A Terrible Tomboy Part 25

'Because he drives home through the oak-wood, and it's really so dangerous. There's no fence on the side next to the river, and Prince is so frisky, if he were to shy there by the wall nothing could save them from going straight down the bank. I've often begged Father to have it railed in, but he only laughs at me. Why, Peggy, where are you going?'

For without a word of explanation Peggy had flung down her book and fled from the room. Hatless, and in her thin house-shoes, she rushed out of the house, and tore over the fields as fast as her shaking legs could carry her. In her plan to give Joe a fright, she had never thought of Father, who returned by the same road; and now that horrible white object was stationed just in the very danger-spot where a plunging horse might mean a matter of almost certain death, for the wall of the five-acre field ab.u.t.ted the road on one side, and on the other there was only a narrow patch of gra.s.s between the steep bank which shelved down sheer into the river, while the closed gate stopped any chance of a dash forward. Peggy's heart was beating like a sledge-hammer as she flew through the wood. Already she heard a distant rumbling of wheels, and putting on a last desperate spurt, she reached the gate. She could never afterwards tell exactly what happened at that moment, except that the gig-lamps flashed suddenly in her eyes, 'Whoa, my lad!' shouted Father's voice, and Prince's rearing, kicking form loomed large before her as he backed persistently towards the bank. It took Peggy just one instant to open the gate, and catching up her ghost to hurl the whole wretched thing over the wall, and in another she had seized the horse by the rein, and, soothing him with her well-known voice, dragged him forward with all the strength of her wiry little arms. She was barely in time, for already one wheel was over the edge, but, the object of his fear being removed, Prince allowed himself to be cajoled into the road again, where he stood, panting and trembling in every limb.

'Why, my little Peggy!' cried Father, leaning down to see where the lamp-light flashed on the face of his rescuer.

But the strain was too much for Peggy, and she plumped down on the dead leaves by the roadside in such a tempest of tears that Father had to climb out of the gig and pick her up to comfort her; but as he could not get a word of sense, he popped her in the vacant place by his side and drove on, while she clung to his arm, still shaking with sobs, till they reached the Abbey, where he helped her down, such a miserable little tear-stained picture of woe, gulping out the confession of her escapade, that he had not the heart to scold her, though he had a word of warning to say afterwards upon the danger of such heedless practical jokes.

Dame Eleanor's remains were fished out of the corner of the five-acre field on Monday morning by Joe himself, who kicked her turnip head as ruthlessly as the Yorkists had used her husband's at Mortimer's Cross, and brought back the broomstick to the stable and the sheet to Nancy's wash-tub. In all the valour of daylight he a.s.sured the children that 'it wouldn't have scared _he_, not it. He'd made a many o' they turnip lanterns in his time, and knowed 'em too well to be took in so easy.'

But his faith in the genuine phantom remained unshaken all the same, and I do not think he would have ventured alone into the ruins after dark for the amount of his weekly wages, and money meant a good deal to poor hard-working Joe.

CHAPTER XVIII

PLAY-ACTING

'Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.'

The winter set in cold and frosty, and as Christmas drew near the snow came down in real earnest, covering the fields with its white carpet, and turning Sky Cottage into a very good imitation of a Swiss chalet. It was chilly work getting up in the dark mornings by candle-light, and driving off to school when the sun had scarcely risen; the four miles of road seemed much longer than they had done in the summertime, and in spite of woollen gloves, the hand which held the reins was apt to be stiff and numb with the cold long before Warford was reached.

'I wish I were a cat!' said Peggy one morning, quite roused to envy by the contemplation of Tabbyskin's toilet, 'to have no trouble with washing or dressing; only just to jump out of bed, hump up your back and stretch yourself, drink your saucer of milk, and then lick yourself comfortably on the hearthrug in front of the dining-room fire.'

'I think the dormouse has the best of it,' said Lilian, 'for he sleeps straight on, and never seems to feel the frost at all. It would be a glorious plan to retire to bed for the winter. I'm sure Nature intended me for a hibernating animal, for I hate the cold. It makes my fingers so stiff I can't practise nicely one little bit.'

