CHAPTER VIII
'I'VE BROUGHT MY HOUSE WITH ME, LIKE A SNAIL'
The interest of listening to mamma's story had made me for the timealmost forget about Miss Trevor's present. But as we got close to theHut and saw George coming to meet us, it rushed back into my mind again.
'I say,' he called out, as he caught sight of us, 'it's past tea-time;Hoskins wanted us to begin without waiting for you, but I wouldn't. Shesaid she was sure you were having it up there with those people,' and henodded his head in the direction of the big house.
'Oh no!' said mamma, 'I like tea at home best, my boy.'
And 'Oh no!' I joined in;' I was really in a hurry to get back, Dods,for I have something very interesting to tell you. And you mustn't callthem "those people;" they are very nice indeed and _very_ kind. They'regoing to send----'
'Wait till we are at tea to tell him all about it,' interrupted mamma.'It will take some time, and I see Esme and Denzil peeping outimpatiently.'
Tea, you see, had become rather a settled sort of meal, even for mamma,though she and Geordie and I had a sort of little dinner or supper, Iscarcely know which to call it, later in the evening. But _nursery_meals had of course to be given up at the Hut, as there was no nurseryto have them in, so Esme and Denzil did not think five o'clock tea asmall affair by any means. And whether it was that the being so _very_close to the sea had sharpened our appetites, or that Hoskins andMargery between them made such very good 'plain cakes,' I can't say, butI certainly don't remember ever having nicer teas or enjoying them morethan at the Hut.
'Well,' began Geordie, after we were all seated comfortably at thetable, 'what is the interesting thing you have to tell about, Ida? Hasit anything to do with the--our tenants,' he went on, with a tone ofsatisfaction in his voice; 'I may call them _that_, for that's what theyare.'
'Yes, of course it has,' I said. 'You might have guessed that muchwithout being a--what is it you call a man witch--oh yes, a wizard, asyou knew mamma and I were there this afternoon, and I began to tell youthey were going to send us something. It's the jolliest thing you eversaw, Dods--isn't it, mamma? Do help me to describe it.'
Between us we managed to do so pretty well, and I could see that Geordiewas really very pleased about it. But he was in one of those humoursthat boys have more often than girls, I think--of not showing that hewas pleased--'contradictious,' Hoskins calls it, and of trying to pokeout something to find fault with or to object to.
'Hum, hum,' he kept murmuring; 'yes, oh yes, I know the sort of thing.But there's one point you've forgotten, Ida, and mamma too, haven'tyou?--where is this wonderful chair affair to be kept?' and he lookedround the table in a provoking sort of way. 'It won't _always_ be finedry weather, and certainly it wouldn't get in at the door here by yourdescription, even if we had any room for it to stand in.'
I suppose my face fell, and I think mamma, who is as quick as lightningto understand one's little changes of feeling, was rather vexed withGeordie, who is--or _was_ rather--he has got out of those half-teasingways wonderfully, now that he is older--tiresome sometimes, though he isso good, for she said quickly--
'We shall find some place or plan something about it. Don't be afraid,Ida dear. It is a beautiful present. Geordie will thoroughly appreciateit when he sees it.'
'Is it big enough to hold both Denny and me together?' asked Esme.
'It's big enough to hide you, so that you couldn't be seen at all, yousmall person,' said mamma laughing.
I felt sure mamma would plan something, so that we need not feel we hadgot a white elephant in the shape of a garden chair. All the same,Geordie's objection did worry me a little. I kept wondering, when I wokein the night, where we _could_ keep Miss Trevor's present, and hopingthat we should not have to send it back after all.
I need not have done so, for when it arrived, as it did the nextmorning, it was even more complete than we had known. It was envelopedin a huge waterproof cover, looking like a miniature van or waggon, asthe gardener, sent with it, slowly pushed it along! And he explainedthat, for eight months or so of the year, it would be quite safeoutside. For there were also rollers--I don't know exactly what to callthem--strips of wood you could roll _it_ on to, to keep the wheels fromthe damp of the ground, if it _was_ damp, though, as the man said, whenhe had told us all this and shown us how to slide the wheels into thegrooves, 'it's really never for to say damp or wet in the pine woods. Ifit was wheeled into a good sheltered place, I'd undertake to say it'd besafer and drier than inside most coach-houses or stables.'
