CHAPTER XXXV.
PRISSY'S COMPROMISE.
After the turmoil and excitement of the notably adventurous days whichended with the capture of the castle, the succeeding weeks draggedstrangely. The holidays were dwindling as quickly as the last grainsof sand in an hourglass, and there was an uneasy feeling in the airthat the end of old and the beginning of new things were alike athand.
Mr. Picton Smith returned from London the day after the great battle.That afternoon he was closeted for a long time with Mr. Burnham, butnot even the venturesome Sir Toady Lion on his hands and knees, couldoverhear what the two gentlemen had to say to each other. At allevents Mr. Smith did not this time attempt to force any confessionfrom the active combatants. His failure on a former occasion had beencomplete enough, and he had no desire once more to confess himselfworsted by Hugh John's determination to abjure all that savoured evenremotely of the "dasht-mean."
But it is certain that the Smoutchy ringleaders were not furtherpunished, and Mr. Smith took no steps to enforce the interdict whichhe had obtained against trespassers on the castle island.
For it was about this time that Prissy, having taken a great deal oftrouble to understand all the bearings of the case, at last, with abrave heart, went and knocked at her father's study door.
"Come in," said the deep grave voice instantly, sending a thrillthrough the closed door, which made her tremble and rather wish thatshe had not come.
"Saint Catherine of Siena would not have been afraid," she murmured toherself, and forthwith opened the door.
"Well, little girl, what is it? What can I do for you?" said herfather, smiling upon her; for he had heard of her ambassadorial picnicto the Smoutchies, and perhaps his daughter's trustful gentleness hadmade him a little ashamed of his own severity.
Prissy stood nerving herself to speak the words which were in herheart. She had seen Peace and kindly Concord bless her mission fromafar; and now, like Paul before King Agrippa, she would not beunfaithful to the heavenly vision.
"Father," she said at last, "you don't really want to keep people outof the castle altogether, do you?"
"Certainly not, if they behave themselves," said her father, "but themischief is that they don't."
"But suppose, father, that there was some one always there to see thatthey did behave, would you mind?"
"Of course not," replied her father, "but you know, Prissy, I can'tafford to keep a man down on the island to see that sixpenny trippersdon't pull down my castle stone by stone, or break their own necks byfalling into the dungeon."
Prissy thought a little while, and then tried a new tack.
"Father"--she went a little nearer to him and stroked the cuff of hiscoat-sleeve--"does the land beyond the bridge belong to you?"
Mr. Picton Smith moved away his hand. Her mother used to do just that,and somehow the memory hurt. Nevertheless, all unconsciously, thetouch of the child's hand softened him.
"No, Prissy," he said wonderingly, "but what do you know about suchthings?"
"Nothing at all," she answered, "but I am trying to learn. I wanteverybody to love you, and think you as nice as I know you to be.Don't you think you could let some one you knew very well live in thelittle lodge by the white bridge, and keep out the horrid people, orsee that they behaved themselves?"
"The town would never agree to that," said her father, not seeingwhere he was being led.
"Don't you think the town's people would if you gave them thesixpences all for themselves?"
Her father pushed back his chair in great astonishment and looked atPrissy.
"Little girl," he said very gravely, "who has been putting all thisinto your head? Has anybody told you to come to me about this?"
Prissy shook her head quickly, then she looked down as if embarrassed.
"Well, what is it? Go on!" said her father, but the words were moresoftly spoken than you would think only to see them printed.
"Nobody told me about anything--I just thought about it all myself,father," she answered, taking courage from a certain look in Mr.Smith's eyes; "once I heard you say that the money was what thetown's-people cared about. And--and--well, I knew that Jane Housemaidwanted to get married to Tom Cannon, and you see they can't, becauseTom has not enough wages to take a house."
Prissy was speaking very fast now, rattling out the words so as to befinished before her father could interpose with any grown-up questionsor objections.
"And you know I remembered last night when I was lying awake thatCatherine would have done this----"
"What Catherine?" said her father, who did not always follow hisdaughter's reasoning.
"Saint Catherine of Siena, of course," said Prissy, for whom there wasno other of the name; "so I came to you, and I want you to let Tomand Jane have the cottage, and Jane can take up the sixpences in alittle brass plate like the one Mr. Burnham gets from thechurchwardens on Sunday. And, oh! but I would just love to help her.May I sometimes, father?"
"Well," said her father, laughing, "there is perhaps something in whatyou say; but I don't think the Provost and Magistrates would everagree. Now run away and play, and I will see what can be done."
* * * * *
But all the same Prissy did not go and play, and it was not Mr. PictonSmith who saw what could be done. On the afternoon of the same day theProvost of the good town of Edam entered the Council Chamber wipinghis face and panting vigorously. He was a stout man of much goodhumour when not crossed in temper, the leading chemist and druggist inthe town, and as the proprietor of more houses and less education thanany man in Edam, of very great influence among the councillors.
"Well, billies," he cried jovially, "what do you think? There's a lasshas keep'd me from the meetin' of this council for a full half-hour."
"A lass!" answered the senior bailie, still more hilariously, "that'ssurely less than proper. I will be compelled to inform Mrs. Lamont ofthe fact."
