Part 6 (1/2)

”Wait just one minute, mamma dear, till I've shut my eyes. First I must get the bluey hills and the white spot into them, and then I'll shut them and see what you tell. Yes--that's all right now.”

So mamma went on.

”I fancy a cottage on the side of a hill. The cottage is white, of course, and the hill is green. Not very green--a kind of brown-green, for the gra.s.s is short and close, nibbled by the sheep and cows that find their living on the hill most of the year. The cottage is very white, for last summer it had a nice wash all over, and that lasts clean a good while in the country. There is a little low wall round it shutting it in from the hillside, and this wall is not very white, though it once was so, for it is covered with creeping plants, so that you can scarcely see what its own colour is. At the front of the house there is a little garden, quite a tiny one--there are potatoes and gooseberry bushes and cabbages at one side, but in front of them are some nice old-fas.h.i.+oned flowers, and at the other side there are strawberry plants, and behind them some rose-bushes. In summer I am sure there will be some pretty roses.”

”Oh how nice,” said Peggy; ”go on, go on, please.”

”There is a funny little wooden shed behind the house, leaning against the wall, which has a door big enough for a child to go in by, or a big person if they stooped down very much, and besides this it has a _very_ little door in the wall, leading on to the hillside. Can you guess what the shed is for, Peggy, and what the tiny door is for?”

Peggy thought and thought, but her country knowledge was but scanty.

”I can't think,” she said. ”It couldn't be for pigs, 'cos there isn't any in the cottage. Nor it couldn't be for cows, 'cos cows is so big.”

”What should you say to c.o.c.ks and hens, Peggy? There are to be fresh eggs there, aren't there? And chickens sometimes. I rather think they take eggs and chickens to market, don't they?”

”Oh yes, I'm sure they do. How stupid I am! Of course the little wooden house is for c.o.c.ks and hens. You're making it lovelily, mamma. What is it like inside, and who lives in it? I do so want to know.”

”Inside?” said mamma. ”I'm almost afraid you might be disappointed, Peggy, if you've never been in a real cottage. There are so many that look very pretty outside and are not at all pretty inside. But at least we may think it is neat and clean. There are only two rooms, Peggy--a kitchen which you go straight into, and another room which opens out of it. The kitchen is very bright and pleasant; there is a table before the window with some flower-pots on it, in which both winter and summer there are plants growing. There is a large cupboard of dark old wood standing against the wall, and a sort of sofa that is called a settle with cus.h.i.+ons covered with red cotton, standing near the fireplace.

There are shelves, too, on which stand some dishes and two or three s.h.i.+ning pots and pans, the ugly black ones are kept in a little back kitchen where most of the cooking is done, so that the front kitchen should be kept as nice as possible.”

”That makes another room, mamma dear. You said there was only two.”

”Oh, but it's so very tiny you couldn't call it a room. The second room is a bedroom, but the best pieces of furniture are kept there. There is a nice chest of drawers and a rocking-chair, and there is a very funny wooden cradle, standing right down on the floor, not at all like Baby's cot. And in this cradle is a nice, fat, bright-eyed little baby.”

”A baby,” said Peggy, doubtfully.

”Yes, to be sure. There's always a baby in a cottage, unless you'd rather have a very old couple whose babies are grown-up men and women, out in the world.”

”No,” said Peggy, ”I don't want that. A very old woman in a cottage would be _razer_ like a witch, or else it could make me think of Red Riding-Hood's grandmother, and that is _so_ sad. No, I don't mind the baby if it has a nice mamma--but only one baby, pelease, mamma dear. I don't want _lots_, like the children at the back, they're always tumbling about and sc'eaming so.”

”Oh no, we won't have it like that. We'll only have one baby--a very contented nice baby, and its mamma is very nice too. She's got quite a pretty rosy face, and she stands at the door every morning to see her husband go off to his work, and every evening to watch for him coming back again, and she holds the baby up in her arms and it laughs and crows.”

”Yes,” said Peggy, ”that'll do. And the eggs and the chickens, mamma?”

”Oh yes, she takes great care of the c.o.c.ks and hens, and never forgets to go outside the garden to feed them on the hill, and in the evening they all come home of themselves through the little door in the wall.

There's a very nice cat in the cottage too; it sits purring on the front steps on fine days, as if it thought the cottage and garden and everything else belonged to it. And----”

But suddenly the clock struck. Up started mamma.

”Peggy, darling, I had no idea it was so late. And I have to go out the moment after luncheon, and I have still two letters to write. I am a greater baby than any of you! Run off, dear, and tell nurse I want to speak to her before I go out.”

”And to-morrow,” said Peggy, ”to-morrow, will you tell me some more about the white cottage, mamma? It _is_ so nice--I don't think you're a baby at all, mamma. A baby couldn't make it up so lovelily.”

And Peggy set off upstairs in great content. The white spot would give her more pleasure than ever, now that she knew what sort of _real_ fancies to have about it.

”And to-morrow,” she said to herself, ”to-morrow mamma will tell me more, lots more. If I say my lessons very goodly, p'raps mamma will tell me some more every day. And p'raps Hallie would like those kinds better than about fairies, and wouldn't call _them_ nonsense stories.”

Poor little Peggy--”to-morrow” brought news which put her pretty fancies about the white cottage out of her head for a while.

She gave her mother's message to nurse, and after dinner nurse went downstairs. When she came up again she looked rather grave, and Peggy thought perhaps she was unhappy about Hal, who was still cross and had bright red spots on his cheeks.