CHAPTER III
RAVENSNEST
"Poor little souls! How late they are sleeping. They must have beentired last night."
So said nurse at eight o'clock, when she came back into the nursery froma journey to the kitchen after the breakfast things, and found thechildren still fast asleep; so fast that it looked as if they meant togo on sleeping till dinner-time.
"Milly!" she called softly, shaking her very gently, "Milly, it'sbreakfast-time, wake up!"
Milly began to move about, and muttered something about "whistles" and"hedges" in her sleep.
Then nurse gave her another little shake, and at last Milly's eyes didtry very hard to open--"What is it? What do you want, Nana? Where arewe?--Oh, I know!"
And up sprang Milly in a second and ran to the window, her sleepy eyeswide open at last. "Yes, there they are! Come and look, Nana! There,past those trees--don't you see the mountains? And there is fatherwalking about; and oh! do look at those roses over there. Dress mequick, dress me quick, please, dear Nana."
Thump! bump! and there was Olly out of bed, sitting on the floor rubbinghis eyes. Olly used always to jump out of bed half asleep, and then sita long time on the floor waking up. Nurse and Milly always left himalone till he was quite woke up. It made him cross if you began to talkto him too soon.
"Milly," said Olly presently, in a sleepy voice, "I'm going right up themountains after breakfast. Aren't you?"
"Wait till you see them, Master Olly," said nurse, taking him up andkissing him, "perhaps your little legs won't find it quite so easy toclimb up the mountains as you think."
"I can climb up three, four, six, seven mountains," said Olly stoutly;"mountains aren't a bit hard. Mother says they're meant to climb up."
"Well, I suppose it's like going up stairs a long way," said Milly,thoughtfully, pulling on her stockings. "You didn't like going up thestairs in Auntie Margaret's house, Olly."
Auntie Margaret's house was a tall London house, with ever so manystairs. The children when they were staying there were put to sleep atthe top, and Olly used to sit down on the stairs and pout and grumbleevery time they had to go up.
But Olly shook his obstinate little head.
"I don't believe it's a bit like going up stairs."
However, as they couldn't know what it was like before they tried, nursetold them it was no good talking about it. So they hurried on with theirdressing, and presently there stood as fresh a pair of morning childrenas anyone could wish to see, with rosy cheeks, and smooth hair, andclean print frocks--for Olly was still in frocks--though when the wintercame mother said she was going to put him into knickerbockers.
And then nurse took them each by the hand and led them through some longpassages, down a pretty staircase, and through a swing door, into whatlooked like a great nagged kitchen, only there was no fireplace in it.The real kitchen opened out of it at one side, and through the door camea smell of coffee and toast that made the children feel as hungry aslittle hunters. But their own room was straight in front, across thekitchen without a fireplace, a tiny room with one large window hunground with roses, and looking out on to a green lawn.
"Nana, isn't it pretty? Nana, I think it's lovely!" said Milly, lookingout and clapping her hands. And it _was_ a pretty garden they could seefrom the window. An up-and-down garden, with beds full of brightflowers, and grass which was nearly all moss, and so soft that nocushion could be softer. In the distance they could hear a littlesplish-splash among the trees, which came, Milly supposed, from theriver mother had told them about; while, reaching up all round thehouse, so that they could not see the top of it from the window, was thegreen wild mountain itself, the mountain of Brownholme, under whichUncle Richard's house was built.
The children hurried through their breakfast, and then nurse coveredthem up with garden pinafores, and took them to the dining-room to findfather and mother. Mr. and Mrs. Norton were reading letters when thechildren's curly heads appeared at the open door, and Mrs. Norton wasjust saying to her husband:
"Aunt Emma sends a few lines just to welcome us, and to say that shecan't come over to us to-day, but will we all come over to her to-morrowand have early dinner, and perhaps a row afterward--"
"Oh, a row, mother, a row!" shouted Olly, clambering on to his mother'sknee and half-strangling her with his strong little arms; "I can row,father said I might. Are we going to-day?"