'You'd say so if you were at school now,' grumbled Peggy. 'There is a new housekeeper, and she manages so badly that sometimes they are only just lighting the fires when we are going into the cla.s.s-rooms. The studio felt like an ice-house yesterday, and n.o.body was able to draw properly. Some of the girls have the most dreadful chilblains on their fingers. I'm sure one goes through a great deal to get one's education!'

'Never mind, the holidays begin on Wednesday, and then you shall have a lovely time. If only this frost keeps up, we ought to get some skating, and that's warm work, at any rate!'

But as regards skating, the children were doomed to disappointment, for, with the usual perversity of the English climate, the weather changed, and Christmas Eve brought a mild wind and drizzling rain. They trudged through the half-melted snow to the church to help with the decorations, for it was fun twisting holly and evergreens, and making garlands of ivy to fasten round the pillars. Archie, who naturally was to the fore on such an occasion, managed to climb up and hang wreaths round the heads of the cherubs at the top of the Jacobean monument, which gave their weeping faces quite a festive appearance for once. Each of the Crusaders was accorded a cross of yew, and the Elizabethan lady and gentleman had a special decoration all to themselves. Lilian transformed the pulpit into a perfect bower, weaving in holly and laurels till the Rector hoped she would leave room for him inside it; and Peggy and Bobby helped--or hindered--the schoolmistress as she adorned the font with a wonderful arrangement of cotton-wool and frosted leaves.

Luckily Christmas Day was fine (for a wet Christmas is enough to damp the stoutest spirits), but after that the weather indulged in such a variety of changes, alternately freezing and thawing from day to day, that there was no time for a safe crust of ice to form even on the smallest and shallowest of ponds. At the first fall of deep snow Archie had mounted both himself and the children on Canadian snow-shoes, for as soon as his illness had allowed, he had persuaded his aunt to bring his tool-chest into his bedroom, and had beguiled his convalescence with a little carpentry.

At first they had all floundered hopelessly about, and it had taken some practice even to slide a few steps; but long before they had reached the stage of skimming over the frozen surface at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, which had been their fond ambition, the snow had melted into moist and dirty slush, which was particularly trying, as they had just decided to make a sledge out of an old packing-case, and drag Lilian round the pasture.

As outdoor exercise was rather out of the question, amus.e.m.e.nt must perforce be found indoors, and amateur theatricals became the order of the day. Archie was full of enthusiasm over what Nancy called 'play-acting,' and had soon initiated his friends into all the mysteries of drop-scenes, side-shifts, make-ups, cues, and footlights. Both tragedy and comedy raged in the Rose Parlour, the company feeling themselves equal to anything, from a representation of Hamlet to the famous scene between Sir Peter and Lady Teasle. Like all their hobbies, they rode it hard, or, as Archie elegantly expressed it, 'rolled up their sleeves and went into it bald-headed.' I am afraid the house-keeping languished while Lilian painted scenery on large sheets of blue grocery paper. Nancy had to dry her washing as best she could, for all the clothes-horses in the establishment were needed for side-wings, and the dining-room tablecloth, being green, was generally missing, having to do duty for such occasions as 'a grove,' 'a glade in the forest,' or the garden scene in 'Much Ado about Nothing.'

From such constant rehearsals the actors found themselves adopting a very stilted kind of conversation. They addressed each other as 'Ho, knave!' or 'Prithee, kind wench!' and would answer the simplest question by 'Yea, certes!' or 'An't please thee, my lord.' Bobby took to carrying about an old horse-pistol which he had found in the lumber-room, and saying 'Oddsbodkins' on all occasions, and Peggy put on such a general air of melodrama that it seemed scarcely possible for her to speak in plain prose; Archie was impresario, stage-manager, scene-shifter, dresser, maker-up, and princ.i.p.al actor all combined, while Lilian waxed so enthusiastic that she even sacrificed the feathers out of her last summer's best hat to adorn the slouched head-gear considered necessary for a due representation of Romeo.

