Hildegarde's Home Part 18

"I say, Uncle Tom, you've been regularly humbugging us. The idea of your turning out a _ba.s.so profundo_!"

The Colonel looked pleased and conscious.

"Saul among the prophets, eh?" he said. "This little rascal calls me Saul, you know, Mrs. Grahame; caught me in a temper the other day, and set Jack on me with his fiddle. Ha! hum! Why, I used to sing a little, duets and so forth, forty years ago. Always fond of singing; fond of anything that has a tune to it, though I can't abide your Dutch noises.

Where's your fiddle, Jack?"

Jack had not brought his fiddle; but he whistled a Scotch reel that Colonel Ferrers had not heard since before the flood, he said; and then Hildegarde sang "Young Lochinvar," and so the pleasant moments went.

By and by, when the dishes were burned (such a convenience are the paper dishes, removing the only unpleasant feature of a picnic, the was.h.i.+ng of dishes or carrying home of dirty ones), and everything neatly packed away, Hugh challenged Hildegarde to a race down the hill and across the long meadow to the sunk wall beyond. Jack claimed a place in the running, but the Colonel insisted that he and Merlin should give the others odds, as ostriches and quadrupeds had an unfair advantage over ordinary runners. Mrs. Grahame, after hunting in her reticule, produced a prize, a rouleau of chocolate; positions were taken, and Colonel Ferrers gave the signal--one, two, three, and away! Away went Hildegarde and the boy, Jack holding Merlin, who was frantic with impatience, and did not understand the theory of handicaps. As the first pair reached the bottom of the hill, the Colonel again gave the signal, and the second two darted in pursuit. "Away, away went Auster like an arrow from the bow!"

Hildegarde was running beautifully, her head thrown back, her arms close at her sides; just behind her Hugh's bright head bobbed up and down, as his little legs flew like a windmill. But Jack Ferrers really merited his name of the ostrich gentleman, as with head poked forward, arms flapping, and legs moving without apparent concert, he hurled himself down the hill at a most astonis.h.i.+ng rate of speed. The Colonel and Mrs.

Grahame looked on with delight, when suddenly both uttered an exclamation and rose to their feet.

What was it?

From behind a clump of trees at a little distance beyond Hildegarde, a large animal suddenly appeared. It had apparently been grazing, but now it stopped short, raised its head, and gazed at the two figures which came flying, all unconscious, towards it.

"John Bryan's bull!" cried Mrs. Grahame. "Oh! Colonel Ferrers, the children! Hildegarde!"

"Don't be alarmed, dear madam!" said the Colonel hastily, seizing his stick. "Remain where you are, I beg of you. I will have John Bryan hanged to-morrow! Meanwhile"--and he hastened down the hill, as rapidly as seventy years and a rheumatic knee would permit.

But it was clear that whatever was to be done must be done quickly.

Hildegarde and Hugh had seen the bull, and stopped. He was well known as a dangerous animal, and had once before escaped from his owner, a neighbouring farmer. Mrs. Grahame, faint with terror, saw little Hugh, with a sudden movement, throw himself before Hildegarde, who clasped her arms round him, and slowly and quietly began to move backwards. The bull uttered a bellow, and advanced, pawing the ground; at first slowly, then more and more rapidly as Hildegarde increased her pace, till but a short distance intervened between him and the two helpless children. Colonel Ferrers was still a long way off. Oh! for help! help! The bull bellowed again, lowered his huge head, and rushed forward. In a moment he would be upon them. Suddenly--what was this? A strange object appeared, directly between the bull and his helpless victims. What was it? The bull stopped short, and glared at his new enemy. Two long legs, like those of a man, but no body; between the legs a face, looking at him with fiery eyes. Such a thing the bull had never seen. What was it? Men he knew, and women, and children; knew and hated them, for they were like his master, who kept him shut up, and sometimes beat him. But this thing! what was it? The strange figure advanced steadily towards him; the bull retreated--stopped--bellowed--retreated again, shaking his head. He did not like this. Suddenly the figure made a spring! turned upside down. The long legs waved threateningly in the air, and with an unearthly shriek the monster came whirling forward in the shape of a wheel. John Bryan's bull turned and fled, as never bull fled before.

