Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

The next morning Miss Sophronia kept her bed; her cold, she said, was too severe to admit of her joining the family at breakfast. Margaret waited on her with an uneasy sense of guilt in general, though she could not accuse herself of any special sin. She did her best to be sympathetic and dutiful, having been brought up to respect her elders sincerely. But she was puzzled all the same, and when it came to any question between her cousin and her uncle, there were no more doubts. She must put herself out of the way as much as possible, and give up, wherever her own pleasure was concerned,—where it was any matter connected with Uncle John, she would be the Rock of Gibraltar. This being settled, the Rock of Gibraltar brought raspberries for Cousin Sophronia's breakfast, and made her room bright with flowers, and tried to make cheer for her. The poor lady was rather subdued, and told Margaret she was a cherub child; then declared she would not be a burden on any one, and sent the girl away to "amuse herself."

"Be happy as a butterfly, my dear, all the morning; don't give me a thought, I beg of you. If Frances would have a new-laid egg ready for me at eleven—positively a new-laid one, Margaret! Perhaps you would bring it yourself from the hen-yard. I have no confidence in servants, and it would make a pleasant little trip for you. So important, I always say, for the young to have something useful to mingle with their sports. Boiled three minutes and a half, my love! I doubt if I can eat it, but it is my duty to make the attempt. Bless you! Good-bye! If you happen to have nothing to do about twelve, you might bring your work and sit with me. I am the most sociable creature in the world; I cannot endure to be alone when I am ill; but don't have me on your mind, my love, for a single instant."

All the duties attended to, Margaret spent a delightful hour, with Elizabeth's assistance, in making ready the rooms for the newcomers. The little girl was to have Peggy's room, next her own, and that needed nothing save fresh flowers in the vases, and fresh ribbons on the curtains. But the boys were to have the old nursery, the great room that ran across the whole width of the house, on the third floor. It was a pleasant room, with dormer windows facing east and south, a great fireplace, with a high wire fender, and a huge sofa, covered with red chintz dragons. A funny sofa it was, with little drawers let in along the sides. John Montfort and his brothers used to lie on this sofa, when they had the measles and whooping-cough, and play with the brass drawer-handles, and keep their treasures in the drawers. The windows were barred, and there was a gate across the landing, at the top of the stairs. Elizabeth had suggested taking away the gate and the bars, "such big young gentlemen as these would be, most likely, sir!" but Mr. Montfort shook his head very decidedly.

"If they are Montfort boys, Elizabeth, they will need all the bars we can give them. Master Richard was twelve, when he squeezed himself between these, and went along the gutter hanging by his hands, till he came to the spout, and shinned down it. Never make things too easy for a Montfort boy!"

In one corner stood a huge rocking-horse, with saddle and bridle of crimson leather, rather the worse for wear. He was blind of one eye, and his tail had seen service, but he was a fine animal for all that. Margaret hunted about in the attic, and found a box of ninepins. Marbles, too; Uncle John had told her that there must be marbles somewhere, in a large bag of flowered purple calico, with a red string. They had been there forty years; they must be there still. She found them at last, hanging from a peg of one of the great beams. On the beam close by was written:

"This is my Peg. If any Pig touches my Peg, that Pig will be Pegged. Signed, John Montfort."

"Oh," thought Margaret, "what a pleasant boy Uncle John must have been! What good times we should have had together!" And then she reflected that he could not possibly have been so nice a boy as he was an uncle, and was content.

The marbles, and the rocking-horse, and—what else ought there to be? Tops! Uncle John had said something about tops. Here Margaret screamed, and fled to the attic door. Something was moving on the beam by which she had been standing, perched on a chair. Something rolled slowly along, half the length of the beam, and dropped to the floor and rolled towards her. Laughing now, Margaret stooped and picked up a great ball, a leather ball, striped red and black. On one of the red stripes was written, in large, unconventional letters, "Roger." It was her father's ball! Margaret held the toy very tenderly in her hands, and tried to see the worn, thoughtful face she remembered so well, a rosy boy's face, full of light and laughter. She had seen, yesterday, strangely enough, her uncle's boyish looks, revealed in a flash of mischief; it was less easy to see her father's.

