CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BANTAM CHICKENS.
When Hugh John met Cissy Carter the first time after the incident ofthe stile, it was in the presence of the young lady's father andmother. Cissy smiled and shook hands with the most serene and chillingdignity; but Hugh John blushed, and wore on his countenance anexpression of such deep and ingrained guilt and confusion, that, uponcatching sight of him, Mr. Davenant Carter called out, in his jollystand-before-the-fire-with-his-hands-in-his-pockets' manner, "Hillo,boy! what have you been up to--stealing apples, eh? Come! What is it?Out with it!"
Which, when you think of it, was not exactly fitted to make our heroany more self-possessed. Mr. Davenant Carter always consideredchildren as a rather superior kind of puppy dogs, which werespecially created to be condescended to and teased, in order to seewhat they would say and do. They might also be taught tricks--likemonkeys and parrots, only not so clever.
"Oh, Davenant," said his wife, "do let the boy alone. Don't you see heis bashful before so many people?"
Now this was the last thing which ordinarily could be laid withjustice to the charge of our hero; yet now he only mumbled and avoidedeverybody's eye, particularly Cissy's. But apparently that young ladyhad forgotten all about the ivy bush at the back of the stable, forshe said quite loud out, so that all the room could hear her, "What along time it is since we saw you at Oaklands, Hugh John--isn't it?"This sally added still more to Hugh John's confusion, and he couldonly fall back upon his favourite axiom (which he was to prove thetruth of every day of his life as he grew older), that "girls arefunny things."
Presently Cissy said, "Have you seen Sammy, mother; I wonder if he hasfallen into the mill-dam. He went over there more than an hour ago tosail his new boat." Mild Mrs. Carter started up so violently that sheupset all her sewing cotton and spools on the floor, to the delight ofher wicked little pug, which instantly began pulling them about,shaking them, growling at them, and pretending they were rats that hadbeen given him to worry.
"Oh, do you think so?--Run Cissy, run Hugh, and find him!" WhereatCissy and Hugh John removed themselves. As soon as they were outsideour hero found his tongue.
"How could you tell such a whopper? Of course he would not fall intothe water like a baby!"
"Goos-ee gander," said Cissy briskly; "of course not! I knew that verywell. But if I had not said something we should have had to stay theremoping among all those Grown-Ups, and doing nothing but talking properfor hours and hours."
"But I thought you liked it, Cissy," said Hugh John, who did not knoweverything.
"Like it!" echoed Cissy; "I've got to _do_ it. And if they dreamed Ididn't like it, they'd think I hadn't proper manners, and make me stopjust twice as long. Mother wants me to acquire a good societysomething-or-other, so that's why I've to stop and make tea, andpretend to like to talk to Mr. Burnham."
"Oh--him," said Hugh John; "he isn't half bad. And he's a ripping goodwicket-keep!"
"I dare say," retorted Cissy, "that's all very well for you. He talksto you about cricket and W. G.'s scores--I've heard him. But he speaksto me in that peeky far-away voice from the back of his throat, likehe does in the service when he comes to the bit about 'youngchildren'--and what do you think the _Creature_ says?"
"I dunno," said Hugh John, with a world-weary air, as if theeccentricities of clergymen in silk waistcoats were among the thingsthat no fellow could possibly find out.
"Well, he said that he hoped the time would soon come when a younglady of so much decision of character (that's me!) would be able toassist him in his district visiting."
"What's 'decision of character' when he's at home?" asked Hugh Johnflippantly.
"Oh, nothing--only one of the things parsons say. It doesn't meananything--not in particular!" replied the widely informed Cissy. "Butdid you ever hear such rot?"
And for the first time her eyes met his with a quaintly questioninglook, which somehow carried in it a reminiscence of the stile and theivy bush. Cissy's eyes were never quite (Hugh John has admitted asmuch to me in a moment of confidence)--never quite the same after theincident of the orchard. On this occasion Hugh John instantly avertedhis own, and looked stolidly at the ground.
