The Fortunes Of Philippa Part 6

It was a dark evening, with only a fitful gleam from a watery moon which occasionally showed itself behind the driving clouds, and the unlighted village street seemed quiet and deserted.

The captain lived in the end house of an old-fashioned red-brick terrace. Though he had a good garden at the side and back, his front-door and the bow-window of his dining-room were flush with the road, and by flattening our noses against the gla.s.s, we were able to peep through a crevice in the red curtains and watch him, as he sat in a particularly easy arm-chair, with a cigar between his lips and a newspaper in his hand.

"Looks much too comfortable!" muttered d.i.c.k. "Just wait till I'm ready and we'll make him sit up!"

He had been cautiously fastening a piece of cobblers' wax to the centre of the window-frame. This wax had a hole in it, through which a long piece of string was threaded, having a b.u.t.ton at the end, and it was so arranged that the b.u.t.ton should hang down over the gla.s.s, while d.i.c.k, standing under cover of the trees on the opposite side of the road, held the other end of the string in his hand.

"Are you well out of sight?" he whispered. "Don't give the thing away by flapping your skirts about and giggling. Now! Mum's the word, and you'll see some sport!"

He pulled the string, and the b.u.t.ton tapped smartly upon the window. It evidently had some effect, for the red curtains were drawn aside, and the captain peered out enquiringly into the darkness.

"Unearthed!" whispered George, but d.i.c.k gave him a severe pinch for silence, and pulled the cord again. "Rap! Tap!" sounded the b.u.t.ton on the pane. This time our foe threw open the sash, and, thrusting out his head, glanced up and down the street, muttering something we could not catch. We could see him very plainly, his red face and long white whiskers outlined against the lamp-light of the room behind, and we could hear his peculiar husky wheeze as he fumbled with the curtain, and thrust aside a small table which stood in his way.

"I hope he won't catch cold!" I whispered to Cathy, feeling just a little compunction when I heard the old man's cough. Perhaps she did, too, for she squeezed my hand; but we were in for it now, as we did not dare to move an inch for fear of betraying the boys.

Not finding anybody outside, the captain evidently thought he must be mistaken. He closed the window again, carefully drew the red curtains, and no doubt returned once more to the enjoyment of his paper and his cigar. Loosing his string, d.i.c.k crept across the road, and, giving a sudden sharp bang on the window-frame, he at the same moment dropped a number of pieces of gla.s.s which he had brought with him, and which fell on the pavement with a resounding crash. Thinking, no doubt, that his panes were smashed to atoms, Captain Vernon appeared again, in great wrath and utter mystification when he found that after all no visible damage had been done. He opened the front door this time, and came a few steps into the street, narrowly missing d.i.c.k, who had rushed back to his point of vantage opposite. He picked up a piece of the broken gla.s.s, examined it by the aid of his hall lamp, peered up and down once more into the darkness, and finally went in, slamming the door after him.

"It's my turn now," whispered George. "Just watch me bait the badger!"

"Haven't you done enough?" whispered Cathy. "It seems rather too bad, and the poor old man is getting so cross!"

"Oh, do stop, George!" I implored. "I know you'll be caught!"

"We're not half quits yet," returned George grimly. "You girls always want to spoil things by hanging back. I wish we had left you at home with Edward. Keep quiet now you're here, at any rate."

He had a coil of rope with him, and, moving with extreme caution, he fastened one end of it to the captain's door-handle, and the other end to the door-handle of the next house, which was only a few feet lower down the street. Then, seizing the knockers, he beat a terrific tattoo on both doors and fled. He had hardly gained our sheltering trees before the captain appeared on the threshold, uttering some very uncomplimentary remarks, varied by perfect explosions of coughing. As the rope had been allowed to hang rather loosely, he was just able to open his door, but at that identical instant his neighbour also desired to investigate matters, with the effect that no sooner did he open _his_ door, than it drew the rope so tightly that the captain's door was banged to with great violence. In a fury of rage he pulled it open again, which had the result of shutting his neighbour's, and for a few moments the two doors opened and closed as if they were worked by a wire. It really looked very funny, and in spite of our guilty consciences we nearly choked ourselves with trying to laugh noiselessly.

I think a faint giggle must have escaped us, or perhaps the victims of our practical joke suspected that somebody was trying to play a trick upon them, at any rate both doors were hastily slammed hard, and all was silence.

"Good old Babe!" whispered d.i.c.k, when he had recovered his breath. "Your dodge went even better than mine! But I say, we can't leave our apparatus over there! We must manage to fetch it somehow!"

