CHAPTER II.
THE BOYS.
It was growing very exciting. The life of the little house, which hadhitherto run so quietly in its grooves, now seemed all at once changedand expanded. There was an air of bustle pervading the upper regions.Genefer, and a stout young maid lately engaged as joint-helper to herand the cook, were busy for two whole days in turning out a great atticwhich formed the top story of the little house, making room in otherholes and corners for the boxes and odds and ends which had been storedthere, and furbishing up this place as a bedroom for the boys, who wereexpected in a week's time.
Esther was immensely interested. She had always thought the big attic avery charming place, only when it was dusty and dark there had not beenmuch to attract her there.
Now the dormer windows stood open to sun and air, and commanded wideviews in many directions over the valley in which St. Maur stood. Twolittle white beds and the needful furniture did not take up a great dealof space, and there would be ample room for the boys to frisk about,collect treasures, and range them on the various shelves and ledges,without inconveniencing anybody, or bringing disorder into the rest ofthe house.
Moreover there was an access to the attic from the back staircase, sothat nothing dirty or disagreeable need be brought into the mistress'spart of the house at all.
Genefer regarded this arrangement as a great boon, though Esthersometimes wondered why. The answer she got to her questions wasgenerally the same, though it did not greatly enlighten her.
"Boys will be boys, all the world over, Miss Esther," Genefer would saywith a shake of the head; and when she repeated this aphorism to hermother, Mrs. St. Aiden would sometimes sigh and say ratherplaintively,--
"Oh, I hope we shall not find we have made a great mistake!" and thatused to set Esther wondering still more.
For her own part, she looked forward to the advent of these cousins witha great amount of interest. She had told the little Polperrans all aboutit, and they were greatly excited too.
"I am glad they are younger than you," said Prissy, as they walked homefrom church together. When Esther's mother was not able to get tochurch, Esther sat in the rectory pew, and her little friends generallywalked with her as far as her own gate, which was about a quarter of amile farther off than the rectory. "You will be able to keep them inorder. Boys want that. They get obstreperous if they are left alone.Bertie is sometimes a little bit like that, but I never let him get theupper hand. It would never do."
Prissy was twelve years old, and had helped her mother at home and inthe parish for quite a long time now. She was more grown-up in her waysthan Esther, though not perhaps so thoughtful. She used to tell Estherthat when she was old enough she meant to marry a clergyman and have aparish of her own; and Esther would listen with a sense of great respectand admiration, for she certainly felt that she should be very sorry tohave a parish to care for. It was quite enough to have to help hermother to manage one little house.
"I hope they will be good boys," she said rather timidly; "I shouldthink they are. They have had a grandmother and a governess as well astheir father."
"I think grandmothers often spoil boys," Prissy answered, with hercustomary air of decision. "Ours does; I don't much like when she comes.She is often quite rude to me, and doesn't listen to what I say; but shepets Bertie, and gives him things, and lets him talk to her as much ashe likes. I call that showing favoritism; I don't approve of it at all.In the parish mother never lets that sort of thing be."
"Who was that funny man in spectacles sitting in Mr. Trelawny's pew?"asked Milly, who was walking in front with Bertie, but who suddenlyturned back to ask the question.
Esther had not even noticed him. She never looked towards Mr. Trelawnyif she could help it. Often his great, deep-set eyes would be fixed uponher face, and that made her blush and tremble, and so she never glancedhis way willingly. She had not even seen that there had been a strangerwith him.
"I don't know," answered Prissy, as Esther evidently had no informationto give; "I've never seen him before. I suppose he's a friend of Mr.Trelawny's, but he doesn't often have a visitor at the Crag. He's aqueer man, mother says; though father always likes him."
"The other man looked like an owl; his spectacles were quite round,"remarked Herbert; "most people's are oval. When the sun got on them theylooked as if they were made of fire--like a big cat's eyes shining inthe dark."
"Oh, don't," cried Esther quickly.
"Don't what?" asked Herbert, staring.
Esther colored and looked half ashamed.
"I don't know quite. I felt afraid. I always do feel a little afraid ofMr. Trelawny. I wonder who the other gentleman is."
Esther was soon to know.
She had spent her Sunday afternoon curled up in the garden with a book,and she had not even heard the bell when it rang. She had no idea therewere visitors with her mother, and when she came in at half-past four topour out her afternoon tea, which on Sunday they shared together, shegave a great jump and dropped her book, for there was Mr. Trelawnysitting beside her mother, and a strange gentleman standing looking outof the window, and he had on round spectacles, just such as Herbert haddescribed.