One thing only the players felt to be missing in their entertainments, and that was the very important feature of an audience; for what is the use of learning up parts, and constructing scenery, if there is n.o.body to come and watch you act? Peggy sounded Father on the subject of a children's party, but he did not rise at all to the occasion.

'We can't afford it, Peggy,' he said briefly; then, noticing her look of disappointment: 'That's where the shoe pinches, my dear child. The plain necessities of life we are bound to have, but the state of my purse tells me not to indulge in any luxuries, and I am afraid we must consider party-giving under that head.'

Kind Miss Forster would probably have turned her house upside down for Archie's gratification, but she herself was on the sick-list this Christmas-time, so any gaieties at the Willows were equally out of the question. Getting a hint of the dilemma, the Rector came to the rescue, and invited the performers to give an exhibition of their skill and talent on the occasion of the Sunday-school tea-party, which was to take place early in the New Year. This gave quite a fresh aspect to affairs, and great were the discussions as to what piece should be chosen, everybody unfortunately wanting something different, and generally utterly inappropriate, or impossible to act.

Lilian, always fond of tragedy, had set her heart on the last scene in 'Romeo and Juliet.'

'I should be Juliet, you know, stretched out on the bier, and Archie would have to be Romeo, and come in, and think I was dead, and stab himself, and then of course I should wake up and stab myself, too; and Peggy and Bobby could be the Montagues and Capulets, getting reconciled over our dead bodies.'

Archie, however, having leanings towards comedy, was not at all willing to play the role of the despairing lover.

'We could never manage to fix up an Italian vault,' he objected, 'and I don't see how Peggy and Bobby could represent a whole crowd of Montagues and Capulets, however much noise they made. Why not do a scene from "The Rivals"? You'd be grand as Lydia Languish, and Peggy would just enjoy Mrs. Malaprop's mistakes. I, of course, should be Captain Absolute.'

'Then who would be Sir Anthony?'

'Why, Bobby would have to be Sir Anthony.'

'He _couldn't_! Bobby your father! It would look perfectly ridiculous, and people would only laugh! No, that won't do anyhow, and we shall have to think of something else.'

Bobby was vague as to any particular play, only bargaining he might be allowed to bring in his pistol, and do as much fighting as possible, and that his part should not require too much learning.

Peggy had ambitions towards the trial scene in the 'Merchant of Venice,'

with herself as Portia, having a scarlet dressing-gown which she thought would answer beautifully for the doctor's robes, and designing Archie for the part of Shylock, while Lilian was to don male attire, and represent the unfortunate merchant.

'Then who is to take Ba.s.sanio and Gratiano and Salanio, and Salarino and the Duke, to say nothing of Nerissa? Bobby can't very well act six parts at once.'

'Can't we leave them out?'

'Leave them out! Might as well act "Hamlet" with the part of Hamlet omitted!' said Archie with much scorn, and the problem seemed no nearer being solved than ever.

But here the Rector again stepped in, and limited the performance to half an hour's duration, begging them to choose something appropriate for a Sunday-school audience, and if possible with a moral, and further reminding them that a platform consisting of tables hastily pushed together after the tea was concluded would scarcely give facilities for either footlights, drop-scenes, or side-shifts, a curtain being the utmost he could undertake to manage in that direction.

With wings very much clipped, the soaring actors had to throw aside Shakespeare and Sheridan, and apply themselves to books of recitations and dialogues for village schools. It was difficult to find anything of the right length with exactly the right number of parts, but at last Archie declared he had hit upon one which would do beautifully.

'Just four characters. You and I could be John and Mary, Lilian; and Peggy and Bobby would of course be the children.'

'Why of course? I'm too old for a child!' said Peggy indignantly.

'No, you're not. You're small for your age, and you won't look so very much taller than Bobby, if you wear your shortest frock. It's a jolly piece, and should go first-rate, so we'd better decide on this right away, and let the Rector know.'

