boys, so he could not helptelling kind Mrs Farrow, the farmer's wife, of his luck, and how heexpected real society people to visit himself and Babs that day, so hemust run quickly home to dress.
"Certainly, dear," said Mrs Farrow; "and here are some lovely new-laideggs. You brought me fish, you know; and really I have so many eggs Idon't know what to do with them all. Good-bye, Ransey. Of courseyou'll run across and tell me all about it to-night, and bring Babs onyour back."
Babs was a "dooder dirl" than usual that morning, if that were possible.
Ransey was so glad that the sun was shining; he was sure now that thevisit would be paid. But he had Babs to wash and dress, and himself aswell. When he had washed Babs and combed her hair, he set her high upon the bank to dry, as he phrased it, and gave her the new doll to playwith. Very pretty she looked, too, in that red frock of hers.
Well, away went Ransey to the stream, carrying his bundle. Bob was leftto mind Babs.
Ransey was gone quite a long time, and the child grew weary and sighed.
"Bob!" said Babs.
"Yes, Babs," said Bob, or seemed to say.
"Tiss my new dolly."
Bob licked the doll's face. Then he licked Babs's hand. "Master'llsoon be back," he tried to tell her.
She was quiet for a time, singing low to her doll.
"Bob!" she said, solemnly now; "does 'oo fink [think] 'Ansey 'as fallenin and dlowned hisself?"
"Oh, look, look, Bob," she cried the next moment, "a stlange man tominghere!"
Bob started up and barked most savagely. He was quite prepared to laydown his life for his little charge. But as he rushed forward hequickly changed his tune.
It was Ransey Tansey right enough, but so transformed that it was nowonder that Babs and Bob took him for a stranger.
Even the Admiral must fly down from the gibbet-tree and dance wildlyround him. Murrams, the great tom-cat, came out and purred aloud; andBabs clapped her tiny hands and screamed with delight.
"'Oo's a zentleman now," she cried; "and I'se a lady. Hullay!"
Ransey didn't feel quite comfortable after all, especially with shoeson. To go racing through the woods in such a rig as this would be quiteout of the question. The only occupation that suggested itself atpresent was culling wild flowers, and stringing them to put round Bob'sneck.
But even gathering wild flowers grew irksome at last, so Ransey got hisNew Testament, and turning to Revelation, read lots of nice sensationalbits therefrom.
Babs was not so well pleased as she might and ought to have been; butwhen her brother pulled out "Jack the Giant Killer," she set herself tolisten at once, and there were many parts she made Ransey read over andover again, frequently interrupting with such questions as,--
"So Jack killed the big ziant, did he? 'Oo's _twite_ sure o' zat?"
"And ze axe was all tovered wi' blood and ziant's hair? My! how nice!"
"Six 'oung ladies, all stlung up by ze hair o' zer heads? Boo'ful!'Oo's _twite_ sure zer was six?"
"An' the big ziant was doin' to kill zem all? My! how nice!"
Ransey was just describing a tragedy more ghastly than any he had yetread, when from the foot of the slope came a stentorian hail:--
"Hangman's Hall, ahoy! Turn out the guard!" The guard would haveturned out in deadly earnest--Bob, to wit--if Ransey hadn't ordered himto lie down. Then, picking up Babs, he ran down the hill, heels first,lest he should fall, to welcome his visitors.
Miss Scragley was charmed at the change in the lad's personalappearance, and Eedie frankly declared him to be the prettiest boy shehad ever seen.
Captain Weathereye hoisted Babs and called her a beautiful little rogue.Then all sat down on the side of the hill to talk, Babs being perfectlycontent, for the time being, to sit on the captain's knee and play withhis watch and chain.
"And now, my lad," said bold Weathereye, "stand up and let us have alook at you. Attention! That's right. So, what would you like to be?Because the lady here has a heart just brimful of goodness, and if youwere made of the right stuff she would help you to get on. A sailor?That's right. The sea would make a man of you, lad. And if you were ina heavy sea-way, with your masts gone by the board, bothered if old JackWeathereye wouldn't pay out a hawser and give you a helping handhimself. For I like the looks of you. Glad you paid the postman out.Just what I'd have done myself. Ahem!"
