Anxious Audrey

  CHAPTER IX.

  "Debby! Tom! Are you ready? It is time to start." Dead silence.

  "Audrey, ask Mary if she knows where they are, will you, please?"

  Audrey walked away reluctantly. The whole party had collected just wherethey could look right into the kitchen directly the door was open; and oneof the last things Audrey wanted, under the circumstances, was to open thedoor, for she knew, only too well, the state the kitchen was in.Instead of being neat and spotless, a place of gleaming copper and silveryshining steel, of snowy wood and polished china, such as she would haveloved to display, it was all a hopeless muddle and confusion, a regular'Troy Town' of a kitchen.

  Perhaps she hoped she could make Mary hear without actually opening thedoor; but it was a forlorn hope. Mary was generally afflicted with deepdeafness if one particularly wanted her hearing to be acute. She was now.Audrey called again and again in vain.

  "Open the door," suggested Mr. Carlyle, "she is probably rattling pans anddishes and can't hear anything beyond."

  "Put your head in and shout," suggested Faith, and Daphne and Keithlaughed.

  Audrey had to do it. She knew that if she did not Faith would--and whenFaith opened a door--well, all there was to see one saw. In a gust ofanger she turned the handle and opened the door as little as she could.Oh how she longed for one of the exquisitely neat Dutch kitchens so oftenseen in pictures.

  "Mary!" she called in impatiently, "wherever are you? Do you know whathas become of the children?"

  Mary heard at last, and hurrying forward to reply, spread the door ashospitably wide as it would go, and stood outlined against a background ofdirty pots and pans, a table piled with unwashed dishes, and a litter oftorn paper everywhere. She had been so busy packing the baskets for teathat her own work had got more behind than usual.

  "I saw them going out of the garden carrying a basket each," she saidslowly, eyeing the while with the keenest interest the visitors whom shenow saw for the first time. "I thought you had sent them on ahead,perhaps, Miss Audrey."

  Mr. Carlyle counted again the baskets on the table. "There are four here.Isn't that the lot?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir." Mary looked puzzled. "Then I don't know what they werecarrying. I didn't pay much heed, but I'm sure they were carrying some,and heavy ones too."

  "Some nonsense or other that they have thought of, I suppose," sighedAudrey wearily, and hurried away. Mary would not close that door as longas they stood there, so the only thing to do was to take the guests away.

  "I expect they have gone on to try and find a specially nice spot to havetea in," suggested Faith. "They are always busy about something and theylove to give us surprises. Don't you think we had better follow them?"

  Mr. Carlyle laughed. "As likely as not they have taken up a load of theirtoys to help to make a pleasant afternoon for us. Now, can you youngpeople carry two of these baskets between you, if I carry the other two?"

  "I can take both," cried Keith eagerly, "it is easier to carry two thanone." But the girls would listen to no such argument.

  "Oh no, no," laughed Faith, "we have some strong sticks on purpose tosling them on, then two of us will carry a basket between us. I have beenlonging to try it, it seems such an easy way."

  But Keith, though longing to help, was not inclined for a _tete-a-tete_with one of his own sisters, and was shy of facing one with one of thesestrangers. "I know," he cried, with sudden inspiration, "I'll walk in themiddle with the end of a stick in either hand and you four can take it inturns to carry the other ends." No one having anything to say againstthis plan they proceeded, Faith grasping one stick and Irene the other,while the baskets swung between in a fashion that would have turned themilk to butter had there been any in them to turn. Behind the trio walkedAudrey and Daphne, dainty and decorous enough to give an air to any party.

  Upon the moor, meanwhile, Debby and Tom sat triumphant but exhausted.

  "Won't they be s'prised!" panted Debby. "Won't it be fun. Oh, Tom, Imust take them out, they are crying so." The first only of her remarksapplied to her family. She untied the lid of her basket and, lifting thecover, peeped in. "Oh, Tom," her voice growing shrill with alarm,"Snowdrop is stepping on Nigger's head, and--oh! Rudolph looks as thoughhe is quite dead!" Her voice had risen to a cry of horror.

  "Haul them out then," cried Tom brusquely. "What are you waiting for!"He was nearly as alarmed as Debby, but not for worlds would he have shownit. "I expect he is only asleep or shamming."