As she stood meditating, the sound of wheels was heard outside. Margaret ran to look out of the little gable window, then clapped her hands together, in amazement and pleasure. The children had come!

When she reached the verandah, they were already standing there, facing Mr. Montfort, who had come out by an early train, and was standing looking at them with amused attention, holding the little girl's hands in his.

"And what are your names, my dears?" he was saying.

"Basil, Merton, and Susan D.," replied the elder boy, promptly, while three pairs of sharp eyes were fastened on the strange uncle.

"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" said Mr. Montfort under his breath. He had no idea that any one could hear him, but a shriek of laughter startled him, and made Margaret jump.

"That's what Puppa calls us!" cried Basil, springing lightly up and down on the tips of his toes. "We didn't know whether you would or not; he said you would pretty soon, anyhow. How do you do, Uncle John? We are very well, thank you. I am thirteen, and Mert is twelve, and Susan D. is ten. Puppa hopes we shall not be troublesome, and here are the keys of the trunks."

The boy drew a long breath, and looked round him with an air of triumph.

"Well, I should think you would know it!" said his brother. "Been saying it all the way over here."

"More than you could do!" retorted his elder.

"Wouldn't do it anyhow, so there!" said the younger.

These last remarks had been carried on in an undertone, the set speech having been delivered slowly and with much dignity. Finally each boy kicked the other's shins surreptitiously, and then both stared again at their uncle. The little girl had never stirred, but stood gazing up at the big man who held her hands so lightly and yet so kindly, and who had such bright, deep, quiet brown eyes. Margaret, standing in the doorway, scrutinised the three, and felt a sinking at the heart. Basil Montfort was a tall boy for his age, slender and wiry, with tow-coloured hair that stood straight on end, thin lips that curled up at the corners with a suggestion of malice, and piercing gray eyes, which he had a trick of screwing up till they were like gimlet points. The second, Merton, was decidedly better-looking, with pretty curly hair, and blue eyes with an appealing look in them; but Margaret fancied he looked a little sly; and straightway took herself to task for the unkind fancy. The little girl was Basil over again, save that the tow-coloured hair was put back with a round comb, and the gray eyes widely opened, instead of half shut, when she looked at any one. All three children were neatly dressed, and all looked as if they were not used to their clothes.

"Well," said Mr. Montfort at last, after a long, silent look at each one in turn, "I am very glad to see you, children. I hope we are going to be good friends. Boys, I was a boy myself, just two or three years ago,—or it may be four,—so you can ask me about anything you want to know. Susan, I never was a girl, you see, but that need not make much difference. Your Cousin Margaret—oh, here is your Cousin Margaret! She will be good to you, and—and in short, you are all very welcome to Fernley, and there is a swing in the garden, and the rest you can find out for yourselves."

Margaret came forward, and shook hands with the boys, and kissed the little girl warmly. Evidently Susan D. was not used to being kissed, for she blushed, and her brothers giggled rather rudely, till they caught Mr. Montfort's eye, and stopped.

"Young gentlemen," said Uncle John, with an emphasis which brought the blood to Basil's cheek, "dinner will be ready"—he looked at his watch—"in an hour. I daresay they would like something now, Margaret; crackers and cheese, gingerbread,—what? You'll find them something." Mr. Montfort nodded kindly, and strode away to his study. Margaret was left alone with the three strange children, feeling shyer than ever before in her life. The meeting with the three cousins of her own age, two years ago, was nothing to this.

"Are you hungry, boys?" she asked.

"Starving!" said Merton.

"He isn't," said Susan D. "He's been eating all the way, ever since we left home. He's a greedy,—that's what he is." Then, scared at her own voice, she hung her head down, and put her finger in her mouth.

"Oh, well," said Margaret, "I daresay you would all be hungry before dinner-time, so suppose we come into the pantry and see what we can find. Will you come with me, Susan, dear?" She held out her hand, but the little girl evaded it, and followed in the rear, holding her own hands behind her back.

"Will you call me Cousin Margaret?" the girl went on. "And shall I call you Susie, or do you like Susan better?"

Susan not replying, Basil replied for her. "Susan D. we call her; but Puppa calls her Sudden Death when she acts bad; she mostly does act bad."

"Don't neither!" muttered Susan D., scowling.