Snorting with terror, he went cras.h.i.+ng through the woods, that wild shriek still sounding in his ears; and he never stopped till he reached his own barnyard, where John Bryan promptly beat him and tied him up.

Hildegarde, pale and trembling, held out her hand as Jack, a.s.suming his normal posture, came forward. She tried to speak, but found no voice, and could only press his hand and look her grat.i.tude.

Colonel Ferrers, much out of breath, came up, and gave the lad's hand a shake that might almost have loosened his arm in the socket. "Well done, lad!" he cried. "You are of the right stuff, after all, and you'll hear no more 'milksop' from me. Where did you learn that trick? Harry Monmouth! the beast was frightened out of his boots! Where did you learn it, boy?"

"An Englishman showed it to me," said Jack modestly. "It's nothing to do, but it always scares them. How are you now, Hildegarde? Sit down, and let me bring you some water!"

But Hugh Allen clasped the long legs of his deliverer, and cried joyously, "I knew he was a David! he is a double David now, isn't he, Beloved?"

"Yes," said Hildegarde, smiling again, as she turned to hasten up the hill to her mother, "but _I_ shall call him 'Bonny Dundee,' for he has won the hero's name."

"It was the ostrich that won the day, though," said Jack, looking at his legs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OVER THE JAM POTS.]

CHAPTER XIV.

OVER THE JAM-POTS.

ONE bright September morning Hildegarde was sitting in the dining-room, covering jam-pots. She had made the jam herself--peach marmalade it was, the best in the world, all golden-brown, like clear old amber--a day or two before, and now it was firm enough to cover. At her right hand was a pile of covers, thick white paper cut neatly in rounds, a saucer full of white of egg, another full of brandy, an inkstand and pen. At her left was an open book, and a large rosy apple. She worked away busily with deft fingers, only stopping now and then for a moment to nibble her apple. First a small cover wet in brandy, fitting neatly inside the jar; then a large cover brushed over with white of egg, which, when dry, would make the paper stiff, and at the same time fasten it securely round the jar. And all the time she was murmuring to herself, with an occasional glance at the volume beside her,--

"'Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting, Under the gla.s.sy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

Listen for dear honour's sake, G.o.ddess of the silver lake, Listen and save!

Listen and appear to us, In name of great Ocea.n.u.s.'"

Here she stopped to write on several jars the paper on which was dry and hard; a bite at her apple, and she continued,--

"'By the earth-shaking Neptune's crook'--"

"No," glancing at the book. "Why do I always get that wrong?

"'By the earth-shaking Neptune's _mace_, And Tethys' grave majestic pace; By h.o.a.ry Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian'--"

At this moment a shadow fell on the table, as of some one pa.s.sing by the window, and the next moment Jack entered.

"What are you doing?" he asked, after the morning greetings, sitting down and scowling at the unoffending jam-pots. "Can't you come out in the garden? It's no end of a day, you know!"

"No end?" said Hildegarde. "Then I shall have plenty of time, and I must finish my jam-pots in any case, and my poetry."

"Poetry? are you making it?"

"Only learning it. I like to learn bits when I am doing things of this sort.

"'By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands'--

"Wait just a moment, Jack. I think I know it all now.

"'By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet'--

Isn't that lovely, Jack?"

"Oh, yes," answered Jack absently. "What _have_ you been doing here, Hilda?" He was studying the jars that were already marked, and now read aloud,--

"'William the Conqueror, his Jam, 1066.'

"'Peach Marmalade.

Put up by Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, For his own use.'

"What an extraordinary girl you are, Hildegarde!"

"Not at all extraordinary!" cried Hildegarde, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng.

"Why shouldn't I amuse myself? It hurts no one, and it amuses me very much."

Jack laughed, and went on,--

"'Marmaladus Crabappulis.

C. J. Caesar fecit.

Jam satis.'

"'Crab-apple Jelly.

Macbeth, Banquo & Co., Limited.'