Читать книгу Esther's Charge: A Story for Girls - Everett-Green Evelyn - Страница 3

"How quiet they are!" thought Esther, as she dressed herself next morning. "I daresay they are fast asleep still. They must be tired after that long journey yesterday. They shall sleep as long as they like this morning. I will tell Genefer not to call them. They are funny boys, but I think I shall soon get fond of them. Puck is so pretty, and looks as though he could be very good by himself. I hope we shall be happy together soon. I shall take care of them, and show them everything; and perhaps they will teach me some new games."

Genefer came in at this moment to brush out Esther's mane of hair. The little girl had dispensed with other help at her toilet, but the great, thick, waving mass of curly hair was beyond her strength, and Genefer took great pride in brushing and combing it. She was almost as proud of Esther's hair as Mrs. St. Aiden herself.

"O Genefer," said the little girl, "I think we won't call the boys yet. They seem quite quiet, and I daresay they are asleep. We will let them have their sleep out this first morning."

Genefer made a sound between a snort and a laugh.

"Lord love you, miss, them boys have been up and out this two hours! They were off before ever I was down, and I'm no lie-a-bed. They had got the door opened and were away to the pine wood. Old Sam he saw them scuttling up the path like a pair of rabbits. There'll be no holding that pair, I can see. Boys will be boys, as I always did say."

Esther's face was full of anxiety and trouble.

"O Genefer! and they don't know their way about a bit! And all the holes, and crags, and rocks on the other side! Perhaps some harm will come to them, and I promised to take care of them! Oh, please, let me go, and I'll run after them and see if I can't fetch them home! They said something about the sea last night. Suppose they fall into one of the pools and get drowned!"

But Genefer only gave another snort.

"You take my word for it. Miss Esther, them boys isn't born to be drowned. Now don't you worrit so, child. They'll be all right. That sort never comes to any harm. You might as well go looking for a needle in a haystack, as for a boy out on the spree, as they call it. You go down and get your breakfast, and take up your mama's. We'll have them down again safe and sound, and as hungry as hunters, before you're done. It's not a bit of good your worriting after them. They can take good care of themselves, as one can see with half an eye."

Esther always submitted to Genefer's judgment, but it was with an anxious heart that she went down-stairs, and gazed up at the pine-clad hillside, hoping to see some signs of the returning boys. But there was nothing visible, and she went into the dining-room with a grave face, feeling as though she had somehow been unfaithful to her charge.

Breakfast at the Hermitage was at nine o'clock, and Esther always took up the tray to her mother's room. Mrs. St. Aiden seldom came down-stairs before noon, though she talked of getting up earlier now that the summer was coming. But Esther was fond of waiting on her, and she liked being waited upon. Afterwards Esther would eat her solitary breakfast, with a book propped up in front of her on the table; and she never thought of being lonely, especially as Smut always sat on a chair beside her, and had his saucer of milk replenished each time she poured out her own tea afresh.

But to-day Esther did not get her book; she was much too anxious, and kept rising and walking over to the window every few minutes, rather to the discomfort of the placid cat, who could not think what had come to his little mistress that day.

Esther was thankful that her mother had not seemed much alarmed by the news that the boys had gone out for a walk before breakfast.

"Boys like that sort of thing, I suppose," she said. "Their father said they were active and independent, and that we must not make ourselves anxious over them needlessly." Then she had taken up her letters and begun to read them; and Esther stole away, wishing she could be as calm and tranquil over the disappearance of the boys as other people were.

"I'm sure they have gone up to the Crag," she kept saying to herself, "and they may have got into some awful place, and all sorts of things may be happening!"

Esther could not have explained to Genefer or anybody grown up her horror and misgiving respecting the vicinity of the Crag; but it was a very real terror to her, and it had become greater since she had heard Bertie's account of the electric eye, and other awful things which were likely to be going on there now. Mr. Trelawny had an assistant now, and was going to do still stranger things. Suppose he wanted blood, or brains, or something human for his experiments! She shivered at the bare thought.

