CHAPTER XXVI.
SUNBEAM.
Mrs. Richmond sailed for the Cape on the following Monday; sending atelegram to her daughters to announce her departure just before sheleft England; and on the following Wednesday evening Miss Roy cameback.
Miss Roy had been in the Richmond family for five years. She was awoman of about forty years of age, extremely kind, most faithful, mostdevoted to the interests of her employer, and most affectionate to herlittle charges. She was not a finishing-governess by any means. Butshe was just the sort of useful person who could be invaluable intimes of difficulty or distress. Mrs. Richmond felt that in her absenceMiss Roy would act almost as a mother to her children, and she wentaway happily in consequence.
The good governess had debarred herself from a whole fortnight of herusual holiday to meet this time of need.
Nora, Kitty, and Nancy hailed her return with delight; and Augusta,who in her heart of hearts regarded her as a tiresome, tyrannical oldmaid, was equally loud in her affectionate expressions on the night ofher return.
On the following day Captain Richmond asked Miss Roy to have a privateinterview with him. No one was better pleased than he that she shouldcome back to help him in the management of his battalion, as he stillin fun called the four girls.
"Well, sergeant," he said, coming into the schoolroom, and speaking inas cheerful a manner as possible, "I want to talk over things withyou.--Soldiers, I must deprive you of your sergeant for a shorttime.--This way, please, Sergeant Roy."
He opened the door as he spoke, and Miss Roy, laughing heartily, wentout with him.
"Isn't Uncle Pete funny?" said Kitty. "He is always making us laugh. Ido think he is a darling."
"You don't call that sort of talk, funny, do you?" said Augusta, whowas by no means pleased at the Captain's desire for a privateinterview with Miss Roy. "If that is your idea of fun I pity you. UnclePeter forgets that we are growing up very fast, and are not babies tobe amused by infant talk."
"Uncle Pete could not be silly," replied Nora.
"If you don't like him, why don't you hold your tongue?" repliedKitty.
"And why do you pretend to like him so much?" said Nora again.
"Of course I like him," cried Augusta, who feared that she might havegone too far. "Well, let's go on with our history; we may as well havegood marks. All these sort of things will tell when the great day ofthe prize-giving arrives."
Meanwhile Captain Richmond had conducted Miss Roy to the drawing-room.They both stood close to the chiffonier. Captain Richmond pushedforward a chair and asked the governess to seat herself.
"I want to show you something," he said, "and I should be extremelyglad if you could throw some light upon it. It has troubled me a goodbit."
"What do you mean?" said Miss Roy.
"I allude to an entry in the orderly-book."
"An entry in the orderly-book!"
"Yes--made in your absence--made by my sister-in-law. Perhaps you canexplain it."
As Captain Richmond spoke he opened the drawer of the chiffonier wherethe orderly-book was kept, took out the book, and placed it on a smalltable before the governess; then opening the book, he pointed to thepage where poor Nancy's cruel conduct was testified to.
"Look," he said. "You would not have supposed that _she_ could becruel."
"Nancy cruel!" said Miss Roy. "Excuse me one moment, Captain Richmond;I will put on my glasses. This puzzles me."
Miss Roy adjusted her glasses and bent over the book. She wasnaturally a very calm woman, and was in no hurry to give herself away.She turned page after page and examined the marks of the other girls.Finally, she took the marks for conduct, diligence, intellectualemployments on the 24th of August by themselves, looking separately atthe page devoted to each girl.
"Well?" said Captain Richmond, who was watching her with interest.
"I cannot understand it," she said. "It cannot possibly be true."
"So I thought," said the Captain.
"It cannot be true," repeated Miss Roy. "A mark for carelessness, forforgetfulness, even for untidiness, might be possible in the case ofNancy Esterleigh, but cruelty---- No, Captain Richmond, the childcould not be cruel."
"And yet," said the Captain, "the mark is there--most distinctlywritten. You observe how empty the page is--blanks in mostdepartments--and this terrible mark for conduct. We cannot get overit."
"It is very unaccountable," said Miss Roy. "There must be a mistake."
"I have thought of that," said the Captain; "but I don't see how therecan be. My sister-in-law is extremely particular, and not at allcareless."
"You must remember," said Miss Roy, "that she entered these marks onthe very day when she was sent for in a hurry to Mrs. Rashleigh."
"That might account for something, but not for this--this gross act ofinjustice. Miss Roy, I have watched little Nancy; this mark caused meanxiety. I have watched the child at all hours. I have never seen atrace of cruelty. But there is something the matter. She is not at herease. She is unhappy. She is like a child who carries a secret."
"Augusta again," said Miss Roy.
