Part 12 (1/2)

”Until Monday, I think, Aunt Maria.”

”Very well; then you and I will begin our reforms to-morrow. I'll take you round with me, and we'll look into everything. Your father won't know the house when he comes back. I've got a treasure of a woman in my eye for him--a Miss Grinsted. She is fifty, and a strict disciplinarian. She will soon manage matters, and put this house into something like order. I had a great mind to bring her with me; but I can send for her. She can be here by Monday or Tuesday. I told her to be in readiness, and to have her boxes packed. My dear, I wish you would not poke out your chin so much. How old are you? Oh, sixteen--a very gawky age. Now then, that I am refreshed and rested, I think that we'll just go round the house.”

”Will you not wait until to-morrow, Aunt Maria? The children are all asleep and in bed now, and Nurse never likes them to be disturbed.”

”My dear, Nurse's likes or dislikes are not of the smallest importance to me. I wish to see the children asleep, so if you will have the goodness to light a candle, Helen, and lead the way, I will follow.”

Helen, again stifling a sigh, obeyed. She felt full of trepidation and uneasiness. Why did not Polly come in? Why had all the supper disappeared? Where were Katie and the twins? How strangely silent the house was.

”I will see the baby first,” said Mrs. Cameron. ”In bed? Well, no matter, I wish to look at the little dear. Ah, this is the nursery; a nice, cheerful room, but too much light in it, and no curtains to the windows. Very bad for the dear baby's eyes. How do you do, Nurse? I have come to see baby. I am her aunt, her dear mother's sister, Maria Cameron.”

Nurse curtseyed.

”Baby is asleep, ma'am,” she said. ”I have just settled her in her little crib for the night. She's a good, healthy child, and no trouble to any one. Yes, ma'am, she has a look of her dear blessed ma. I'll just hold down the sheet, and you'll see. Please, ma'am, don't hold the light full in the babe's eyes, you'll wake her.”

”My good woman, I handled babies before you did. I had this child's mother in my arms when she was a baby. Yes, the infant is well enough; you're mistaken in there being any likeness to your late mistress in her. She seems a plain child, but healthy. If you don't watch her sight, she may get delicate eyes, however. I should recommend curtains being put up immediately to these windows, and you're only using night-lights when she sleeps. It is not _I_ that am likely to injure the baby with too much light. Good evening, Nurse.”

Nurse muttered something, her brow growing black.

”Now, Helen,” continued Mrs. Cameron, ”we will visit the other children.

This is the boys' room, I presume. I am fond of boys. What are your brothers' names, my dear?”

”We call them Bob and Bunny.”

”Utterly ridiculous! I ask for their baptismal names, not for anything so silly. Ah! oh--I thought you said they were in bed: these beds are empty.”

So they were; tossed about, no doubt, but with no occupants, and the bedclothes no longer warm; so that it could not have been quite lately that the truants had departed from their nightly places of rest. On further investigation, Firefly's bed was also found in a sad state of _deshabille_, and it was clearly proved, on visiting their apartments, that the twins and Katie had not gone to bed at all.

”Then, my dear, where are the family?” said Mrs. Cameron. ”You and that little babe are the only ones I have yet seen. Where is Mary? where is Katharine? Where are your brothers? My dear Helen, this is awful; your brothers and sisters are evidently playing midnight pranks. Oh, there is not a doubt of it, you need not tell me. What a good thing it is that I came! Oh! my poor dear sister; what a state her orphans have been reduced to! There is nothing whatever for it but to telegraph for Miss Grinsted in the morning.”

”But, my dear auntie, I am sure, oh! I am sure you are mistaken,” began poor Helen. ”The children are always very well behaved--they are, indeed they are. They don't play pranks, Aunt Maria.”

”Allow me to use my own eyesight, Helen. The beds are empty--not a child is to be found. Come, we must search the house!”

Helen never to her dying day forgot that eerie journey through the deserted house, accompanied by Aunt Maria. She never forgot the sickening fear which oppressed her, and the certainty which came over her that Polly, poor, excitable Polly, was up to some mischief.

Sleepy Hollow was a large and rambling old place, and it was some time before the searchers reached the neighborhood of the festive garret.

When they did, however, there was no longer any room for doubt. Wild laughter, and high-pitched voices singing many favorite nursery airs and school-room songs made noise enough to reach the ears even of the deafest. ”John Peel” was having a frantic chorus as Helen and her aunt ascended the step-ladder.

”For the sound of his horn brought me from my bed, And the cry of his hounds which he ofttimes led, Peel's 'View Hulloo!' would awaken the dead, Or the fox from his lair in the morning.”

”_Very_ nice, indeed,” said Aunt Maria, as she burst open the garret door. ”Very nice and respectful to the memory of your dear mother! I am glad, children, that I have come to create decent order in this establishment. I am your aunt, Maria Cameron.”

CHAPTER XV.

PUNISHMENT.

There are occasions when people who are accused wrongfully of a fault will take it patiently: there was scarcely ever known to be a time when wrongdoers did so.