CHAPTER II
The Deputation
It was well for Nealie Plumstead that she could mostly laugh in spite oftroubles, for her life had been shadowed by a great disaster which hadbrought in its turn a battalion of cares, worries, and responsibilities.
Until she was almost twelve years old life had been one unbrokenhappiness. She had been at the head of an ever-increasing nursery, andshe had governed her small kingdom to the very best of her ability. Thenhad come a cloud of black trouble, the exact nature of which she did notunderstand even now, only vaguely she had gathered that it was somethingprofessional.
Then Ducky, whose name was Hilda Grace, had been born, and the dearmother had sunk out of life, leaving a distracted husband and sevenchildren to mourn their loss.
Following this came the long journey from the busy manufacturing town,where they had always lived, to Beechleigh and the home of Miss JudithWebber. Dr. Plumstead had come with them to see them safely settled, buton the day that Ducky was one month old, he had kissed them all round,in a heartbreaking goodbye, and had set off on the voyage to Australia.
Sometimes he used to write to Aunt Judith and send her money for thechildren's keep, when he had any to send; but he almost never wrote tohis children, although they simply pelted him with letters of the mostaffectionate description.
Two years ago, however, a great weakness had fallen upon Aunt Judith;she could write no letters nor do any business at all, and anothernephew of hers, a Mr. Runciman, undertook the administration of heraffairs.
The seven hated him in a hearty, downright fashion, for he always madehimself as disagreeable as possible to them, and certainly seemed toresent their existence.
It was soon after Aunt Judith had been taken ill that a letter comingfrom Australia, directed to Miss Webber, had been opened by Nealie inall good faith, for she never supposed that her father would writeanything to her aunt that she might not read; but to her dismay shelearned that the numerous letters of the children, instead of bringingpleasure to the heart of the exile, gave him so much pain that hebegged Miss Webber not to let them write to him, because it reminded himtoo sadly of all that he had lost in the past, and was missing in thepresent. It was such a sad, dreadful sort of letter that Nealie hadcried herself nearly blind over it, and then had gathered the others fora solemn council. The elders had no secrets from the younger ones, soBillykins and Ducky had as much to say on the subject as their seniors;and in the end it was resolved that Nealie and Rupert should write aletter to their father and tell him that they would worry him with nomore letters until he expressed a desire to have them.
A year and a half had passed since that time, but although the childrenwatched for the mails with pathetic eagerness, there had come no letterfrom their father for them. He did not write to Aunt Judith either,after he had been told how ill she was; but he wrote to Mr. Runcimansometimes, they knew, because Mr. Runciman had spoken of having lettersfrom him.
This long silence would have made them very miserable, if it had notbeen that they were so sorry for him that it never occurred to them tobe sorry for themselves. They had each other, but he was alone, and so,of course, he was to be pitied.
Inspired by the great idea, the seven woke in riotous spirits nextmorning, which not even the near prospect of an interview with Mr.Runciman could daunt, although he was quite sufficiently formidable atclose quarters to make any ordinary person afraid.
Rupert and Rumple cleaned the boots, while Nealie and Sylvia gotbreakfast ready, the three juniors having to make themselves useful inany direction where help was most needed.
They had all learned to wait on themselves during the long illness ofAunt Judith, for Mrs. Puffin had her hands full with nursing, whilesince the death of the old lady she had been in such poor health thatNealie and Sylvia had done all the cooking and most of the housework,with a great deal of help from the others.
Breakfast consisted of big plates of porridge and slices of home-madebread spread with damson jam. There were two trees in Aunt Judith'ssmall garden, and they had borne a record crop this year.
There was no lingering over their food this morning, but directly themeal was dispatched the boys washed up the breakfast crockery, while thegirls made the beds and put the rooms tidy. Then Nealie asked Mrs.Puffin to make them a suet pudding and bake them some potatoes fordinner, after which they brushed themselves into a fine state ofneatness, and then, bringing the bath chair from the shed, Rupert andDucky were packed into it and the expedition set out on the five miles'journey to The Paddock, Smethwick, where Mr. Runciman lived.
