CHAPTER XI
A NEW FRIEND
'Good-morrow to the day so fair, Good-morrow, sir, to you.'
One hot afternoon, when the holidays were about three weeks old, foundPeggy wandering disconsolately round the farmyard alone. Lilian wasaway, spending a few days in Shrewsbury with a distant cousin; Fatherhad gone to Warford, and had taken Bobby with him; even Rollo haddisappeared on some mysterious errand not entirely disconnected withbones, so the young lady was left for once to her own devices.
Aunt Helen had broadly hinted that an hour's practice of much-neglectedpieces upon the piano in the Rose Parlour would be a profitable means ofemploying the time, and the fear lest this threat should become anactual command caused Peggy to shun the neighbourhood of the house withelaborate care, and betake herself, with a selection of pets, to thebarn.
But the rabbits were stupid and sleepy this afternoon. Even Jack, themagpie, seemed to feel the heat, and refused to amuse his youngmistress, while Prickles snored on in his box of hay, oblivious to allcoaxings and blandishments.
'Bother the creatures!' said Peggy at last, giving it up in despair. 'Ifthey want to go to sleep, I suppose they must! I wonder if it would beworth while going down to the harvest field? I'm afraid David wouldn'tlet me drive the reaper. No, I know what I'll do.'
And she jumped up, full of a new idea which had suddenly flashed intoher mind.
Down the pasture she pelted, her red hat looking like a new species ofpoppy among the grass, and, taking a flying leap over the fence, madeher way along the dusty road to a place where a large willow overhungthe path.
The tree was old, so old and decayed that the upper side of the trunkhad worn away altogether, leaving nothing but a hollow, crumbling shell,as rotten and dry as matchwood. Into this cavity Miss Peggy proceeded tocreep, where, concealed by the new branches which had grown from the oldstump, she found she could lie at full length, quite hidden from sight,while through a hole in the bark she could obtain an excellent view ofevery one who passed in the road below. The first to come by was Mr.Griffiths, the stout old miller, mounted on his equally fat horse, thetwo jogging comfortably along, almost asleep in the sunshine. Peggyallowed him to get well beneath her, then, taking a pebble from herpocket, she let it fall plump in the middle of his white hat. The millersat up with a jump, and reined in the old horse, staring into the treewith such blank amazement on his rubicund countenance that Peggy had tostuff her fingers into her mouth to stifle her mirth.
'Shoo! Hi!' cried Mr. Griffiths, clapping his hands.
But, like Brer Rabbit, Peggy 'lay low and said nuffin',' and the old manrode slowly on, turning round in his saddle for a last lingering lookas he went.
Encouraged by this success, Peggy's next venture was on a pedlar, whocame down the road with a pack on his back and a thick stick in hishand. I am afraid this time her stone was bigger, for it bounced withsuch effect on his shoulder, that he turned round with a flow oflanguage far from elegant, shaking his fist at the tree with so muchfury that Peggy was in terror lest he should climb up to find the authorof the assault; but he evidently thought the day too hot for suchexercises, and with a final abusive epithet walked away muttering curseson all the children in creation.
'It's not safe to use stones,' thought Peggy. 'They know someone must beup here to drop them. I'll try little pieces of wood instead, and thenthey'll think it's a bird or a squirrel.'
After that, she had excellent sport, for the women were beginning toreturn from Warford Market with their empty baskets, and she was able tocause wonder and mystification in many a rustic breast, without theslightest chance of discovery.
She was growing almost tired of the fun, when she heard a cheerywhistle, and a boy of about fourteen came sauntering slowly down theroad. He was rather a nice-looking boy, with merry brown eyes, afreckled nose, and frizzy chestnut hair, which stood up like a mop allover his head, and he had a particularly jolly, breezy air about him.
Peggy had acquired such practice at her interesting occupation by thistime that she was able to drop her piece of wood neatly down the back ofhis neck exactly at the moment he passed below.
'Hello!' cried the boy, turning round, and flinging a stone into thetree. 'A squirrel, I'll be bound! I guess it's no use you hiding 'way upthere, old fellow! I'll unearth you before you're much older!' And hecommenced such an onslaught of stones that, to avoid the descendingshower, Peggy tried to creep deeper into the hollow cavity where she waslying.
But the poor, rotten old tree could stand the strain no longer, and,with an awful crash, down came the overhanging bough, bringing Peggy tothe ground with a good deal more speed than elegance.
'I say! What the dickens! Great Scott! Are you hurt?' exclaimed the boy,regarding with much astonishment the crumpled heap of sailor frock,brown curls, and splinters of willow-wood that had suddenly descended athis feet.
Peggy got up, feeling tenderly at her shins, which had suffered most inthe fall.
'I don't think I'm quite killed,' she replied slowly. 'But I've no doubtthere'll be heaps of bruises to-morrow.'
'So you were the squirrel! It was rather a cute dodge, and well done. Iguess you're something of a tomboy, young lady, aren't you?' said theboy, grinning appreciatively.
'No, I'm not,' said Peggy, indignant at the old reproach; 'I'm only fondof a little fun. I know who _you_ are. You're the boy who's staying withMiss Forster at the Willows. I saw you in church on Sunday;' and shenodded convincingly.