He stepped forward and picked up Esther's book, and gave it into herhands with a smile; and as she stepped timidly forward to shake handswith Mr. Trelawny, she heard him say,--
"This is one of your future pupils, Earle."
So this was the tutor. It had never occurred to Esther that he wouldcome so soon, or that he would be a friend of Mr. Trelawny's. Somehowthe whole thing frightened her a good deal. She was shaking all over asshe gave her hand to Mr. Earle; and he seemed to notice it, for helaughed and said,--
"So you seem to think that tutor spells ogre, little Miss Esther. Weshall have to see if we can't get over that impression somehow."
Then Mr. Trelawny's great laugh rang out through the room, and heexclaimed in his big voice,--
"Oh, you won't have much trouble with her ladyship here. She will onlywant the birch-rod occasionally. She's a mighty hand at books, as itis--quite a budding blue-stocking, if that isn't a mixed metaphor. It'sthe boys you'll want that cane of mine for.--Eh, Esther? A pair of youngpickles, I take it, that will take a deal of breaking-in. You tell themwhen they come that I've a fine array of sticks and canes from all partsof the world for Mr. Earle to take his choice of. He'll thrash somediscipline into them, never you fear. You shan't have all thebreaking-in to do. He's a fine hand at swishing, you'll see."
Then the other gentleman said something in a language Esther did notunderstand, at which Mr. Trelawny broke out into one of his rollinglaughs, and Esther got away behind the tea-table, and began pouring outthe tea with very shaking hands; and though Mr. Earle came and took thecups, and talked to her quite kindly, her heart was all in a flutter,for she thought he was like the cruel old witch in the fairy-tale, whowas so kind to the little boys and girls till she had got them into herhouse and into the cage, and then began to beat and starve them.
The thought of the array of sticks and canes up at the Crag, of whichthe tutor was to have the choice, seemed to swim before her eyes all thewhile.
"It is a pity you are always so shy and awkward with Mr. Trelawny,Esther," said her mother a little plaintively when the gentlemen hadgone. "He is really very kind, and would make a great pet of you if youwould let him; but you're always so cold and distant, and seemfrightened out of your wits. It's really very silly of you. And younever will call him uncle, though he has asked you more times than I cancount."
"I can never remember," answered Esther in a very small voice. "Italways goes out of my head. Besides, he isn't my uncle."
"No, not exactly; but he's a kind of cousin, and you might just as welldo as he asks. It vexes me when your manners are so bad just when hecomes. I thought you were going to cry or to faint just now. It is sosilly to be frightened when gentlemen have a little bit of fun. Itdoesn't mean anything."
There were tears in Esther's eyes, but she held them br
avely back.
"I can't help being frightened at Mr. Trelawny, mama. I know he is kindbut he does frighten me. Is Mr. Earle a friend of his? And is he reallyour tutor?"
"He will be soon. But the boys are to have a week to settle down firstbefore beginning lessons. Yes, Mr. Earle is the son of an old friend ofMr. Trelawny's; and he is very clever, and a great lover of the samethings that interest Mr. Trelawny so much. So, for a time, at least, hewill live up at the Crag, and come down every day for your lessons. Therest of the time he and Mr. Trelawny can spend together in theirlaboratory, or whatever they call it. There are a lot of experimentsthey want to make together."
Esther tried hard to subdue the tremor which took hold of her at thisthought, but it really was rather terrible to think that their tutorwould be another of those mysterious magicians, such as she had readabout in romances, who lived all day, when they could manage it, shut upwith crucibles and other strange things, trying all sorts ofexperiments, and seeking after the elixir of life, or other mysteriouscompounds, that would change everything into gold, or give them powersuch as no men possessed before.
But it was no use trying to seek sympathy from her mother, or even fromGenefer. They could not understand her fear of Mr. Trelawny. They didnot believe that he had subterranean places where he lived when he wasalone, or that he could see through the earth, and come up just where hechose, and know everything that was going on overhead.
Grown-up people never seemed to understand these things. Even Prissywould say, "Oh, nonsense!" when Esther tried to explain the source ofher fears. But Millie and Bertie would listen open-mouthed; and when thechildren met the next day, Prissy being with her mother, the little boybroke out at once with a piece of startling intelligence.
"He's Mr. Earle, and he's going to be your tutor; and he's very clever,and he's found out a great many things, and he's going to find out a lotmore with Mr. Trelawny. I heard father say they were going to have anelectric eye, that could see through walls and things. I expect he's gotelectric eyes in his head now, and that's why he wears those funnyspectacles. I suppose he's going to make a pair for Mr. Trelawny, andthen he'll be able to see everything too. It won't be any use trying torun away from them then. Why, they'll see you right through thehillside."
