The Carroll Girls Part 25

"Oh no," gasped poor Poppy, in her desperation almost clutching at the tempting food. "I--I--thank you very much," she stammered. "I love plain buns. There's miffing I like so much." But when she had it she hesitated to begin to eat it; it seemed so selfish and greedy right there under those three pairs of hungry eyes. She longed to divide it, but did not like to. Esther, seeing her perplexity, came to her rescue. "Eat it, dear," she said softly, and Poppy never in her life was more glad to obey.

Angela stepped forward, colouring a little. "Please, I want four farthing tea-cakes," she said, as calmly as she could speak. She was painfully conscious of Mrs. Vercoe's look of surprise. "And--and please," she went on, growing painfully embarra.s.sed, for it was not easy now it had come to the point, "do you want an egg, Mrs. Vercoe?"

Mrs. Vercoe looked even more surprised, but she only said civilly that she "could do with a dozen."

"I've only one at present," said Angela. "It is one my own hen laid, but you can have some more to-morrow morning."

"Very well, my dear," said amiable Mrs. Vercoe, "that will do. I'll put the one here until I get the rest. Shall I give you the money, missie, or would Miss Ashe prefer to have it in goods?"

"Oh please," said poor Angela, "this one is my own, and I should like-- some more tea-cakes for it."

"Tea-cakes!" said Mrs. Vercoe in a bewildered voice. "Why, yes, my dear, of course; but--you'll excuse my asking, but--there isn't nothing the matter, is there?" she inquired confidentially, peering at them over her big gla.s.ses.

Then Esther stepped forward. "Yes, Mrs. Vercoe, there is. It's--it's nothing wrong that we've done, but you must promise not to say a word about it to anybody, please. It wouldn't have mattered _quite_ so much, but now we have pretended to Cousin Charlotte that we enjoyed our lunch it would be dreadful. You will never say a word to any one, will you, Mrs. Vercoe?"

Mrs. Vercoe promised solemnly, whereupon the four tongues were unloosed, and the whole tale of the calamity and their hunger and disappointment was poured out. Mrs. Vercoe listened with the keenest interest, every now and then raising her two fat hands in amazement, then resting them again on her plump sides.

"Oh, my dears! oh, my dears!" she kept gasping. "What owdacious wickedness there do be in this world, to be sure. To think of it! Well, I never did! And if they ain't caught and punished it'll be no more nor less than a crying shame."

By the time they had finished she was leading them all into her little parlour, bent on making tea for them and preparing them a good meal; but Esther would not hear of it.

"Thank you very much," she said warmly, "but if we may have a few tea-cakes it will be quite enough. We only want something to prevent our feeling so hungry and faint and horrid till tea-time."

Mrs. Vercoe insisted, though, on their all having some milk to drink with their splits, on which she spread b.u.t.ter liberally, and an apple or so each to take away and munch on the moor. It was too soon to go home yet, they felt, yet their love for wandering had been somewhat dashed by the unpleasant experience of the morning. Somehow the moor did not seem the same while they felt that it held thieves too.

Guard, who had been given some biscuits and stale cake, looked up at them inquiringly, as much as to say, "Aren't we going home now?" Visions of his comfortable bed rose before him, and he felt very inclined for a noon-day nap. But the children told him he was not to go home yet, and he agreed, with his usual amiability, to follow where they led.

"I think we will go down by the river," said Esther. "It will be a change, and will seem different. It won't remind us so much of thieves."

So on they went, past Moor Cottage, where they saw through the curtains Cousin Charlotte at her solitary meal, and waved gaily to her; over the bridge and down on the fascinating river-bank where all sorts of treasures lurked, and the roots of the trees, rising out of the soft earth, formed steps and seats and bal.u.s.trades and all sorts of things.

"I think we won't go so very far," said Esther, looking at her watch.

"It is two o'clock now, and I think we might go home at half-past three.

Let's sit down here, shall we?"

"Shall we just go a teeny tiny way further?" pleaded Angela. "There is a beautiful place a little way further on, a dear little cosy, cubby corner where we should be shut in, and as comfy as possible. Shall we, Esther?"

Esther nodded, and on they went again. Guard, as though he knew what they had been saying, ran on in front, making for the very spot.

"He _couldn't_ have understood what I said could he?" asked Angela eagerly, "but he has gone into the very place."

"And seems inclined to stay there," said Penelope. She whistled once or twice, but the usually obedient Guard did not appear.

"I wonder what he is doing?" said Angela, growing anxious at once, as she always did. "I will run on and see," and, no one stopping her, she went.

CHAPTER XVI.

