Six to Sixteen: A Story for Girls

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE VICARAGE--KEZIAH--THE DEAR BOYS--THE COOK--A YORKSHIRETEA--BED-FELLOWS.

  It was Midsummer. The heavy foliage brushed our faces as "the old mare,"with slack reins upon her back, drew us soberly up the steep drive, andstood still, of her own accord, before a substantial-looking house,built--"like everything else," I thought--of stone. Hugerose-bushes--literal _bushes_, not "dwarfs" or "standards"--the growthof many years, bent under their load of blossoms. The old "maiden'sblush," too rare now in our bedding plant gardens, the velvety "damask,"the wee Scotch roses, the prolific white, and the curious "York andLancaster," with monster moss-rose trees, hung over the carriage-road.The place seemed almost overgrown with vegetation, like the palace ofthe Sleeping Beauty.

  As we turned the corner towards the house, Eleanor put out her left handand dragged off a great branch of "maiden's blush." She forgot therecoil, which came against my face. All the full-blown flowers shedtheir petals over me, and I made my first appearance at the Vicaragecovered with rose-leaves.

  It was Keziah who welcomed us, and I have always had an affection forher in consequence. She was housemaid then, and took to the kitchenafterwards. After she had been about five years at the Vicarage, sheannounced one day that she wished to go. She had no reason to give butthat she "thought she'd try a change." She tried one--for a month--anddidn't like it. Mrs. Arkwright took her back again, and in kitchen andback premises she reigns supreme to this day.

  From her we learned that Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright, who had gone away for aparson's fortnight, were still from home. We had no lack of welcome,however.

  It seems strange enough to speak of a fire as comfortable in July. Andyet I well remember that the heavy dew and evening breeze was almostchilly after sunset, and a sort of vault-like feeling about the rooms,which had been for a week or more unused, made us offer no resistancewhen Keziah began to light a fire. While she was doing so Eleanorexclaimed, "Let's go and warm ourselves in the kitchen."

  Any idea of comfort connected with a kitchen was quite new to me, but Ifollowed Eleanor, and made my first acquaintance with the old room wherewe have spent so many happy hours.

  We found the door shut; much, it seemed, to Eleanor's astonishment. Butthe reason was soon evident. As our footsteps sounded on the stonepassage there arose from behind the kitchen door an utterlyindescribable din of howling, yowling, squealing, scratching, andbarking.

  "It's the dear boys!" said Eleanor, and she ran to open the door. For amoment I thought of her brothers (who must, obviously, be maniacs!), butI soon discovered that the "dear boys" were the dogs of theestablishment, who were at once let loose upon us _en masse_. I have afaint remembrance of Eleanor and a brown retriever falling into eachother's arms with cries of delight; but I was a good deal absorbed bythe care of my own small person, under the heavy onslaught of dogs bigand little. I was licked copiously from chin to forehead by the moreimpetuous, and smelt threateningly at the calves of my legs by the morecautious of the pack.

  They were subsiding a little, when Eleanor said, "Oh, cook, why did youshut them up? Why didn't you let them come and meet us?"

  "And how was I to know who it was at the door, Miss Eleanor?" replied anelderly, stern-looking female, who, in her time, ruled us all with a rodof iron, the dogs included. "Dear knows it's not that I want them in thekitchen. The way them dogs behaves, Miss Eleanor, is _scandilus_."

  "Dear boys!" murmured Eleanor; on which all the dogs, who were settlingdown to sleep on the hearth, wagged their tails, and threatened to move.

  "Much good it is me cleaning," cook continued, "when that great bigbrown beast of yours goes roaming about every night in the shrubberies,and comes in with his feet all over my clean floor."

  "It makes rather pretty marks, I think," said Eleanor; "likepot-moulding, only not white. But never mind, you've me at home now towipe their paws."

  "They've missed you sorely," said the cook, who seemed to be softening."I almost think they knew it was you, they were so mad to get out."

  "Dear boys!" cried Eleanor, once more; and the dogs, who were asleepnow, wagged their tails in their dreams.

  "And there's more's missed you than them," cook continued. "But, blessus, Miss Eleanor, you don't look much better for being in strange parts.That young lady, too, looks as if she enjoyed poor health. Well, give menative air, there's nothing like it; and you've not got back to yourstoo soon."

  Eleanor threw her arms round the cook, and danced her up and down thekitchen.

  "Oh, dear cookey!" she cried; "I am so glad to be back again. And do bekind to us, and give us tea-cakes, and brown bread toast, and let thedogs come in to tea."

  Cook pushed her away, but with a relenting face.

  "There, there, Miss Eleanor. Take that jug of hot water with you, andtake the young lady up-stairs; and when you've cleaned yourselves, I'llhave something for you to eat; and you may suit yourselves about thedogs,--I'm sure I don't want them. You've not got so much more sensiblewith all your schooling," she added.

  We went off to do her bidding, and left her muttering, "And what folksas can edicate their own children sends 'em all out of the house for,passes me; to come back looking like a damp handkerchief, with dearknows what cheap living and unwholesome ways, and want of native air."

  Cook's bark was worse than her bite.

  "She gives the dear boys plenty to eat," said Eleanor; and she providedfor us that evening in the same liberal spirit.

  What a feast we had! Strong tea, and abundance of sugar and rich cream.We laid the delicious butter on our bread in such thick clumps, thatsallow-faced Madame would have thought us in peril of our lives. Therewas brown bread toast, too; and fried ham and eggs, and moor honey, andYorkshire tea-cakes. In the middle of the table Keziah had placed alarge punch-bowl, filled with roses.

  And all the dogs were on the hearth, and they all had tea with us.

  After tea we tried to talk, but were so sleepy that the words died awayon our heavy lips. So we took Keziah's advice and went to bed.

  "Keziah has put the chair-bed into my room, Margery dear," said Eleanor.

  "I am so glad," said I. "I would rather be with you."

  "Would you like a dog to sleep with you?" Eleanor politely inquired. "Ishall have Growler inside, and my big boy outside. Pincher is a nicelittle fellow; you'd better have Pincher."

  I took Pincher accordingly, and Pincher took the middle of the bed.

  We were just dropping off to sleep when Eleanor said, "If Pinchersnores, darling, hit him on the nose."

  "All right," said I. "Good-night." I had begun a confused dream, wovenfrom my late experiences, when Eleanor's voice roused me once more.

  "Margery dear, if Growler _should_ get out of my bed and come on toyours, mind you kick him off, or he and Pincher will fight through thebed-clothes."

  But whether Pincher did snore, or Growler invade our bed, I slept muchtoo soundly to be able to tell.