The Stokesley Secret Part 8

"If I am asked, and if your Mamma would wish it."

"Oh, Mamma always lets us go, except once--when--when--"

"When what?"

"When I cried," said Elizabeth, hanging down her head; "I couldn't help it. It did seem so tiresome here, and she said I was learning to be discontented; but n.o.body can help wis.h.i.+ng, can they?"

"There must be a way of not breaking the Tenth Commandment."

"I don't covet; I don't want to take things away from Ida, only to have the same."

"Yes; but what does the explanation at the end of the Duty to our Neighbour say, filling out that Commandment?"

"I think I'll go and see what Susie is doing," said Elizabeth.

Christabel sighed as the little girl walked off, displeased at having her repinings set before her in a graver light than that in which she had hitherto chosen to regard them.

She saw no more of her charges till tea-time, when the bell brought them from different quarters, Johnnie with such a grimy collar and dirty hands, that he was a very un-Sunday-like figure, and she would have sent him away to make himself decent, but that she was desirous of not over-tormenting him.

Sunday was always celebrated by having treacle with the bread, so the b.u.t.ter riot was happily escaped; and Bessie was not in a gracious mood, and the corners of her mouth provoked the boys to begin on what they knew would make her afford them sport. Hal first: "I say, Bet, didn't Purday want his gun to-day at church?"

Elizabeth put out her lip in expectation that something unpleasant was intended, and other voices were not slow to ask an explanation.

"Shooting the c.o.c.ky-olly birds!"

A general explosion of laughter.

"I say (always the preface to the boy's wit), shall I get a jay down off the barn to stick into your hat, Betty?"

"Don't, Hal," said such a deplorable offended voice, that Sam, who had really held his tongue at first, could not help chiming in,

"No, no; a c.o.c.k-sparrow, for her London manners."

"No, that's for me, Sam," said Christabel good-humouredly. "A London-bred sparrow; a pert forward chit."

She really had found a safety-valve; the boys were entertained, and diverted from their attack on their favourite victim, by finding everyone an appropriate bird; and when they came to "Tomt.i.ts" and "Dishwashers," were so astonished at Miss Fosbrook's never having seen either, that they instantly fell into the greatest haste to finish their tea, and conduct her into the garden, and through a course of birds, eggs, and nests, about which, as soon as she was a.s.sured that there was to be no bird's-nesting, she was very eager.

Bessie ought to have been thankful that her persecutors were called off, but she was in a dismal mood, and was taken with a fit of displeasure that her own Christabel Angela was following the rabble rout into the garden, instead of staying in the school-room at her service.

The reason of her gloom was, that Miss Fosbrook had spoken a word that she did not choose to take home, and yet which she could not shake off. So she would neither stay in nor go out cheerfully, and sauntered along looking so piteous, that Johnnie could not help making her worse by plucking at her dress, by suddenly twisting her cape round till the back was in front, and pus.h.i.+ng her hat over her eyes, till "Don't Johnnie," in a dismal whine, alternated with "I'll tell Miss Fosbrook."

Christabel did not see nor hear. She had gone forward with a boy on either side of her, and Susan walking backwards in front, all telling the story of a cuckoo,--or gowk, as Sara called it in Purday's language,--which they had found in a water-wagtail's nest in a heap of stones; how it sat up, constantly gaping with its huge mouth, while the poor little foster-parents toiled to their utmost to keep it supplied with caterpillars, and the last time it was seen, when full-fledged, were trying to lure it to come out of the nest by holding up green palmers at some little distance before it. This was in the evening; by morning it was gone, having probably taken flight at sunrise.

Miss Fosbrook listened with all the pleasure the boys could desire.

She had read natural history, and looked at birds stuffed in the British Museum, or alive at the Zoological Gardens, on the rare days when her father had time to give himself and his children a treat; and her fresh value and interest in all these country things were delightful to the boys.

It was a lovely summer evening. The sun was low enough to make the shadows long and refres.h.i.+ng, as they lay upon the blooming gra.s.s of the wilderness, softly swaying in the breeze, all pale with its numerous chaffy blossoms, and varied by the tall b.u.t.tercups that raised up their s.h.i.+ning yellow heads, or by white clouds of bold- faced ox-eye daisies.

The pear-trees were like white garlands; the apple-trees covered with white blossoms and rosy buds; the climbing roses on the wall were bursting into blossom; the sky was one blue vault without a cloud.

Surely Elizabeth had no lack here of what was pretty. Then why did she lag behind, unseeing, unheeding of all, but peevishly pus.h.i.+ng off John and Anne, thinking that they always teased her worst on Sundays, and very much discomfited that Miss Fosbrook was not attending to her? Surely the fault was not altogether in what was outside her.