Suddenly she jumped up with a stifled cry. Through the open window she heard the sound of steps and voices; but before she had time to reach it again, the sunlight was darkened by the approach of a tall figure, and Esther saw that the missing boys were being led home by Mr. Earle, who had his hand upon the collar of each, as though he had found them a slippery pair of customers, and was resolved that they should not escape him.

"Here are your boys, Miss Esther," he remarked, walking in and depositing each of them upon the chair set ready at table for him. "I hope you have not been anxious about this pair of young rascals; and will you tell your mother, with my compliments, that I am ready to begin regular study with you all any day she may like to send word! You need not wait till next week unless you like."

There was rather a grim smile upon Mr. Earle's face, and the round spectacles glinted in the sunshine till Esther thought they must certainly be "electric eyes" – though what electric eyes were she had not the faintest notion, which, however, did not tend to allay her uneasiness.

"Thank you, sir," she said rather faintly; "I will tell mother." Then she plucked up her courage to add, "May I give you a cup of coffee after your walk?"

"Thank you; but I have breakfasted already," answered Mr. Earle with a smile, which made Esther just a little less afraid of him. "We keep early hours up at the Crag; and a good thing too for these young sinners!" and he threw a scathing look at the boys, who were sitting marvelously quiet in their places, looking exceedingly demure, not to say sheepish, though they stole glances across the table at each other, showing that the spirit of mischief within them was only temporarily in abeyance.

Mr. Earle nodded to them all and walked off through the window, and Esther looked curiously at her two charges as she poured out the coffee.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"Why, up to Old Bobby's of course!" answered Pickle, his mouth full of bread and butter. "Why can't we live up there, instead of in this little band-box? It's no end of a jolly place. Do you go often?"

"Not very," answered Esther with a little shiver.

"That's what he said," remarked Puck indistinctly, "but you'll have to come oftener now."

"Why?"

"Oh, because he said we might come as often as you brought us. I want to go every day."

"I don't think Mr. Trelawny would like that."

"Oh, he wouldn't mind. He said he didn't mind how many visits you paid him. He said little girls were worth twice as much as boys, but that's all tommy rot."

Esther's eyes opened rather wider.

"I don't know what tommy rot is," she said.

Puck burst out laughing.

"She doesn't know much, does she, Pickle?" he cried. "I wonder why Old Bobby likes girls better than boys?"

"Perhaps they're nicer to eat," suggested Pickle; and the two boys went off into fits of laughter, whilst Esther shook silently, wondering if that could have anything to do with it.

To judge by their appetites, the boys were none the worse for their morning's walk – they put away the food in a fashion that astonished Esther; but as she sat watching them at their meal, she noticed some very queer marks upon their clothes, which she did not think had been there last night – stains, and little holes, looking rather like burns; and presently she asked, —

"What have you been doing to yourselves?" and pointed to the marks.

Puck began to giggle, and Pickle answered boldly, —

"Oh, I suppose that must have been some of the stuff that smelt so nasty in the tanks."

"What tanks?"

"Don't you know? Haven't you ever been down there? In that jolly old cave under Old Bobby's house."

Esther felt a cold thrill creeping through her.

"I don't know what you mean," she said faintly.

"Well, you must be a precious ninny!" laughed Pickle, with a good-humored contempt; "fancy living here all these years, and not knowing that!"

"We haven't been here so very long," said Esther.

"Well, you've been here longer than we have anyhow. And we've found it out already."

She was shivering a little, yet was consumed by curiosity.

"Tell me about it," she said.

Pickle was quite ready to do that. He had appeased his first hunger, and he loved to hear himself talk, especially when he had an appreciative audience; and Esther's eager and half-frightened face bespoke the keenness of her interest.