"Do teither!" retorted both brothers in a breath.

"She ain't shy!" Basil went on. "She's sulky, that's all. Merton's shy, and I ain't. I'll tell you things, when you ask me; they won't, half the time."

"Well, I haven't asked you anything, yet, have I?" said Margaret, smiling, and feeling more at ease with this boy, somehow, than with either of the others. "What can you tell me that is pleasant about them?"

"That's so!" said Basil, and his lips parted suddenly in a smile that positively transfigured his plain face. "Well, Mert's the best boxer, and he can sing and draw. I'm the best runner, of course, 'count of my legs being long, you see." He held up a long, thin leg for Margaret's inspection. "Some fellows called me Spider once, and Susan D. scratched their faces for 'em. She's great at scratching, Susan D. is."

"My dear!" said poor Margaret. "I thought you were going to tell me the pleasant things, Basil."

"Ain't I?" said the boy, innocently. "She was standing up for me, you see. She always stands up for me; Mert is a sne—— well, what I was going to say, she's a pretty good runner, for a girl, and she can shin a rope too, better than any of us. Mert can hang on longest with his teeth."

"What do you mean, child?" cried Margaret, laughing. Basil flashed his brilliant smile on her again.

"Tables," he explained. "Yes, please, crackers; and quite a lot of cheese, please."

"Greedy Gobble!" interjected Merton.

"Well, I like that!" said Basil. "Who ate my sandwich, when I was looking out of the window? I tell you what, I'd punch your head for two cents, young feller!"

"Boys," said Margaret, decidedly, "I cannot have this! While you are with me, I expect you to behave decently."

"Yes, ma'am!" said both boys, with ready cheerfulness; and Basil continued his explanation.

"We see which can hang on to a table longest, don't you know, by your teeth. Did ever you?"

"No, I certainly never did; and—I don't think you'd better try it here, Basil. It must be very hard on your teeth, besides ruining the table."

"It ain't healthy for the table," Basil admitted. "You ought to see the tables at home! It makes like a little pattern round the edge, sometimes. Quite pretty, I think. Say, are you the boss here?"

Seated on the pantry dresser, swinging his legs, the young gentleman seemed as much at home as if he had spent his life at Fernley. The two other children were eating hastily and furtively, as if they feared each bite might be their last. Basil crunched his crackers and nibbled his cheese with an air of perfect unconcern. "Are you the boss here?" he repeated.

"Am I in authority, do you mean?" asked Margaret, who could not abide slang of any kind. "No, indeed, Basil. Your Uncle John is the head of the house, in every possible way. I hope you are all going to be very good and obedient. He is the kindest, best man in the whole world."

"I think he's bully," said Basil. "I guess you're bully too, ain't you? And it's a bully place. Hi, Mert, there's a squirrel! Look at him running up that tree. My! Wish I had a pea-shooter!"

"Bet you couldn't hit him if you had!" cried Merton, as all three children watched the squirrel with breathless interest.

"Bet I could!" said Basil, contemptuously.

"Guess he could hit it when you couldn't hit a barn in the next county!" cried Susan D. in a kind of small shriek; then she caught Margaret's eye, blushed furiously, and tried to get behind her bread and butter.

"I say! can we go out in the garden?" cried Basil.

"Yes, indeed, but wouldn't you like to come up and see your rooms first? Such pleasant rooms! I am sure you will like them."

But none of the children cared to see the pleasant rooms. Receiving permission to play till they heard the dinner-bell, they fled suddenly, as if the constable were at their heels. Margaret saw their legs twinkling across the grass-plot. They were yelling like red Indians. Susan D.'s hat blew off at the third bound; Basil shied his cap into a bush with a joyous whoop, then snatched off his brother's and threw that after it. Merton grappled him with a shout, and they rolled over and over at the feet of their sister, who bent down and pummelled them both with might and main, shrieking with excitement. As Margaret gazed aghast, preparing to fly and interfere, she heard a quiet laugh behind her, and turning, saw Mr. Montfort looking over her shoulder.

"Battle, Murder, and Sudden Death!" he said. "Separate them? On no account, my dear! They have been shut up for hours, and their muscles need stretching. Don't be alarmed, my child; I know this kind." Poor Margaret sighed. She did not know this kind.