'Why, I believe I saw you, too! You dropped your collection money, andmade a rabbit out of your pocket-handkerchief,' chuckling at theremembrance.
'Aren't you Miss Forster's nephew? What's your name? Why have you neverbeen to Gorswen before? Where is your home?' asked Peggy, wondering athis slight American accent.
The boy whistled.
'Whew! what a catechism! My name's Archie, if you want to know, and mygodfathers and godmother gave it to me at my baptism. Yes, Miss Forsteris my aunt, and I haven't been to Gorswen before, because I was raisedin Colorado, and that's a little too far for chance visits; but I'mgoing to locate here now most of the time, I guess. Is there anythingelse you would like to ask?'
And the brown eyes looked at her quizzically.
'Yes, I should,' admitted Peggy frankly. 'I want to know what you'redoing in the corner of Miss Forster's garden. I can hear you sawing andhammering there every morning.'
'I wonder you don't come to see!'
'Well, I would if anyone _invited_ me!'
The boy laughed.
'All right!' he said good-naturedly. 'Come along now, and I'll show you,if you like. If we cut over the hedge here we can drop straight downinto the garden without going round by the road. I guess a girl who canclimb a tree to play squirrel won't shy at a fence. Eh, Miss Tomboy?'
Peggy replied by lightly vaulting over the obstacle, and following hernew friend with much promptitude, giving him a condensed history ofherself and family as she ran to keep up with his long strides.
'Here we are!' cried the boy, jumping over the little stream thatbounded the Willows garden, and watching Peggy's heroic leap after withan eye of secret approval. 'There, now, if you want to see what I havebeen doing, you can!'
He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled carelessly, but it wasevident, all the same, that he was pleased to show off his handiwork,even to a little girl. Peggy gave a gasp of astonishment and delight,for by the side of the stream was fixed the prettiest little miniaturewater-wheel, which was turning round as merrily as the miller's own.
'Oh, how lovely!' she cried. 'You don't mean to say you made thatyourself?'
For the efforts of Joe and Bobby at carpentry were generally of a veryrough description.
'Of course I did. Do you reckon I'd get the village joiner to fix it?Precious much good he'd be at a job like this, the clumsy old idiot! Butthe wheel's nothing. Come over here, and you'll see what it turns!'
'A grindstone! How splendid! Why, it's going round ever so fast when yo
uput on that catch!'
'I can grind your pen-knife for you, if you like,' suggested Archiemagnanimously. 'I'd admire to do it.'
'Haven't got one,' said Peggy sadly. 'I lost mine out of my pocket theother day, when I fell into the stream.'
'Ah! girls have such stupid pockets, they never can keep anything inthem. Never mind, perhaps this will be more in your line;' and liftingup a lid, he showed a tiny churn, calculated to fill the feminine soulwith rapture.
'You could put some cream in that, and make enough butter for your tea,'he said, when Peggy had exhausted her list of admiring adjectives. 'I'lllet you do it some time, if you want. But if you like the churn, what doyou think of this, now?' And, stooping forward, he moved a switch, andthe strains of a little musical-box were heard playing 'The Last Rose ofSummer' with wonderfully correct time and tune.
'You'll never persuade me you made that, too!' cried Peggy, turning uponhim with wide-open eyes.
'Indeed I did!' laughed Archie. 'Oh, it's not so difficult, after all.See, I'll show it to you. It's only made with pins set round in a circleon a piece of board, with a nail on a pivot in the centre to revolveround and strike them. The hard part of it was to set the pins justright. You see, the shortness or longness of them makes the differencein the notes, and the distance between gives the time. It took me ajolly long while to puzzle it all out, I can tell you!'
'I think you're a genius!' declared Peggy, who was absolutely steeped inadmiration.
'Why, no!' said the boy. 'But I reckon to go in for engineering sometime, so it's all practice, you see. When I can get some more tools andthings I want to set up a hydraulic pump to water the garden. I believeI could put electric light all over the house, if aunt would only let metry.'
'I'm afraid you might blow us all up, my dear boy!' exclaimed thepleasant voice of Miss Forster, who had joined them unobserved. 'So youhave been making Peggy's acquaintance? She had better stay to tea, nowshe is here. I will send a message up to the Abbey to say we are keepingher.'
Peggy beamed with delight, for she wanted to see more of Archie'swonderful work, and also the cakes and jam at the Willows had areputation for excellence quite unsurpassed in the neighbourhood.
Miss Forster was a little elderly lady, with a neat, bird-likeappearance, and a brisk, cheerful manner, who seemed to match the prim,square house with its green door and brass knocker, and white sun-blindsover the windows. Everything about the place was kept in the mostexquisite order--never a weed on the paths nor a daisy on thelawns--while indoors the old-fashioned rooms were the very perfection ofneatness, and the polish on the Chippendale furniture was a thing towonder at.
When Miss Forster had adopted her brother's youngest boy from Colorado,her neighbours held up their hands in amazement, and suggested that oneof her London nieces would have proved a far more satisfactorycompanion. But Miss Forster herself thought otherwise.