"Well, you see, we woke up early, and didn't see any fun in lying in bed; so we got up and dressed and went out, and there was the path up through the wood, and we knew Old Bobby's house was somewhere up there. So it seemed a good plan just to go and look him up, you know."

"We often go out early at home," added Puck, "and look people up. Sometimes we wake them up throwing things into their windows, or at them, if they're shut. Sometimes they throw water at us, and that's awful fun. One old fellow did that, and we went and got the garden-hose, and his window was wide open, and we just soused his room with water. You should have seen him rushing to shut it up! But there isn't always a hose and pump handy," and he looked pathetic for a moment.

"Well," continued Pickle, "we got up the hill easy enough, and it was a jolly place. We forgot all about going to the house, there was such lots to see and explore. That was how we found the cave – poking about all over. There are no end of little crevasses and things – places you can swarm down and climb up again. We had a fine time amongst them; and then we found this one. We climbed down the chimney, but there are two more ways of getting in. Old Bobby came by one, and turned us out by the other."

"I've heard him speak of an underground place," said Esther in a low voice. "He said he'd show it to me, but I didn't want to go."

Puck stared at her in amaze.

"Why on earth not?" he asked.

"I thought it would be dark," she said, not caring to explain further; and both boys laughed.

"It is rather dark; but not so very when you've got used to it," said Pickle, "and boys don't mind that sort of thing. I don't know where the light gets in; but there are cracks, he said. Anyhow we got down a queer, narrow hole like a chimney, and dropped right down into a sort of huge fireplace – big enough to cook half a dozen men."

"O Pickle!"

"Well, it was. I expect, perhaps, they did cook men there in the olden times – when people were persecuted, you know, and they had places for torturing them," remarked Pickle, who had a boy's relish for horrors. "That sort of place would be just the very thing. And afterwards smugglers had it, and I daresay they murdered the excisemen in there if they got a chance. I never saw such queer marks as there were on the stones – did you, Puck? I should think they must be human blood. You know that won't wash out if it has once been spilt when there's a murder. I've read lots of stories about that. If you only cut yourself, it doesn't seem to leave a stain; but that's different from murder."

Esther's face was as white as her frock. Pickle enjoyed the impression he was producing.

"Well, I don't know what they use the cave for now, but something very queer anyhow. I never saw such odd things as they have got; it was just like the places you read of about wizards and magicians and the things they do. And there were tanks with lids, and we took off the lids and looked in, and they did smell. We put our fingers into some of them, and they smelt worse. And one of them burnt me!" and Pickle held up a couple of bandaged fingers as though in proof of his assertion.

"Old Bobby tied them up," said Puck. "He said it served Pickle right for meddling. He was in a rage with us for getting in and looking at his things. I expect he's got his enemies pickling in those tanks. I expect he's lured them to his cave and murdered them, and hidden them away, so that the stuff will eat them all up, and nobody will find their bodies. That's what I should like to do to all the nasty people when I'm a man. When you have a sort of castle on a crag, with underground caves to it, you can do just as you like, you know."

"How did Mr. Trelawny find you?" asked Esther, who was all in a tremor at this confirmation of her own suspicions – suspicions she had scarcely dared to admit even to herself.

"Well, I'm coming to that," said Pickle; "it wasn't very long after we'd been down. We heard a funny scrunching noise somewhere up overhead, and then a sort of hollow echoing sound. We couldn't make it out at first, but soon we knew what it must be. It was steps coming down-stairs – tramp, tramp, tramp – nearer and nearer."

"O Pickle! weren't you frightened?"

"Well, not exactly; but we thought we'd better hide in case it might be smugglers, or murderers, or something. There wasn't time to get up the chimney again, and I'm not sure if you can get out that way, though you can get down easy enough. Anyhow it would take some time. So we crouched behind a big stone and waited; and there were two men coming down talking to each other, and their voices echoed up and down and made such funny noises; and when they got down into the cave, it was Old Bobby himself, and that owl fellow who brought us home."