Peggy flushed up to her eyes, and turned her back to hide her rising tears. After all her aspirations it was a bitter humiliation to be put down for the very minor part of 'a child,' especially by Archie. She had been learning elocution at school this term, and knew she could both recite and act well. Moreover, she loved to shine, and to be first and foremost, and had looked forward to this occasion as likely to prove one of much triumph. Very few of us are heroes when it really comes to the point, and I grieve to say that she looked so glum, and was generally so grumpy and discontented over the arrangement, that unselfish Lilian, divining the cause, instantly proposed to give up her own part to Peggy, and train a little village girl for the second 'child' instead. But this Peggy would not allow, and rushed away to the barn to weep off her ill-humour amongst the hay, returning in a much better frame of mind, with several valuable suggestions for Lilian's make-up; for she was a generous child at heart, though she could not give up her own way without a struggle.

The small piece chosen did not require much either in the way of rehearsing, scenery, or costumes, which was just as well, for the time was short, and the day of the tea-party seemed to arrive almost directly. By four o'clock the school was full of impatient children, dressed in their best, the girls with their heads such marvels of frizzing and curling that you could well imagine their hair had been screwed up in plaits and papers for several days previously, while the boys were shiny with soap and hair-oil. Lilian and Peggy were soon hard at work pouring out tea as if for dear life, while Archie and Bobby distributed buns and ham-sandwiches with lightning speed, which seemed to vanish with equal quickness, for many of the boys had dispensed with dinner in order to enjoy their tea the more.

'The big boy in the corner drank twelve cups!' declared Peggy, 'and little Willie Jones had eight, or even nine, for I lost count; and the boy from Monkend Farm ate at least fourteen buns. I believe he pocketed a few, though I never could catch him!'

Peggy was in her element; she was able to manage, or, as Archie called it, 'boss around,' to her heart's content. She kept a severe eye on the small children, patted them firmly on the back when they choked, and refused to allow them to grab at the cake, regulating their tea according to her own notions of what was good for them, and turning stolen lumps of sugar out of their pockets with the cleverness of a detective.

Tea was over at last, and the crumby remains having been cleared away, the tables were pushed to one side of the great schoolroom to form the platform, while the benches were arranged in rows to accommodate the audience, which at present was indulging in an amount of noise only to be equalled by the Tower of Babel. Peggy, hard at work behind the scenes, put her eye to a hole in the curtain, and surveyed the prospect below, where children big and little were engaged in jumping over the forms, chasing each other round the stove, and generally acting more like monkeys at the Zoo than civilized human beings, while the Rector strove in vain to collect them at the empty end of the room to play games, and the curate, a shy young man fresh from Oxford, looked as if he would have preferred to wrestle with a consignment of heathens from the Cannibal Islands.

'Come along, Bobby,' said Peggy; 'we ought to go and help. Archie and Lilian can arrange the scenery quite well. The Rector is getting pulled to pieces, and poor Mr. Wentworth has lost his gla.s.ses.'

Mrs. Davenport would have approved of Peggy for once, for even the pattern Bertha could not have displayed more energy in a parish emergency. She promptly organized a game of 'Oranges and Lemons,'

herself leading the long tail of infants who pa.s.sed under the Rector's and Mr. Wentworth's upraised hands; she set the boys to swing honey-pots, and the girls to play 'Drop the Handkerchief'; she boldly interposed her small person between the fists of two fighting hobbledehoys, and seized a little boy by the boot who had ventured to climb up the stove-pipe; she welcomed some of the parents who had begun to arrive for the entertainment, and found them comfortable places on the benches, even nursing one of the babies while its mother went to the rescue of an older child, who was being forcibly held down and sat upon by several of its companions; and by the time the bell was rung, and the audience requested to take their places, she was almost as hot and pulled about as the Rector himself, but with a feeling of conscious virtue that made up for everything.

The first part of the entertainment was to be chiefly musical, so the proceedings began with a waltz by Lilian, who was always the Rector's mainstay in making up a programme, and had helped at most of his Sunday-school concerts since she was ten years old. A violin solo followed from the village tailor, who was much applauded, most of the hearers being persuaded that not even the band in the Warford Public Gardens could surpa.s.s 'Bill Evans and his fiddle.' Little Jimmy Carson recited 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' in a high, thin, piping voice, standing on tiptoe in his eagerness to give due effect to the famous lines, flinging out his arms wildly to indicate where