  With shaking hands Debby, awed into silence for the moment, lifted outfirst a tiny black kitten, then a white one, and last of all a black andwhite one, and laid them on the short warm grass beside her. Nigger andSnowdrop began to sprawl about at once, revelling in their freedom.The black and white Rudolph opened a pair of watery blue eyes, gazedsleepily about him, and fell asleep again with every sign of satisfaction.

  "He's all right," cried Tom, relieved, yet annoyed at having been for amoment alarmed. "He's a greedy little pig; he can't keep awake because heeats so much. Now, look out, I am going to let out Nibbler."

  "Oh!" gasped Debby, still busy with her pets, "won't they love it!Wait a sec., Tom, till I'm looking. Snowdrop you shall all go back intothe basket this minute if you don't stop yelling! You are only doing itto annoy. Now I am ready. Don't lift him; just open the cover and lethim hop out by himself. We'll see what he does. Oh-h-h, he won't eat mykittens, will he?"

  "Nibbler isn't a cannibal, he's a rabbit," declared Nibbler's ownerindignantly. "Now, look out!" He opened the lid slowly, and Nibblersniffed the air rapturously.

  "Oh, doesn't he love it! Look at his dear little nose wriggling with joy.Oh Tom! do look at him waggling his ears!" Debby's voice grew shrillagain with excitement. Nibbler hopped out of the basket and her joybecame intense.

  For a moment, as though bewildered by the space, the sunshine, and thebreeze, the great rabbit sat and stared about him; then suddenly oldinstincts came crowding back upon his rabbit brain, He saw furze andbracken, and rabbits' burrows all about him, he felt the turf under hisfeet, and life calling to him--and he followed the call!

  When, a little later, the rest of the party arrived, they found threeforlorn kittens tumbling helplessly over each other, and squealing loudlywith fright, while in the distance two little blue-clad figures dasheddesperately from one clump of bracken to another, and with tears runningdown their faces, shouting frantically "Nibbler, Nibbler, oh darling, docome here, you will be killed if you stay out here all night; Nibbler,Nibbler!"

  It did not take the family long to grasp what had happened. "They willbreak their hearts if they lose him," cried Faith, almost as distracted asthe children. "We shall never get them to go home and leave him behind.They will stay all night searching for him."

  "I will go and help them," said Keith at once. "What colour is he?"

  "White and tan, nothing uncommon, but we all love him."

  Audrey felt very cross. "One can always count on those children to spoilevery plan we make," she muttered to herself vexedly; "they deserve to bewhipped and sent home to bed, tiresome little torments!"

  All of the party but herself had hurried away to join in the search, andshe was left standing alone by the baskets.

  "Well, there is no need for me to go fagging round too, and someone oughtto stay by the things, or they might be stolen. One never knows if thereare tramps about."

  She seated herself comfortably on the grass with her back against a basketand waited. It never occurred to her to unpack the baskets and begin toarrange the tea-table, nor to take up the frightened kittens and try tostop their cries. She just sat there revelling in the sunshine and thebreeze, and the scent of the furze-blossom. It was so beautiful that shealmost forgot everything unpleasant or worrying. In the distance shecaught sight of a man on horseback galloping across the moor, and began toweave a story of bearers of secret tidings, plots and enemies, in whichthe distant horseman was the hero and she the heroine, an
d she had justreached, in her own mind, a village wedding and little girls strewing inthe path of a noble one-armed hero and a bride, white as a lily save forher crown of burnished hair, when Irene returned, and with a little sighof weariness dropped on the ground beside her.

  "We can't find him," she sighed, "and those poor babies are breaking theirhearts. What can we do?" Irene was really distressed, but Audrey, withher eyes fixed on the horseman, and her thoughts on the story she mightwrite, had none left for sympathy with two children and a lost rabbit.

  "Oh, he is quite old," she cried involuntarily. The rider was near enoughnow for her to see that his hair was grey and--oh, horror, that he had abeard!

  Irene looked up in surprise. "Who?" she inquired, "Nibbler?" Then hereyes followed Audrey's, and with a cry of delight and surprise she sprangto her feet. "Why, it's grandfather!" and ran forward to meet him.