The others, scarcely noticing that she had gone, went on their way very slowly, watching the river as it swirled past, rushing by some places, at others apparently not moving. They were absorbed in sailing twigs down the stream when a flying white-faced figure dashed into their midst, chattering confusedly and almost weeping.

"Oh, what shall we do, what shall we do!" gasped Angela. "Guard found them. They are in there, dead or asleep. I don't know which. He is sniffing at their pockets. There are three of them, and he won't let them go, and it is Cousin Charlotte's cloth. I recognised it hanging out of his pocket, the one Anna wrapped the patties in--"

"_What are you talking about?_" demanded Esther, grasping Angela by the arm. "Don't be so frightened. What has happened?"

Angela tried to be calmer and more coherent. "There are three boys asleep in the very place where we were going. Guard found them. He was sniffing at their pockets when I got there, and he _wouldn't_ come away, and--I believe they are the thieves that stole our lunch. One had a bit of white sticking out of his pocket, and Guard sniffed at it and pulled it out, and I am certain it is Cousin Charlotte's doyley! Oh, Esther, what shall we do? Shall we go away, or--or shall we--"

"Go away!" cried Esther, scornful and indignant. "No, indeed, except to fetch a policeman. I am going to tax them with it, and hear what they have to say. What boys are they, do you know?"

"I believe I have seen them at 'Four Winds,' but I don't know their names--but, Esther, do you think it is safe to accuse them--"

"Safe!" cried Esther scornfully. "What is there to be afraid of?

If there was anything I shouldn't care. I am not going to let them get off scot-free, nasty, wicked thieves. They have spoilt our day, too, and all our fun. Let's be quick and catch them before they manage to escape."

The four turned and hurried to the spot. As they drew near they heard now and again a low growl from Guard, then voices half-whimpering, half-bullying. "Get away, get away you ugly great thing. You leave me alone."

Esther's and Penelope's eyes lightened at the scent of battle.

"Oh, don't let them hurt poor Guard!" pleaded Poppy piteously.

"No, dear, they won't hurt him. They are horribly afraid of him, really, I expect. Perhaps you had better stay here. Would you rather?"

But Poppy clung close, begging not to be left. If there was to be battle she was not going to let her sisters face it alone.

There was not much battle left, though, in the three young scamps Guard was keeping prisoners. The sight of the big, angry-looking dog, and the knowledge that they were trapped with proofs of their guilt on them, had quenched all their spirit. Torpid after their big meal, they had fallen asleep in their hiding-place, feeling perfectly secure from detection.

They had been awakened by something touching them, breathing into their faces, diving into their pockets where the remains of their feast lay hidden, and had awakened with a start to find a huge, eager, angry animal standing over them. They would have yelled but for the fear of drawing still more attention to themselves and their whereabouts.

When they heard footsteps approaching their terror increased a hundredfold, but when the owners of them turned the corner, and they found they were nothing worse than four little girls--the eldest no bigger than themselves--their relief was great, and their courage began to return.

They a.s.sumed at once a superior 'don't-care' air, as though they thought it all a great joke. In their own minds they felt they could easily defy such antagonists and get the better of them; but their att.i.tude only made Esther and Penelope more indignant with them.

"Now," said Esther severely, "you are caught. You are three thieves, and we have caught you, and it only remains for us to decide what we shall do with you. Guard, come here."

Guard obediently came to her side, but he only helped so completely to block the entrance that the boys recognised at once that they were no better off than they were before.

"You go away and leave us alone," cried the tallest of the young scamps, a boy of about fourteen. "We've got as much right here as you, and you've no right to stop us if we wants to go. I'll tell the p'lice as 'ow you set your great savage dog on us. Yes, I will, see if I don't!"

Esther laughed scornfully. "I should like to see you," she said contemptuously. "You wouldn't _dare_!"

"Wouldn't I! wouldn't I dare! You just wait and see then," he went on in a bullying tone.

Penelope could keep quiet no longer. "That's easily proved," she said loftily. "I will go and get one. Constable Magor will be in the village about this time, it won't take me long to get him," and she turned away.

The boys' faces were a picture. Fear, confusion, astonishment took the place of their bragging. They still kept up a semblance of defiance, but it was very lukewarm. "No, you won't. You know you don't mean it.

You needn't try to kid us. We know better."

Penelope without another word walked away. When first she spoke she had hardly intended really to get a policeman, but their taunts roused her spirit and determined her. The boys listened to her departing footsteps, and the look that came into their faces was not pretty. For a moment they looked only foolish, then their expression changed to one of bullying anger.