It was still quite early, and Mr. Runciman, having dealt with themorning's letters, was sitting in his library looking through the dailypaper before going out to interview his steward and settling the otherbusiness of the day, when the butler entered the room and announced:
"The seven Misses and Masters Plumstead to see you, sir."
"Goodness gracious, what next?" exclaimed Mr. Runciman in a tone ofpositive alarm.
"Shall I show them in, if you please, sir?" asked the butler in asympathetic fashion, looking as if he really felt sorry for theperturbed gentleman.
"All seven of them? Yes, I suppose you must, and see here, Roberts, justask the housekeeper to have some cakes and cocoa, or something of thatkind, ready for them to have before they go back to Beechleigh, for Isuppose that they are walking?"
"Yes, sir; that is to say, some of them are, but the lame younggentleman and the little girl rode down in a bath chair," replied thebutler, and then permitted himself a grin of pure amusement as heretired from the room to usher in the visitors, for the harassed masterof the house fairly groaned at the thought of having callers arrive insuch a fashion.
"The Misses and Masters Plumstead," announced the butler, throwing openthe door with the grand flourish which was worth at least ten pounds ayear to him in salary.
Nealie and Ducky entered first, followed by Rupert, walking alone, thencame Sylvia and Rumple, while Don and Billykins brought up the rear.
Mr. Runciman rose at once and came forward to greet them, trying veryhard to infuse as much cordiality as possible into his manner.
"My dear children, what an unexpected pleasure! Why, Cornelia, you arepositively blooming, and my little friend Hilda is as charming asalways. Ah, Rupert, my boy, how goes the Latin? Nothing like the deadlanguages for training the mind. Sylvia, you grow so fast that there isno keeping up with you. Dalrymple, you will have to use the dumb-bellsmore or you will positively have Donald and William beat you in thematter of height."
It was one of Mr. Runciman's vices in the eyes of the seven that hewould always give them the full benefit of their baptismal names,although he knew, because they had told him so, that they simply hatedthe formal mode of address, which no one used except himself. It alwayshad the effect of making them stiff and self-conscious; so now Rupertlimped more than usual, Sylvia dropped her gloves, which she wascarrying because they had too many holes to be wearable, and Rumplelurched against a pile of books that lay at the edge of the table andbrought the whole lot to the floor with a crash.
"Sorry," murmured Rumple, diving hastily to recover the volumes, andpromptly knocking his head against that of Billykins, who was alsogrovelling for the same purpose, while Nealie plunged into the businessof their visit, hoping to divert the attention of the master of thehouse from the awkwardness of the boys, poor things; but Sylvia giggledin quite a disgraceful fashion, then blinked hard at a bust of Apollowhich stood on a bookshelf opposite, and tried to look as if she wereappreciating the admirable way in which it was sculptured.
"We have come down to see you to-day to ask you if you will please sendus out to New South Wales to our father," said Nealie, holding her headat an extremely haughty angle, just because she was so very nervous.
"Good gracious! I wonder what you will want next?" gasped Mr. Runciman,who had probably not been so much astonished for a very long time.
"It would really be taking a great load of worry from you
, sir," put inRupert eagerly, thrusting himself abreast of Nealie and leaning on hisstick while he talked. "A large family, as we are, would be a valuableasset in a new country, while here we are only an encumbrance and anuisance. Besides, we should like to be with our father."
"Quite so, quite so; but think of the expense!" murmured Mr. Runciman,as he rubbed his hands together in a nervous manner. He said the firstthing which came into his head for the sake of gaining time. Theproposition was sufficiently staggering, but on the other hand it mightbe worth consideration.
"I am afraid that we must be a heavy expense to you now, sir, seeingthat we have to be fed and clothed," replied Rupert, with a deferencethat was really soothing to Mr. Runciman, who smiled graciously andwaved his hand as much as to say that the matter was too trifling to beconsidered.
"You will let us go, won't you, air, because we want to build theEmpire?" burst out Billykins, thrusting himself in between his eldersand looking so flushed and excited that Mr. Runciman, who had no son ofhis own, could not be so repressive as he felt he ought to have been.
"Eh, what? And how do you expect you are going to set about it, youngman?" he demanded, while Billykins went suddenly red in the face,because Sylvia had tweaked his jacket, which was the signal that he wasoverstepping the mark.
