The Oriel Window

  CHAPTER II

  THE PEACOCK'S CRY

  Half an hour or so later the children met again, and together made theirway downstairs to the dining-room, Ferdy carefully carrying hispresents, which had been increased by that of a nice big home-made cakefrom cook, and a smart little riding-whip from two or three of the otherservants.

  Papa and mamma had not yet made their appearance; it was barelyhalf-past eight.

  Ferdy's eyes and Chrissie's too wandered inquiringly round the room.Neither knew or had any sort of idea what _the_ present of theday--their parents'--was to be. Many wonderings had there been about it,for Mrs. Ross had smiled in a very mysterious way once or twice lately,when something had been said about Ferdy's birthday, and the childrenhad half expected to see some veiled package on the sideboard or in acorner of the room, ready for the right moment.

  But everything looked much as usual, except that there was a lovelybouquet of flowers--hot-house flowers, the gardener's best--besideFerdy's plate.

  "Oh, I say!" he exclaimed, as he took it up and sniffed it approvingly,"what a good humour Ferguson must be in to have given me these very bestflowers. Why, he doesn't even like mamma herself to cut these bigbegonias. They _are_ splendiferous, aren't they, Chris? I shall take oneout for a button-hole, and wear it all day. But oh, Chrissie, I _do_wonder what papa's and mamma's present is going to be--don't you?"

  "I should just think I did," his sister replied. "I haven't the veryleast inch of an idea this time, and generally, before, I have had_some_. It isn't in this room, any way."

  "No, I expect it's some little thing, something mamma has kept safe in adrawer, a pair of gold sleeve-links, or, or--no, not a writing-case, forshe'd know about yours. P'r'aps a pocket microscope or some book."

  "Would you like any of those?" asked Chrissie.

  "I'd like anything, I think. At least I mean papa and mamma'd be sureto give me something nice. Of course, _the_ present of presents wouldbe--"

  "We fixed not to speak about it, don't you remember?" said his sisterquickly. "It's a bad habit to get into, that of fancying too much aboutimpossible things you'd like to have."

  "But this wouldn't be quite an impossible thing," said Ferdy. "I may getit some day, and one reason I want it so is that it would be just asnice for you as for me, you see, Chris."

  "I know," said Christine. "Well no, it's not a couldn't-possibly-ever-bething, like the magic carpet we planned so about once, or the table withlovely things to eat on it, that there's the fairy story about, though Ialways think that's rather a greedy sort of story--don't you?"

  "Not if you were awfully hungry, and the boy in that story was, youknow," said Ferdy. "But I didn't mean quite impossible in a fairy magicway. I mean that papa and mamma _might_ do it some day, and it's ratherbeen put into my head this morning by this," and he touched theriding-whip. "It's far too good for Jerry, or for any donkey, isn't it?I shall put it away till I have a--"

  Chrissie placed her hand on his mouth.

  "Don't say it," she said. "It's much better not, after we fixed wewouldn't."

  "Very well," said Ferdy resignedly. "I won't if you'd rather I didn't.Now let us think over what it really _will_ be, most likely. A--"

  But no other guess was to be put in words, for just then came thewell-known voices.

  "Ferdy, my boy"--"Dear little man," as his father and mother came in."Many, many happy returns of your birthday," they both said together,stooping to kiss him.

  "And see what Chrissie has given me, and Flowers, and cook, and theothers!" exclaimed the boy, holding out his gifts for admiration.

  Mr. and Mrs. Ross looked at each other and smiled. Neither of them hadanything in the shape of a parcel big or little. Ferdy and Christinefelt more and more puzzled.

  "They are charming presents, dear," said Mrs. Ross, "and ours--papa'sand mine--is quite ready. How are you going to do about it, Walter?"

  "We had better have prayers first," Ferdy's father replied. "And--yes,breakfast too, I think, and then--"

  In their own minds both Ferdy and Christine thought they would not beable to eat much breakfast while on the tenter-hooks of curiosity. Butkind as their father was, he had a way of meaning what he said, and theyhad learned not to make objections. And, after all, they did manage toget through a very respectable meal, partly perhaps because thebreakfast was particularly tempting that morning, and mamma wasparticularly anxious that the children should do justice to it.