  Audrey was glad that she did so--she was glad to be alone for one moment,in which to recover herself. Oh how thankful she was that no one couldread her thoughts, how thankful that no one knew what she had beenthinking. She saw the rider dismount and greet Irene, she saw Irene tuckher arm contentedly through his arm and lead him forward; and she hadscarcely recovered from her confusion when Irene brought him up to hersaying, "This is my grandfather, Audrey."

  "Grandfather, you have heard us talk of Audrey, the girl we travelled downwith the day we came to you. Mr. Carlyle and all the rest are looking forthe children's rabbit. The poor dears brought him out to share the picnicand he has hopped off on his own account. Now you must stay here and talkto Audrey while I go and look for him just over there. I think we haven'tlooked in that clump of ferns yet."

  Mr. Vivian slipped the rein from off his arm and left his horse free tocrop the grass. "He will be safe," he said reassuringly, "he will not gofar from me. Peter is more dependable than the rabbit Irene was speakingof."

  Peter moved away a few paces, and his master seated himself on the grassnear Audrey and the baskets and the kittens. "What sort of a rabbit isit?" he asked, "and which way did he go?"

  "I don't know which way he went," said Audrey, "he was gone when wereached here. The children were very naughty, they started off bythemselves, unknown to anyone, with a basket of kittens and a rabbit.There are the kittens. They have been making that dreadful noise eversince we came."

  "Poor little creatures! they are frightened, they want to be taken up andheld."

  "They would spoil my clean frock," said Audrey hesitating.

  Mr. Vivian picked up the three little squealing things and held them inhis own arms. Their cries soon changed to a contented note. "They can'thurt my old coat," he remarked with a smile, "not that I'd mind much ifthey did, poor little beggars."

  Audrey felt vexed and ashamed and could think of no reply to make.For a moment silence fell, broken only by the singing of the birds allaround them.

  Close to them and to Peter was a large clump of bracken on which Mr.Vivian's eyes rested lazily. Suddenly he deposited his three littlecharges on the ground again, "What was the colour of your rabbit?" heasked in a lowered tone.

  "White and light brown," said Audrey, "quite a common kind. It wasn't avaluable one, but the children----"

  "If you get up very gently and go round to that side of the clump offerns," Mr. Vivian broke in hastily, "I think we shall get the gentleman.I feel pretty sure he is in there. I saw something big move when Peterstepped close. Now then, stoop down on that side and grab him if he runsout, and I will be on the look out for him here."

  There was no need though for Audrey to grab, for the poor frightenedcreature only stared up bewildered when Mr. Vivian opened the ferns aboveits head, and with one sure grasp lifted it up and into his arm.

  "Now," he said, as pleased almost as Debby and Tom themselves could be,"I'll pop my gentleman into his basket while I hurry on to tell the news,and relieve those poor little aching hearts."

  Surprise at his presence, or awe of his rugged face and grey hairs wereentirely swallowed up in the joy his news brought them. To the threeCarlyle children he was a complete stranger, but they took him to theirhearts then and there.

  "We will give you the very, very nicest tea we can possibly give you,"cried Faith enthusiastically, when each in turn and all together hadpoured out their thanks. "I hope you are longing for some, for we want togive you something that you want very much."

  "I did not know I was," laughed the old gentleman, "but now you havementioned it I find it is _the_ one thing I want."

  Tom and Debby ran on ahead to rejoice over their newly-recovered darling,the rest trooped back more slowly. Audrey seeing them coming got up andbegan to bustle around. She felt a little ashamed of herself, and veryanxious to wipe out the not very pleasing impression she felt sure she hadmade on their visitor. She got out the table cloth and spread it on theground.

  "First of all," suggested Faith, "we had better build up the fire and putthe kettle on. It takes rather long sometimes."

  "I'll get some sticks," volunteered Keith. "Come along, Tom, we'llprovide the wood; that shall be our job."

  "I want to go too," cried Debby, "but the kittens are asleep, and I can'tpossibly disturb them, can I?"

  "Run along," said Mr. Vivian kindly, "I will mind your kittens for you,they know me, and we will be as happy as kings together."

