well--"

"My dear, I am not writing--"

"You're writing to London for compa.s.ses, are you not?"

"No," said Mr Sudberry with a smile. "I believe they understand how to manufacture the mariner's compa.s.s in Scotland--I am writing to my Edinburgh agent for them."

"Oh! ah well, it did not occur to me. Now you mention it, I think I have heard that the Scotch have sort of scientific tendencies."

"Yes, they are 'feelosophically' inclined, as our friend McAllister would say. But what did you want, my love?"

"I want a hobby-horse to be sent to us for Jacky; but it will be of no use writing to Edinburgh for one. I suppose they do not use such things in a country where there are so few real horses, and so few roads fit for a horse to walk on."

Mr Sudberry made no reply, not wis.h.i.+ng to incur the expense of such a useless piece of furniture, and his wife continued her needlework with a sigh. From the bottom of her large heart she pitied the Scottish nation, and wondered whether there was the remotest hope of the place ever being properly colonised by the English, and the condition of the aborigines ameliorated.

"Mamma, I'm going with Flora Macdonald to visit her poor people," said Lucy, entering at the moment with a flushed face,--for Lucy was addicted to running when in a hurry,--and with a coquettish little round straw hat.

"Very well, my love, but do take that good-natured man to guide you--Mr What's-his-name, I've _such_ a memory! Ah! McCannister; do take him with you, dear."

"There is no need, mamma. Nearly all the cottages lie along the road-side, and Flora is quite at home here, you know."

"True, true, I forgot that."

Mrs Sudberry sighed and Lucy laughed gaily as she ran down the hill to meet her friend. The first cottage they visited was a little rough thatched one with a low roof; one door, and two little windows, in which latter there were four small panes of gla.s.s, with a knot in each. The interior was similar to that of old Moggy's hut, but there was more furniture in it, and the whole was pervaded by an air of neatness and cleanliness that spoke volumes for its owner.

"This is Mrs Cameron's cottage," whispered Flora as they entered. "She was knocked over by a horse while returning from church last Sunday, and I fear has been badly shaken.--Well, Mrs Cameron, how are you to-day?"

A mild little voice issued from a box-bed in a corner of the room.

"Thankee, mem, I'm no that ill, mem. The Lord is verra kind to me."-- There was a mild sadness in the tone, a sort of "the world's in an awfu'

state,--but no doot it's a' for the best, an' I'm resigned to my lot, though I wadna objec' to its being a wee thing better, oo-ay,"--feeling in it, which told of much sorrow in years gone by, and of deep humility, for there was not a shade of complaint in the tone.

"Has the doctor been to see you, my dear granny?" inquired Flora, sitting down at the side of the box-bed, while Lucy seated herself on a stool and tried to pierce the gloom within.

"Oo, ay, he cam' an' pood aff ma mutch, an' feel'd ma heed a' over, but he said nothin'--only to lie quiet an' tak a pickle water-gruel, oo-ay."

As the voice said this its owner raised herself on one elbow, and, peering out with a pair of bright eyes, displayed to her visitor the small, withered, yet healthy countenance of one who must have been a beautiful girl in her youth. She was now upwards of seventy, and was, as Lucy afterwards said, "a sweet, charming, dear old woman." Her features were extremely small and delicate, and her eyes had an anxious look, as if she were in the habit of receiving periodical shocks of grief, and were wondering what shape the next one would take.

"I have brought you a bottle of wine," said Flora; "now don't shake your head--you _must_ take it; you cannot get well on gruel. Your daughter is at our house just now: I shall meet her on my way home, and will tell her to insist on your taking it."

The old woman smiled, and looked at Lucy.

"This is a friend whom I have brought to see you," said Flora, observing the glance. The old woman held out her hand, and Lucy pressed it tenderly. "She has come all the way from London to see our mountains, granny."

"Ay?" said the old woman with a kind motherly smile: "it's a lang way to Lunnon, a lang way, ay. Ye'll be thinkin' we're a wild kind o' folk here-away; somewhat uncouth we are, no doot."

"Indeed, I think you are very nice people," said Lucy, earnestly. "I had no idea how charming your country was, until I came to it."

"Oo-ay! we can only get ideas by seein' or readin'. It's a grawnd thing, travellin', but it's wonderfu' what readin' 'll do. My guid-man, that's deed this therteen year,--ay,--come Marti'mas, he wrought in Lunnon for a year before we was marrit, an' he sent me the newspapers reglar once a month--ay, the English is fine folk. My guid-man aye said that."

Lucy expressed much interest in this visit of the departed guid-man, and, having touched a chord which was extremely sensitive and not easily put to rest after having been made to vibrate, old Mrs Cameron entertained her with a sweet and prolix account of the last illness, death, and burial of the said guid-man, with the tears swelling up in her bright old eyes and hopping over her wrinkled cheeks, until Flora forbade her to say another word, reminding her of the doctor's orders to keep quiet.

"Oo-ay, ye'll be gawin' to read me a bit o' the book?"

"I thought you would ask that; what shall it be?"

"Oo, ye canna go wrang."