Jill's Red Bag Part 24

He brandished his stick so fiercely, that Jill fled in terror across the field. Out of a white gate and down a lane she ran, and never stopped till she reached a small cottage. Here she pulled up and breathlessly asked a woman if she had seen her brother.

"Were he a small boy with flannel s.h.i.+rt and trousers, and a straw hat? Then yestere'en 'bout seven o'clock, he came runnin' down the road an' Mike the tinker were in front with his old cart. I seed the boy speak to 'im, and then up he climbed, and away they drove, and I'm afeered that Mike was the worse for drink."

"Where does Mike live?" asked Jill with a sinking heart.

"About four mile from here, but he were a-goin' on his rounds, and his next stopping-place was at Thornton."

Thornton was the nearest town. Jill knew it well, but it was beyond her walking powers.

"I can't think why he hasn't come home," she said half crying. "I don't know what to do."

"Here's some un comin'," said the woman shading her eyes with her hand. "'Tis a man on a hoss."

Jill looked down the road, and when the rider drew near, she saw to her intense delight that it was Sir Henry Talbot.

He stopped his horse directly he saw her.

"What!" he said; "another of you straying. Are you still looking for widows?"

"Oh no," Jill cried; "I'm looking for Jack. He is lost, and I've come out to find him, and a drunk tinker has driven him away!"

Sir Henry nodded gravely.

"I know all about it," he said; "I've sent Jack home in my carriage."

Jill's face brightened at once.

"Oh, I am so glad; why didn't he come home?"

"He couldn't very well. I was driving home last night from a dinner party between twelve and one, and I came upon the tinker and Jack under the cart and horse by the old bridge. It's a wonder they hadn't fallen into the river. The tinker had his ribs broken, and Jack a nasty cut on the head, but my housekeeper plastered him up, and he's quite himself this morning. What scamps you are! How are you going to get home? I think you had better come up on my horse. He'll carry us both."

So in a very short time Jill returned triumphantly to the house riding in front of Sir Henry.

Miss Webb saw them from a window and hurried out.

"How can I thank you, Sir Henry? He has arrived safe and sound. I feel I shall be a white-haired old lady by the time Mona comes back. And now you've brought Jill home. I do feel so grateful."

"But I haven't been lost," said Jill in an aggrieved tone.

And then she ran indoors to find Jack.

XI

A DONKEY RIDE

Both Jack and b.u.mps were on the sick-list for the next few days. b.u.mps had sprained her foot, and Jack's cut on his head was a deep and painful one.

When he recovered, he told his adventures to his sisters with much relish; but for once Jill took b.u.mps' part, and told Jack he had treated her very badly.

"You ought to have stopped when your paper came to an end, and come back to her. How could she follow you, especially when you drove in a cart? It wasn't fair."

"It was that old brute's fault. He nearly broke his stick over my shoulders. I'll pay him back when I get a chance. I've got the marks now. I can feel them. I couldn't walk home, I was so hurt. So I told Mike to drive me into Thornton, and then I was going to our butcher, I knew he would take me home."

"That was rather clever of you," admitted Jill, "but did you forget all about b.u.mps?"

"Oh, I knew she would never come on so far. If you'd been with her it would have been all right. And I thought you were. I told her to bring you; so it was really all your fault."

This was turning the tables upon Jill.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "I ought to have looked after her."

But b.u.mps breathlessly protested:

"I wath all right. I runned ever so fatht. And I thaw the paper, and never wath frightened of the cowth, and I would have catched him, Jill, I really would, only I couldn't get over the palings, and my legs thtuck where they oughtn't to, and then I tumbled on my head and--and----"

b.u.mps came to a stop; then she added piteously, "I'll do better next time, Jack. I really will."

And Jack replied with a patronising air. "Oh yes, you'll do, when you grow bigger."

"Mona is coming back, children," said Miss Webb one morning as she opened her letters at the breakfast-table. "She does not say why she is coming home so much sooner than she intended, but I suppose she will tell us.

She will be here this afternoon."

The children were delighted. Mona was a constant source of interest and admiration to them. When she was in the house, there was a stir and bustle; the very servants seemed to go asleep in her absence.

Miss Webb had tea out upon the lawn that afternoon, and when Mona arrived, she seemed struck with the children's orderly dress and behaviour, and the quiet peacefulness of the old garden.

"There is no place like home after all," she said as she sat in a low wicker-chair with b.u.mps on her lap.

Miss Webb looked at her with keen eyes.

"You are tired and worried about something," she said. "Didn't you enjoy your visit?"

"Very much till yesterday," and Mona gave a little s.h.i.+ver. Then she bent her lips, and touched b.u.mps' golden head with them caressingly.

"I had a full programme," she said with a little laugh. "The Tambourne Races to-day, the Regatta to-morrow, and Lady Donald's ball next Monday, followed by her village theatricals and concert. There was an awfully nice girl staying with us. Maud Crichton was her name. She used to come into my room every night to have a chat, and I was going to bring her back here to stay with me. She was rather seedy a few days ago, and we thought it a heavy cold. Only last night she was sitting up with me, and though her head was very bad, we were making wonderful plans. This morning she was covered with a thick rash. I heard she had almost been light-headed in the night. The doctor came and p.r.o.nounced it scarlet fever. Of course there was a general stampede. I'm terrified lest she should have infected me. What do you think, Miss Webb?"

Miss Webb looked grave, then quietly took b.u.mps off Mona's lap and sent her indoors, telling the others to follow.

"You don't think of the children," she said a little reproachfully.

"The children? Good gracious! You're taking it for granted I am going to get it! Why, Miss Webb, it drives me frantic to think I may! What can I do? Shall I send for a doctor for some preventive?"

Miss Webb saw the girl was thoroughly frightened and unstrung, so she spoke very quietly.

"You are not a weak, hysterical girl, Mona. Do for pity's sake control yourself. It is not very likely you will take it; but if you did, there are many things worse than scarlet fever. What makes you so frightened?"