"I think not," answered the Captain. "I have observed them together,and have noticed that Augusta is extremely kind to Nancy. I don'tpersonally care for Augusta. She is not at all to my taste. But onemust not be unjust to her. No, it is not that. Nancy carries a secret.Why should she carry a secret, Miss Roy? Painful as it is to say, doesit not rather point to the truth of this terrible report?"
"The thing to do," said Miss Roy, "is to appeal to Mrs. Richmond. Iwonder you did not think of this before, Captain Richmond."
"I did; but I did not want to worry her while she was away, and with agreat deal of care on her shoulders. And remember, we expected herhome about now. Her sudden visit to South Africa upset all ourcalculations, and as a matter of fact put this thing out of my head.But even if I had thought of asking for an explanation, I shouldscarcely like to have done so just at present. She would naturallysay, 'You ought to accept my plain statements without comment.'"
"Not in this case, and with such an extraordinary accusation against amost tender-hearted child," was Miss Roy's answer. "Well, what is tobe done now? Even if we were to write to Mrs. Richmond, we could notget an answer for six weeks."
"We cannot wait for that," said the Captain; "the prizes are to begiven in three weeks' time from to-day."
"And you will let this influence you, Captain Richmond?" said MissRoy.
"What am I to do?" he answered, shrugging his shoulders; and as hespoke he shut the orderly-book. "I am glad I have confided in you," hesaid. "You may throw light on the matter; I sincerely hope you will.But for this dreadful mark, Nancy would get the Royal Cross. As itis"----
He paused and shrugged his shoulders again. "There is just one thingmore," he added. "Some one has broken open this drawer in thechiffonier. See for yourself."
The open drawer showed the marks where a knife had been used, makingdistinct indentations in the delicate wood.
"The mystery thickens," said Miss Roy. "Well, I will watch and do whatI can."
"You will be very careful not to let any one know I have spoken toyou," said Captain Richmond.
"Certainly, Captain Richmond; I will be most careful."
Miss Roy went away. She felt very much troubled and perplexed. TheCaptain's remarks with regard to Nancy troubled her almost as much asthe extraordinary and unaccountable entry in the orderly-book.
"What can it all mean? There are some crimes which it is impossible toassociate with certain natures," was her thought. "Nancy would nothurt a fly. She is over-sensitive and over-affectionate; if any onecould be over-kind it would be Nancy. And yet--and yet---- Oh, I dotrust light will be thrown on this mystery! I hope Captain Richmondwill not give away the prizes before Mrs. Richmond returns. I am quitesure she can explain what is wrong. Then, who opened the drawerwithout a key? It would be an act of cruel injustice to deprive Nancyof the prize until we discover who has done that. Poor, dear littlegirl;
I will try and find her, and see if I can lead her to talk ofthis matter. Of course, I am bound by my promise to Captain Richmondnot to ask her any direct questions."
Miss Roy entered the schoolroom. It was empty. She went into theshrubbery, and walked round the grounds. She could not find any of thegirls. Finally, she went back to the house, and went into Nancy'sbedroom.
Nancy's room was a very small one, and was entered through the largerroom occupied by Nora and Kitty. Nancy was always neat, and her littleroom was in absolute order. Her bird's cage hung in the window. Thecanary, which had been in full feather and lively song, sat upon itsperch. Miss Roy was very fond of birds, and she went up now to thisone to speak to him.
"Ah, Sunbeam," she said, "and how are you?"
As she said this she noticed that the bird was not in his usualspirits. His feathers were ruffled, and he looked at the governesswith a dull expression in his eye.
"Poor dicky--poor Sunbeam," said Miss Roy--"what can be wrong withyou?"
The cage was hung high to be out of the way of the cats. Miss Roylifted it down off its hook, and put it on a little table which stoodnear. The next moment she uttered a shocked exclamation.
No wonder the bird was dull and unable to sing. His water-trough wasempty, and he had scarcely any seed left in his seed-drawer.
"Impossible!" said Miss Roy. "Nancy to forget the bird she loves somuch! And yet I must believe my own sight."
She felt very angry. Cruelty to dumb animals was the one sin she couldnot overlook. Taking the trough, she proceeded to fill it with water;and she was just replenishing the seeds when the door opened, andAugusta, singing a gay song, and carrying a bunch of groundsel in herhand, entered the room.
"Oh, Miss Roy, you here!" she cried. "I was bringing a piece ofgroundsel for Sunbeam. Why, what is the matter? Is the bird ill?"
"It looks like it," said Miss Roy.
She did not want Augusta to share her discovery. But that young ladywas a great deal too astute to be easily hoodwinked.
"Why, what is it?" she said. "What can be the matter?"