"I don't know, but I expect we will find out when we get there. Don andI mostly find out how to do things, and Nealie says we are going to bethe business men of the family. Rupert and Rumple have got the brains,but there is practical perseverance in us----"
The small boy came to a sudden pause, for Sylvia, fearing what he mightsay next, had dragged him into the background, leaving Nealie to speak.
"We should be very glad to go to Australia, if you please; for now thatAunt Judith is dead no one wants us here, and we might be a very greatcomfort to our father when he got used to having us." Her voice broke alittle on the last words; she was remembering the letter which she hadso innocently opened and read, and the wonder whether he would be quiteglad to see them at first crept in to spoil her joy at the thought thatperhaps Mr. Runciman was for once going to do the thing they wanted sobadly.
Her words brought a frown to his face, and when he spoke his voice hadan apologetic ring which sounded strangely in the ears of the seven.
"I am sorry that you should feel that no one wants you here. Of courseMrs. Runciman and my daughters have so many engagements that it is noteasy for them to go as far as Beechleigh very often; but we havecertainly tried to take care of you since your great-aunt passed away."
"You have been most kind," said Nealie hastily, divining in a vaguefashion that she had somehow said something to hurt his feelings, whichwas certainly outside her intentions. "But we hate to be a continualburden upon our connections, and there seems no way in which we can earnmoney here."
"Don and I could keep pigs on the stubble fields, only Nealie won't letus. We could earn half a crown a week at it too," burst out Billykins,thrusting himself to the front like a jack-in-the-box and disappearingas suddenly, being again dragged back by Sylvia.
There was a troubled look on the face of Mr. Runciman as his gaze restedupon Nealie, who was the living image of her dead mother. There was asecret chamber in his heart that was tenanted by the mournful memory ofa dead love. He had loved the mother of the seven, but she had passedhim by to marry Dr. Plumstead, and so the secret chamber had heldnothing but a shrine ever since, only it made him a little kinder to themotherless children than he otherwise might have been.
"It would be a tremendous expense to send you all such a long distance,"he said, still speaking for the sake of gaining time, yet disposed toregard the proposal as a really practical way in which to solve theproblem of their future.
"It could be done for about seventy pounds, I think, if we wentsteerage; and it is quite comfortable for people who do not mindroughing it, and as we have not been used to any sort of luxury, ofcourse we shall not miss it," said Sylvia.
"I could not allow you to go as steerage passengers," replied Mr.Runciman.
"We would much rather go as steerage passengers than not go at all,"murmured Nealie.
"I will think about it and let you know," he said, but with so muchgiving way in his tone that they burst into a chorus of imploring.
"Please, please decide now and write to tell Father that we are coming.We are quite ready to start by the next boat, and it is so lonely livingat Beechleigh now that Aunt Judith is dead," pleaded Nealie, silencingthe others with a wave of her hand.
If one of the others had spoken then, Mr. Runciman would certainly haverefused, but because of her likeness to the dead he had to give way. Hereflected, too, that if he wrote the letter now it would be impossiblefor him to draw back from his word, however angry his wife might be whenshe heard what he had done.
"Very well, I will write to your father to-night," he said.
"Do not leave it until this evening; you might forget; there are so manyother things for you to remember," said Nealie softly. "If you willwrite the letter now we will post it as we go through Braybrook Lees;then it will be just in time for the outgoing mail. Tell dear Fatherthat we are coming by the next boat. We will be ready somehow."
"Yes, please, please, dear Mr. Runciman, write now," said Sylvia,leaning forward in her most engaging manner, while even Ducky smiledupon him, clasping her hands entreatingly, just as Sylvia and Nealiewere doing.
"Very well; but it will have to be a short letter, for the cart iscoming round in twenty minutes to take me over to Aldington," he said,giving way before their entreaties and pulling out his watch to see whatthe time was; and then he touched the bell at his side, saying toNealie, as Roberts appeared in answer to the summons: "My dear, if youand the others will go into the housekeeper's room for a littlerefreshment I will get the letter written, and you shall have it to takewith you; then I will write to London about your passage to-night."
