A Terrible Tomboy Part 26

'Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them Volleyed and thundered,'

and getting so mixed up with his aspirates that he concluded with:

'_H_onour the charge they made, _H_onour the Light Brigade, n.o.ble six 'undred.'

A selection of small boys and girls sang school glees and Christmas carols, a trifle flat occasionally, but perhaps that was the fault of the piano, which needed tuning. The two Miss Prices from the Post-Office warbled a mild little duet, which gave unbounded satisfaction to their fond mamma, if to n.o.body else; the blacksmith's a.s.sistant roared out a sea song in a voice like a tempest; and a young man on a visit to the miller gave a comic song, which quite took the company by storm.

A five minutes' interval followed before the act, which was regarded as the chief event of the evening. There was a good deal of giggling and whispered conversation behind the scenes as the actors hastily concluded their preparations, but at length, in response to the enthusiastic clapping and stamping of the audience, the curtain was drawn aside by two Sunday-school teachers, and the play began. Peggy, standing behind one of the clothes-horses which served for a side-wing, could see the two hundred eager faces turned towards the platform, and experienced that peculiar sensation known as 'stage fright.' Instead of longing now for a prominent part, she heaved a sigh of relief to think that Lilian must begin instead, and trembled for the moment when she would be obliged to face those watching eyes.

The piece chosen turned upon a discussion between a man and his wife as to the relative difficulties of their work, resulting in the husband undertaking to do the morning's duties during the absence of the housewife. Lilian, in a print dress, ap.r.o.n, and sun-bonnet, made a charming little village mother, and trotted off with her basket, leaving many injunctions for 'John' to follow. Archie, as the husband, in corduroy trousers, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and a short clay pipe in his mouth, was a capital British workman, and his struggles in the performance of his domestic duties were the subject of much mirth. When he broke the china, and stirred up the washing with the poker, the audience cheered, and it shouted with delight when he upset the kettle and burnt the bread black in the oven. Peggy and Bobby as 'the children,' with crumpled pinafores and smudged faces, were an equal success, for in watching Archie Peggy had forgotten her sudden shyness, and she now threw herself thoroughly into her part, howling most realistically when her nose was scrubbed in the wash-tub, or her hair combed with a fork; while Bobby stole jam and resisted medicine with lifelike zeal. Lilian's face, when as 'Mary' she returned to find her cottage a scene of confusion, was considered excellent, and the moral of the story was enough to satisfy even the Rector. The audience 'hoorayed'

and thumped with their thick boots on the floor, and shouted 'encore'; but as it was not possible to break the china, spill the medicine, and upset the kettle twice over without a considerable amount of preparation, they had to be content with the graceful bows which the artistes bestowed upon them.

'Say them "Little Orphaned Annie" instead of an encore,' whispered Lilian to Peggy, as the stamping still went on, and n.o.body seemed inclined to go.

'Shall I?' said Peggy, flushing; for it was her best piece at the elocution cla.s.s, and she had been complimented on it by her teacher.

'Yes, go on quick!' said Lilian, pushing her forward, and catching the Rector's eye.

Peggy was in good form that night, and I really think her recitation was considered the star of the evening. Her gruesome voice as she recounted what the goblins did to naughty boys made several small sinners in the back benches shake in their shoes--many innocent infants felt they should never dare to go to bed in the dark again; and the wild shriek with which she ended her announcement that 'the goblins are about' quite brought down the house, and the children shouted and yelled and cheered as the Rector strove to get order once more, and wind up the proceedings with the National Anthem. So Peggy had her triumph after all, even if it were only a small one.

CHAPTER XIX

PEGGY AT WAR

'By this good light, a la.s.s of matchless mettle!'

The Christmas holidays being over, and Archie in the rudest of health, Miss Forster had no more excuse for keeping that young gentleman at home, and after much packing and preparation, he departed to school, amid the fond regrets of his aunt and the lamentations of his friends at the Abbey, to whom he promised to write as often as time and the regulations of his house would allow him.

After he had left, things seemed to jog on for some time in the same way. Peggy was studying hard this term, for she was a clever girl, and liked to take a high place in her cla.s.s, so most of the evenings were occupied with home-lessons, and it was only on Sat.u.r.day that she had any leisure for the many projects which Archie had begged her to continue in his absence. Time steals on very quickly when we are fully occupied, and winter seemed to slide into spring, and daffodils to replace the snowdrops in the garden before they had realized the welcome change, and Easter drew near once more, with all its delights of violets, young lambs, and early blossom.