He was an Eastercove man, I should explain, and of course he thoughtthere was no place in the world to compare with it!
There was another addition to the belongings of the chair, which we hadnot known of, and that was a hot water tin which fitted into thefootstool, in the same neat, compact way which everything belonging toit did. Really a very good thing, for of course any one sitting stillout-of-doors may get cold feet, even though it is not winter or wintryweather.
Geordie stood with his hands in his pockets admiring it all, without afault to find; not that he wanted to find one, I feel sure. He was in amuch cheerier humour this morning, and perhaps he was feeling a littlesorry for having wet-blanketed my pleasure at all, the night before.
Mamma called us all away from our new toy at last. Geordie had to setoff to Mr. Lloyd's, and for me, alas! it was one of the days on which Ihad to act governess to the little ones. I did not mind Denzil so much,though he was--I don't mind if he sees this--I am afraid I must say hestill is, _very_ slow at lessons.
But he cannot help it, not altogether, anyway, and I do think hegenerally does his best, and when you know that of any one, you can bemuch less particular with them, can't you? Besides, once he _has_ 'takenin' anything thoroughly, he does not forget it, which is a great comfortto a teacher.
It was Esme who tried me the most. Such a flibbertigibbet (that is oneof Hoskins's queer words, and mamma does not like me to use them much,but it is so expressive) you never saw. If you got her to give herattention, or thought you had, and were feeling quite pleased and evenproud of it, as she sat there with her bright eyes fixed on the map,we'll say, while you were pointing but how big Russia was, and how tinyEngland seemed with the sea all round it, all of a sudden she would saysomething like this--
'Ida, _did_ you see that girl just in front of the school-children inchurch?' (Geography, I think, came on a Monday morning.) 'I couldn'tmake out if the ribbon on her hat was green or blue, or both shadedtogether.'
And then if I scolded her and begged her to think of her lessons and notof people's hats in church, she would explain in the funniest way, thatthinking of the sea, which sometimes looks blue and sometimes green, andsometimes you don't know which, had made her remember how puzzled shehad been about the girl's hat.
Upon which Denzil must come in with his remark, very wise and proper ofcourse--
'_I_ think,' he said, 'that Esme and nobody, shouldn't think about hatsand ribbins and things like that in church--never. _I_ think it'd bemuch better if ladies and girls dressed all like each other, like menand boys, when they go to church.'
'Oh, indeed,' said Esme; 'and who was it that was in a terrible fussabout his tie not being knotted up the right way only last Sunday asever was, and----'
'Esme!' I exclaimed, horrified, 'where _did_ you learn anything sovulgar--"last Sunday as ever was"? What would mamma say if she heardyou?'
'It was Margery that said it,' replied Esme, not the least put out; 'andI thought it sounded rather nice, but I won't say it again if you'drather I didn't. _Is_ it nonsense, Ida, about men and boys neverthinking about their clothes? Geordie can't bear his best hat to betouched, and I've noticed gentlemen, big ones, I mean like papa--lookingas cross as anything if they couldn't put their hats safe. _I_ thinkthey fuss more on Sundays in church than any other time.'
'Well, don't talk any more about it just now,' I said, 'or you willnever get your geography into your head.'
But it was already too late.
There was very little use trying to callback Esme's wandering wits once they had started off on an expedition oftheir own, and I really began to fear I should have to tell mamma that Iwas very little, if any, use as the child's governess.
About this too, as things turned out, I need not have worried. It iscurious how very seldom what we vex ourselves about before it happensdoes come to pass! I suppose this should show us the harm anduselessness of fancying troubles, or exaggerating them.
We were very busy and happy that afternoon, I remember, when George cameback from Kirke, in arranging the wonderful chair. We settled it nearthe porch, and to please us, as it was really a very fine, almost warmday, mamma said we might have tea there, and that she would sit in thechair with Esme on the stool, and the little table hooked on for theircups and plates. I made tea on a little table in the porch, and Dods andDen handed it out. It was rather a squash, but we didn't mind. Mammalooked so comfortable under the awning, which we had drawn out, as wewanted to try everything; the only mistake was having the hot-waterbottle in the footstool filled; poor mamma was obliged to ask to have ittaken out, as she said she was afraid her feet were really nearlygetting boiled, and of course it was not cold enough weather to requireit.