  Nice as it was, however, it came to an end in due time, and then, thoughthey said nothing, the children's faces showed what was in their minds,Chrissie looking nearly as eager as her brother.

  "Now," said Mr. Ross, taking out his watch, "I have just half an hourbefore I must start. Leila,"--"Leila" was mamma's "girl name" asChrissie called it,--"Leila, you keep these two young people quietly inhere for five minutes by the clock. Then all three of you come round tothe porch, but Ferdy must shut his eyes--tight, do you hear, young man?Mother and Chrissie will lead you, and I will meet you at the frontdoor."

  Did ever five minutes pass so slowly? More than once the childrenthought that the clock must really have stopped, or that somethingextraordinary had happened to its hands, in spite of the ticking goingon all right. But at last--

  "We may go now," said mamma. "Shut your eyes, my boy. Now, Chris, youtake one hand and I'll take the other. You won't open your eyes tillpapa tells you, will you, Ferdy?"

  "No, no, I promise," said Ferdy.

  But his mother looked at him a little anxiously. His little face waspale with excitement and his breath came fast. Yet he was not at all adelicate child, and he had never been ill in his life.

  "Dear Ferdy," she said gently, "don't work yourself up so."

  Ferdy smiled.

  "No, mamma," he replied, though his voice trembled a little. "It isonly--something we've tried not to think about, haven't we, Chrissie?Oh," he went on, turning to his sister, and speaking almost in awhisper, "_do_ you think it can be--you know what?"

  Christine squeezed the hand she held; that was all she could reply.Though her face had got pink instead of pale like Ferdy's, she wasalmost as "worked up" as he was.

  There was not long to wait, however. Another moment and they were allthree standing in the porch, and though Ferdy's eyes were still mosttightly and honourably shut, there scarcely needed papa's "Now," or the"_Oh!_" which in spite of herself escaped his sister, to reveal thedelightful secret. For his ears had caught certain tell-tale sounds: asort of "champing," and a rustle or scraping of the gravel on the drivewhich fitted in wonderfully with the idea which his brain was full of,though he had honestly tried to follow his sister's advice and not"think about it."

  What was the "it"?

  A pony--the most beautiful pony, or so he seemed to Ferdy and Christineat any rate--that ever was seen. There he stood, his bright brown coatgleaming in the May sunshine, his eager but kindly eyes looking as ifthey took it all in as he rubbed his nose on Mr. Ross's coat-sleeve andtwisted about a little, as if impatient to be introduced to his newmaster.

  "Papa, mamma!" gasped Ferdy, with a sort of choke in his throat, and fora moment--what with the delight, and the sudden opening of his eyes inthe strong clear sunshine--he felt half dazed. "Papa, mamma, a pony ofmy very own! And Chrissie can ride him too. He is a pony a girl can ridetoo, isn't he?" with a touch of anxiety.

  "He is very gentle, and he has no vices at all," said his father. "I amquite sure Chrissie will be able to ride him too. But you must get toknow him well in the first place."

  Ferdy was out on the drive by this time, his face rosy with delight, ashe stood by his father patting and petting the pretty creature. The ponywas all saddled and bridled, ready for Ferdy to mount and ride "over thehills and far away." The boy glanced up at Mr. Ross, an unspoken requesttrembling on his lips.

  "Yes," said his father, seeing it there and smiling. "Yes, you may mounthim and ride up and down a little. He'll be all right," he added,turning to the coachman, who had been standing by and
enjoying thewhole as much as any of them.

  "Oh yes, sir. He's a bit eager, but as gentle as a lamb," the manreplied.

  "And this afternoon," Ferdy's father continued, "if I can get homebetween four and five, I'll take you a good long ride--round by Durnhamand past by Mellway Sight, where you have so often wanted to go."

  "Oh, papa," was all Ferdy could get out.

  Merton meanwhile had been examining the stirrup straps.

  "They're about the right length for you, I think, sir," he said, andthen in a moment Ferdy was mounted.

  Pony pranced about a little, just a very little,--he would not haveseemed a real live pony if he had not,--but nothing to mind. Indeed,Ferdy, to tell the truth, would have enjoyed a little more. The coachmanled him a short way along the drive, but then let go, and Ferdy trottedto the gates in grand style and back again.

