In the Mist of the Mountains Part 2

"Well," said Mrs. Gowan, "I am really sorry, dears, for we could have had such fun, all of us up here at the same time, couldn't we? But you won't speak to Effie and Florence if you meet them anywhere, will you?

Even if they try to speak to you? I have such a dread of whooping cough."

"Paul told you straight away off that we were contagerous," said Lynn, a little hurt that after her sister's magnificent honesty such admonition should be deemed necessary.

"Yes, I know, dear," said the lady, "and indeed I thank Pauline very much for being so considerate. It is Effie and Florence I am thinking of; they are so thoughtless, I am afraid they will try to come over to you."

"You'd better not let them come down to this part of the road then,"

said Pauline sagely.

"But that's the difficulty," said Mrs. Gowan, "their uncle has taken 'Tenby'"--she waved her hand to the cottage opposite that had stood irksomely monotonous with closed shutters and chained gate ever since the Lomaxes had come to Burunda this year, "and of course they will often want to come down to him to listen to his stories. He is Hugh Kinross, you know."

They did not know, and even now the name was a name to them and nothing more. Mrs. Gowan evidently took it for granted that even children must have heard of her brother, the famous author.

"So you will help me, won't you, Pauline?" she said appealingly,--"you won't let Max and m.u.f.fie run out and talk to them! And if they try to come here you will send them away, won't you, dear?"

Pauline promised her co-operation, though indeed her heart sank at the prospect of seeing her merry little friend Effie day after day as close as the opposite fence and never as much as exchanging chocolates with her.

"When is he coming?" she said heavily.

"To-morrow," said Mrs. Gowan--then she laughed--"but I think he would be afraid to come, don't you, if he knew he was going to have four little rackets like you for such near neighbours. He has come all this way to be perfectly quiet and write his new book."

Lynn looked quite impressed.

"I think we'd better stop in the orchard," she said soberly.

Mrs. Gowan kissed her hand to them and went off laughing to her wagonette.

CHAPTER II

TREATING OF LARKIN AND HIS COMMISSION

"Well," said Lynn, looking across at "Tenby," "I'm glad it's going to be lived in at last, poor thing. It makes me quite mis'rable to see it standing there in the sun with its eyes shut up tight as if it wanted to wake up on'y it darerunt."

"Like the Sleeping Beauty," said Pauline.

Lynn, in whose composition had run from babyhood a marked vein of poetry, shook her hair back from her face.

"I made a song about it down at the waterfall the other day," she said.

"Only mamma wasn't here to write it down, and I didn't know if you could spell all the words, Paul."

"What nonsense!" said Paul, "as if I couldn't spell any word a child like you could think of."

"Well, write it then," urged Lynn, "and I can send it in my next letter to mamma; the rhyums in it came quite right this time."

So Pauline, having nothing better to do, and anxious to display her spelling prowess, fished out of her pocket a bit of pencil and one of Octavius Smith's trade cards that drew attention to his prime line of bacon. This last Larkin had pressed upon her that very morning, and urged her to put it on the mantelpiece, where their visitors could see it. They owed him a return. Morning after morning did he, after receiving his orders from Miss Bibby at the kitchen door, ride his horse to the road at one side of the house, where some well-grown pines made a kindly screen, and there let the children, one after the other, have all the delights of a stolen ride. The ever-present dread of Miss Bibby's discovery naturally added a fearful joy to the proceedings "A judge's eldest daughter astride a grocer's horse!" Pauline could readily imagine the lady's tone of horror.

It seemed very easy repayment for the happiest moment of the dull day to promise to put this advertis.e.m.e.nt in evidence. But at present it was only the white back of the card that was pressed into service.

Lynn's eyes grew round and solemn, as they always did when she was delivering herself of a "song." She stared hard at the shuttered house.

"Call it 'The Very Sad House,'" she said.

"'The Very Sad House,'" wrote Pauline obediently.

"No, cross that out," said Lynn; "I remember I thought of a better name.

It's called 'Forsaked.'"

Pauline grumbled at this. "You mustn't alter any more," she said; "even writing very small I can't get much in."

"Well," said Lynn, "write this down." And she dictated slowly. And slowly and a little painfully, for the s.p.a.ce was cramped, Pauline wrote:--

"'Silent and sad it wates by the road, And it's eyes are shut with tears.

Oh, Tenby, my heart is so greavous for you, You haven't woked up for years.

Why don't you open your eyelids up wide And laugh and dance and frolick outside?

And why don't--'"

"There can't be any more," said Pauline inexorably; "I'm at the bottom of the card."

"Oh," said the little poetess piteously, "you must put in the end lines,--can't you turn over?"

"Well, go on," said Pauline--"but it's very silly. As if a house _could_ frolic outside of itself! Mother will laugh like anything."

But Lynn's face was trustfully serene. Mother never laughed.

"Go on," she said,--"the next line is, 'Out on the gra.s.s.'"

"I won't write stories," said Pauline decisively. "There's not a bit of gra.s.s in that garden, and you know there isn't."

Lynn looked distressed.

"But there ought to be," she said.

"But there _isn't_," repeated Pauline; "and I tell you I won't write untruths."

"Very well," said Lynn meekly, "it can be earth, only it doesn't sound so green. Say,

'Out on the earth where the fairies play; Come and play with us, oh, come and play.'"

"'Out on the earth where the fairies play,'" wrote Pauline, and the next line said, "Prime middle cuts at Octavius Smith's, Elevenpence a pound."

"Here's Larkin," called m.u.f.fie excitedly, "an' he's coming very slowly, so he can't be in a hurry. Let's ask him for another ride."

The four clambered on to the gate again.

Larkin was riding back with lowered crest.