"Oh, you are a dear, a most kind dear!" burst out Sylvia, flinging herarms round his neck and kissing him on the cheek--a liberty she hadnever in her life ventured upon before, and which considerably shockedNealie, who was afraid it would make him angry, and was agreeablysurprised to find that he only seemed to be startled by it.
Then they all trooped off to the housekeeper's room, where they made atremendous onslaught upon a big and very plummy cake; and they werestill drinking cups of steaming cocoa when Roberts appeared again, thistime bringing a letter on a silver salver, which he handed to Nealiewith a grave bow, saying that Mr. Runciman wished her to read it andthen to post it, and he would ride over to Beechleigh on the day afterto-morrow to tell them what arrangements he had been able to make fortheir journey.
"It is jolly decent of him!" muttered Rupert, who had looked overNealie's shoulder while she read the letter.
"Oh, he is not half bad at the bottom, I should say!" remarked Rumple,who was wondering if Mr. Runciman would feel flattered if he were tomake a short poem about this most gracious concession to their wishes.The worst of it was that Mr. Runciman did not exactly lend himself topoetry, that is, he was by no means an inspiring subject.
The housekeeper looked on in smiling amusement at their frank criticismof the master of the house; but she was a kindly soul, and it was onlyhuman to feel sorry for these poor young people, whom no one seemed towant, now that old Miss Webber was dead. There had been a good deal ofwondering comment in the servants' hall and the housekeeper's room atThe Paddock as to what would be done with the family. Everyone wasquite sure that Mrs. Runciman would never consent to receive them, eventemporarily, and it was because of her refusal to in any way recognizetheir claim upon her kindness that they had been left for Mrs. Puffin tolook after since the death of their great-aunt.
When they could eat no more cake they bade a cordial goodbye to thehousekeeper, shook hands all round with the dignified Roberts, and thentrooped off in the highest spirits, talking eagerly of the voyage andthe wonderful things they would do when they reached the other side ofthe world.
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p; "It is almost too good to be true!" cried Sylvia, dancing along on thetips of her toes. "Race me to the gate, Rumple, so that I may get someof this excitement out of my brain, for I am sure that it can't be goodfor me, and it will never do to fall ill at this juncture."
"I can't run; I'm thinking," replied Rumple, with a heavy frown. He wasfinding difficulties at the very outset in his poem, because of theseeming impossibility of finding any word which would rhyme withRunciman.
"We will race you," shouted Don and Billykins together, and, droppingthe handle of the bath chair, they set off at full tear, while Sylviacame helter-skelter after them, her long legs helping not a little inoverhauling the small boys, who had a distinct advantage by getting awayso smartly at the first.
Rupert and Ducky clapped, cheered, and shouted encouragements to all thecompetitors, while Nealie and Rumple hurried the chair along so thatthey might view the finish from a distance; and they all were too muchengrossed to notice a discontented lady who was approaching the drivefrom a side alley, and who was not a little scandalized at the noise andcommotion caused by the seven in their departure.
The lady was Mrs. Runciman, and she walked on to the house, feeling verymuch annoyed, her thin lips screwed into a disagreeable pucker and hereyes flashing angrily.
"I thought that I told you I did not care to have those Plumsteadchildren hanging about the place," she remarked in an acid tone to herhusband, whom she met in the hall as she entered by the big front door.
"You will not see them here many more times. I am sending them out totheir father," he answered briefly, adding hastily: "I think that themoney Aunt Judith left behind her to be used for their benefit willabout cover the expense, and it will mean the solving of a good manyproblems."
"I hope it will," she said as she turned away.
It had never occurred to her to look upon the seven in any other lightthan that of a burden to be ignored, or got rid of as speedily aspossible. And because she did not like them, the children, as a matterof course, did not like her.
They did not particularly care for Mr. Runciman, but he at least alwaystreated them properly, and they guessed that he would have been kinderstill if only Mrs. Runciman had permitted it.
But when he went back to his library, and with pencil and paper began toestimate the probable cost of sending the seven to New South Wales, hesoon found that the little fund left by Aunt Judith would need a lot ofsupplementing.
"Ah, well, something must be done for the poor things, and if that iswhat they want, they shall have it," he muttered, as he shook his headin a thoughtful fashion.