  "Isn't he _perfect_, Chris?" he exclaimed as he came up to the group infront of the porch. "Mayn't I gallop him, papa, this afternoon when wego out? Round by Mellway there's beautiful grass, you know."

  "All right," Mr. Ross replied. "We shall see how you get on outside onthe road. I don't know that he has any tricks, but every pony has _some_fad, so for a few days we must just be a little cautious. Now trot backto the gates once more, and then I think you had better dismount for thepresent. You may go round to the stable with him. It's always a goodthing for your horse to know you in the stable as well as outside."

  OFF FERDY WENT AGAIN, A LITTLE BIT FASTER THIS TIME.]

  Off Ferdy went again, a little bit faster this time, his spirits risinghigher and higher. Then he turned to come back to the house, and hismother was just stepping indoors, her face still lighted up withpleasure, when there came a sudden cry,--a curious hoarse cry,--but fora moment she was not startled.

  "It is the peacocks," she thought, for there were a couple of beautifulpeacocks at the Watch House. "I hope they won't frighten the pony."

  For the peacocks were allowed to stalk all about the grounds, and theywere well-behaved on the whole; though, as is always the case withthese birds, their harsh cry was not pleasant, and even startling tothose not accustomed to it.

  Was it the cry, or was it the sudden sight of them as they came all atonce into view on a side-path which met the drive just where Ferdy waspassing?

  Nobody ever knew,--probably pony himself could not have told which itwas,--but as Mrs. Ross instinctively stopped a moment on her way intothe house, another sound seemed to mingle with the peacock's scream, orrather to grow out from it--a sort of stifled shriek of terror andrushing alarm. Then came voices, trampling feet, a kind of wail fromChrissie, and in an instant--an instant that seemed a lifetime--Ferdy'smother saw what it was. He had been thrown, and one foot had caught inthe stirrup, and the startled pony was dragging him along. A moment ortwo of sickening horror, then a sort of silence. One of the men washolding the pony, Mr. Ross and the coachman were stooping over somethingthat lay on the ground a little way up the drive--something--what wasit? It did not move. Was it only a heap of clothes that had droppedthere somehow? It couldn't, oh no, it _couldn't_ be Ferdy! _Ferdy_ wasalive and well. He had just been laughing and shouting in his exceedinghappiness. Where had he run to?

  "Ferdy, Ferdy!" his mother exclaimed, scarcely knowing that she spoke;"Ferdy dear, come quick, come, Ferdy."

  But Chrissie caught her, and buried her own terror-stricken face in hermother's skirts.

  "Mamma, mamma," she moaned, "don't look like that. Mamma, don't you see?Ferdy's _killed_. That's Ferdy where papa is. Don't go, oh don't go,mamma! Mamma, I can't bear it. Hide me, hide my eyes."

  And at this frantic appeal from the poor little half-maddened sister,Mrs. Ross's strength and sense came back to her as if by magic. Sheunclasped Chrissie's clutching hands gently but firmly.

  "Run upstairs and call Flowers. Tell her to lay a mattress on the floorof the oriel room at once; it is such a little way upstairs; and tellBurt to bring some brandy at once--brandy and water. Tell Burt first."

  Chrissie was gone in an instant. Ferdy couldn't be dead, she thought,if mamma wanted brandy for him. But when the mother, nerved by love,flew along the drive to the spot where her husband and the coachman werestill bending over what still was, or had been, her Ferdy, she couldscarcely keep back a scream of anguish. For a moment she was sure thatChrissie's first words were true--he was killed.

  "Walter, Walter, tell me quick," she gasped. "Is he--is he alive?"

  Mr. Ross looked up, his own face so deadly pale, his lips so drawn andquivering, that a rush of pity for _him_ came over her.

  "I--I don't know. I can't tell. What do you--think, Merton?" he said, ina strange dazed voice. "He has not moved, but we thought he wasbreathing at first."

  The coachman lifted his usually ruddy face; it seemed all streaked, redand white in patches.