"No, to-morrow, Olly, when we've seen a little bit of Ravensnest first.Which of you remembers Aunt Emma, I wonder?"
"I remember her," said Milly, nodding her head wisely, "she had a bigwhite cap, and she told me stories. But I don't quite remember her face,mother--not _quite_."
"I don't remember her, not one bit," said Olly. "Mother, does she keepsaying, 'Don't do that;' 'Go up stairs, naughty boys,' like Jacky's auntdoes?"
For the children's playfellows, Jacky and Francis, had an aunt livingwith them whom Milly and Olly couldn't bear. They believed that shecouldn't say anything else except "Don't!" and "Go up stairs!" and theywere always in dread lest they should come across an aunt like her.
"She's the dearest aunt in the whole world," said mother, "and she neversays, 'Don't,' except when she's obliged, but when she does say itlittle boys have to mind. When I was a little girl I thought there wasnobody like Aunt Emma, nobody who could make such plans or tell suchsplendid stories."
"And, mother, can't she cut out card dolls? asked Milly. Don't you knowthose beautiful card dolls you have in your drawer at home--didn't AuntEmma make them?"
"Yes, of course she did. She made me a whole family once for mybirthday, a father and a mother, and two little girls and two littleboys. And each of the children had two paper dresses and two hats, onefor best and one for every day--and the mother had a white evening dresstrimmed with red, and a hat and a bonnet."
"I know, mother! they're all in your drawer at home, only one of thelittle boys has his head broken off. Do you think Aunt Emma would makeme a set if I asked her?"
"I can't say, Milly. But I believe Aunt Emma's fingers are just as quickas ever they were. Now, children, father says he will take you out whileI go and speak to cook. Olly, how do you think we're going to get anymeat for you and Milly here? There are no shops on the mountains."
"Then we'll eat fisses, little fisses like those!" cried Olly, pointingto a plate of tiny red-spotted fish that father and mother had beenhaving for breakfast.
"Thank you, Olly," said Mr. Norton, laughing; "it would cost a good dealto keep you in trout, sir. I think we'll try for some plain mutton foryou, even if we have to catch the sheep on the mountains ourselves. Butnow come along till mother is ready, and I'll show you the river wherethose little fishes lived."
Out ran the children, ready to go anywhere and see anything in thisbeautiful new place, which seemed to them a palace of wonders. Andpresently they were skipping over the soft green grass, each holding oneof father's hands, and chattering away to him as if their little tongueswould never stop. What a hot day it was going to be! The sky overheadwas deep blue, with scarcely a cloud, they could hear nothing in thestill air but the sleepy cooing of the doves in the trees by the gate,and the trees and flowers all looked as if they were going to sleep inthe heat.
"Father, why did that old gentleman at Willingham last week tell motherthat it always rained in the mountains?" asked Milly, looking up at theblue sky.
"Well, Milly, I'm afraid you'll find out before you go home that it doesknow how to rain here. Sometimes it rains and rains as if the sky werecoming down and all the world were going to turn into water. But nevermind about that now--it isn't going to rain to-day."
Down they went through the garden, across the road, and into a field onthe other side of it, a beautiful hay-field full of flowers, with just anarrow little path through it where the children and Mr. Norton couldwalk one behind another. And at the end of the path what do you thinkthey found? Why, a chattering sparkling river, running along overhundreds and thousands of brown and green pebbles, so fast that it
seemed to be trying to catch the birds as they skimmed across it. Thechildren had never seen a river like this before, where you could seeright to the very bottom, and count the stones there if you liked, andwhich behaved like a river at play, scrambling and dancing and rushingalong as if it were out for a holiday, like the children themselves.
"What do you think of that for a river, children?" said Mr. Norton."Very early this morning, when you little sleepyheads were in bed, I gotup and came down here, and had my bath over there, look--in that nicebrown pool under the tree."