It seemed a long while now to the children since Aunt Helen had gone away, and Lilian had become so accustomed to the housekeeping that it was not nearly so much of a care. She had taken up her neglected French books again, and struggled manfully through 'Paul et Virginie' with the aid of a dictionary; for Peggy was getting on so fast now that Lilian felt she would soon be left behind unless she made some effort to keep up what she had learnt. The evening readings, too, were continued, for Mr. Howell had suggested 'The Vicar of Wakefield' as being less solid for a tired mind than 'The French Revolution,' lending her his own charmingly ill.u.s.trated copy; and Father had forgotten the farm and all his other worries in a hearty laugh over Moses and the spectacles, or Mrs. Primrose's efforts at gentility, declaring that the philosophy of the light-hearted Vicar exactly suited his own circ.u.mstances, and christening Lilian and Peggy 'Olivia' and 'Sophia' on the spot. Finding that a success, Lilian followed it up by 'Pride and Prejudice,' and the 'Pickwick Papers'; for she was glad to discover anything that would wipe away the lines from Father's forehead, if only for an hour, and distract his thoughts from those terrible deeds and account-books which were wont to litter the dining-room table at nights. Peggy, too, had begged to sit up a little later to listen, and I think she learned almost as much from the readings as from her lessons; for our English cla.s.sics are an education in themselves, and those who love them young rarely care to read much trash afterwards.

As the days grew longer and lighter, the garden also claimed attention, and the children were busy digging, raking, and planting, for this year there were to be special cla.s.ses in the flower-show for exhibitors under fifteen, and both Peggy and Bobby had secret hopes of a prize. Then there was Sky Cottage to be tidied and spring-cleaned, for Archie must not come home at Easter to find it looking neglected, and there were various little improvements which they wished to make in it to surprise him on his return.

It was well that they were all so full of resources for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, for otherwise than school they saw almost nothing of the outside world. The temporary attraction of Aunt Helen's engagement being over, the neighbours had lapsed again into their customary neglect of the Abbey, and visitors or invitations were as rare as if they had been living in the wilds of Africa. It seemed rather hard that sweet, pretty Lilian should be so entirely overlooked, and I think that somebody--not to say Mrs. Davenport--might have seen that she had some share in the merry-makings which went on in many of the country houses round about; but n.o.body remembered, and the shy girl herself was quite content to remain at home, busying herself, like Dame Durden, with her household cares. Somehow her old school friends seemed to have drifted away from her. They were full of their own interests, and, on the few occasions when she happened to meet them, had talked so much of new teachers, new pupils, and cla.s.s topics of which she knew nothing, that she had felt a little 'out of it,' and had an uneasy sensation that, if she spoke of the quiet little episodes of her daily round they would vote her housekeeping experiences as decidedly 'slow.' Miss Forster, one of their kindest friends, had been unwell and confined to her room nearly all the springtime, and the children had felt her a loss; for besides the bond with Archie, she loved young people, and had always a word of help or sympathy for their schemes.

'I wonder what it feels like to be ill,' said Peggy one day, coming back from the Willows, where she had been sent to inquire, after one of Miss Forster's worst attacks. 'We're such a healthy set, we haven't any of us been a day in bed since we had measles five years ago. I should think it would be quite fun to send for the doctor, and be fussed over.'

'I suppose you _feel_ horrid,' replied Lilian. 'But all the same, I've sometimes thought it must be rather nice to be an interesting invalid. I wouldn't have minded being Margaret, for instance, in the "Daisy Chain,"

to lie on a sofa, and just look beautiful, and set a good example to all your family, and keep on telling somebody you couldn't marry him, while he stalked about the room with an air of profound melancholy, and said he couldn't take to anybody else.'

'I've always thought I should like to be a foundling,' said Peggy. 'It is so delightfully mysterious to be picked up from a wreck on the sea-sh.o.r.e, or saved from a railway accident, and n.o.body to know who you are, or anything about you. They always keep your beautiful baby-clothes, and the gold locket round your neck with the portrait inside, and then, when you're just grown up, you turn out to be the only daughter of a duke, who has been mourning for you ever since you were lost. Orphans, too, don't have half a bad time in books, though they generally live with rich uncles, and have to wear the old dresses and stop at home, while their cousins go to parties. They only look sweeter than ever in the shabby clothes, and something nice always happens while the others are out--like Mabel, you know, in "Sweet Seventeen." I think it must be most romantic to be so beautiful and so despised.'

'Will you try living with the Davenports for a while?' laughed Lilian.

'You'd have plenty of chance there of being sat upon, at any rate.'

But Peggy declined with thanks, declaring the case did not apply at all, for neither was Mrs. Davenport a rich relation nor was she herself in the friendless condition necessary for the full requirements of fiction, so she was afraid the round of amus.e.m.e.nts and social triumphs generally enjoyed by the heroine would not fall to her share.

'I wish we did go out just every now and then, though,' said Peggy, who occasionally had ambitions after gaiety. 'I haven't been anywhere except to Miss Forster's or the Rectory since I was at the Middletons last year. The girls were all talking about parties at school, after the Christmas holidays, and I hadn't been to a single one, or the pantomime either, and we never get to any of the concerts at the Spa Gardens. The Harpers have asked me to their dance next Wednesday, but Father won't let me go. I wish he would, just for once. It seems so hard never to do anything like other girls, doesn't it?'