  "I wish," Audrey remarked, "that we had some methylated spirits and astove. It is ever so much quicker and not nearly so messy."

  "But it isn't as much fun," consoled Irene, "and the tea tastes so nicewhen the water is boiled over sticks and furze. Don't you think so?"

  "I don't know. I don't see that it can make any difference. But I thinkit is a dreadful bother trying to get enough for everyone. The firealways goes out or the----"

  "Audrey," called out Faith, "where is the kettle? Daphne and I will go tothe cottage to get it filled."

  "I haven't the kettle," said Audrey. "I haven't seen it. Isn't it in thebasket over by you? Don't say you have come without it?"

  "I am afraid we have," said Faith reluctantly, after looking in vain inall directions. "What can we do? Do you think the woman at the cottagewould lend us one?"

  "If she did she would be sure to say we had damaged it. If it sprang aleak at the end of six months she would be sure to think it was ourfault." Poor Audrey felt and looked thoroughly vexed. Everything so farthat day had gone wrong, and she had wanted it to be so different.What she could not see was that nothing had gone wrong seriously, and alittle good temper and a sense of humour could not only have carried herthrough triumphantly, but have turned most of the predicaments to fun.

  Keith came up with a bundle of sticks in his arms and heard the tale ofwoe. "Oh, that's nothing," he said with a promptness that was mostconsoling. "I will ask grandfather to lend me Peter and we'll trot backand get a kettle in a flash."

  But Mr. Vivian preferred to go himself. "And I'll take young Tom withme," he said. "He can run in and explain to the maid and get the kettlein half the time Keith or I could. We should have to explain who we wereand by what right we came and demanded the family tea-kettle."

  Audrey demurred, blushing at the mere idea, and she blushed again when,Peter and his two riders returning, she saw Mr. Vivian waving the oldkettle triumphantly.

  "Oh," she cried impatiently, "I did think Mary would have had the sense towrap it up!"

  "I wouldn't let her. I told her not to do anything more than tie a pieceof paper round its smutty sides. Now, while we are mounted, don't youthink it would be a good plan for us to ride over to the cottage and getthe kettle filled? I like to be useful," as all protested against histaking this trouble. "You see, I feel that if I do something for it Ishall be able to ask boldly for a second cup of tea." And the oldgentleman rode away laughing, as full of enjoyment as any of them.

  Now at last things promised to go right. In a very short time the kettle,filled with water, was hanging over a blazing fire of sticks and furze,and Mr
. Vivian had ridden away to borrow a pitcherful of water in case thekettle required to be filled again, as it almost certainly would.A new site was chosen for the tea-table and the cloth was spread.Daphne brought sprigs of heather and grasses and green ferns to decoratethe table with. Keith, with Tom helping him, worked like a Trojan atstoking the fire, and Audrey was glad that someone else undertook thatsmutty, eye-smarting business, or her hands and her dress would have beenas grubby as theirs probably, before she had done.

  Irene was taking cups and saucers, plates and dishes from Faith as sheunpacked them, and arranging them on the table.

  "But you are the guests," said Audrey presently, "you mustn't bother abouthelping. Faith and I ought to do all that."

  "Oh, but I love to. Do you mind?" Irene looked round, a swift delicatecolour mounting to her cheeks.

  "Mind!" Audrey knew as well as possible that she could never havearranged such a dainty, alluring-looking tea table, as was every minutegrowing in attractiveness before her eyes. She knew how it should lookwhen done, but Irene knew how to do it. Audrey did think though that shewould like to be of some use. She was feeling rather snubbed and verymuch out of things.

  Irene saw it and drew back a little. "I am afraid--I did not mean to--tobe bossy," she added, colouring again more warmly. "I only wanted tohelp," and she pushed towards Audrey the box of cakes she had beenunpacking. "I suppose it comes from being the eldest. Everyone seems toexpect the eldest to do things, and--and so I have got into the way ofdoing them as a matter of course. I am awfully sorry, Audrey, it was agreat cheek of me."

  But Audrey scarcely heard what she was saying, for she was thinking thatno one went to her to have things done for them. No one seemed to expectanything of her.

  "I suppose they think I am not able--but, at any rate, I can take cakesout of a box and arrange them on a plate." And while trying her hardestto make the dishes look as attractive as possible she grew less unhappyand more in tune with everything.