Esther began to quake all over.
"O Bertie, they couldn't!"
"But they can!" he argued stoutly. "I heard father trying to explain tomother. He said they had things that went right through the hill, andcould ring bells or something on the other side. But you can't see it. Isuppose it's a sort of familiar spirit that does it, but the electriceye has got something to do with it. It's going to be very queer upthere, I think. Perhaps they'll want children's blood for some of theirexperiments, like the old wizard of the mountains. I'll lend the book toyou again, if you like. It tells you lots of things about him."
"No, please, don't," said Esther, who already remembered more than shedesired of the blood-curdling story; "besides, I thought your mother hadtaken the book away."
"Yes, but we found it again when the house was cleaned, and it's in ourcupboard now. I like it awfully."
"I don't," replied Esther, whose imagination was considerably more vividthan that of the stolid and horror-loving Herbert. "I don't want to readit any more. Mr. Trelawny's quite bad enough alone."
"Only he's not alone any more," said Milly; "he's got your tutor withhim."
Esther went home in a very subdued frame of mind. She had so lookedforward to regular lessons with a tutor, who could really explain thingsto her, and teach her the things she longed to know; and it was hardthat he should turn out to be a strange and mysterious being, secondonly in terrors to Mr. Trelawny himself. That's what came of trustinghim with the task of choosing the tutor. Oh dear! it seemed as thoughlife were going to be rather a hard thing for Esther in the future.
However, there really was not much time to think about it all, for theboys were coming. They would be here very soon, and the preparations fortheir arrival filled up every bit of spare time, and occupied the wholehousehold.
Then came the afternoon upon which they were to arrive. They were toleave London very early in the morning, their father putting them incharge of the guard of the train, who was to see them safely to theirjourney's end; and Mr. Trelawny had volunteered to drive as far as thejunction, twelve miles away, and save them the little slow piece uponthe local line.
The boys' father had hoped to have time to bring them down himself, butat the last it had proved impossible. However, they were to bedispatched under official escort, and were bound to turn up safe andsound.
It was with a very fluttering heart that Esther stood at the gatelooking down the stretch of white road which led up to the house. Shepitied the little boys being met by the terrible Mr. Trelawny, andpictured them crouched up in the carriage like a pair of frightened micewatched over and guarded by a monster cat. Her mother had suggested thatshe should go to meet them also, but Esther's courage had not been equalto the ordeal of the long drive with Mr. Trelawny. So there she waswaiting at the gate, her heart in her mouth each time the roll of wheelswas heard upon the road, running indoors now and then, just to see thateverything was in readiness for the travelers' tea, when the littlefellows should have arrived, but never long away from her post besidethe gate.
At last she heard the unmistakable sound of the beat of a pair ofhorses' feet upon the hard road. That must be the carriage. The colorcame and went in her cheeks. She called out to Genefer that they werereally coming at last, and then stood with the gate wide open behindher, whilst the odd-job man stood a little in the rear, ready to helpwith the luggage.
Round the bend in the road dashed the carriage. Esther heard a clamor ofvoices before it had stopped. There were two heads poked far out of thewindow, and two shrill voices were exchanging a perfect hurricane ofcomment and question. She saw that each boy was being held from behindby a hand upon his collar; then the carriage stopped, and the voicesbecame audible.
"Let go, Old Bobby!" cried one voice. "Here we are!"
"The carriage can't get through the gate," shrieked the other. "Oh,drive on, drive on, coachman, and let us stick fast. It would be suchfun!"
"There, get out with you, you young pickles!" spoke Mr. Trelawny's deepbass from within the carriage. "I'm thankful to deliver you up withsound skins and whole bones. Don't you see your cousin Esther waiting tospeak to you? Take off your caps, and behave like little gentlemen, ifyou know how to."
The boys were out in a trice, but they had not even a look for Esther.Both had darted round to the horses, and stood under their noses,reaching up to stroke them, perfectly fearless, and asking the coachmana hundred questions about them.
Mr. Trelawny came behind and took them each by the collar once more.
"Didn't you hear me tell you to go and speak to your cousin?"
"Oh, she's only a girl, and she'll always be there. I like horses best,"remarked one youngster in a perfectly audible voice; and sensitivelittle Esther bit her lip, though she felt no anger in her heart. Afterall, she was only a girl.
"I don't want to stay in this poky little house. I'll go on with you,and live in your house instead."