Then she went up to the cage, and made precisely the same discoveryMiss Roy had made.
"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Augusta. "How downright wicked!"
"I will put it right," said Miss Roy, trembling a little. "Leave methe groundsel. Go--please go."
A voice below shouted Augusta's name, and she ran off. Miss Royattended to the suffering bird, giving him seed and water and a nicebunch of groundsel. He began to eat and drink at once, and before sheleft the room she had the satisfaction of seeing that he was muchrevived.
"I will see to this matter myself," she said under her breath. "Theremust be no dumb creature in this house liable to such neglect. Alas,how little one knows any one! Mrs. Richmond may have given that badmark for just such another act of carelessness. It seems to explainthings. But who would have thought it of Nancy?"
At lunch that day Augusta suddenly looked up and fixed her bright eyeson Nancy.
"I have a crow to pluck with you," she said.
"What is it?" asked the little girl.
"Come, Augusta," said the Captain, "none of this! I am sure Nancy hasnot done anything wrong."
"Oh, hasn't she? You ask Miss Roy.--Miss Roy, don't you think thelittle favourite wants a word of caution?"
"You ought not to call Nancy by that silly name," said Miss Roy; butshe looked uneasy and troubled.
Augusta said nothing more, but nodded in a very knowing way to Nancy.Immediately after dinner she rushed up to the child, slipped her handthrough her arm, and pulled her aside.
"Well, Nancy," she said, "it will be all up with you if you are notcareful."
"What do you--what _do_ you mean, Augusta?"
"Listen. I don't think Miss Roy is going to tell. She really is kind,and I don't fancy she will tell; and if she doesn't, the Captain, whohas now charge of the orderly-book, will know nothing about it."
"Oh Augusta, you are so mysterious! What are you talking about?"
"I am surprised at you," said Augusta. "I hate cruelty myself."
"And you think that I am cruel!" said Nancy. "What next?"
"I don't trouble myself to think about what I know," said Augusta. "Agirl who had any love for dumb creatures would not starve her petbird."
"My canary! I starve my canary! What do you mean?"
"Ask Miss Roy. She went into your bedroom and found poor old Sunbeamanything but sun-shiny--all ruffled up and dull and drooping. Thereason was not far to seek. There was no water in his trough and noseed in his drawer. Now then, Miss Nancy, what do you say to that?"
"That it is a lie--an awful lie," said Nancy, her gentle face quitetransformed with rage. "What do you mean? I fed my bird this morning.I gave him water, and plenty of seed, and a lump of sugar. What areyou talking about?"
"Ask Miss Roy, my dear, if you don't believe me. I happened to comeinto the room with some groundsel. I had been getting some to give thebirds in the aviary downstairs, and I thought of Sunbeam. Miss Roy wasin the room, and before she could stop me I had discovered what waswrong. Make what use you can of my information. Speak to her about it.She saw with her own eyes. Who else is responsible for the bird? Why,what is the matter, Nancy? Where are you going to?"
"To Miss Roy. I cannot stand this. I have an enemy, and I can't makeit out. Oh, I am a very unhappy girl! Augusta, what have I done toyou? Why do you make my life so miserable?"
"Make your life miserable!" said Augusta, who by no means wished tobring things to a crisis. "I am sure I am very far from doing that. Doyou think I would really tell the Captain? You may be sure Miss Roywon't; and I will go to her this minute, if you like, and _beg_her not to. Now, am I not kind?"
"Don't go; I would rather speak to her myself. I would rather bravethings out;" and Nancy suddenly rushed away from Augusta. She wentinto the house and looked for Miss Roy, whom she found in theschoolroom.
"Miss Roy, I want to say something," cried the little girl, the colourmantling her cheeks.
"What is it, Nancy?" said Miss Roy just a trifle coldly, for theincident of the starving bird had troubled the governess a great deal.
"Augusta told me," continued Nancy; "and it is not true. There is nota word of it true. Oh, what is to be done? I did feed my canary thismorning. I gave him water and seed, and cleaned out his cage. I havenever neglected my bird yet--never."
"My dear Nancy, I am sorry even to appear to doubt you, but I saw withmy own eyes that the bird was without seed. Seeing is believing, youknow."
"And you believe that I could be so cruel?" said Nancy.
"Seeing is believing," repeated Miss Roy.
"I didn't do it. Oh, you will drive me wild! I did not think that youwould turn against me."
"No one attends to the bird except yourself. Who in this house wouldbe so wicked and malicious as to take away the seed and water? No, mydear Nancy; you forgot. It was unlike you, and I am disappointed inyou. But I have decided not to tell Uncle Peter; I will give youanother chance. Had I been in charge of the orderly-book I should havebeen obliged to enter this circumstance in the book; but as I am not Ido not hold myself responsible. Go away now, dear. Don't keep me. Tryand be more careful another time."