'My nieces are dear girls,' she said, 'but they take all I say forgospel, and have not an original idea among them. I want some freshyoung life in the place, to keep me from quite stagnating. Archie bringsa breath of the new world with him, and outside interests which I hopemay prevent me from falling into the narrow rut that is so often thefate of elderly spinsters in retired villages. It is quite possible thathe may upset the house in some slight degree, but on the whole it isgood for me to have my little ways interfered with. One is apt to getinto the habit of thinking that the set of a curtain, or a speck of duston the mirror, are of more importance than the affairs of the universe.'
Since his arrival, Archie had certainly done his best to preserve hisaunt from any danger of stagnation, for his fertile brain kept her in aperpetual tremor as to what the 'dear boy' would do next.
'We work everything by machinery out in America, you know, aunt,' heexplained. 'And it feels just terribly behind the times to come home andfind you jogging on in the same hum-drum way this old country has donesince the conquest. I guess if you could come out to Colorado, you'd getan eye-opener!'
Miss Forster opened her eyes wide enough, as it was, to see a neattelephone, made of two empty cocoa-tins and a piece of waxed string,fixed up between the house and the stables, while a small windmill onthe scullery roof turned the coffee-grinder in the kitchen, to the hugeamazement and delight of the cook. She had gasped a little at theincubator, made of an old biscuit-tin, and placed on the greenhousepipes.
'Would not a good sitting hen be really better, my dear boy?' shesuggested mildly. 'I don't see what you are going to do with the youngchicks when you hatch them out.'
'Oh, I'll have fixed up a foster-mother before the three weeks are up,'said Archie. 'I'm lining a shallow box with plaster of Paris, andsticking it full of feathers while it's wet. Then, if I keep it on thehot pipes, it will feel for all the world like an old hen, and I don'tbelieve there'll be a chick that'll find out the difference!'
There seemed to be no end to Master Archie's wonderful inventions. Theboy had a great talent for mechanics, and was very painstaking incarrying out all the minute details of his work. Most of his schemeswere really of use in the household, though occasionally some of themwere not attended with quite the success they deserved. He had hung thegreat dinner-bell in the cherry-tree, and fastened a string from it tohis bed-post, so that he might scare the birds from the fruit in theearly morning; but unfortunately he had flung out his arms in his sleepand set the bell ringing soon after midnight, bringing the neighbourshurrying up to the Willows, thinking it was an alarm of fire. He hadmanufactured a marvellous hat-grip, warranted to defy the windiest ofweather, and presented it to the housemaid; but when the poor girl triedto take off her Sunday hat, she found it so tightly fixed to her hairthat it took the combined efforts of the other servants, aided by theliberal use of a pair of scissors, to remove the construction from herhead. He had fixed a fire-escape to the landing window, and nearlykilled the trusting parlour-maid by letting her down in a blanket 'justfor practice,' while the cook was soaked through in a sudden applicationof the hose-pipe to quench imaginary flames in the region of theback-kitchen.
But I think the crowning achievement was an automatic currying-brush,which was to be wound up and fixed on to the horse's back, and was to dothe work 'in just half the time old Fleming takes pottering over it.'
'Don't ee, now, Master Archie--don't ee, now!' remonstrated the poor oldcoachman, with dismay in his soul. 'Horses is kittle cattle, and itaren't right to play no tricks with 'em!'
'Don't you be alarmed, Fleming. I guess Captain will like it justfirst-rate. He'll find it sort of soothing, and it'll put such a glosson him you'll be able to see your face in his coat. If it works allright, I'll rig up an arrangement to milk the cows next.'
And the confident inventor wound up his little machine, and started iton Captain's fat back. But the old horse would have nothing to say tosuch a newfangled contrivance, and, with a snort of alarm, had nearlykicked through the side of his stall, sending the currying-brush flyingin one direction and Master Archie head over heels in another.
'I reckon he's rather too old to catch on to it,' said the boy,determined not to own himself beaten, as he picked up the ruins of hisclock-work. 'It would be best to start on a colt, and put it in as partof the training. Never mind, I can use the wheels to make an alarum,and fix it up in the harness-room, to go off at any time you like,Fleming!'
But Fleming showed such a rooted distrust for anything that was intendedto 'go off,' and, indeed, such absolute abhorrence of any furthermechanical contrivance in the vicinity of the stables, that Archie hadtransferred his attentions to the garden, where he was full of a schemefor utilizing the water power of the little stream to irrigate the soil,after the fashion of the Nile in Egypt, in a series of canals betweenthe beds, and had already made the hose-pipe work with capital effect bymeans of a siphon and an old barrel.
This was a form of amusement which appealed far more to Miss Forster'smind, for her flowers suffered much from drought in summer time, and shewas a keen competitor at the local
horticultural shows, exhibiting someof the largest carnations and the roundest dahlias in the neighbourhood.So she watched with delight the growth of the hydraulic pump, groaning alittle over the dirty boots and muddied clothes that ensued, butassuring her friends that the 'dear boy' was a perfect genius, and wouldmake his mark in the world, and relating the story of his achievementswith most unbounded pride and satisfaction.