"Oh, father!" cried both children, dancing round him. "Let us have ourbaths in the river too. Do ask Nana--do, father! We can have our bathingthings on that we had at the sea, and you can come too and teach us toswim."
"Well, just once perhaps, if mother says yes, and it's very warmweather, and you get up very _very_ early. But you won't like it quiteas much as you think. Rivers are very cold to bathe in, and those prettystones at the bottom won't feel at all nice to your little toes."
"Oh, but, father," interrupted Milly, "we could put on our sand shoes."
"And wouldn't we splash!" said Olly. "Nurse won't let us splash in ourbath, father, she says it makes a mess. I'm sure it doesn't make a_great_ mess."
"What do you know about it, shrimp?" said Mr. Norton, "you don't have totidy up. Hush, isn't that mother calling? Let's go and fetch her, andthen we'll go and see Uncle Richard's farm, where the milk you had forbreakfast came from. There are three children there, Milly, besides cowsand pigs, and ducks and chickens."
Back ran Milly and Olly, and there was mother watching for them with abasket on her arm which had already got some roses lying in it.
"Oh, mother! where did you get those roses?" cried Milly.
"Wheeler, the gardener, gave them to me. And now suppose we go first ofall to see Mrs. Wheeler, and gardener's two little children. They livein that cottage over there, across the brook, and the two little oneshave just been peeping over the wall to try and get a look at you."
Up clambered Milly and Olly along a steep path that seemed to take themup into the mountain, when suddenly they turned, and there was anotherriver, but such a tiny river, Milly could almost jump across it, and itwas tumbling and leaping down the rocks on its way to the big riverwhich they had just seen, as if it were a little child hurrying to itsmother.
"Why, mother, what a lot of rivers," said Olly, running on to a littlebridge that had been built across the little stream, and looking over.
"Just to begin with," said Mrs. Norton. "You'll see plenty more beforeyou've done. But I can't have you calling this a river, Olly. These babyrivers are called becks in Westmoreland--some of the big ones, too,indeed."
On the other side of the little bridge was the gardener's cottage, andin front of the door stood two funny fair-haired little children withtheir fingers in their mouths, staring at Milly and Olly. One was alittle girl who was really about Milly's age, though she looked muchyounger, and the other was a very shy small boy, with blue eyes andstraggling yellow hair, and a face that might have been pretty if youcould have seen it properly. But Charlie seemed to have made up his mindthat nobody ever should see it properly. However often his mother mightwash him, and she was a tidy woman, who liked to see her children lookclean and nice, Charlie was always black. His face was black, his handswere black, his pinafore was sure to be covered with black marks tenminutes after he had put it on. Do what you would to him, it was no use,Charlie always looked as if he had just come out of the coal-hole.
"Well, Bessie," said Mrs. Norton to the little girl, "is your motherin?"
"Naw," said Bessie, without taking her fingers out of her mouth.
"Oh, I'm sorry for that. Do you know when she's likely to be in?"
"Naw," said Bessie again, beginning to eat her pinafore as well as herfingers. Meanwhile Charlie had been creeping behind Bessie to get out ofOlly's way; for Olly, who always wanted to make friends, was trying toshake hands with him, and Charlie was dreadfully afraid that he wantedto kiss him too.
"What a pity," said Mrs. Norton, "I wanted to ask her a question. Comeaway, Olly, and don't tease Charlie if he doesn't want to shake hands.Can you remember, Bessie, to tell your mother that I came to see her?"
"Yis," said Bessie.
"And can you remember, too, to ask her if she will let you and Charliecome down to tea with Miss Milly and Master Olly, this afternoon, atfive o'clock?"
"Yis," said Bessie, getting shyer and shyer, and eating up her pinaforefaster than ever.
"Good-bye, then," said Mrs. Norton.
"Good-bye, Bessie," said Milly, softly, taking her hand.
Bessie stared at her, but didn't say anything.
