Two Little Travellers Part 2

"We shan't stay very long," promised Darby; "and Mrs. Grey says we never tease her."

"Mrs. Grey hasn't got no chil'ens of her own to play wif and 'muse her, and that's why she likes Darby and me to go and talk to her whiles,"

explained Joan sagely, looking up at her aunt through the mop of golden curls which shaded her big blue eyes.

"Is that the reason? Well, since you are going, you might just bring those Cochin eggs with you that Mrs. Grey promised us. Your aunt Catharine was speaking about them a little ago. Wait a minute, and I'll hear what she says," and Auntie Alice made as if she would follow her sister to the fowl-house.

"Oh, please don't!" cried Darby wildly, clutching with both hands at his aunt's gown in order to stay her steps. "She'll be sure not to let us.

She'll ask if we've learned our Catechism, and send us to wash our hands or change our clothes, or--or _something_. You know how she does, Auntie Alice!"

Yes, Alice Turner knew her elder sister's little way very well indeed, and because of this she yielded to Darby's importunity.

"Dear, dear, what a droll boy you are!" and by the way she spoke the youngsters knew that they had won their way. "Off with you both, then, quick! Take my white basket out of the breakfast-room, and see that you carry the eggs carefully, or I'm afraid we shall all get into trouble."

"Which way shall we go?" asked Darby, gleefully swinging the basket about his head. "May we go through the fields, Auntie Alice? The ground is quite dry to-day, and the path is ever so much nicer than the road past Copsley Wood."

"You may go through the fields, dear; but come back by the road. You might break the eggs if you were to return the field way; there are so many stiles to climb. And listen to me, chickabiddies," continued Auntie Alice earnestly. "You must not on any account go into the wood; it is not a safe place for children."

"Why?" demanded Darby in astonishment, for he had little or no fear of any living thing--man or beast.

"I need not detain you now, dear, to explain further than to say that there are sometimes rough people about who might think it rather funny to behave rudely to unprotected little children."

"Don't you know there's bears in Copsley Wood, and lions and tigers and effelants, and--and--oh, heaps of drefful fings!" explained Joan, as glibly as if she had in person penetrated the many mysteries that--to her infant mind--were hidden in the cool, dark depths of the old pine wood.

"Nonsense!" and Darby smiled in scorn of his sister's ignorance.--"Do you hear her, Auntie Alice?--Why, you little goose, don't you know that there aren't any bears, or lions, or tigers, or elephants in this country? If we were in a lonely part of Africa, we might see some; but there's only rabbits and squirrels and perhaps wild cats in Copsley Wood.--Isn't she a silly, Auntie Alice?"

"I'm not a silly!" said Joan stoutly.--"Sure I isn't, Auntie Alice?"

"No, child; and you are quite right to be shy of the wood," answered her aunt gravely. "And now, if you want to go to the farm to-day, you had better be off. I think I hear Aunt Catharine coming!"

Her caution came too late, however, for in another instant Aunt Catharine was upon them.

"What is it now?" she demanded, glancing from one to another of the guilty-looking group.--"What are you doing with that basket, Darby?"

"I--we--Joan and me were going up to the farm to see Mrs. Grey,"

faltered Darby. "And please, please, Aunt Catharine, don't say we aren't to get!"

"We's goin' to bring your Cochin eggs," added Joan sweetly.

"I hope you won't mind, sister," struck in Auntie Alice, in her soft, timid voice, "but I gave them leave to go. And I thought they might as well fetch the eggs when they are coming back."

"Alice Turner! when do you mean to grow up?" exclaimed Aunt Catharine, in withering accents. "Is it that boy you expect to carry a basket of eggs? Those fidgets! Why, they'll leave the half of them on the road or sit on them by the way!"

"We willn't sit on them," said Joan stoutly. "Jetty shall sit on them, and they'll turn into dear, soft, fluffy chickens! Willn't they, Aunt Catharine?"

Aunt Catharine did not answer directly, but she looked as if she did not feel quite so sure of results as Joan.

"We'll be very, very careful, indeed!" promised Darby earnestly; and Joan echoed likewise, "Werry, werry careful!"

"Well, well; since your Auntie Alice has already given permission, I shall not prevent you, and I must admit I am in a hurry for the eggs.

Jetty is making a terrible to-do over a solitary china one in her nest.

But if they are broken or shaken--"

There Aunt Catharine paused; yet her listeners perfectly understood what she did not say.

"And remember, children, what has been so often said to you about Copsley Wood. You are not to go there on any pretext whatever! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Catharine; and we've promised Auntie Alice already," replied Darby meekly.

"Very well; see that you keep your promise, my boy. You always say that you forgot when you have been disobedient, but you are both old enough to do as you are told. And I should not be doing my duty if I did not try to teach you," added Aunt Catharine significantly, as she bent and kissed the little ones good-bye.