"Mr. Earle," said Esther.

"Earle or owl – what's the odds? I shall call him the Owl; he's just like one with those round gig-lamps. Well, they came down together, and then, of course, we knew it was all right; so out we jumped with a screech – and I say, Puck, didn't we scare them too?"

Both boys went off into fits of laughter at the recollection of the start they had given their seniors, and then Pickle took up the thread of the tale.

"But Old Bobby was in a jolly wax too. He boxed both of us on the ears, and told us we'd no business there – "

"He was afraid we'd found out something about the pickled corpses," interrupted Puck. "People never like that sort of thing found out; but, of course, we shouldn't go telling about it – at least only to a few special people.

"He went on at us ever so long, calling us little trespassers and spies, and wondering we had not killed ourselves; and then he led us along a funny sort of passage, and out through a door in the hillside right under the house. But they hadn't come in that way. They had come down a lot of steps; so we know that the cave is just under the house, and that Old Bobby and the Owl get to it by a private way of their own. But I could find the door we went out by easily, though there is a great bush in front of it, and you can't see it when you've got a few paces off."

"And there's a path right down to the sea," cried Puck. "It's a regular smugglers' den. He got less cross when we were out, and told us a lot of things about smugglers. But he said we weren't ever to come there again – at least not alone. He said you might bring us, if we'd give our word of honor to obey you. He seemed to want you to come, Tousle. I'm sure I don't know why, for girls are no good in jolly places like that."

"I don't think I want to go," answered Esther, putting it as mildly as possible; "I don't like underground places."

But she wanted the boys to enjoy themselves; and after breakfast she asked leave to take them as far as the fishing village that nestled under the crags upon which Mr. Trelawny's house stood. Of course there was another way to it along the road, which, though longer, was easier walking than climbing the hill and scrambling down the crags on the other side. The boys were willing to go the less adventurous way, as they had explored the cliff already, and Esther felt more light of heart, thinking that along the road they could not come to any harm.

But she was soon to realize that some boys find facilities for mischief and pranks wherever they are. The mercurial spirits of her charges kept her in a constant flutter of anxiety. They would get under horses' feet, climb up into strange carts to chat with the carters, jump over brooks, heedless of wet feet, chase the beasts at pasture as fearlessly as they chased butterflies, and make the acquaintance of every dog they met, whether amiable or the reverse. They even insisted upon taking an impromptu ride upon a pony out at grass, and enjoyed a gallop round the field on its bare back.

Esther, whose life until recently had been passed mainly in garrison towns, and who had not acquired the fearlessness of the country child, looked on in wondering amaze at these pranks, and listened with a sense of wonder and awe as the boys described their exploits at their own home, the things they did, and the things they meant to do.

Down by the shore there was no holding the pair. They tore about the little quay and landing place in the greatest excitement. They got into the boats lying beneath, and scrambled from one to the other, rocking them in a fashion that sent Esther's heart into her mouth. She felt like a hen with ducklings to rear. She had not courage to follow the boys into the swaying boats, and could only stand watching them with anxious eyes, begging them to be careful, and not to fall into the water.

"Bless your heart, missie!" said an old fisherman whom Esther knew, because he often brought them fish and lobsters in his basket fresh from the sea, "they won't come to no harm. Bless you! boys allers will be boys, and 'tisn't no good fur to try and hold them back. Them's not the kind that hurts. You sit here and watch them comfortable like. They're as happy as kings, they are."

The old man spoke in the soft, broad way which Esther was getting to understand now, but which puzzled her at first, as it would puzzle little people if I were to write it down the way the old man spoke it. She rather liked the funny words and turns of expression now, and she enjoyed sitting by old Master Pollard, as she called him, watching the boys and listening to his tales, which he was always ready to tell when he had a listener.

The boys had a glorious morning, paddling and shrimping with some of the fisher lads of the place. They only returned to Esther when they were growing ravenous for their dinner.

