The Weans at Rowallan Part 19

Splash they went into the pond, and at the same time a shower of stones came from the wall. The horse took fright, and started off, the driver shouting "Murder!" as they raced down the road.

"In the name a' G.o.d, where am I?" shouted Mrs Burke.

But she got no answer, for Jimmie, with the help of Mick and Patsy, was taking back ducks in the pond. Mrs Burke splashed towards the light, going deeper every step.

"Ye ould villain, will ye come an' help me out?" she screamed. "Sure, it's ruinin' me dress an' me new boots I am."

Then the light went out, and a moment later there was a gurgling cry, followed by shrieks and cries of murder. In the middle of it all voices were heard coming along the road from the village, and the sound of the car coming back.

"Hist!" said Mick. "Home."

"Och, I'm wet to the skin," said Patsy as they ran along the road, "but ould Jimmie's far wetter."

"He's as dry as the wife," said Jane, "for I ducked her three times; she went down awful easy."

"It was me helpin' ye," said Fly; "I had her by the leg."

"Wasn't it quare an' good a' G.o.d to make the pond that deep?" said Honeybird. "It must 'a' been Him put it into Patsy's head to duck them."

"That's why He made it rain so hard this mornin'," said Jane, "an' me thought there was no manin' in it."

"It was the finest bit of vengeance I iver seen," said Patsy. "Ould Jimmie was as light as a cork, an' we soused him up an' down till there wasn't a breath left in him."

"I wonder what Lull'll say when she sees our clothes," said Jane; "me very s.h.i.+mmy's wet." But, to their surprise, when they woke next morning clean clothes had been put out for them, and when they came downstairs Lull only said: "Has any of ye tuk a cold?"

"No, we haven't," said Jane.

"Well, then, don't name it to yer mother," Lull said, and left them wondering how she had found out.

Andy Graham called them into the stable after breakfast.

"Did ye hear the news?" he said.

"What news?" said Mick.

"The news about the weddin'," Andy said. "Didn't Lull tell ye about it? Sure, the whole place is ringin' with it. Poor ould Jimmie Burke an' the wife were near kilt last night. A pack of ruffians stopped the ker at the ould pond, an' ducked both him an' the wife. He was that full a' waiter they had to hould him up by the heels an' let it run out; an' the wife covered with black mud from head to fut."

"Who done it?" said Patsy, looking Andy in the face.

"Who done it, do ye say?" said Andy--"sure, that's what I'd like to know myself. There wasn't wan out a' the village but what was waitin'

at the man's own dour when the ker come up, an ne'ery a wan on it but the driver, shoutin' murder, an' when the neighbours went back along the road there was Jimmie an' the wife in the middle a' the pond, and niver a sowl else to be seen."

Mick laughed. "Ye're the fly ould boy, Andy," he said; "an' I must say ye done it right well, but didn't ye get awful wet when ye were duckin'

them?"

Andy stared at him.

"It's all right, Andy; we'll niver name it," said Patsy. "An' I wouldn't 'a' blamed ye if ye'd 'a' drownded the both a' them."

Andy whistled. "Ye've as much bra.s.s as would make a dour knocker," he said. "But, see here, the next time yous are on the war pad don't be lavin' circ.u.mstantial evidence behind ye." He brought out from behind the door an old rag doll, soaking wet.

"Och a nee!" wailed Honeybird, "it was me done that. I hadn't the heart to lave her at home," she explained. "She's b.l.o.o.d.y Mary, an' I thought she'd enjoy the vengeance."

"I thought I knowed her when I seen her lyin' at the side a' the pond this mornin," said Andy. "An', mind ye, I'm not blamin' ye, an' I'm not sayin' but what Jimmie an' the wife disarved it, but ye'd better keep a quiet tongue in yer heads. There's n.o.buddy but meself an' Lull knows who done it, and n.o.buddy'll iver know. It's all very well for a wheen a' neighbours to do the like, but it's no work for quality to be doin'."

CHAPTER XIV

JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL

Jane hated going to school. She had begged to be allowed to go on doing lessons with Mr Rannigan, though he had said five children were too many for him at his age. Then she had begged to be allowed to go to a boys' school with Mick. But all her pleadings were in vain. Lull had arranged that she was to go to the select young ladies' school that Aunt Mary had attended when she was a girl. Lull secretly hoped that contact with the select young ladies would make Jane a little bit more genteel. Every morning, driving into town on the car with Andy, Jane mourned to Mick for the good days that were gone. Mick annoyed her by liking the change. His school was quite pleasant.

"How'd ye like to be me," she asked him, "goin' to a school where whativer ye do it's always wrong?"

She hid her unhappiness from Lull, partly because Lull had taken such pride in sending her to Miss Courtney's, partly because she could not have told Lull the offences for which she was reproved--offences no one would have noticed at home.

In spite of an eager desire to be good and polite Jane was constantly accused of being wicked and rude. Mr Rannigan had never found fault with her manners, but Miss Courtney sent her back three times one day to re-enter the room because she bobbed her head and said: "Mornin',"

when she came in. Jane, in bewilderment, repeated the offence, and was punished. "I wisht I'd 'a' knowed what it was she wanted," she complained to Mick. "If I had I'd 'a' done it at wanst."

She gathered that, in school, it was considered a sin to speak like the poor. Miss Courtney said a lady should have an English accent, and a voice like a silvery wave. Jane trembled every time she had to speak to her. In other things besides p.r.o.nunciation she never knew when she was doing right or wrong.