'It is so difficult, darling, to get you home. You would catch cold if you came out of hot rooms and drove home at night in the open trap, and it is dreadfully expensive to hire a cab from Warford. Besides, you would want new shoes and gloves, and silk stockings, even if your bridesmaid's dress would be smart enough. If only I had had that money Aunt Helen sent me on my birthday, you should have gone, but I spent it every penny on Bobby's cricket flannels, and I don't like to ask Father for more. You see, we are trying to be so very careful just now. You and Bobby are not learning dancing this term, and I have even given up my music-lessons'--with a wistful sigh, for that had been a sore wrench to poor Lilian.

'So you have, Lily mine, and never growled at all over it! I'm a horrid little wretch, and I wouldn't have taken Aunt Helen's present, even if you had had it left. I don't really care about parties and things. We have ever so much fun out here at the Abbey that the girls who live in Warford never dream of, and it wouldn't be fair to expect both. Easter will soon be here, and Archie will come home, and then we shall all have glorious times again!' And Peggy's momentary discontent vanished like snow in sunshine at the enthralling prospect of several new projects which her ingenious friend intended carrying out, and of the picnics, woodland scrambles, and other delights which the holidays would bring in their train.

But there was yet a month of the term to run, and the little pony-trap must make many more journeys to and from Warford before either Pixie or the children could take a rest, and lessons and school affairs were still matters of the first importance.

Accustomed to a daily account of the doings of both himself and his cla.s.s-mates, Peggy began to realize about this time that all was not well with Bobby. Instead of being full of his usual fun on the homeward journey, he had scarcely anything to tell her. He had been late for several days at the inn-yard, and had arrived looking so flurried and peculiar that, although he had laughed it off and made some excuse, she was certain that things were not as they should be. The pair had never had any secrets before, so Peggy waited at first for Bobby to tell her, but as the confidence did not seem to be forthcoming, she one day boldly taxed him with it.

'Well,' said Bobby, plucking at the corners of his dog-eared Latin grammar, 'if you really want to know, it's Jones minor. I didn't mean to breathe a word, because I hate to be a sneak, and peach, and all that; but after all, telling you isn't like telling any of the fellows, is it?' anxious for his code of schoolboy honour.

'Of course it's not. What about Jones minor?'

'He bullies me so. He lies in wait for me every afternoon, and I have to dodge ever so to get out of his way. I came round by five back streets to-day, and climbed over a garden wall.'

'How big a boy is he?'

'Oh, he's a fellow of thirteen, I should think, for he's in the fourth form. If he were anywhere near my own size I'd fight him, if I had to do it every day till I licked him. I thrashed Moore last week for punching little Barton's head.'

'What does this Jones do to you?'

'Pulls my ears, and b.u.mps my head against the wall. He twists my arm round, too, and hammers at it, and he keeps a buckle-strap in his pocket specially for me, so he says. He's just generally a beast, that's what he is!'

'I don't quite know what we can do,' said Peggy. 'If only Archie were at home he'd soon thrash him into a jelly, and enjoy it. I suppose there's no one else at school who would champion you?'

'No, there isn't. Never mind, Pegotty, don't you worry. I'm growing all the time, and perhaps one day I'll be big enough to go for him, and after all, a fellow ought to be able to stand a bit of bullying without going whining home to his sister about it.'

'Is there much of this sort of thing going on at the Grammar School?'

asked Peggy.

'A fair amount. Not among the best end of the boys, but some of the fellows are awful cads. They took Holmes major one day, and held him upside down with his head in the lavatory basin till he nearly choked, and they tied two others up as sparring-c.o.c.ks to-day, and made them fight all dinner-time. They're awfully rough on us little boys, too, at games. We have to f.a.g till we nearly drop sometimes. That great hulking Taylor half kills young Ford now and then. I'm thankful he doesn't look my way. It's only Jones minor who attends to me, and he's quite bad enough.'

'I only just wish I could catch him at it,' said Peggy reflectively; and there for the present the matter ended.

But a few days after this the pony-trap waited in vain, and Peggy, who had walked leisurely three times from the inn-door to the end of the street, grew tired of loitering about, and sallied forth to look for the truant. It would be useless to try the highways, she knew, so accordingly her search must be in the by-ways, and she made a little tour of investigation round all the back streets between the inn and the Grammar School, but without success, and she was just thinking she must have missed him, and had better return to the inn-yard, when a fortunate chance prompted her to turn up a retired avenue which lay between the two main roads. It was a quiet spot, with long gardens leading to old-fashioned houses on the one side, and the tall palings of a cricket-field on the other--just the spot where n.o.body would be likely to come along and make a disturbance, and so evidently Jones minor seemed to think, for he held Bobby pinned against the wall with one hand, while with the other he amused himself by tweaking his ears, pulling his hair, and any other tortures which his ingenious mind could suggest at the moment.

At the sight of this edifying spectacle Peggy flew on to the scene like Diana on the war-path.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IF YOU BREAK YOUR WORD, I'LL LET ALL WARFORD KNOW THAT YOU'VE BEEN KNOCKED DOWN AND THRASHED BY A GIRL."]

'Here,' she cried indignantly, 'you Jones! Just stop that, will you?'

'Mind your own business, you--whoever you are!' cried the boy rudely.

'I'll do what I like!'