CHAPTER XXX.
SAINT PRISSY, PEACEMAKER.
This is the letter which, according to his promise, General NapoleonSmith despatched to the accredited leader of the Smoutchy boys--or, asthey delighted to call themselves, the Comanche Cowboys.
WINDY STANDARD HOUSE, BORDERSHIRE.
_Mistr. Nippr. Donnan, Esqr.,_
_DEAR SIR,--This is to warn you that on Saturday the 18th, between the hours of ten in the morning and six in the evening, we, the rightful owners of the Castle of Windy Standard, will take possession of our proppaty. Prevent us at your peril. You had better get out, for we're coming, and our motty is 'Smith for ever, and No Quarter!'_
_Given under our hand and seal._
(_Signed_) _NAPOLEON SMITH_,
_General-Feeld-Marshall-Commanding._
_P.S.--I'll teach you to kick my legs with tacketty butes and put me in nasty dunguns. Wait till I catch you, Nipper Donnan._
The reply came back on a piece of wrapping paper from the butcher'sshop, rendered warlike by undeniable stains of gore. It had, to allappearance, been written with a skewer, and contrasted ill with theblue official paper purloined out of Mr. Picton Smith's office, onwhich the challenge had been sent. It ran thus:----
_Matthew Donnan & Co., Butchers and Cattle Salesmen, 21 High Street, Edam, Bordershire._
_DEAR SIR.--Yours of the 13th received, and contents noted. Come on, you stuck-up retches. We can fight you any day with our one hand tied behind us. Better leave girls and childer at home, for we meen fightin' this time--and no error.--We'll nock you into eternal smash._
_Hoping to be favoured with a continuance of your esteemed orders,--I have the honour to remain, Sir, your obedient servant to command,_
_N. DONNAN._
The high contracting parties having thus agreed upon terms of mutualanimosity, to all appearance there remained only the arbitrament ofbattle.
But other thoughts were working in the tender heart of Prissy Smith.She had no sympathy with bloodshed, and had she been in her father'splace she would at once have given the town all their desires at anyprice, in order that the peace might be kept. Deeply and sincerely shebewailed the spirit of quarrelling and bloodshed which was abroad. Shehad her own intentions as to the enemy, Hugh John had his--which hehad so succinctly summed up in the "favour of the 13th," acknowledgedwith such businesslike precision by Mr. Nipper Donnan in his reply toGeneral Napoleon's blue official cartel.
Without taking any one into her confidence (not even Sammy Carter, whomight have laughed at her), Priscilla Smith resolved to set out on amission of reconciliation to the Comanche Cowboys. Long and deeply sheprepared herself by self-imposed penances for the work that was beforeher. She was, she knew, no Joan of Arc to lead an army in battle arrayagainst a cruel and taunting enemy. She was to be a St. Catherine ofSiena rather, setting out alone and unfriended on a pilgrimage ofmercy. She had read all she could lay her hands on about the tanner'sdaughter, and a picture of the great barn-like brick church of SanDominico where she had her visions, hung over the wash-stand inPrissy's little room, and to her pious eyes made the plain deal tableseem the next thing to an altar.
Prissy wanted to go and have visions too; and so, three times a dayshe went in pilgrimage to the tool-house where the potatoes werestored, as being the next best thing to the unattainable San Dominico.This was a roomy place more than half underground, and had a vaultedroof which was supported by pillars--the remains, doubtless, of somemuch more ancient structure.
Here Prissy waited, like the Scholar Gipsy, for the light from heavento fall; but, alas, the light refused to come to time. Well, then, shemust just go on without it as many another eager soul had done beforeher. There only remained to make the final preparations.
On the morrow therefore she waited carefully after early dinner tillGeneral Smith and Toady Lion had gone off in the direction of themill-dam. Then she took out the little basket which she had concealedin the crypt of San Dominico--that is to say in the potato house. Itstood ready packed and covered with a white linen cloth.
It was a basket which had been prepared upon the strictest missionarymodels. She had no printed authorities which went the length oftelling her what provision for the way, what bribes and presents SaintCatherine carried forth to appease withal the enemies of her city andcountry. But there was on record the exact provision of themission-chest of a woman, who in her time went forth to turn togentleness the angry hearts of brigands and robbers--one Abigail, thewife of a certain churl of Maon, a village near to the roots of MountCarmel.
True, Prissy could not quite make up the tale of her presents on thesame generous and wholesale scale. She had to preach according to herstipend, like the Glasgow wife of the legend, who, upon the doctorordering her husband champagne and oysters, informed a friend that"poor folk like us couldna juist gie Tammas champeen-an'-ighsters, butwe did the next best thing--we gied him whelks-an'-ginger-beer."