  "Oh, how pretty," said Faith, coming to her with the teapot in one handand a packet of tea in the other. "Audrey, will you measure out the tea.I don't know a bit how much to put in for such a lot of us."

  Here was something expected of her, at any rate. She should have feltelated at being again appealed to, but she only looked vaguely from Faithto Irene and back again. "Neither do I," she confessed at last.

  Irene counted heads on her fingers. "Nine," she reckoned, "two realkiddies, two ex-kiddies,"--fixing her eyes on Keith and Daphne.Daphne threw a tuft of heather at her, "one--two--three----"

  "Flappers," interrupted Keith derisively.

  "Grown-ups," finished Irene, ignoring him, "and two real grown-ups wholike their tea strong. I should think half-a-dozen teaspoonsful would do.If we haven't tea enough to go round, Keith and Daphne shall drink hotwater; it will be so good for their complexion."

  "What gratitude! after we have slaved so over the fire and boiling thekettle and all," cried Keith indignantly.

  "What is the 'all'? Don't say that you have boiled anything more than thewater."

  But the discussion was put an end to by the kettle, which boiled over atthat moment, and the tea was made as Irene had decreed.

  Then at last the whole party gathered round the table; the kittens,revived by milk, played happily together on the grass. Nibbler sulked inhis basket and took sly bites at a handful of dandelion leaves when hethought that no one was noticing him; but everyone else was happy, hungry,and content. The fresh air gave them all such appetites that everythingthey had to eat and drink seemed to be doubly good; the same beautiful airand the sunshine sent their spirits soaring, and set everyone in the moodto laugh and joke. All stiffness and shyness had so completely vanishedthat the visitors already seemed like old friends rather than new ones;and Audrey was just thinking how very happy life might be, even at home inMoor End, when, in a pause in the chatter, a sharp pitiful cry floatedacross the stillness to them.

  Debby was on her feet in a moment. "It is one of the kittens," she criedanxiously. "Oh, what has happened? I am sure one is hurt."

  Everyone's eyes searched the ground around them. Snowdrop was seen atonce, and Nigger was close by. Suddenly Keith started to run, Debby toreafter him, the same fear possessing them both. A little way off Peterstood cropping the grass, a few paces behind him Rudolph lay on the turfbleeding and very still--his inquisitiveness had led him too far at last.In inspecting Peter's hoofs he had got under one and so ended hiscuriosity for ever.

  'TEA ON THE MOORS.']

  Keith reached him first, and by the time poor, panting, white-faced Debbydrew near he had covered the little lifeless body with his handkerchief."He is dead," he said gently, going to meet her and lead her away."Poor little chap--he must have been killed at once. Come away, Debbydear, don't look at him." And he stood with his arm around her shakingshoulders while her first anguished sobs broke from her.

  "Don't cry so, Debby," he urged her; consoling her more by his tone thanhis words, "be brave, old girl. He--he--poor little chap--he--won'tsuffer any more. He--won't have to be given away now." Keith found itvery hard to find anything comforting to say. In fact, he would have beenglad to have been somewhere quite alone, that he might have shed a fewtears unobserved, himself. "Anyhow, he enjoyed his life--as long--as itlasted. You made him awfully happy."

  "But he had only had six weeks and two days," sobbed Debby, "and I lovedhim best of all, he was so ugly, and people laughed at him. Oh, whycouldn't he have stayed where I put him! Oh, Rudolph, you dear naughtydarling, I loved you so."

  Keith clasped her closer, "Never mind, old girl; don't cry, Debby."Debby's face was bowed on his other arm. Suddenly she stretched out agroping arm. "Handkerchief please, I--I lost mine."

  "I--I am awfully sorry, but mine is spread over Rudolph."

  "Never mind, don't take it away from him." Debby's tears flew fast again."But I wish I knew where mine was, it's--it's rather awkward."

  At that moment, though, the rest of the family came up, and Audrey, who,true to a habit taught her by her grandmother, always carried two,provided the little mourner with the much-needed handkerchief.

  But though she provided for her wants Audrey was thoroughly vexed andupset with the little mourner. It seemed to her that the two childrenreally did go out of their way to spoil everyone's enjoyment.

