Part 24 (1/2)

The suspicion presently became a conviction; and he acted on it with splendid, but unwonted, energy. In little more than ten minutes the village was ringing with the news that the prince was lost; and the baron was toddling furiously along at the head of a band composed of the village children, the village idiot, some idle fishermen, and a number of unoccupied visitors who had leapt at the chance of action. There was no lack of theories. Every other member of the group had one of his own.

The baron himself made no secret of his belief that the prince was the victim of a political plot, till the Honourable John Ruffin, out of mere idle curiosity, stopped the procession to enquire its object and on learning it proclaimed his firm conviction that the prince was neither lost, stolen, nor strayed.

By this time the news had spread to the sands; and a nurse came hurrying up with the information that the prince had gone into the marsh, mushrooming with Pollyooly.

”Ach Gott! Then that little she-devil-child haf 'im drowned in a d.y.k.e!”

said the baron cheerfully.

The suggestion increased greatly the interest of his followers; and they accompanied him into the marsh eagerly. On that expanse figures are seen at a great distance; but the searchers had gone a long way into it before they caught sight of the children. At some distance the figures of Pollyooly and the Lump, and even the basket of mushrooms were plainly recognised. But what was that strange object which moved beside them?

The baron and his band quickened their steps, Pollyooly still walked at the leisurely gait which suited the Lump.

It was not till he was within ten yards of them that the procession and the baron recognised his young charge. The procession began to laugh heartily.

The baron flung his arms to heaven and cried, or, to be exact, howled:

”Vhat is it you haf done ad 'im?”

”I didn't do anything!” cried Pollyooly with indignant heat. ”He did it _himself_! He _would_ fall into the d.y.k.e! He's the most aggravating little boy I ever knew!”

”You trow 'im into ze d.y.k.e! You id on purpose did!” cried the furious baron.

”Bollyooly didn't,” said his little charge stolidly.

”Do try and have a little sense, Baron von Habelschwert,” said the Honourable John Ruffin, smiling upon the hope of the house of Lippe-Schweidnitz. ”Pollyooly wouldn't throw any one into d.y.k.es.”

”Bud look at 'im!” cried the baron. ”'e will the enteric fever haf!”

”Oh, no. He didn't get any water into his mouth,” said Pollyooly quickly. ”I made him open it and looked, because Mr. Ruffin told me the marsh water gave people fever. It's only mud on his clothes.”

”Moodd! Onlie moodd!” howled the baron. ”His cloze, zey are spoiled!

Ze cloze of the bezd dailor of Schweidnitz!”

That was a misfortune which appealed deeply to Pollyooly. She looked at the spoiled suit of the prince very sadly, and said generously:

”Well, I'll give him half of the mushrooms--though really he didn't gather them; and I had to carry the basket.”

”Mooshrooms!” howled the baron. ”Vhat is mooshrooms wiz cloze? Zeze English, zey are all mad!”

In his emotion the baron had not kept his usual wary watch on his young charge, and so failed to observe the light of battle gather and gleam in his eyes. But as he finished the prince sprang at him, cried angrily: ”Bollyooly isn't!” and kicked him on the s.h.i.+n.

The kick was stiff and lacked its usual snap; but it was sufficiently vigorous to dislodge a good deal of the mud from the once white trouser-leg and bespatter the legs of the baron, who uttered a short howl and bent like a bow, holding off his little charge, and gazing wildly round the marsh. This time Pollyooly did not come to his aid; she gazed at him with a cold eye.

”It serves you right--talking like that about people when they try to make up,” she said coldly.

The prince, encouraged by this quite unexpected approval, made another fine effort to plant a second kick of remonstrance on the s.h.i.+n of his preceptor. His foot missed it; but plenty of mud hit it.

”That's enough, Adalbert. Stop it!” said the magnanimous Pollyooly sharply.