She was glad to get them home quickly, driven by the pangs of hunger; and she told them that Master Pollard had said he would take them out fishing one of these days, and show them how the lobster-pots were set, and various other mysteries.

Esther knew something about lobster-pots, having been with the old man to visit his sometimes; so she rose in the estimation of her cousins, especially as some of the lads had told them that "old Pollard were once a smuggler himself, longago, when he was a lad," though this Esther was disposed indignantly to deny.

"Well, I hope he was, anyhow," said Puck; "I shall ask him to tell us all about it. I wonder if he knows all about the cave, and whether they pickled corpses up there in his time."

The boys would have gone down to the shore again after their early dinner, but their aunt had another suggestion to make.

"Mrs. Polperran has been in, and wants you all to go to the rectory for the afternoon, and have tea in the garden. I said I would send you all, so that you can make friends with your little playfellows."

"Who is Mrs. Poll-parrot?" asked Pickles, with a sly look in his eyes.

"Polperran, dear. Mr. Polperran is our clergyman, and his children are Esther's little friends, and will be your friends too."

"The Rev. Poll-parrot," said Puck under his breath; and then both boys went off into fits of laughter.

"I don't think you ought to speak like that, Puck," said Mrs. St. Aiden, with mild reproof. "You must remember he is a clergyman, and you must be respectful."

Puck's blue eyes twinkled. It did not seem as though he had very much respectfulness in his composition; but he did not reply. Both the boys treated the gentle invalid with more consideration than they seemed disposed to bestow upon anybody else. They did nothing more free and easy than to dub her "Aunt Saint," and though Mrs. St. Aiden suggested that Aunt Alicia would be better, she did not stand out against the other appellation.

"You look like a saint on a church window," Pickle remarked judicially, "so it seems to fit you better;" and Mrs. St. Aiden smiled indulgently, for it was less trouble to give way than to insist.

It was with some trepidation that Esther conducted her young charges to the rectory that day. The little Polperrans had been so very well brought up, and were so "proper behaved" – as Genefer called it – themselves, that she was fearful of the effect that might be produced upon them by the words and ways of the newly-imported pair.

Mrs. Polperran herself came out to welcome them upon their approach, and Pickle, when introduced, went boldly up to her with outstretched hand.

"How do you do, Mrs. Poll-parrot? Is this the cage you live in?"

Now Mrs. Polperran was just a little hard of hearing, so that she only caught the drift of the speech, and not the exact words, and she smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, dear; this is my house, and that is the garden where you will often come and play, I hope; and there is an orchard beyond with a swing in it; and here are your little friends all ready to make your acquaintance," and she indicated her three children, who had been close beside her all the time.

Prissy's face was rather red, and Bertie had his handkerchief tucked into his mouth in a very odd way, whilst Milly was looking divided between the desire to laugh and the fear of Prissy; however, Mrs. Polperran did not observe these small signs, but told her children to take care of their little guests, and sailed back to the house herself, where there was always work to be done.

"Pretty poll! pretty poll! Scratch a poll, polly!" cried Puck softly, capering on the grass-plot as the lady disappeared.

"You are a very rude little boy," said Prissy with an air of displeasure and a glance at Esther, as much as to ask her why she did not reprove such impertinence; but Bertie made a dash at Puck, seized him by the hand, and cried out, —

"Come along! come along! Oh, won't we have some fun now!"

Immediately the three boys dashed off together full tilt, and Milly, after a wavering glance in the direction of her sister and Esther, rushed headlong after them. The elder pair were left for the moment alone, and Prissy looked inquiringly into Esther's flushed face.

"I don't think your cousins are very nice boys," she remarked with some severity; "I should think they have been very badly brought up."

Esther felt a little tingle of vexation at hearing her cousins thus criticised, though after all she was not quite sure that she could deny Prissy's charge.