The next moment, to Esther's unspeakable astonishment and dismay, boththe boys had scrambled back into the carriage, and were clinging tightlyto the seats, shrieking out to the coachman,--
"Drive on! drive on! This isn't the house! We're going to live with thebobby man!"
Esther stood perfectly aghast, unable either to speak or move. She didnot know which impressed her most--the extraordinary behavior of hercousins, or their perfect fearlessness towards Mr. Trelawny, whom theytreated without a particle of respect.
His face was rather grim, though there was a humorous gleam in his eyesas he put out his long, strong arms, and hauled the obstreperous boysout of the carriage, amid much squealing, and kicking, and roars oflaughter.
It was all play, but a sort of play that Esther did not understand inthe least. With a bo
y held fast in each hand, Mr. Trelawny turned to thegrave-faced little girl and said,--
"I had meant to present these two young gentlemen to your mother myself,but I think the only thing I can do is to get away as fast as I can.Perhaps they will come to their senses then;" and so saying, he made asudden dive into the carriage, which had now been relieved of theluggage with which it had been piled.
The boys were after him like a shot, and Esther was in terror lest theyshould be run over before the carriage got safely away; but at last thiswas achieved, after much shouting and bawling and scrimmaging; andthough both boys set off in pursuit like a pair of street Arabs, thehorses soon left them behind, and they returned panting and breathlessto the little gate.
"How d'ye do? Hadn't time to speak to you before."--Page 43. _Esther's Charge._]
"He's a jolly old buffer," said one of the boys; "I'd like to have gonewith him."
"I shall go and see him every day," remarked the other. "He said helived close by."
Then they reached the gate once more, and held out their rather smuttypaws to Esther.
"How d'ye do? Hadn't time to speak to you before. Are we all going tolive in this funny little box of a place?"
"It's our house," answered Esther shyly, much more afraid of the boysthan they of her; indeed they did not seem to know what fear or shynesswas. "I think you'll find there's plenty of room inside; and we have avery nice little garden."
"Call this a garden!" said the boy, with a look round; "I call it apocket-handkerchief!"
Then they both laughed, and Esther laughed too, for there was somethinginfectious about their high spirits, though they did talk in a fashionshe had never heard before.
"Come and see mama first," she said, "and then I'll take you up-stairsto wash your hands, and then we'll have tea together. I daresay you arehungry."
They followed her into the little drawing-room where Mrs. St. Aiden lay.On her face there was a look of some perplexity, for she had heard agreat deal of shouting and laughing, and was in some anxiety to knowwhat it could mean.
Now she was looking upon a couple of little boys, in plain dark-blueknickerbocker suits, both having round faces and curly hair, though thatof the elder boy was dark brown, and his eyes were a bright hazel;whilst the younger was blue-eyed, his hair the color of burnished gold,and his face, when at rest, wore a sort of cherubic expression that wentto his aunt's heart.
"My dears, I am very glad to see you," she said. "Come and kiss me, andtell me which is Philip and which is Percy."
The boys looked at each other, and a gleam came into their eyes.
"We'll kiss you to-day," said the elder one, advancing, and speakingwith the air of one making a great concession, "because we've justcome, and Crump said we were to. But we're not going to kiss every day.That's like women and girls. Boys don't kiss like that. So you won'texpect it, you know."
Then the pair advanced simultaneously; each gave and received a kiss,and stood back again, the younger one wiping the salute from his facewith the cuff of his jacket.
"I hope you're not a kissing girl," he said in a low voice to Esther,who stood behind lost in amaze, "because I shan't let you kiss me."
"And which is Philip and which is Percy?" asked Mrs. St. Aiden again,more disposed to be afraid of the boys than they of her.
"Oh, we don't call ourselves by these affected names--nobody does," saidthe elder of the pair in lofty tones. "I suppose I'm Philip, but reallyI hardly know. They all call me Pickle, and him Puck. You'll have to dothe same."
"I am not very fond of nicknames," said Mrs. St. Aiden, not quitepleased. "I shall call you by your right names whilst you are in myhouse."
"Call away; we shan't answer!" cried Pickle, with one of the ringinglaughs which took off just a little from the bluntness of hisspeech.--"Come along, Puck, we've done it all now.--Oh, one thing more.Crump sent his love to you, and was sorry he couldn't come down and seeyou. I think that's all."
"But I don't understand. Who is Crump?" asked Mrs. St. Aiden ratherbreathlessly.
