Part 3 (2/2)

She had scarcely left when Biddy came to take the children out a walk, and after that it was their dinner-time, so that it was not till the afternoon that they found themselves quite alone and able to talk over their troubles. They had not seen Grandmamma since the morning, for she had gone out in the pony-carriage with Grandpapa to pay some visits, which in those days were _really_ ”morning calls”! and she had left word that after their dinner Duke and Pamela might play in the garden till she and Grandpapa came home.

”And when us sees them coming us'll ask Grandpapa to tell Walters to drive us round to the stable in the pony-carriage,” said Duke, jumping up and down in great excitement, quite forgetting his troubles for the moment. But his forgetfulness did not last long. Biddy began looking about the room as if in search of something; she seemed vexed and uneasy.

”What's the matter, Biddy?” said Duke, stopping in the midst of his gymnastics.

”Have you seen one of the china bowls anywhere about, you or Miss Pamela, Master Duke?” asked the girl. ”Cook is so angry with me, and she will have it I've broken it and won't tell,” and poor Biddy looked ready to cry.

”Didn't you miss it when you took the tray down?” said Pamela, and Duke was astonished she could speak so quietly.

”No,” replied Biddy, ”and then I _was_ at fault, for sure I gathered up the things quickly, and never noticed there was but one bowl. And they must have been both there, for you both had your breakfast. The only thing I can think of is that some one took it out of the room after you were downstairs, master and missy,” for it never occurred to Biddy to think Duke or Pamela would have concealed it had they broken the bowl, ”but I'm afeared Cook will lay it all on me.”

”Do you fink they cost much--bowls like these?” asked Pamela.

”Not so very much perhaps, but I don't think I've ever seen any quite like them in any shop. Besides, if even I could get to Sandle'ham to see, it's a thing I daren't do. It's one of your Grandmamma's strictest rules that if anything's broke we're to tell. And I'm sure if I had broke it I would tell.”

”Perhaps Cook won't say anything more about it,” said Duke, but Biddy shook her head.

”Not to-day perhaps. She's busy to-day, for two ladies and two gentlemen are coming to dinner. But she'll be very angry with me when she comes to send up your bread and milk to-morrow morning if so be as the bowl isn't there.”

”Are there only two like that?” asked Pamela.

”Your Grandmamma has some others, I think, but they're kept locked up in a cupboard in the china closet,” said Biddy dolefully. ”I'd tell my mistress myself in a minute if I had broke it, but the worst is, it will seem as if I have broke it and won't tell, and that will make her very vexed with me. But you must make haste to go out into the garden, master and missy. It's such a fine day, and if you stayed here it might wake Nurse. She's just fallen asleep, and the doctor said she might be better to-morrow if she got some sleep.”

”Out in the garden” to-day it was lovely, for though only April it was unusually bright and warm. And the garden of Arbitt Lodge matched the house. It was so quaint and neat, and yet such a very delightful garden to play in, full of queer little unexpected paths between high stiff hedges that quite hid such small people as ”us,” leading to tiny bits of lawn, where one was sure to find, if not a summer-house, at least a rustic bench in a nice corner beside some old tree whose foliage made a pleasant shade. Duke and Pamela had given names of their own to some of the seats and arbours, as they found this a great convenience for their games, especially that of paying visits. I think their favourite bench was one placed on what they called ”the hill;” that was a part of the garden banked up very high against the wall, from which you could look down on the pa.s.sers-by without being seen by them, and the name of this one was ”Spy Tower.” It was a nice place on a sunny day, for the high trees made it shady, and when they had no particular game they cared to play it was always amusing to watch who pa.s.sed.

This afternoon they did not feel in good enough spirits to play, and almost without speaking they walked quietly in the direction of ”the hill.”

”Us can see when Grandpapa and Grandmamma are coming in time to run round and meet them at the gate,” said Pamela, as they climbed up the bank.

”I don't think I want to see them coming, and I don't want them to see us,” said Duke. ”Sister, I am so midderable that I think if there was a big sea near here I would go into it and be drowned.”

”Bruvver!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Pamela.

”Yes, sister,” he continued, ”it would be the best thing. For if I was drown_ded_ quite dead, they'd all be so sorry that then you could tell them about the bowl, and Biddy would not be scolded. And--and--you could say it was far most _my_ fault, you know, for it was, and then they wouldn't be very angry with you. Yes,” he repeated solemnly, ”it would be the best thing.”

By this time Pamela was completely dissolved in tears--tears of indignation as well as of grief.

”Bruvver,” she began again, ”how can you say that? Us has always been togevver. How can you fink I would _ever_ say it was most your fault, not if you was ever so drownded. But oh, bruvver, don't frighten me so.”

Duke's own tears were flowing too.

”There isn't any big sea near here,” he said; ”I only said if there was.

It's just that I am so very midderable. I wish Nurse hadn't got ill.”

”Oh, so do I,” said Pamela fervently.

By this time they had reached Spy Tower. Pamela seated herself discreetly on the bench, though it was so much too high for her that her short legs dangled in the air. Duke established himself on the ground in front of her. It was a very still day--more like late summer than spring--hardly a leaf stirred, and in the distance various sounds, the far-off barking of a dog, the faint crowing and cackling of c.o.c.ks and hens, the voices, subdued to softness, ”of the village boys and girls at play,” all mingled together pleasantly. The children were too young to explain to themselves the pleasant influences about them, of the soft suns.h.i.+ne and the cloudless sky, seen through the network of branches overhead, of the balmy air and sweet murmurs of bird and insect life rejoicing in the spring-time; but they felt them nevertheless.

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