Part 8 (1/2)

Archie was simply afraid of her. Kenneth got on better, however. He answered all her innocent but pointed questions, as if he were talking to his grandmother. But Jessie was really asking for information, and Kenneth knew it, so the two had quite a serious old-fas.h.i.+oned conversation.

Well, Kenneth seemed a gentleman born. He sat easily in his chair, he held his cap easily, and behaved himself with polite _sang froid_. Miss Grant was proud of Kenneth.

But poor Archie looked ill at ease.

Kenneth told Jessie the story of the little black rabbit, and Jessie was much interested.

”What did it look like?” she asked.

Kenneth glanced towards Archie.

”He just looked,” he answered, ”as Archie is looking now, as if waiting a chance to bolt.”

This was a very mischievous speech, but Kenneth could not refrain from saying what he thought.

”Poor boy?” said Jessie, as if she had been Archie's mother; ”he appears to be very frightened. What beautiful hair he has! It is just like mine.”

This was true, only Jesssie's was longer and not bleached. Kenneth sat looking half wonderingly at Jessie, longer than politeness would dictate.

”What are you thinking about?” said Jessie.

”I was thinking,” said Kenneth, candidly, ”I'd give all the world to be able to talk English in the pretty way you do.”

”Some day,” Jessie said to her governess, ”we will go and see the sheep, Miss Gale. Remember that place. Put it down in your notes. We are to see a fairy knoll and a smugglers' cave. It will be so delightful.”

”We go to London soon for the winter,” said Miss Gale, ”but will come and see you, Kenneth, in spring or summer.”

”Miss Gale,” insisted the imperious Jessie, ”I haven't seen you use your tablets.”

So Miss Gale smilingly took her tablets out and noted the engagement to visit the sheep and see the fairy knoll.

”He has a flute,” said Archie, with sudden determination not to sit mute all the time; ”make him play.”

And Kenneth had to play, just the same old melodies that the Scotch so dearly love; but as he played there came so sweet and sad an expression into English Jessie's face, that Kenneth would have played for hours to please her.

When he had done, she went and looked at Miss Gale's tablets.

”Thank you,” she said, ”dear Miss Gale, but just under there write, 'Flute.'”

So the word ”Flute” was added. It was something for the child to think about while in London, a treat to look forward to, a long summer's day to be spent among the heather, among the sheep, a fairy glen, a real fairy knoll, and dreamy music from a flute.

No sooner was Archie round the corner of the hedge and out of sight of the parson's window, than he gave a wild whoop, like an Apache Indian, and ran off.

Kenneth came up with him before long. Not quite up with him, though, because Archie was high, high up in the sky, at an old magpie's nest.

The magpie was done with it, and Archie was tearing it down.

”The nasty old chick-chicking thing!” he explained to Kenneth; ”for two years running she has used the same old nest, and it wasna hers to begin wi', but a hoody-craw's.”

Away went the boys together. They had a long day before them, and meant to make use of it. They were as happy as boys could be who could do as they pleased and go where they pleased, and had bread and cheese to eat when hungry.