After tea was over and the things taken away, mamma said she would staywhere she was for a little and finish a letter to papa, in which shewould tell him all about her movable 'boudoir,' as she called it. Shereally seemed to have taken a great fancy to it, which I was verypleased at, for of us all--though she never said or seemed to thinkso--it was certainly mamma who had had to give up the most of what shewas accustomed to, when we came to live at the Hut.
Esme and Denzil ran down to the shore to play, and Dods and I strolledround a little. I remember all about that evening, even without lookingup in my diary. I think I was telling him the story mamma had told me,of when she was a little girl, and the bathing machine, and papa savingher, and we had walked up a short way behind the house, to a part of thepath, or road--it was a road, though a small one--from where you couldsee a bit of the drive from the lodge to the big house.
Suddenly something came in view--the queerest-looking thing you eversaw, like a van, and yet not like one, more like a small omnibus, onlyall over the top it was bumped out into all kinds of shapes, so that itlooked like a gypsy's basket waggon, with a cover over.
'What can that be?' I said to Geordie.
And we both stared hard, as the thing slowly made its way along.
'The Trevors must have queer things sent to them,' I said. 'It isn't therailway van from the station, and yet, if it was travelling pedlars oranything of that kind, they wouldn't have let it in at the gates.'
Geordie did not speak. He has better eyes than I--I have always been alittle near-sighted--and he stood there gazing before him with an oddexpression creeping over his face. He saw--what I did not--a head, orpart of one, poked out of the window at the back of the strange vehicle.
'Geordie,' I said at last, 'what are you staring at so? What _do_ youthink it is? Oh!' as I suddenly caught sight of a new feature in themystery, 'I do believe the thing is coming down _here_, and not going tothe big house at all.'
For there was a side road out of the drive just about the part that thestrange carriage or waggon had now got to, which led in our direction.
'Yes,' said Geordie, turning to me, and speaking very slowly anddistinctly, though there was a twinkle in his eyes, which rather spoiltthe solemnity of his tone, 'you are right, Ida. I will tell you what itis--it is the _balloon_.'
Now indeed it was I who stared!
What could he mean?
Did balloons come in vans, and what had we to do with them? It was notfor a moment or two that I remembered our joke about Taisy,--that shemeant to astonish us by coming down in a balloon or something wonderfuland original of that kind, from her mysterious hints in her letter tomamma.
And then I seemed to understand it all, almost better than Dods did. Itquite took my breath away.
'Come, come, Dods!' I cried, setting off as I spoke, 'let's run to meether. Oh, Taisy, Taisy, you funny girl! Oh, how delighted I am!'
We ran so fast that we reached the waggon almost before the driver andhorses--there were two--seemed fairly launched on the side road, and intime to hear an eager voice from within calling out, 'All right,straight on, now. There is plenty of room.'
It was Theresa of course, but just at first she did not see us. She wasleaning out on the other side to make the driver hear. But she turned,fast enough, when our shouts reached her, though she did not jump down,as we half expected.
'I CAN'T VERY WELL GET OUT,' SHE SAID.]
'I can't very well get out,' she said. 'I'm so packed in, and there aresome breakable things. But I'll manage it in a minute. Yes, yes--it's Imyself! I've come to stay with you, though I have not been invited.And--you'll understand directly, I've brought my house--or rather myroom--with me like a snail, so auntie can't turn me away again.'
She was so excited and delighted with herself, and we were so excitedand delighted too, that we could scarcely speak for laughing. We did notlet her get out; she _was_ so packed in, as she said, but we walked bythe door, she talking as hard as she could, for her vehicle waslumbering along at a foot's pace.
'Yes,' she said, in answer to our eager questions; 'I've been travellinglike this since ten o'clock. No, not _quite_ like this--we did trot onthe high road. The waggonette----'
'Waggonette,' interrupted George, 'I should call it a--waggon and ahalf!'