So since it might have attracted some attention, even on pastures sowell stocked as those of Mr. Picton Smith of Windy Standard, if Prissyhad taken with her "five sheep ready dressed," she had to be contentwith half of a sheep's-head-pie, which she had begged "to give away"from Janet Sheepshanks. To this she added a four pound loaf she hadbought in Edam with her own money (Abigail's two hundred beingdistinctly out of her reach)--together with the regulation cluster ofraisins and cake of figs which were both well within her means. Inaddition, since Prissy was a strict teetotaler, she took with her alittle apparatus for making tea, some sugar and cream from the pantry,and her largest and best set of dolls' cups and saucers.
All this occupied a good deal of room and was exceedingly heavy, sothat Prissy had very often to rest on the way towards the castle. Shemight have failed altogether, but that she saw Mike raking the gravelof the path near the edge of the water, and asked him to carry thebasket for her over the stepping-stones.
Prince Michael, who as he often remarked was "spoiling for anothertaste of Donnybrook," conveyed the basket over Edam Water for hisyoung mistress, without the least idea of the strange quest upon whichthe girl was going.
He laid it down and looked at the linen cover.
"Faix," he said, "sure 'tis a long road to sind a young lady wid aheavy load like that!"
Now, this was his mode of inviting an explanation, but Prissy was fartoo wise to offer one. She merely thanked him and went on her waytowards the castle.
"Don't go near thim ruins till after Saturday, when we will cleanevery dirty spalpeen out of the place like thunder on the mountains,"cried Mike, who, like some other people, loved to round off hissentences with sounding expressions without troubling himself much asto whether they fitted the place or not.
"Thank you!" cried Prissy over her shoulder, with a sweet andgrateful, but quite uninforming smile.
She continued on her way till Mike was out of sight, without alteringher course from the straight road to the wooden bridge which led intothe town of Edam. Then at the edge of the hazel copse she came upon asmall footpath which meandered through lush grass meadows and patchesof the greater willow herb to the Castle of Windy Standard. The willowherb flourished in glorious red-purple masses on the ancient masonryof the outer defences, for it is a plant which loves above all thingsthe disintegrating lime of old buildings from which its crown ofblossom shoots up three or four, or it may be even six feet.
She skirted the moat, green with the leaves of pond-weed floating likesmall veined eggs on the surface. From the sluggish water at the side,iris and bog-bean stood nobly up, and white-lilies floated on thestill surface in lordly pride among the humbler wrack and scum ofduckweed and water buttercup. The light chrome heads of"Go-to-bed-John" flaunted on the dryer bank beyond.
Prissy eyed all these treasures with anxious glances.
"I want just dreadfully to gather you," she said. "I hope all thiswarring and battling will be over before yo
u have done blooming, younice waterside things."
And indeed I agree with her, for there is nothing much nicer in theworld than wayside and riverside flowers--except the little childrenwho play among them; and nothing sweeter than a bairns' daisy-chain,save the fingers which weave it, and the neck about which it hangs.
Prissy had arrived within sight of the castle now. She saw theflaunting of the red republican flag which in staggery capitalscondemned her parent to instant dissolution. She stood a moment withthe basket on her arm in front of the great ruined gate. A sentry waspacing to and fro there. Bob Hetherington was his name, and there wereother lads and boys lounging and pretending to smoke in the deepembrasures and recesses of the walls. Clearly the castle was occupiedin force by the enemy.
Prissy stopped somewhat embarrassed, and set down her basket that shemight have a good look, and think what she was to do next. As she didso she caught the eye of Nosie Cuthbertson, a youth whom Nipper Donnanpermitted in his corps because his father had a terrier which wasundoubtedly the best ratter in Edam. But the privilege of associationwith such a distinguished dog was dear at the price, for no meaner normore "ill-set" youth than Nosie Cuthbertson cumbered honestBordershire soil. Nosie was seated trying to smoke dry dock-leafwrapped in newspaper without being sick, when his eye caught the trimlittle figure on the opposite side of the moat.
"Hey, boys!" he cried, "here's the Smith lass. Let's go and hit her!"
Now Master Nosie had not been prominent on the great day of thebattle of the Black Sheds, but he felt instinctively that against asolitary girl he had at last some chance to assert himself. So hethrew away his paper cigar, and ran round the broken causeway to theplace where Prissy was standing.
"'OH, PLEASE DON'T, SIR!'"]
"If you please, sir," began Prissy sweetly, "I've come to ask you notto fight any more. It isn't right, you know, and God will be angry."
Nosie Cuthbertson did not at all attend to the appeal so gently andcourteously made to him. He only caught Prissy by the hand, and begantwisting her wrist and squeezing her slender fingers till the jointsground against each other, and Prissy bit her lips and was ready tocry with pain.
"Oh, _please_ don't, sir!" she pleaded softly, trying to smile as at afamous jest. "I came because I wanted to speak to your captain, andI've brought a lot of nice things for you all. I think you will besure to like them."
"Humbug," cried Nosie Cuthbertson, performing another yet more painfultwist, "the basket's ours anyway. I captured it. Hey, Bob, catch holdof this chuck, while I give the girl _toko_--I'll teach her to comespying here about our castle!"