"See!" cry the boys. Miss Fosbrook must first look up there, high upon the side of the house, niched behind that thick stem of the vine. What, can't she see those round black eyes and little beak?

They see her plain enough. Ah! now she has them. That's a fly- catcher. By and by they shall be able to show her the old birds flying round, catching flies on the wing, and feeding the young ones, all perched in a row.

Now, can she scramble up the laurels? Yes, she hopes so; though she wished she had known what was coming, for she would have changed her Sunday muslin. But a look of anxiety came on Sam's face as he peeped into the clump of laurels; he signed back the others, sprang upon the dark scraggy bough of the tree, and Hal called out,

"Gone! has Ralph been there?"

"Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so. Not an egg left, and they would have hatched this week!"

"Well, Purday calls him his best friend," said Harry. "He says we should not get a currant or a gooseberry if it wasn't for that there raven, as Papa won't have the small birds shot."

"Bring down the nest, Sam," cried Susan; "Georgy will like to have it."

The children behind, who never could hear of anything to be had without laying a claim to it, shouted that they wanted the nest; but Sam said Sue had spoken first, and they fell back discontented, and more bent on their unkind sport. Miss Fosbrook was rather shocked at the tearing out the nest, and asked if the old bird would not have another brood there; but it was explained that a thrush would never return to a forsaken nest; and when Sam came down with it in his hand, she was delighted with the wonderful cup that formed the lining, so smooth and firm a bason formed of dried mud set within the gra.s.sy wall. She had thought that swallows alone built with mud, and had to learn that the swallows used their clay for their outer walls, and down for their lining, whereas the thrush is a regular plasterer.

Sam promised her another thrush to make up for her disappointment, and meantime conducted her to a very untidy old summer-house, the moss of whose roof hung down loose and rough over a wild collection of headless wooden horses, little s.h.i.+ps with torn sails, long sticks, battered watering-pots, and old garden tools. She was desired to look up to one of the openings in the ragged moss, and believe that it housed a kitty wren's family of sixteen or eighteen; but she had to take this on trust, for to lay a finger near would lead to desertion; in fact, Sam was rather sorry to be able to point out to her, on coming out, the tiny, dark, nutmeg, c.o.c.k-tailed father kitty, popping in and out of the thorn hedge, spying at the party.

Now then for a wonder as they came out. Sam waved everybody away-- nay, waved is a small word for what he did--shouted, pushed, ordered, would be more like it. He was going to give Miss Fosbrook such a proof of his esteem as hardly any one enjoyed, not even Hal, twice in the summer.

Everybody submitted to his violent demonstrations, and Christabel followed him to the back of the summer-house. There stood a large red flower-pot upside down.

"Now, Miss Fosbrook!"

Sam's finger hooked into the hole at the top. Off came the flower- pot, and disclosed something flying off with rus.h.i.+ng wings, and something confused remaining,--a cl.u.s.ter of grey wings all quill, with gaping yellow mouths here and there opening, a huddling movement always going on in the forlorn heap, as if each were cold, and wanted to be undermost.

"t.i.ts, my t.i.ts!" said Sam triumphantly; "they've built their nest here three years following."

"But how do they get in and out?"

"Through the hole. Take care, I'll show you one."

"Won't you frighten away the bird?"

"Oh dear no! Ox-eyes aren't like wrens; I go to them every day.

See!" and he took up in his hand a creature that could just be seen to be intended for a bird, though the long skinny neck was bare, and the tiny quills of the young wings only showed a little grey sprouting feather, as did the breast some primrose-coloured down.

Miss Fosbrook had to part with some favourite c.o.c.kney notions of the beauty of infant birds, and on the other hand to gain a vivid idea of what is meant by "callow young."

Sam quickly put his nestling back, and showed her the parent. She could hardly believe that the handsome bird in the smooth grey coat and bright straw-coloured waistcoat, with the broad jet-black line down the centre, the great white cheeks edged with black, and the bold knowing look, could be like what the little bits of deformity in the nest would soon become.

"Ay, that's an ox-eye," said Sam. "You'll hear them going on peter-- peter--peter--all the spring."

But Sam was cut short by a loud and lamentable burst of roaring where they had left the party.

Miss Fosbrook hurried back, hearing Hal's rude laugh as she came nearer, it was Elizabeth, sobbing in the pa.s.sionate way in which it is not good to see a child cry, and violently shaking off Susan, who was begging her to stop herself before Miss Fosbrook should come.

What WAS the matter?