Nancy stood perfectly still. Her face, which had been red with anger,was now white. She turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
"It is all most unaccountable," thought the governess to herself. "Butto suppose for a single instant that any one could have removed theseed and water is not to be thought of. Yes, I am sorry for Nancy. Sheforgot the bird: such things have happened even with tender-heartedand considerate children. She forgot the bird, and has not the courageto own to her fault. Poor, poor child; I fear that remark in theorderly-book is correct."
Meanwhile Nancy went up to her room. Never before had such mad passionseized her. She felt like a wounded creature in a trap. But of onething she was resolved.
"My dicky-bird, my darling, shall not run such a risk again," shethought. "Oh, of cou
rse it must be Augusta! No one else could do sucha fiendish thing. But my darling shall not suffer. I know who willcare for him."
She put on her hat, took the cage down from the hook, threw ahandkerchief over it, and went out.
About a mile away there lived a woman with a sick child. Nancy andthe two Richmond girls had visited this woman once or twice. And Nancyhad spoken to little Grace of her bird. Grace had been deeplyinterested.
"Oh, if only my poor little Grace could have a bird all to herself!"said her mother. "But there! I cannot afford it. I offered to buy hera linnet--one can get linnets quite cheap--but she would not have it.'No, mother,' she said, 'I would not take the liberty from an Englishbird. It is a canary I want. I'd like to have one more than anythingelse in the world.'"
Nancy had made up her mind now to give her treasured bird to Grace.She was relieved to see that no one was about. She walked slowly forfear of spilling the water in the cage. Presently she entered thewoods, and setting the cage down on the ground, she removed thehandkerchief, and threw herself on her face and hands close to thebird. She pressed her pretty, gentle face up against the bars of thecage, whistling softly to Sunbeam. He sidled up to her, and presentlyprinted a soft kiss from his beak on her rosy lips.
"They say that I starve you, darling," said Nancy. "You know better,don't you? But you sha'n't ever run such an awful risk again, my ownlittle bird. You sha'n't be at the mercy of any cruel girl. I wouldsooner part from you. You will soon forget me, my little dicky-bird,but I will never, never forget you. Come, you shall go to a goodhome--to a little girl who will be kind to you."
She walked on through the wood holding the cage, and presently shereached Mrs. Hammond's cottage. The day was hot with a languorous sortof heat. There was little or no wind, and thunder rumbled in the sky.
Grace had been very tired all that morning; her back ached, and lifeseemed weary. She had refused her dinner, and had turned away from allher mother's attempts at consolation. When Nancy's tap was heard onthe door, Mrs. Hammond threw down her sewing and went to open it. Apale little girl with bright eyes, holding a cage in her hand, stoodwithout.
"Why, if it ain't one of the dear little ladies from Fairleigh!" criedthe widow. "My Grace is very poorly to-day, but a sight of you will doher a lot of good, miss."
"I have brought a bird for her--my own bird. May I go in and see herat once?" said Nancy.
"I have brought a bird for her--my own bird. May I goin and see her at once?" said Nancy.]
"A bird!" cried the mother. "Oh, won't it be just heaven to her? Yes,she is very poorly, and so dull; but a bird all her own---- Oh, I say,miss! come this way at once.--Grace, here is somebody to cheer youup," continued Mrs. Hammond.--"Come right in, miss; I will stay in thekitchen while you talk to her."
So Nancy entered with Sunbeam in his pretty coloured cage.
Grace, who had been lying down, started up in her delight.
"For me! It can't be," she exclaimed. "You have brought him to see me,miss. Oh, ain't he just pretty?"
"I have brought him to give him to you," cried Nancy. "He is your veryown from this minute. You will be kind to him, won't you?"
"Kind to him! Oh miss--oh miss!"
"You will never forget his water nor his seed?"
"As if I could, miss!"
"And you won't let the cats get to him?"
"We ain't got a cat, miss. He shall stay with me morning and night.Oh, Miss Nancy, I'll get well now; I feel that I will. Oh, the joy ofhaving him! How can I thank you? But there! I can't even try to."
"Don't try, Grace; your face is thanks enough. No, I won't stay. Hewill want lots of water; and here is a whole canister of seed--everysort. You must dry his cage after he has his bath. I give him his bathevery morning before I clean and feed him.--Good-bye, my Sunbeam."
Nancy bent towards the cage. Her curly hair fell across her face, andeven the little sick girl did not notice the tears in her eyes. Sheran out of the cottage before Mrs. Hammond could interrupt her.