  "I can feel his heart, sir; I feel fairly sure I can feel his heart. Ifwe could get a drop or two of brandy down his throat, and--yes, I thinkI can slip my arm under his head. There's Burt coming with some water."

  "And brandy," said Mrs. Ross. "Here, give it me--a spoon--yes, that'sright. And, Walter, have you sent for the doctor?"

  Mr. Ross passed his hand over his forehead, as if trying to collecthimself.

  "I will send Larkins now," he said, "on the pony--that will be thequickest," though a sort of shudder passed over him as he spoke of theinnocent cause of this misery. "Larkins, go at once for Mr. Stern; youknow the shortest way," for there was no doctor within a mile or two ofEvercombe village, and Mr. Ross raised himself to give exact directionsto the young groom.

  When he turned again they had succeeded in getting a spoonful of brandyand water between Ferdy's closed lips--then another; then poor oldMerton looked up with a gleam of hope in his eyes.

  "He's coming to, sir--ma'am--I do believe," he said.

  He was right. A quiver ran through the little frame, then came the soundof a deep sigh, and Ferdy's eyes opened slowly. They opened and--it waslike Ferdy--the first sign he gave of returning consciousness was asmile--a very sweet smile.

  "Papa, mamma," he whispered, "is it time to get up? Is it--my birthday?"

  That was too much for his mother. The tears she had been keeping backrushed to her eyes, but they were partly tears of joy. Her boy wasalive; at worst he was not killed, and perhaps, oh _perhaps_, he was notbadly hurt.

  Ferdy caught sight of her tears, though she had turned her face away inhopes of hiding them. A pained, puzzled look came over him. He tried toraise his head, which was resting on Merton's arm, but it sank downagain weakly; then he glanced at his left arm and hand, which werecovered with blood from a cut on his forehead.

  "What is the--mamma, why are you crying?" he said. "Have I hurt myself?Oh dear, did I fall off my beautiful pony? I am so, _so_ sorry."

  "My darling," said his mother, "it was an accident. I hope you will soonbe better. Have you any pain anywhere?"

  "I don't think so," said he, "only I wish I was in bed, mamma. What isit that is bleeding?"

  "Nothing very bad, sir," said Merton cheerfully; "only a cut on yourforehead. But that'll soon heal. Your handkerchief, please, ma'am,dipped in cold water."

  "Yes," said Mr. Ross, "that is the best thing for the moment," and hefolded the handkerchief up into a little pad, which he soaked in thefresh cold water, and laid it on the place. "I think we must move him,"he went on. "Ferdy, my boy, will you let us try?"

  Ferdy stretched out his right arm and put it round his father's neck.But the movement hurt somehow and somewhere, for he grew terribly whiteagain.

  "My back," he whispered.

  A thrill of new anguish went through his parents at the words.

  "Don't do anything yourself," said Mr. Ross; "lie quite still and trustto me."

  Ferdy closed his eyes without speaking, and skilfully, though withinfinite pains, his father raised him in his arms, Ferdy making nosound--perhaps he half fainted again; there he lay quite helpless, likea little baby, as with slow, careful tread
Mr. Ross made his way to thehouse, from which, not a quarter of an hour ago, the boy had flown outin perfect health and joy.

  At the door they met Chrissie. She started violently, then covered herface with her hands.

  "Oh, papa," she began, but her mother was close behind and caught her inher arms.

  "Hush, dear," she said. "No, no," in answer to the little girl'sunuttered question. "Ferdy has opened his eyes and spoken to us; he knewus--papa and me."

  Chrissie's terrors at once made place for hope. Her white face flushedall over.

  "He's spoken to you, mamma? What did he say? Oh, then he can't be so_very_ badly hurt. Oh, _mamma_, how glad I am!"

  "Be very, very quiet, dear. We can do nothing, and be sure of nothing,till the doctor comes, but--oh yes, thank God, we may hope."

  But by the time they had laid him on the mattress in the oriel roomFerdy looked again so ghastly pale that the poor mother's heart wentdown. There was little they could do; they scarcely dared to undress himtill the surgeon came. It was a terrible hour or two's waiting, for Mr.Stern was out, and Larkins had to ride some considerable way before hecaught him up on his morning rounds.