Ransey felt rather shy, though, to be thus displayed as it were. It wasall owing to the new clothes, I think, and especially to the shoes.
"Now, would you like to go to school?"
"What! and leave Babs? No, capting, no. I'd hate school anyhow; I'dfight the small boys, and bite the big uns, and they'd soon turn meadrift."
"Bravo, boy! I never could endure school myself.--What I say is this,Miss Scragley, teach a youngster to read and write, with a trifle of'rithmetick, and as he gets older he'll choose all the knowledgehimself, and tackle on to it too, that's needed to guide his barqueacross the great ocean of life. There's no good in schools, MissScragley, that I know of, except that the flogging hardens them.--Well,lad, you won't go to school? There! And if you'll get your father toallow you to come up to the Grange, just close by the village andrectory, I'll give you a lesson myself, three times a week."
"Oh, thank you, sir! I'm sure father'll be pleased to let me come whenI'm at home and not at sea."
"Eh? at sea? Oh, yes, I know; you mean on the barge, ha, ha, ha! Well,you'll live to face stormier seas yet."
"An' father's comin' to-morrow, sir, and then we're goin' on."
"Going on?"
"He means along the canal," said Miss Scragley.
"To be sure, to be sure. What an old fool I am! And now, lad, let methink what I was going to say. Oh, yes. Don't those shoes pinch abit?"
"Never wears shoes and stockin's 'cept in winter, sir. I keeps 'em indad's locker till snow time."
"Now, in you go to your house or hut and take them off."
"Ha!" said Weathereye, when Ransey returned with bare feet and ankles,"that's ship-shape and Bristol fashion. Now, lad, listen. If MissScragley here asks you to come and see her--and I'm sure she will, forshe's an elderly lady, and likes to be amused,"--Miss Scragley winced alittle, but Weathereye held on--"when you're invited to the ancestralhome of the Scragleys, then you can wear them togs and your shoes; butwhen you come to the Grange, it'll be in canvas bags, bare feet, a strawhat, and a blue sweater--and my own village tailor shall rig you out.Ahem!"
Captain Weathereye glanced at Miss Scragley as if he owed her a grudge.The look might have been interpreted thus: "There are other people whocan afford to be as generous as you, and have a far better notion of aboy's requirements."
"And now, Babs," he continued, kissing the child's little brown hand,"I've got very fond of you all at once. Will you come and live withme?"
"Tome wiz 'oo and live! Oh, no," she replied, shaking her yellow curls,"I'll never leave 'Ansey till we is bof deaded. Never!"
And she slid off the captain's knee and flew to Ransey with outstretchedarms.
The boy knelt on one knee that she might reach his neck. Then he liftedher up, and she looked defiantly back at the captain, with her cheekpressed close to Ransey's.
Weathereye glanced towards Miss Scragley once again, and his voice was atrifle husky when he spoke.
"Miss Scragley," he said, "old people like _you_ and me are apt to befaddy. We will both do something for these poor children, but, blessthem, there's a bond of union betwixt their little hearts that we darenot sever. The bairns must not be parted."
Book 1--CHAPTER SIX.
CHEE-TOW, THE RED CHIEF OF THE SLIT-NOSED INDIANS.
During the time the memorable visit lasted no one took much notice ofRansey Tansey's pets. Yet each one of the three of them was interested,and each showed his interest in his own peculiar way.
The Admiral had flown gracefully down from the gibbet-tree, and alightedon the ground not more than a dozen yards from the group.
"Craik--a-raik--a--r-r-r--a--cray--ay!" he said to himself, which beinginterpreted seemed to signify, "What do _they_ want here, anyhow?That's about the same gang I saw in the woods. Curr-r-r! Well, theyhaven't guns anyhow, like the beastly biped called a keeper, who triedto shoot my hind-legs off because I was a strange bird. I was onlytasting some partridge's eggs, nothing else. Shouldn't I have likedjust to have gouged out his ugly eyes, thrown 'em one by one into