'Well, never mind about that. Call it an omnibus if you like. Anyway,_it_ started yesterday, and spent the night at Wetherford. Granny wantedme to come all the way to Kirke by train and to write to tell you, whichwould have spoilt the fun. So I got her to let me '('to _let_ youindeed, Miss Taisy,' thought I to myself, though I did not say so; 'Iknow better. You said sweetly, "Granny, dear, I just must;" and shesaid, "Well, well, my darling, if you must, you must, I suppose")--'tolet me come to Wetherford this morning with her maid, and to meet oldDawson' (the driver) 'there, and come on as you see. I had hard work tofind room for myself inside, and I did begin to think we should neverget here! But the evenings are long now, and it's been a lovely day;everything's dry and ready--bedding and all. There'll be plenty of timeto unpack, and Dawson is to stay the night at Kirke, and ride home onone horse, leading the other.'
'And leaving the waggon,' I said, rather stupidly I must own; I think Iwas really feeling rather bewildered with the excitement and laughingand Taisy's flow of explanation.
She burst out laughing again at this.
'Of course,' she said. 'If I didn't keep my house, I might as well goback again. But do let us hurry on to tell auntie all about it.'
I think in her heart of hearts poor Taisy was feeling a tiny atomanxious as to what mamma would think of it all. But she need not havedone. Mamma understood her so well and trusted her good sense as wellas her affection, in spite of dear Taisy's _rather_ wild ways sometimes.
She--mamma, I mean--was sitting quietly where we had left her, reading,in the new chair. And it was nice to see the bright look of pleasurewhich came over her face when she realised that it was Taisy, reallyTaisy, and not an 'optical illusion,' who stood before her and thenhugged and kissed her as no illusion could have done.
'But, my child,' said she, 'where----'
'Where are you going to put me?' interrupted our new guest; 'look,auntie, look up and see,' and she pointed to the van, which was justcoming in sight again. 'I have brought my house with me.'
Mamma's face looked completely puzzled now.
'I will explain,' Theresa went on, and indeed George and I wanted thispart of it explained as much as mamma did. 'That lovely old thing that'slumbering along is Granny's discarded luggage-waggonette. It hasn't beenused for centuries; it is really a small omnibus more than a waggonette.I ferreted it out in one of the coach-houses, where I was poking aboutwith a vague idea that I might find something of the kind to make itpossible for me to come to you after all
. And I got the coachman to helpme. We had it thoroughly dried and aired, and the seats at one sidetaken out--and a friend of the coachman's, who is a clever carpenter,has fitted it up. You will see. There is a table that slips down whennot wanted, and a frame in one corner to hold a basin and ewer, andhooks for hanging things, and a tray like a deep drawer under the seatthat's to be the bed. Oh, it's lovely! and really as good as a cabin onboard ship,' and Taisy stopped to take breath.
'And did Aunt Emmeline know about it?' asked mamma.
'She gave me leave to do what I liked with the old thing,' said Taisy;adding candidly, 'I did not tell her _what_ I was doing till it was allready. She thought I was fixing it up for photographing, I think. But inthe end she was nearly as excited about it as I was, and she gave me allsorts of things--blankets and pillows and crockery and little curtains.It's just stuffed with things--inside and out--though I brought as fewpersonal things--clothes, I mean--as possible, for I don't want to crowd_you_ up, you see. I shall have room for everything when it's allunpacked, you will see,' she added, with a touch of apology in hervoice.
'Dearest child,' said mamma, 'as if we would mind that, if _you_ werecomfortable.'
Taisy's eyes beamed.
'Comfortable,' she repeated; 'that is no word for what I am going tobe.'
'And how long may you stay?' asked Geordie.
'As long as you like to have me,' was the reply. 'Granny is expectingher old friend to-morrow, and I _know_ they will be much happier withoutme. I have a letter from Granny for you, auntie, explaining her plans.But there's no hurry about that. I want to begin unpacking. And what alovely arrangement all this is!' she went on admiringly, touching thearm of mamma's chair as she spoke, 'nearly as beautiful as my waggon!'
Then the history of Miss Trevor's present had to be related, and all itswonderful perfections exhibited. And then Hoskins appeared with a cup offresh tea for Miss Theresa, which she offered with a face all oversmiles, for Taisy was a great favourite of hers. And 'Miss Theresa'drank the tea, and devoured bread and butter and cake in a mostgratifying way; and then she _had_ to run through the Hut, and see allthat we had done to it.
So that, after all, it was rather late before we got to the unpacking ofthe waggon, though Hoskins and Margery and Dawson had already done agood deal.