  Her eye fell on Tom standing close beside her. "It all comes of yournaughtiness in the first place," she said irritably, "if you hadn'tbrought all these animals up here we might all have had some pleasure, andRudolph would have been alive and happy. Now you and Debby have thesatisfaction of knowing that by your behaviour you have spoilt the day foreveryone, and killed a poor little helpless kitten."

  Audrey was not observant or she would have noticed her little brother'swhite face and quivering lips. If she had been sympathetic she would haveunderstood that the sorrow which filled his heart was doubled, trebled, bythe knowledge that his act--innocent little joke though it was, was at thebottom of the tragedy--but Audrey understood neither. She was annoyed andshe wanted to hurt.

  Mr. Carlyle, who, if he had not heard all, had seen more than Audrey wascapable of seeing, went over and put his arm around his little son'sshoulders protectingly. He knew what the boy was enduring--that he waslearning in that hour a lesson which would remain with him all his life.

  "If we could all of us foresee the consequences of what we do," he said,"we should be saved from doing many a wrong and foolish thing. If wecould look ahead and see the effect of what we say, we would often biteour tongues rather than utter the words trembling on them. When I was alittle boy, my mother taught me some verses which I hardly understood atthe time, but they have often come back to my mind since, whenever I havefelt inclined to blame other people. I will tell them to you, that youmay remember too.

  "'Happy are they, and only they, Who from His precepts never stray. Who know what's right, nor only so, But always practice what they kno
w.'

  "But always practise what they know," Mr. Carlyle reflected thoughtfully."I wonder which of us do that?"

  Audrey coloured deeply, and found no words to say. Thoughts came crowdingon her mind, remembrance of many things left undone, of many complainingsof others, of duties neglected, of selfishness--known to no one butherself--and her heart grew shamed and very humble. How many times sinceshe had come home had she not preached what she did not practise?

  "But," went on Mr. Carlyle sadly, "I love better the words of a morekindly singer, one who shows us not only the mountain-top, but helps us upthe steep, rough path to it:

  "'If you would help to make the wrong things right, Begin at home, there lies a life-time's toil. Weed your own garden fair for all men's sight, Before you plan to till another's soil.'

  "Shall we try to do that, my Audrey, you, and little Tom, and I?I think we should be happier:

  "'If you are sighing for a lofty work, If great ambitions dominate your mind, Just watch yourself, and see you do not shirk The common little ways of being kind.'"

  With his other arm around her the trio strolled away across the moor."We all need kindness so much, and forbearance. In this world we cannotget on without them. Shall we start fresh from to-day, Audrey?"

  Audrey looked at her father through tear-filled eyes, her lips werequivering. "Oh father, father, I want to--but I don't know how."

  "There is only one way, dear. By constant striving against our failing,and by constant prayer. We cannot succeed by ourselves, we should onlymeet with certain failure. But if we place our hand in God's hand we knowthat though we may stumble and totter many times, we cannot failentirely."

  A few minutes later she was kneeling beside Debby, where she still laysobbing heartbrokenly.

  "Debby dear, I have picked some heath and some dear little ferns.If Keith will help me, we will make such a pretty grave for poor littleRudolph, up here on the moor. Would you like that?"

  For a moment Debby looked at her in speechless surprise. "Could it becross Audrey speaking so gently?" Then her arms were flung out and aroundher eldest sister's neck, "Oh, Audrey," she cried, "oh Audrey, I am soglad you care too. Though he wasn't--_very_ pretty, he was such adarling, and I do, I want everyone to feel sorry that he is dead--but Ithought you didn't."

  And Audrey returned the embrace. "I do Debby dear, I do. I can't tellyou how dreadfully sorry I am."

  When, an hour later, the whole party turned their faces homeward, one ofDebby's hands was clasped in Audrey's, the other in Keith's. Audreycarried the sleeping Snowdrop and Keith the sleeping Nigger; while up onthe now desolate looking moorland, little Rudolph lay sleeping in the softbrown earth beneath a clump of waving bracken. So short a life his hadbeen, so tragic and swift an end, but the hand-clasp of the sisters showedthat his little life had not been lived in vain.