Olly, having quite failed in shaking hands, was now trying to kissCharlie; but Charlie wouldn't have it at all, and every time Olly camenear, Charlie pushed him away with his little fists. This made Ollyrather cross, and he began to try with all his strength to make Charliekiss him, when suddenly Charlie got away from him, and running to a pileof logs of wood which was lying in the yard he climbed up the logs likea little squirrel, and was soon at the top of the heap, looking down onOlly, who was very much astonished.
"Mother, _do_ let me climb up too!" entreated Olly, as Mrs. Norton tookhis hand to lead him away. "I want to climb up krick like that! Oh, dolet me try!"
"No, no, Olly! come along. We shall never get to the farm if you stayclimbing here. And you wouldn't find it as easy as Charlie does, I cantell you."
"Why, I'm bigger than Charlie," said Olly, pouting, as they walked away.
"But you haven't got such stout legs; and, besides, Charlie is alwaysout of doors all day long, climbing and poking about. I daresay he cando outdoor things better than you can. You're a little town boy, youknow."
"Charlie's got a black face," said Olly, who was not at all pleased thatCharlie, who was smaller than he was, and dirty besides, could doanything better than he could.
"Well, you see, he hasn't got a Nana always looking after him as youhave."
"Hasn't he got _any_ Nana?" asked Olly, looking as if he didn'tunderstand how there could be little children without Nanas.
"He hasn't got any nurse but his mother, and Mrs. Wheeler has a greatdeal else to do than looking after him. What would you be like, do youthink, Olly, if I had to do all the housework, and cook the dinner, andmind the baby, and there was no nurse to wash your face and hands foryou?"
"I should get just like shock-headed Peter," said Olly, shaking his headgravely at the idea. Shock-headed Peter was a dirty little boy in one ofOlly's picture-books; but I am sure you must have heard about himalready, and must have seen the picture of him with his bushy hair, andhis terrible long nails like birds' claws. Olly was never tired ofhearing about him, and about all the other children in thatpicture-book.
"What a funny little girl Bessie is, mother!" said Milly. "Do theyalways say _Naw_ and _Yis_ in this country, instead of saying No andYes, like we do?"
"Well, most of the people that live here do," said Mrs. Norton. "Theirway of talking sounds odd and queer at first, Milly, but when you getused to it you will like it as I do, because it seems like a part of themountains."
All this time they had been climbing up a steep path behind thegardener's house, and now Mr. Norton opened a door in a high wall, andlet the children into a beautiful kitchen-garden made on the mountainside, so that when they looked down from the gate they could see thechimneys of Ravensnest just below them. Inside there were all kinds offruit and vegetables, but gooseberry bushes and the strawberries hadnothing but green gooseberries and white strawberries to show, to Olly'sgreat disappointment.
"Why aren't the strawberries red, mother?" he asked in a discontentedvoice, as if it must be somebody's fault that they weren't red. "Ours athome were ripe."
"Well, Olly, I suppose the strawberries know best. All I can tell youis, that things always get ripe here later than at Willingham. Theirsummer begins a little later than ours does, and so everything getspushed on a litt
le. But there will be plenty by-and-by. And suppose justnow, instead of looking at the strawberries, you give just one look atthe mountains. Count how many you can see all round."
"One, two, three, five," counted Olly. "What great big humps! Should webe able to touch the sky if we got up to the top of that one, mother?"and he pointed to a great blue mountain where the clouds seemed to beresting on the top.
"Well, if you were up there just now, you would be all among the clouds,and it would seem like a white fog all round you. So you would betouching the clouds at any rate."
Olly opened his eyes very wide at the idea of touching the clouds.
"Why, mother, we can't touch the clouds at home!"
"That comes of living in a country as flat as a pancake," said Mr.Norton. "Just you wait till we can buy a tame mountain, and carry it toWillingham with us. Then we'll put it down in the middle of the garden,and the clouds will come down to sit on the top of it just as they dohere. But now, who can scramble over that gate?"