"Perhaps Mr. Burnham has heard that you went with medicine and stuffto the gipsy camp," he said after a pause, trying to find anexplanation of the apparently indefensible folly of his cricketinghero. Cissy had not thought of this before.
"Well, perhaps he had," she said, "but that was quite different."
"How different?" queried Hugh John.
"Well, that was only dogs and Billy Blythe," said Cissy, somewhatshamefacedly; "that doesn't count, and besides I like it. Doing goodhas got to be something you don't like--teaching little brats theirduty to their godfathers and godmothers, or distributing tracts whichonly make people stamp and swear and carry on."
"Isn't there something somewhere about helping the fatherless and thewidow?" faltered Hugh John. He hated "talking good," but somehow hefelt that Cissy was doing herself less than justice.
"Well, I don't suppose that the fox-terrier's pa does much for him,"she said gaily; "but come along and I'll 'interjuce' you to your allyBilly Blythe."
So they walked along towards the camp in silence. It was a still,Sunday-like evening, and the bell of Edam town steeple was tolling forthe six o'clock stay of work, as it had done every night at the samehour for over five hundred years. The reek of the burgesses'supper-fires was going up in a hundred pillar-like "pews" of tall bluesmoke. Homeward bound humble bees bumbled and blundered along, drunkand drowsy with the heady nectar they had taken on board--strayedrevellers from the summer-day's Feast of Flowers. Delicate little bluebutterflies rose flurriedly from the short grass, flirted with eachother a while, and then mounted into a yet bluer sky in airy wheelsand irresponsible balancings.
"This is my birthday!" suddenly burst out Hugh John.
Cissy stopped short and caught her breath.
"Oh no--it can't be;" she said, "I thought it was next week, and theyaren't nearly ready."
Whereat Cissy Cartar began most incontinently and unexpectedly to cry.Hugh John had never seen her do this before, though he was familiarenough with Prissy's more easy tears.
"Now don't you, Ciss," he said; "I don't want anything--presents andthings, I mean. Just let's be jolly."
"Hu-uh-uh!" sobbed Cissy; "and Janet Sheepshanks told me it was nextweek. I'm sure she did; and I set them so nicely to be ready intime--more than two months ago, and now they aren't ready after all."
"What aren't ready?" said Hugh John.
"The bantam chickens," sobbed Cissy; "and they are lovely as lovely.And peck--you should just see them peck."
"I'd just as soon have them next week, or the next after that--ratherindeed. Shut up now, Ciss. Stop crying, I tell you. Do you hear?" Hewas instinctively adopting that gruff masculine sternness which menconsider to be on the whole the most generally effective method ofdealing with the incomprehensible tears of their women-kind. "_I_don't care if you cry pints, but I'll hit you if you won't stop! Sothere!"
Cissy stopped like magic, and assumed a distant and haughty expressionwith her nose in the air, the surprising dignity of which was marredonly by the recurring spasmodic sniff necessary to keep back themoisture which was still inclined to leak from the corners of hereyes.
"I would indeed," said Hugh John, like all good men quickly remorsefulafter severity had achieved its end. "I'd ever so much rather have thenicest presents a week after; for on a regular birthday you get somany things. But by next week, when you've got tired of them all, anddon't have anything new--that's the proper time to get a present."
"Oh, you _are_ nice," said Cissy impulsively, coming over to HughJohn and clasping his arm with both her hands. He did not encouragethis, for he did not know where it might end, and the open moor wasnot by any means the ivy-grown corner of the stable. Cissy went on.
"Yes, you are the nicest thing. Only don't tell any body----"
"I won't!" said Hugh
John, with deepest conviction.
"And I'll give you the mother too," continued Cissy; "she is a perfectdarling, and won a prize at the last Edam show. It was only a second,but everybody said that she ought by rights to have had the first.Yes, and she would have got it too--only that the other old hen was acousin of the judge's. That wasn't fair, was it?"
"Certainly not!" said Hugh John, with instant emphasis.