They slipped across the road again, d.i.c.k to remove his lump of bees'-wax and the b.u.t.ton, and George to untie the rope; but they had counted without their host. The captain had evidently scented the plot, and was waiting for them, for from the bedroom cas.e.m.e.nt above descended a perfect deluge of water, as though the whole contents of a bath had been suddenly emptied on to the pavement below. Almost blinded for the moment, and drenched to the skin, the boys beat a gasping retreat, while such extraordinary sounds of mixed chuckling and coughing proceeded from the open window, as to lead us to suppose that the old man was exulting in his triumph.

We kept this adventure a dead secret. Cathy and I felt rather ashamed of ourselves, and, as Edward had hinted, we knew Mrs. Winstanley would have been greatly annoyed if she had discovered that we had made use of her absence to play such very questionable pranks, especially in the village, where we might so easily have been seen and recognized. Whether the captain suspected us, we could not tell; if he did, he said nothing to the squire, probably thinking that on the whole he had had the best of it, and that as he could not prove us to be the culprits, it was wiser not to push his advantage too far.

The next event in the feud was really a very innocent one on our part.

Even the boys on this occasion were quite guiltless of any evil intent, and I think the fault lay with the old captain's hot temper. It was a most lovely September afternoon, and we decided that nothing would be nicer than to take our kettle and tea-things, and after a ramble round in search of blackberries, to picnic in any suitable spot where we might happen to find ourselves when the pangs of hunger a.s.sailed us.

"Always allowing that George doesn't insist upon getting hungry before four o'clock!" said Cathy. "He'll have to wait if he does. And don't let him carry that basket, or you'll find the cake half gone! You take it, Philippa dear, and give him the kettle instead."

"Fibs!" said George. "I wouldn't touch the tuck. I'll carry them both if you like, and Cathy's satchel as well. Here, sling it over my back! Now I call this returning good for evil, Madame Catherine, when you've just been slanging me so hard!"

"Poor old Babe!" said Cathy soothingly. "You see, when people earn a bad name, it is apt to stick. But to console you, we'll let you choose where we shall go this afternoon; only make up your mind quickly, for we are all ready and waiting."

"All right!" said George promptly. "Up the common, and round by the oak-wood; there's a stream there where we can get water for the kettle, and I know a place to camp in that's just A1."

We set off without further delay, and scrambled up the hill-side on to the heathery common, where the blackberries were already ripening fast on the low brambles. It took a considerable time to fill the large milk-can which we had brought for the purpose, although there were four pairs of hands hard at work; and I don't really think a very great many had gone into our mouths, in spite of the suspicious stains round George's lips.

"Hullo, it's after half-past three!" cried d.i.c.k at last, looking at his watch. "If we want to get to the oak-wood, and then light a fire and boil the kettle, it will take us all our time to get tea by four o'clock, I can tell you!"

So, mounting the stile into the lane, we set off in the other direction down the hill, and by climbing a steep wall found ourselves at last in a pretty little wood, carpeted with soft green gra.s.s, and with a clear stream running through the midst.

"Here's the place!" said George, pointing to a kind of natural arbour, formed partly by the bank, and partly by the roots of a huge oak-tree, the branches of which stretched far overhead, and made a green roof with their interlacing leaves. "I found it out once when I came here alone, and I put these logs inside for seats. It makes a ripping summer-house, and I made up my mind we would have tea here some day. Well, what do you say to it?"

We were all enthusiastic in our approval, and Cathy and I set to work at once to lay out the tea, while the boys collected sticks for the fire, and filled the kettle at the brook. The thought that we were trespa.s.sing never entered into our heads. The Winstanleys knew all the farmers and the land-owners about Everton, and were accustomed to go where they pleased without thinking of asking leave. Being country bred they could be trusted not to trample on springing crops, disturb young pheasants, or in any way do injury to other people's property. We were quite unaware, also, that the plantation belonged to old Captain Vernon (I am not sure whether the knowledge would not have added a zest to our enjoyment!); and though we knew he owned a considerable amount of land in the district, we imagined this particular wood to be part of the preserve of a neighbouring squire, with whom the boys were on very friendly terms, and who had often taken them for a day's grouse-shooting on the moors. Cathy and I arranged the tea-cups most artistically, laying flowers and fronds of fern between them, with the cakes and the bread-and-b.u.t.ter piled up in graceful pyramids in the centre. It looked very tempting, and we all waited with some impatience for the kettle to boil; but it was a case of the watched pot, for the sticks being rather damp, the fire gave out more smoke than heat, in spite of d.i.c.k's desperate efforts to fan it with a piece of newspaper.