For the gate at the other end of the garden was locked, and as thegardener couldn't be found, everybody had to scramble over, motherincluded. However, Mr. Norton helped them all over, and then they foundthemselves on a path running along the green mountain side. On theywent, through pretty bits of steep hay-fields, where the grass seemedall clover and moon-daisies, till presently they came upon a smallhunched-up house, with a number of sheds on one side of it and akitchen-garden in front. This was Uncle Richard's farm; a very tinyfarm, where a man called John Backhouse lived, with his wife and twolittle girls and a baby-boy. Except just in the hay-time, John Backhousehad no men to help him, and he and his wife had to do all the work, tolook after the sheep, and the cows, the pigs, the horse, and thechickens, to manage the garden and the hayfield, and to take the butterand milk to the people who wanted to buy it. When their children grew upand were able to help, Backhouse and his wife would be able to do it allvery well; but just now, when they were still quite small, it was veryhard work; it was all the farmer and his wife could do to make enough tokeep themselves and their children fed and clothed.
Milly and Olly were very anxious to see the farmer's children and lookedout for them in the garden as they walked up to the house, but therewere no signs of them. The door was opened by Mrs. Backhouse, thefarmer's wife, who held a fair-haired baby in her arms sucking a greatcrust of brown bread, and when Mr. and Mrs. Norton had shaken hands withher--"I'm sure, ma'am, I'm very pleased to see you here," said Mrs.Backhouse. "John told me you were come (only Mrs. Backhouse said'coom'), and Becky and Tiza went down with their father when he took themilk this morning, hoping they would catch a sight of your children.They have been just wild to see them, but I told them they weren'tlikely to be up at that time in the morning."
"Where are they now?" asked Mrs. Norton. "Mine have been looking out forthem as we came along."
"Well, ma'am, I can't say, unless they're in the cherry-tree. Becky!Tiza!"
A faint "Yis" came from the other end of the garden, but still Milly andOlly could see nothing but a big cherry-tree growing where the voiceseemed to come from.
"You go along that path, missy, and call again. You'll be sure to findthem," said Mrs. Backhouse, pointing to the tree. "And won't you comein, ma'am, and rest a bit? You'll be maybe tired with walking this hotday."
So Mr. and Mrs. Norton went into the farmhouse, and the children wenthand-in-hand down the garden, looking for Becky and Tiza.
Suddenly, as they came close to the cherry-tree, they heard a laugh anda little scuffling, and looking up, what should they see but two littlegirls perched up on one of the cherry-tree branches, one of them sewing,the other nursing a baby kitten. Both of them had coloured printbonnets, but the smaller had taken hers off and was rolling the kittenup in it. The little girl sewing had a sensible, sober face; as for theother, she could not have looked sober if she had tried for a week ofSundays. It made you laugh only to look at Tiza. From the top of hercurly head to the soles of her skipping little feet, she was thesauciest, merriest, noisiest creature. It was she who was always playingtricks on the cows and the horse, and the big sheep-dogs; who likednothing so well as teasing Becky and dressing up the kittens, and whowas always tumbling into the milkpail, or rolling downstairs, or losingherself in the woods, without somehow ever coming to any harm. If sheand Olly had been left alone in the world together they _must_ have cometo a bad end, but luckily each of them had wiser people to take care ofthem.
"Becky," said Milly, shyly, looking up into the tree, "will you comedown and say how do you do to us?"
Becky stuck her needle in her work and scrambled down with a red shyface to shake hands; but Tiza, instead of coming down, only climbed alittle higher, and peeped at the others between the branches.
"We came down to the house when fayther took the milk this morning,"said Becky. "We thought maybe we'd see you in the garden. Only Tiza saidshe'd run away if she did see you."
"Why doesn't Tiza come down?" asked Olly, looking hard up into the tree."I want to see her."
Thump! What was that rattling down on Olly's head? He looked down at hisfeet very much astonished, and saw a bunch of green cherries which Tizahad just thrown at him.
"Throw some more! Throw some more!" he cried out, and Tiza began to pelthim fast, while Olly ran here and there picking them up, and every nowand then trying to throw them back at Tiza; but she was too high up forhim to reach, and they only came rattling about his head again.