"Oh, it was a lassie of twelve or thirteen," answered the Provost. "Sonone of your insinuations, Bailie Tawse, and I'll thank you. She had amost astonishing tale to tell. It appears she is Picton Smith'slassie from Windy Standard; and she says to me, says she, 'Provost, doyou want to have the tourist folk that come to Edam admitted to thecastle?' says she. 'Of course,' says I, 'that is what the law-plea isabout. That dust is no settled yet.' 'Then,' says she, brisk as if shewas hiring me at Yedam fair, 'suppose my father was willing to let yecharge a sixpence for admission, would you pay a capable man his wagessummer and winter to look after it--a man that my father would approveof?' 'Aye,' says I, 'the council would be blythe and proud to dothat'--me thinking of my sister's son Peter that was injured by alamp-post falling against him last New Year's night as he was cominghame frae the Blue Bell. 'Then,' says she, 'I think it can be managed.My father will put Tom Cannon in the lodge at the white bridge. Youwill pay him ten shillings in the week for his wife looking after thegate and taking the parties over the castle.' 'His wife,' says I; 'Tomis no married that ever I heard.' 'No,' says she, 'but he will be veryquick if he gets the lodge.' Then I thocht that somebody had put herup to all this, and I questioned her tightly. But no--certes, she is aclever lass. I verily believe if I had said the word she would haecomed along here to the council meeting and faced the pack o' ye. ButI said to her that she might gang her ways hame, and that I would putthe matter before the council mysel'!"
"'THEN,' SAID PRISSY, 'I THINK IT CAN BE MANAGED.'"]
The Provost, who had been walking up and down all the time and wipinghis brow, finally plumped solidly into his chair. There was a mightydiscussion--in which, as usual, many epithets were bandied about; butfinally it was unanimously agreed that, if the offer were put on afirm and legal basis and the interdict withdrawn, the "Smith's Lassie"compromise, as it was called for brevity, might be none such a badsolution of the difficulty for all parties.
Thus by the wise thought and brave heart of a girl was the greatcontroversy ended. And now the tourist and holiday-maker, each afte
rhis kind, passes his sixpence into the slot of a clicking gate,instead of depositing it in the brazen offertory salver, which hadbeen the desire of Prissy's heart.
"For," said one of the councillors generously, when the plate wasproposed, "how do we know that Mrs. Cannon might not keep every secondsixpence for herself--or maybe send it up to Mr. Smith? We all knowthat she was long a servant in his house. No, no, honesty ishonesty--but it's better when well looked after. Let us have a patent'clicker.' I have used one attached to my till for years, and found itof great utility in the bacon-and-ham trade."
But the change made no difference to Hugh John and no difference toToady Lion; for they came and went to the castle by thestepping-stones, and Cissy Carter took that way too, leaping as nimblyas any of them from stone to stone.
On the Sunday after this was finally arranged, Mr. Burnham gave outhis text:--
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children ofGod."
And this is the way he ended his sermon: "There is one here to-daywhom I might without offence or flattery call a true child of God. Iwill not say who that is; but this I will say, that I, for one, wouldrather be such a peacemaker, and have a right to be called by thatother name, than be general of the greatest army in the world."
"I think he must mean the Provost--or else my father," said Prissy toherself, looking reverently up to where, in the front row of the upperseats, the local chief magistrate sat, mopping his head with a redspotted handkerchief, and sunning himself in the somewhat sultry beamsof his own greatness.
As for Hugh John, he declared that for a man who could row in acollege boat, and who worshipped an old blue coat hung up in a glasscase, Mr. Burnham said more drivelling things than any man alive ordead.
And Toady Lion said nothing. He was only wondering all through theservice whether he could catch a fly without his father seeinghim.--He found that he could not. After this failure he rememberedthat he had a brandy ball only half sucked in his left trousers'pocket. He got it out with some difficulty. It had stuck fast to theseams, and finally came away somewhat mixed up with twine, sealingwax, and a little bit of pitch wrapped in leather. But as soon as hegot down to it the brandy ball proved itself thoroughly satisfactory,and the various flavours developed in the process of sucking keptToady Lion awake till the blessed "Amen" released the black-coatedthrong.
Toady Lion's gratitude was almost an entire thanksgiving service ofitself.
As he came out through the crowded porch, he put his hand into hisfather's, and with a portentous yawn piped out in his shrillest voice,"Oh, I is so tired."
The smile which ran round the late worshippers showed that Toady Lionhad voiced the sentiments of many of Mr. Burnham's congregation.
At this moment Mr. Burnham himself came out of the vestry just in timeto hear the boy's frank expression of opinion.
"Never mind, Toady Lion," he said genially, "the truth is, I was alittle tired myself to-day. I promise not to keep you quite so longnext Sunday morning. You must remind me if I transgress. Nobody will,if you don't, Toady Lion."
"Doan know what 'twansguess' is--but shall call out loud if you goeson too long--telling out sermons and textises and fings."
As they walked along the High Street of Edam, Prissy glancedreverently at the Provost.
"Oh, I wish I could have been a peacemaker too, like him," she sighed,"and then Mr. Burnham might have preached about me. Perhaps I willwhen I grow up."
For next to Saint Catherine of Siena, the Provost was her ideal of apeacemaker.
As they walked homeward, Mr. Burnham came and touched Prissy on theshoulder.
"Money cannot buy love," he said, somewhat sententiously, "but you, mydear, win it by loving actions."
He turned to Toady Lion, who was trotting along somewhat sulkily,holding his sister's hand, and grumbling because he was not allowed tochase butterflies on Sunday.
"Arthur George," said Mr. Burnham, "if anybody was to give you a pieceof money and say, 'Will you love me for half-a-crown,' you couldn't doit, could you?"
"Could just, though!" contradicted Toady Lion flatly, kicking at thestones on the highway.
"Oh no," his instructor suavely explained, "if it were a bad personwho asked you to love him, you wouldn't love him for half-a-crown,surely!"
Toady Lion turned the matter over.
"Well," he said, speaking slowly as if he were thinking hard betweenthe words, "it might have to be five sillin's if he was _very_ bad!"