"Oh, only father," answered Puck, as he sidled out at the door; and thenmaking a dash across into the dining-room, he set up a great whoop ofdelight, for there was a splendid tea set out--chicken, and ham, andtarts, and Devonshire cream, and several kinds of cake and jam; and theboys had scrambled on to their chairs in a twinkling, and were callingout to somebody to make haste and give them their tea, as they were juststarving.
"But you haven't washed your hands," said Esther aghast.
They contemplated their grubby little paws with great equanimity.
"Mine aren't dirty to speak of," said Pickle.
"Mine are quite clean," asserted Puck, with an angelic smile.
"We're not like cats and girls, who are always washing," added Pickle."Do give us our tea. We're so hungry and thirsty!"
"But you haven't said grace!" said Esther, whereupon the boys began tolaugh.
"Grown-up people don't say grace now. It's not the fashion. But fireaway if you want to. Crump used to make us try, but we always burst outlaughing in the middle, so we gave it up."
Esther said grace gravely, and the boys did not laugh that time. Thenshe helped them to what they wanted, regarding them rather in the lightof wild animals, upon whose next acts there was no depending. And yet itwas rather interesting, and she wanted to know more about them and theirodd ways.
"Why do you call your father Crump?" she asked tentatively.
"Well, we have to call him something," said Pickle, with his mouth full,and they both began to giggle.
"It's my name," said Puck, after a short pause. "I thought of it in bedone night. We laughed for nearly an hour afterwards. We've called himit ever since."
"Does he like it?"
They stared at her round-eyed and amazed.
"I don't know. We never asked him. We've always got some name for him.You've got to call people something."
"Why don't you call him father?" asked Esther mildly; but at thatquestion they both went off into fits of laughter, and she felt herselfgetting red without knowing why.
"What's your name?" asked Puck, when he had recovered himself; but hisbrother cut in by saying,--
"You know it's Esther--Old Bobby told us that."
"So he did; and he said you were frightened at him, and that we shouldhave to teach you better. Fancy being frightened at an old buffer likethat--a jolly one too!"
Esther sat in silent amaze. She knew they were talking of Mr. Trelawny,but she was dumfounded at their audacity, and it was ratherdisconcerting to hear that he was aware of her feelings towards him.She hoped that he took her silence for a grown-up reserve.
"You mustn't call Mr. Trelawny names," she said. "He's quite an oldgentleman, and you must treat him with respect."
"I said he was a nice old buffer," said Puck, as though after thatnothing more could be expected of him.
"But you call him 'Old Bobby,' and I can't think how you dare. It isn'tat all respectful. I wonder he lets you."
"Well, he shouldn't play the bobby on us then," answered Pickle. "Hesaid he'd come to carry us off, and he marched us out of the stationlike a pair of prisoners. We had to call him bobby after that. I want togo and see his house. Can we go up after tea?"
Esther shook her head. She was not prepared for such a move.
"You'd better wait for another time for that," she said. "I'll show youour house when you're done with tea."
"All right; but there isn't much to show, I should think. It's thefunniest little box I was ever in. But perhaps we'll get some fun outof it, all the same. Crump said the sea was quite near. That'll be jollyfun. I like the sea awfully."
"I don't go there very often," said Esther. "Mama does not care aboutit. The coast is rather dangerous, you know."
But both boys began to laugh, as they seemed to do at whatever she said;and Esther let them finish their tea in silence, and then took them theround of the small premises.
They liked their attic, which was a c
omfort; and they liked the stableand little coach-house, and the bit of paddock and orchard beyond; andthey looked with great approval at the pine wood stretching upwardstowards the craggy heights between them and the sea, where Esther toldthem Mr. Trelawny's house stood. It could not be seen from there, butshe showed them the path which led up to it and they cried, "Jolly,jolly, jolly!" and hopped about from one foot to another, and Estherwondered if it would be possible for them to go to that strange oldhouse upon the summit of the crag, and not feel afraid of it.
It was a comfort to Esther that they were not unkind to her cat. Theywere rather disgusted that there was no dog belonging to the house; butthey seemed kind-hearted boys, and left the cat in peace by the kitchenfire.
They had been up so early that morning that they were sleepy beforetheir usual bed-time; and Esther was rather relieved when, at last, theywere safely shut into their room for the night, having indignantlydeclined the offices of Genefer as nursery-maid, saying that they coulddo everything for themselves and each other.
Esther showed them up to their room herself, half fascinated, halfrepelled by their odd words and ways. Their parting good night, shoutedthrough the door to her, was characteristic in the extreme.
"We're going to call you Tousle," one of them bawled through thekey-hole; "you've got such a mop of hair hanging down, you know."