"And that just means that she'll punish us badly the next time we're naughty," explained Darby to Joan, as they clambered over the stile at the foot of Mr. Grey's turnip field. "Well, I shouldn't mind greatly if it wasn't putting to bed. I do hate going to bed; don't you, Joan?"

"Yes, werry much; for they're always sure to come for us when we'se not ready, nurse or Aunt Catharine! They seem to know 'zactly when we're in the middle of somefin' awful nice, and then they says, 'Bedtime, chil'ens!' Oh, it's just ho'wid!"

Joan puckered up her pretty face so comically in imitation of nurse's worried expression, and mimicked Aunt Catharine's lofty tones so cleverly, that Darby clapped his hands in delight and admiration. Then they raced each other along the breezy headland, across the sweet-smelling stubble field, through the stackyard and the orchard, until, flushed and breathless, they stood beside the mistress in the cool, red-tiled dairy of Copsley Farm.

Mrs. Grey was always well pleased to see the little folks from Firgrove, and made them warmly welcome; just as, in the long-ago days, she had welcomed their father when he too found it a relief sometimes to slip away from the prim precision of his aunts' establishment, and come rushing up the hill to count the calves, tease the turkey-c.o.c.k, ride the donkey, plague the maids, and generally enjoy himself to his heart's content. She dearly loved children although, as Joan said, she had none of her own; and the day always seemed brighter to her when Darby and Joan came flying over the fields to pay her one of their frequent visits.

There was a new donkey at the farm in those days, and as neither of the children was particular about a saddle, they rode him in turn until Neddy rose in revolt--actually, with his heels in the air!--or lay down, which was more hopeless still; for once he did that they knew that he, for one, had frolicked enough, that day, at any rate. But there were other things. They played hide-and-seek round the stacks with Scott the huge collie, who was so gentle that he would allow Joan to put her fingers in his eyes or pull his big bushy tail. They gathered apples in the orchard, hazel nuts in the copse, late blackberries from the hedge at the back of the stackyard; and they watched the pigs at their afternoon meal until Joan turned away in disgust, declaring that "the dirty fings should be teached better manners, and made to sup their pow'idge wif a spoon!"

Then, when the sun was sinking low in the west, and they had feasted to their complete satisfaction on all the dainties that their hostess loved to set before them, it was time to return to Firgrove.

Mrs. Grey put into Darby's hand the shallow basket of round brown eggs, with two tiny white ones on the top for themselves that had been laid by Specky, the lovely black-and-buff bantam. Then, with many kisses and warnings to be careful, she set the happy pair upon their homeward way.

They took turns at carrying the basket, and paused now and again to peep at their bantam eggs, not much bigger than marbles, and the others which held the promise of such sweet baby Cochins within their smooth, silk-lined sh.e.l.ls.

"Oh, I am tired!" sighed Darby at length, when they were still only half-way down the road, just pa.s.sing by the entrance to the pine wood.

"Are you tired, Joan?"

"Yes," a.s.sented Joan promptly; "this basket's so heavy. Can't we rest awhile after we pa.s.s the trees?"

"We shall rest here," said Darby decidedly; and suiting the action to the word, he took the basket from his sister's hand, placed it carefully on the roadside, and, with a deep breath of satisfaction, dropped on the soft gra.s.s beside it, just where the path branched off the highway into Copsley Wood.

"Darby!" cried Joan in remonstrance, "are you forgetting what you promised Auntie Alice, and that Aunt Catharine said we wasn't to go into the wood?"

"I'm not forgetting one bit," he replied loftily. "Sure, sitting here isn't going into the wood, is it, Miss Joan? Besides, I don't believe there's any bad people in it. They only want to frighten us," he continued, in a grown-up sort of tone; and when Darby spoke like that, Joan felt quite sure he knew what he was talking about--better even than Aunt Catharine herself!

They sat still for a little while, resting on the soft, mossy gra.s.s, listening to the song of the robins in the hedges, watching the snowy sea-gulls that hovered about the tail of Mr. Grey's plough as it turned the stubble into long, even furrows of dark, fresh-smelling soil.

Then a couple of rabbits darted by to their burrow in the wood; and at the foot of a big beech tree growing close beside the children a whole party of squirrels had gathered, nibbling hungrily at the nuts that were scattered round its base.

The little ones hushed their chatter, afraid to breathe almost, lest they should disturb the merry family meal.

By-and-by, however, Joan spoke, for she could not keep silent many minutes at a time.

"I wish I had one of those dear pretty fings, Darby," she whispered.

"How sweet and soft it would be to love and stroke! far nicer than p.u.s.s.y, for I don't think it would scratch. Look at their great bushy tails!"

"Well, sit you still and mind the eggs, and I'll creep over ever so softly and catch one for you," replied her brother under his breath, only too willing, alas! to gratify her wish. "It'll be quite easy: just one grab at its tail and there you are!"