"She won't come down," said Becky, looking up at her sister. "Maybe shewon't speak to you for two or three days. And if you run after her shehides in such queer places you can never find her."
"But mother wants you and her to come to tea with us this afternoon,"said Milly; "won't Tiza come?"
"I suppose mother'll make her," said Becky, "but she doesn't like it.Have you been on the fell?"
Milly looked puzzled. "Do you mean on the mountain? No, not yet. We'regoing to-morrow when we go to Aunt Emma's. But we've been to the riverwith father."
"Did you go over the stepping-stones?"
"No," said Milly, "I don't know what they are. Can we go this eveningafter tea?"
"Oh yes," said Becky, "they're just close by your house. Does yourmother let you go in the water?"
Now Becky said a great many of these words very funnily, so that Millycould hardly understand her. She said "doos" and "oop," and "knaw," and"jist," and "la-ike," but it sounded quite pretty from her soft littlemouth, and Milly thought she had a very nice way of talking.
"No, mother doesn't let us go in the water here, at least, not unlessit's very warm. We paddle when we go to the sea, and some day fathersays we may have our bath in the river if it's very fine."
"We never have a bath in the river," said Becky, looking very muchastonished at the idea.
"Do you have your bath in the nursery like we do?" asked Milly.
"We haven't got a nursery," said Becky, staring at her, "mother puts usin the toob on Saturday nights. I don't mind it but Tiza doesn't like ita bit. Sometimes she hides when it's Saturday night, so that mothercan't find her till it's too late."
"Don't you have a bath except on Saturday?" said Milly. "Olly and I haveone every morning. Mother says we should get like shock-headed Peter ifwe didn't."
"I don't know about him," said Becky, shaking her head.
"He's a little boy in a picture-book. I'll show him you when you come totea. But there's mother calling. Come along, Olly. Tiza won't come downBecky says."
"She's a very rude girl," said Olly, who was rather hot and tired withhis game, and didn't think it was all fun that Tiza should always hithim and he should never be able to hit Tiza. "I won't sit next her whenshe comes to tea with us."
"Tiza's only in fun," said Becky, "she's always like that. Tiza, are youcoming down? I am going to get baby out, I heard him crying just now."
"May you take baby out all by yourself?" asked Milly.
"Why, I always take him out, and I put him to sleep at nights; andm
other says he won't go to sleep for anybody as quick as for me," saidBecky proudly.
Milly felt a good deal puzzled. It _must_ be funny to have no Nana.
"Will you and he," said Becky, pointing to Olly, "come up this afternoonand help us call the cows?"
"If we may," said Milly; "who calls them?"
"Tiza and I," answered Becky; "when I'm a big girl I shall learn how tomilk, but fayther says I'm too little yet."
"I wish I lived at a farm," said Milly disconsolately.
Becky didn't quite know what to say to this, so she began to call Tizaagain.
"Swish!" went something past them as quick as lightning. It was Tizarunning to the house. Olly set out to run after her as fast as he couldrun, but he came bang up against his mother standing at the farmhousedoor, just as Tiza got safely in and was seen no more.
"Ah, you won't catch Tiza, master," said Mrs. Backhouse, patting hishead; "she's a rough girl, always at some tricks or other--we think sheought to have been a boy, really."
"Mother, isn't Becky very nice?" said Milly, as they walked away. "Hermother lets her do such a lot of things--nurse the baby, and call thecows, and make pinafores. Oh, I wish father was a farmer."
"Well, it's not a bad kind of life when the sun shines, and everythingis going right," said Mrs. Norton; "but I think you had better wait alittle bit till the rain comes before you quite make up your mind aboutit, Milly."
But Milly was quite sure she knew enough about it already to make up hermind, and all the way home she kept saying to herself, "If I could onlyturn into a little farmer's girl! Why don't people have fairy godmothersnow like Cinderella?"