"I'll fetch some bracken. They've been cutting it lower down," he declared. "That'll be dry enough at any rate, and ought to help it a little. Get up, George, you lazy-bones, and bestir yourself, or we sha'n't have any tea to-night!"

The boys were not long in bringing back a large pile of withered ferns, and stoked the fire to such good purpose that the kettle was soon boiling briskly. Cathy had the tea ready in the pot, and d.i.c.k was in the very act of pouring in the water, when we suddenly heard a tremendous crashing a little higher up in the wood, and whom should we see bearing down furiously upon us, his red face redder than ever with rage, and his long white whiskers waving in the wind, but--the captain, followed by his equally crusty old gardener!

"What are you doing here, you young scoundrels?" he roared, flourishing his riding-whip as he ran, and interspersing his words with gusts of coughing. "I'll teach you to trespa.s.s on my property! Burning my wood and spoiling my gra.s.s! Boys or girls, you're one as bad as another, and I'll spare none of you! Come on, Johnson, we'll give them a lesson!"

Whether he would actually have done so, or whether he only meant to frighten us, I cannot tell; but he did not get the opportunity, for, dropping the kettle, d.i.c.k seized my hand, and dragged me down the hill at such a breakneck speed that I could scarcely keep on my feet, while George and Cathy raced behind as if they were possessed of seven-leagued boots. With the old captain's angry shouts ringing in our ears, we scrambled somehow over the fence at the bottom of the wood, and never stopped running till we were quite a long way up the high-road, and within a safe distance of Marshlands again.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "d.i.c.k SEIZED MY HAND AND DRAGGED ME DOWN THE HILL"]

"Of course we weren't in the very least in a funk for ourselves,"

explained d.i.c.k afterwards. "If it had only been the Babe and myself, we'd have stayed and tackled them both, and enjoyed the fun, but I thought the old madman was going for you girls, and the best thing to do was to clear out of his way as quick as we could. Is he gorging on our tea and cakes, I wonder? It would be like his cheek. Perhaps he'll annex the tea-cups, too, while he's about it."

But the captain was honest as regarded our property. That same evening the old gardener arrived at the back-door, and with an imperturbable countenance handed our baskets to the astonished cook, stalking away without uttering a word, in spite of the many questions she hurled at his head.

After this the boys declared it was war to the knife. They had not intended to do any harm in the wood, and therefore, they argued, the captain's action was quite unjustifiable; and as he had shown intentions of not confining the use of his riding-whip to his own s.e.x, he had forfeited all claim to be treated as a gentleman, and his conduct must be repaid with interest.

This time they did not take Cathy and me into their confidence beforehand, though from various dark hints we imagined they must have some scheme of revenge brewing in their minds.

They came home one evening br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with satisfaction.

"Done him at last!" chuckled d.i.c.k. "It was the Babe's idea, too, not mine, so I won't take the credit of it. You know the old duffer has a gorgeous pear-tree at the end of his garden; well, we just stood in the lane outside with our catapults, and shot pellets into the pears as hard as we could go. We've been wiring into them all the afternoon. Fancy they'll taste a little gritty when he comes to eat them! Too bad? Not at all! Serves the old beggar right!"

Cathy and I, however, felt somewhat uneasy, thinking the boys had gone rather too far.

"If the captain finds out who has done it," said Cathy, "and complains to Father, they'll get into the most dreadful row. He can be terribly angry over some of their sc.r.a.pes."

We waited rather anxiously for further developments, and they were not long in coming. On the very next day a large basket of pears was delivered at Marshlands by the old gardener, "with Captain Vernon's compliments".

"How very kind of him!" said unsuspecting Mrs. Winstanley. "He has never sent us a present before. They are finer than anything we have been able to grow for ourselves."

The pears were brought in at dessert, and remarkably ripe and luscious they appeared. I thought the boys looked a little conscious when they saw them placed upon the table, but they hid their feelings under a mask of would-be unconcern.

"These are some of Captain Vernon's pears, my dear," said Mrs.

Winstanley, pa.s.sing the dish to the squire. "He sent such a polite message, saying he thought we should like to taste them."

"They must be his early Bergamots," said Mr. Winstanley, choosing a particularly fine one, and slicing it. "I know he's very proud of them, and boasts that he can beat all the gardens round. Hullo! What's this?

It looks as if the pear were riddled with shot!"

"Perhaps they're the seeds, they often look black when they're ripe!"

suggested George hastily. He and d.i.c.k were eating apples, and Cathy and I had also declined the offered delicacy.

"Seeds! You don't find pips made of lead! I tell you they're pellets, though how they came inside the pear, I can't imagine. Hand me the dish, and I'll try another."