Chatterbox, 1906 Part 48

The shadows of evening were deepening into night before any alarm about Estelle had been felt at the Moat House. The weather being fine and clear, it was scarcely dark even at eight o'clock. The moon, now just past the full, almost turned night into day. Lady c.o.ke had felt no uneasiness, therefore, when seven o'clock came. She imagined Estelle had been invited to spend the evening at Begbie Hall. Hitherto, however, whenever the cousins wanted her to remain, a message had been sent, in order to spare Aunt Betty any anxiety. But no such message had been received, and the clock having struck eight, then nine, without the little girl appearing, she grew anxious. Mademoiselle Vadevant was also becoming fidgety, though she strove to hide it.

'It is time for Estelle to be in bed,' remarked Lady c.o.ke, at last. 'I am surprised that Mrs. De Bohun has kept her so late. Has Nurse gone for her?'

'Oui, madame; more than an hour ago.'

'Nine o'clock is very late for young children to be up. Will you kindly ring the bell? I will send James to bring her back without further delay.'

Mademoiselle offered to go herself, but Lady c.o.ke insisted on dispatching James. He was her factotum, in whom she had greater faith than in any member of her household. His calm manner, which n.o.body had ever seen ruffled, suited her and she felt quite safe when a matter was in his hands. If Estelle needed any protection--which was not likely in their own grounds--he would be the right person to send. Having given her orders, Lady c.o.ke felt more comfortable, each moment expecting to hear Estelle's merry voice. She sat listening unconsciously. Time, however, slipped on without bringing either James or Nurse. When, finally, ten o'clock struck, she stood up, pale but determined.

'Mademoiselle,' she said, her voice as low as ever, though her anxiety could be detected in its quiver, 'will you please send me my maid, with my garden-hat and cloak? I am going to Begbie Hall myself. You will kindly accompany me. Something must be strangely wrong.'

At that moment the sound of a man's step on the gravel under the windows made her pause, listening eagerly for the child's light tread. The steps came up the verandah, and Colonel De Bohun appeared in the open cas.e.m.e.nt. Without a moment's delay he went up to his aunt, putting an arm tenderly round her. One glance at his pale face was sufficient.

'G.o.dfrey, what is it?'

She was trembling, so that without support she could not have stood.

'Sit down, dear Aunt, and let me tell you,' he said, with more calmness than he felt.

He greatly dreaded the effect of his communication. Though she was always cheerful, active, and upright, he could not forget that she was old, and that any shock might be disastrous to her.

'Tell me,' she said, looking up into his face.

'We all imagined Estelle to be with you till her nurse came to fetch her. I was out when she came. The fact is, we had rather a fright about Alan. He had fallen down a hole in the rocks, and we were obliged to go to his rescue. He was got out with some difficulty, and on our way home we came across James, who told us of your anxiety about Estelle. Neither Marjorie nor Alan had seen her since they had left her reading to Georgie on the roof of the ruin. Marjorie, who had heard the door bang, found no one there when she reached the place, and the door was closed.

Fearing something wrong, I sent James off at once for Peet, in order to see if the poor child had been accidentally locked into the forbidden room.'

'Yes?' whispered Lady c.o.ke.

She looked so weak and shaken that the Colonel made her sit down in her armchair before he would go on with the story.

(_Continued on page 166._)

THE FIRST TEA.

Some people used to find fault with Dr. Johnson because, they said, he was greedy in eating and drinking. He would often take twelve or fourteen cups of tea at a meal. This seems a good deal, but we must remember that in his time teacups were small, and the fashion was to hand them round only half-filled. There is a story that one lady, when the Doctor was taking tea in her parlour, rudely refused to pour him out any more after he had had about a dozen cups, and he, quite as rudely, retorted that her tea was really not worth drinking.

This China drink, as it was called at first, did not for some time become the popular beverage it is now, mainly owing to its high price.

It seems that at first tea was taken without milk. An old book of 1657 states that the English were encouraged to take tea, because it was recommended by doctors in France, Italy, and other countries of Europe, so that evidently other nations had tea-drinkers before England. In September 1660, Samuel Pepys notes that he had his first cup of tea, or 'dish,' as it was called. Many people called the plant 'tay,' in the eighteenth century, and that name is heard occasionally even now. The early price varied from four sovereigns, to twice the sum, for a single pound; afterwards the price was lowered, and the quant.i.ty brought over increased. At the end of the reign of Charles II. only five thousand pounds were imported annually; by 1700, the number had become twenty-one thousand, and in 1721, over a million pounds.

FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

The rich men have their gardens, With blossoms rare and sweet, Where lilies bloom, and roses And honeysuckles meet; And flowers that are the choicest Within their grounds are seen, I only have the blossoms That grow upon the green.

But I think G.o.d made the daisies, That are so fair to see, Just for the little children-- The little ones like me.

The n.o.bles have their paintings That hang upon the walls, Of wealthy lords and ladies, And vales and waterfalls, And soldiers out at battle, And sailors on the deep; I only look on fields and lanes.

And flowers that wake and sleep, But I think G.o.d made the fields and hills, And the bright blue sky I see As pictures for the children-- The little ones like me.

A GOOD COMRADE.

Founded on Fact.

The owner of a vegetable-garden one day noticed that a basket which had just been filled with new turnips became suddenly emptier. He questioned the gardener, who likewise could not understand the matter, and proposed, as a certain means of discovering the thief, that they should hide themselves behind a hedge which was near. This was done. After some minutes they saw the house-dog go straight to the basket, take a turnip in his mouth, and then make his way to the stable. Dogs do not eat raw turnips; our watchers therefore followed the thief, and discovered that the horse, his stable mate, was also concerned in the affair.

Wagging his tail, the dog gave the horse the turnip, and the horse, of course, did not require much pressing. The gardener angrily seized his k.n.o.bbed stick in order to chastise the dog, but his master held him back. The turnips went on disappearing in exactly the same way, and the scene repeated itself until the supply was exhausted.

The dog had long made this horse his favourite, while he seemed to consider a second horse which was in the same stable not worthy of a glance, much less a turnip.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The dog gave the horse the turnip."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The pike seized the wretched stoat."]

AN ARTFUL JACK.

Some True Anecdotes.

Along the river Wey, which flows through Hampshire and Surrey, there is much wild scenery still, though some parts have been altered of late years. Many small streamlets, bogs and marshes, ponds and pools, are delightful to the lover of Nature, no less than to the sportsman. Boys with nets chase big dragon-flies, fat-bodied moths, and swift b.u.t.terflies, and men with guns watch for birds, large or small, which are numerous. The young birds are also in danger from foxes, who leave the woodland to hunt by the waterside.

The fish draw many anglers to the river, for the pools and streams have plenty of fish, not only the small and common kinds, but the trout, which is eagerly followed to its haunts. Besides trout, the ferocious pike or jack is not uncommon, good specimens being taken by various baits, for a jack is not particular what it eats. When cooked, it is a fish generally liked, though it seldom comes into the shops for sale. It is rather a handsome fish, being marked with green and bright yellow.

A clever jack will do much to obtain a choice morsel. Roaming along the banks of the Wey, a man came upon what had once been a good house, in front of which stood a row of fine yews. It was fast going to ruin, and, indeed, only a few rooms were occupied. While he was examining it, the occupier, who knew him slightly, asked him to come in and have some mead, made from his own honey. After talking a little while, the host began to tell him his troubles about his young ducks. They went out for water excursions, as young ducks must, but his wife did not let them stop out late, because of the foxes; but on the way home, some of them had lately disappeared mysteriously. He offered to show the spot, and took his visitor there. The little ducks crossed a broad piece of open water to get upon a sloping board just as they reached the place; down into the stream they went, sometimes two at once. The visitor asked his guide whether he had seen any jack. He said that there were plenty, and that he had caught several; but there was one big fellow he had noticed which would not take the bait offered.

'That is the offender!' cried the man; 'he swims up the stream, picks up a fish here and there till the tiny little ducklings, which are a delicacy to him, are on the water. If there is one the right size to suit him, he has it; if not, he goes back to other food. Afterwards he returns to deep water, but is here again in the evening when the ducks come home.'

What was to be done was the next question. How could this artful jack be caught, if he was too dainty to take ordinary bait? Then they thought of a capital plan. They got a long, straight pole, and fastened to it a strong bit of pike-line. A dead wood-mouse was obtained and secured to the line, and at the proper time gently floated over the place where the ducklings had vanished. The plan answered capitally. Mr. Jack came, seized the mouse, and was hauled out of the water, and no more ducklings were lost.

Another instance of a jack's greed was told in one of the newspapers. A shepherd was pa.s.sing an ornamental lake one day, when his dog started a stoat, which ran out from some bushes near the water. The stoat, being pursued, at last actually jumped into the lake, and swam away. The shepherd was still watching it, as it swam bravely on, when suddenly the nose of a large pike shot out of the water close by, and the fish was seen making straight for the animal. In a few moments it had seized the wretched stoat, and though the latter struggled hard for its life, all was in vain. The jack forced the animal beneath the water, and neither were seen again.

GRAHAM'S LAST PRACTICAL JOKE.