The Stokesley Secret Part 24

"Oh! but--" they all cried, and stopped short.

"He plagues about manners," said Annie.

"He wanted Susie and me to be sent to school!" said Bessie.

"He said it was like dining with young Hottentots."

"He told Papa it was disgraceful, when we had all been sliding on the great pond in the village," added Annie.

"And he gave Sam a box on the ear, for only just taking a dear little river cray-fish in his fis.h.i.+ng-net to show Aunt Alice."

"The net was dripping wet," observed Bessie.

"Yes," said Anne; "but Aunt Alice is so finikin and fidgety; she never wets her feet, and can't get over a stile, and is afraid of a cow; and he wants us all to be like her."

"And he makes Papa and Mamma mind things that they don't mind by nature," said Susan.

"Mamma always tells us to be good, and never play at hockey in the house when he's there," said Anne.

"She has not told us so this time," said John triumphantly.

"No, but we must mind all the same," said Susan; and Sam silenced some independent murmurs, about not minding Uncle John, by saying it was minding Mamma.

Miss Fosbrook herself was a little alarmed, for she gathered that Mamma was in some fear of this terrible uncle, that he had much influence with his brother, and was rather a severe judge of the young family. She sincerely hoped that he would not find things much amiss, for the honest goodness of the two eldest had won so much regard from her, that she could not bear them to be under any cloud; and indeed she felt as if the whole flock were her own property, as well as her charge, and that she, as well as they, were about to be tried. She would have felt it all fair and just before their kindly father, but it seemed hard that all should be brought before the school-master uncle; and she was disposed to be tender for her children, and exceedingly anxious as to the effect they might produce. She was resolved that the Captain should hear of the affair of the pence; but the presence of his brother would make the speaking a much greater effort. Meantime, she saw that all the fingers were clean, and all the hair brushed. She flattered herself that Susan's yellow locks had learnt that it was the business of hair to keep tidy, and had been much less unmanageable of late; but she had her fears that they would ruffle up again when their owner, at the head of a large detachment, rushed out to take the "fancy bread" out of the oven, and she came half-way down stairs, in case it should be necessary to capture them, and brush them over again.

While thus watching, the door of the dining-room (the only down stairs room in order) opened suddenly, and the Captain came forth.

"Oh, Miss Fosbrook," he said, "please come in here: I was just coming to look for you. My brother--Miss Fosbrook."

To her surprise, Miss Fosbrook received a very pleasant civil greeting from a much younger man than she had expected to see, looking perhaps more stern about the mouth and sharp about the eye than his elder brother, and his clerical dress very precise; but somehow he was so curiously like his niece, Elizabeth, that she thought that his particularity might spring from the same love of refinement.

"All going on well?" asked the Captain.

"Fairly well," she answered. "Sam and Susan are most excellent children. There is only one matter on which I should like to speak to you, at some time when it might suit you."

"Is it about this?" he said, putting into her hand a sheet written in huge round-hand in pencil, no words misspelt, but the breaks in them at the end of the lines perfectly regardless of syllables:-

My dear Papa,

Please let me have a poli ceman. Bet h as got at Toby and stole our pence which was for a secret. Nu rse says she is a favourite and Miss Fosbrook will not find them.

Your affectionate son

DAVID DOUGLAS MERRIFIELD.

"Oh! this was the letter David insisted on sealing before I put it into mine!" exclaimed Miss Fosbrook, as soon as she had made out the words. "We have been in great trouble at the loss; but we agreed not to write to you, because you had so much on your mind."

"Is Bessie in fault?"

"No, no; none of us believe it; but I am very anxious that you should make an investigation, for the maids suspect her, and have made the younger children do so."

"And who is Toby?"

"Toby is only a jug--called Toby Fillpot, I believe--shaped like a man."

"I know!" put in Mr. John Merrifield, laughing. "Don't you remember him, Harry? We had the like in our time."

"Well?" interrogated the Captain.

"Just after you left home," said Christabel, as shortly and clearly as she could, "the children agreed to save their allowance to buy a pig for Hannah Higgins. They showed great perseverance in their object; and by the third week they had about seven s.h.i.+llings in this jug, which, to my grief and shame, I let them keep in the gla.s.s cupboard, not locked, but one door bolted, the other b.u.t.toned. On Friday morning, the 11th, I know the cup was full of coppers and silver, for I took it down to add something to it. On the next Monday morning the money was gone, all but one farthing."

"Can you guess who took it?"

"I should prefer saying nothing till you have examined the children and servants for yourself."

"Right!" said the Captain. "Very well.--I am sorry to treat you to a court-martial, John, but I must hold one after tea."

Christabel pitied the children for having to speak before this formidable uncle; but there could be no help for it, since no other sitting-room was habitable, and there were torrents of rain out-of- doors.

There was just time to show the gla.s.s cupboard, and the shelf where Toby had stood, and to return to the dining-room, before the children began to stream in and make their greetings to their uncle, Susan with George in one hand, and her plate of bakings in the other. Very fancy bread indeed it was! as Uncle John said. The edge of Purday's hat had been quite baked off, and one of his arms was gone; he was black in the wrong places, and was altogether rather an uncomfortable-looking object. David's brood of rabbits were much more successful, though the ears of many had fallen off. Uncle John was very much diverted, and took his full share of admiring and tasting the various performances. On the whole, the meal went off much better than Christabel had feared it would. She had really broken the children of many of the habits with which they used to make themselves disagreeable; there was no putting of spoons into each other's cups, nor reaching out with b.u.t.tery fingers; lips were wiped, and people sat still upon their chairs, even if they fidgeted and sighed; and there was only one slop made all tea-time, and that was by Johnnie, and not a very bad one. Indeed, it might be hoped that Mr. Merrifield did not see it, for he was talking to Sam about the change of footpath that Mr. Greville was making. There was indeed no fun, but it might be doubted whether Papa would have been in a mood for fun even had his brother not been there; and Miss Fosbrook was rather glad there was nothing to make the children forgetful of propriety.

As soon as Mary had carried off the tea-things and wiped the table, Uncle John put himself as much out of the way as he could behind the newspaper in the recess of the window; and Miss Fosbrook would have gone to the school-room, but Captain Merrifield begged her to stay.

"I hear," he said, "that a very unpleasant thing has taken place in my absence, and I wish to learn all that I can about it, that the guilty person may be brought to light, and the innocent cleared from any suspicion."

The children looked at one another, wondering how he had heard, or whether Miss Fosbrook had told him; but this was soon answered by his calling out, "David! come here, and tell me what you meant by this letter."

David walked stoutly to his father's knee, nothing daunted, though his brothers muttered behind him, "So he wrote!" "Little sneak!" and "He knew no better!" Not that it was wrong to lay the case before his father; but boys had usually rather suffer injustice than make an accusation.

"Why did you write this letter, David?" said his father.

"Because I want my pence for the pig."

"Tell me how you lost them?"

"Bess took them!"

Elizabeth sprung up, crimson, and with tears in her eyes, and Sam and Susan were both bursting out into an angry "No, no!" but their father made a sign to all to keep still; and they obeyed, though each of the elder ones took hold of a hand of their sister and squeezed it hard.

"Did you see her take them?" asked the Captain.

"No!"

"Then why do you say she did? I don't want to frighten you, David; I only want to hear why you think she did so."

David was getting alarmed now, and his childish memory better retained the impression than what had produced it. He hung down his head, sc.r.a.ped one foot, and finding that he must answer, mumbled out at last, "Nurse said it, and Hal."