She was reproved for shaking hands with a housemaid, and sent into the corner for putting a spelling-book on the top of a Bible. School was a strange world to her. To speak with an English accent, to have a mother who wore real lace and a father who did no work, these things made you a lady, and if you were not a lady you were despised. Jane could tell the girls nothing about her father. Her p.r.o.nunciation was shocking, and the girls made fun of her magenta stockings and home-made clothes. If only Mick had been with her Jane felt she could have borne anything. She was terribly home-sick every day. From the time Andy left her in the morning she counted the minutes till he would come to take her back again to Rowallan and people who were kind. But it was only to Mick she told her trouble. He said Miss Courtney was a fool, and Jane trembled lest Miss Courtney might overhear it six miles away.

She was almost as frightened of the big girls as of Miss Courtney.

They wore such elegant clothes, and had such power to sting with their tongues. One day when Jane, in joyful haste, was putting on her hat to go home three of the big girls came into the cloakroom. They were talking eagerly. One of them mentioned Jane's name, then asked Jane how much she was going to give towards Miss Courtney's birthday present. She explained that they always gave her a beautiful present each year. "What is the good of asking her?" said another, "she's hasn't a penny, I'm sure." The scorn in her voice seemed to scorch Jane.

"I'll give five s.h.i.+llin's," she said calmly. She had not as many pennies in the world, but she could not bear to be despised. The big girls were delighted. They were quite kind to her. Jane promised to bring the money next day. All the way home she prayed that G.o.d would send her five s.h.i.+llings. She would not ask Lull for it--Lull was too poor; Jane would rather have confessed to the big girls that she had no money than take it from Lull. She prayed earnestly before going to bed, she woke in the night to pray, but morning came, and she was on her way to school without the money. When she got off the car at the end off the street she was still praying, hoping that at the last moment she would find the money on the pavement at her feet. Suddenly Mick's voice startled her. "Ten s.h.i.+llin's reward! Lost, a red settler dog." He was reading a poster on the wall. Jane laughed with glee.

She thanked G.o.d for His goodness before she read the poster. Here was the money, and five s.h.i.+llings over. She expected to see the lost dog at the end of the street. She read the poster carefully. The red setter answered to the name of Toby. Nothing could be more easy to find. Mick dropped their schoolbags over a wall among some laurel bushes, and they started on the search. They began with the street they were in, calling Toby up one side and down the other. But they got no answer. Then they went on to the next, and so on from street to street. They saw brown dogs, black dogs, white dogs, yellow dogs, but no sign of a red setter. When they had searched the princ.i.p.al streets they tried the back streets. Jane called the dog's name till she was hoa.r.s.e, and then Mick called in his turn. They asked a policeman if he had seen Toby. "A settler dog! I niver heerd tell a' that breed," he said. "Where did you loss it?"

"We niver lost it, we're only lukin' for it," said Jane.

The policeman thought for a moment. "I think I know where I could lay my han' on a nice wee coally pup, if that'd content ye," he said.

Jane thanked him kindly, and they continued their search. When they had been walking for about two hours Mick began to despair.

"We're sure to fin' it," Jane a.s.sured him. "Somebuddy's stole it; let's luk in people's back yards." Back yards were hard to get at in town. They listened for barks, and followed up the sound. Three times a bark led them back by different ways to the same dog. Then they were chased by owners of back yards, and once Jane tore her frock climbing over a shed. Jane never thought of giving in. The lost dog was to be sent in answer to her prayer to give her the money she needed so badly.

At last they came to an open door, through which they saw into a yard, and there by a kennel sat a big red dog. Jane gave a shout of joy.

"Toby, good Toby!" she called. "Is it here ye're settlin', and' us lukin' the town for ye?" The dog was chained, but they unfastened him, and with the help of a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter Jane had with her for luncheon they coaxed him from the yard. It was well they kept him on the chain, for once they got out Toby began to run. He was a big dog, and pulled hard. Both the children held tight to the chain, and still he pulled them at a run through the streets. At last they were so tired they had to rest. They sat down on a curbstone, with Toby between them, and were just beginning to discuss the reward when a heavy hand fell on Mick's shoulder. It was the school porter. In spite of their protests he insisted that Mick was playing truant, and marched him off to school. Jane, left alone with Toby, debated what she ought to do. The reward was to be got in a village three or four miles at the other side of Rowallan, so she would have to wait and go back with Andy. But there was still an hour and a half before he would call at Miss Courtney's to take her home. She decided that it was her duty to go back to school till he came. She could explain to Miss Courtney that Toby was a valuable dog she had found. She could also tell the big girls, with perfect truth, that she would bring five s.h.i.+llings next day. When she got up to go Toby started at the same bounding pace, dragging her through mud and puddles. But she got him to the place where Mick had hidden the schoolbags. Then, with her bag in her hand, she stood for a moment in doubt.

"I wouldn't take ye if I didn't think ye'd be as good as gold," she said. Toby wagged his tail. As she was taking off her hat in the cloakroom she warned him once more that he must be good. He seemed to understand perfectly, and walked quietly by her side to the schoolroom door. When she opened the door everybody looked up; there was a murmur of astonishment, and before she could stop him Toby had bounded from her, and was barking furiously at the infant cla.s.s. All the children screamed. Jane did her best to catch him, but he got away from her.

The big girls jumped on tables and forms, the little ones huddled behind each other. Miss Courtney stood on a chair.

"He'll not hurt ye," Jane tried to a.s.sure them. "Quit yer yellin', an'

he'll be as quiet as a lamb."

"Turn him out, turn him out!" screamed Miss Courtney. At last Jane succeeded in catching Toby by the collar.