Penelope and the Others by Amy Walton (best e book reader android .TXT) π
Excerpt from the book:
This is another story by Amy Walton about life in the English countryside towards the end of the nineteenth century. It is a sequel to "The Hawthorns", except that, for some reason, the name has become "Hawthorne".
On the whole the principal dramatis personae, the Hawthorne household, are unchanged. The additions are Miss Barnicroft, an eccentric old lady from the village; Kettles, an impoverished child from Nearminster, the cathedral city close by; Dr Budge, a learned old man in the village, who takes on the grounding of one of the boys in Latin; Mrs Margetts, who had spent her life in the Hawthorne family's employment as a children's nurse; the Dean of the Cathedral and his family, particularly Sabine, who is the same age as Pennie; and Dr Budge's pet Jackdaw.
There is no reason why a child of today should not read this story and profit by it. They will perhaps be surprised to find how much more civilised life was a hundred years ago and more, than it is today
On the whole the principal dramatis personae, the Hawthorne household, are unchanged. The additions are Miss Barnicroft, an eccentric old lady from the village; Kettles, an impoverished child from Nearminster, the cathedral city close by; Dr Budge, a learned old man in the village, who takes on the grounding of one of the boys in Latin; Mrs Margetts, who had spent her life in the Hawthorne family's employment as a children's nurse; the Dean of the Cathedral and his family, particularly Sabine, who is the same age as Pennie; and Dr Budge's pet Jackdaw.
There is no reason why a child of today should not read this story and profit by it. They will perhaps be surprised to find how much more civilised life was a hundred years ago and more, than it is today
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the museum was now in very fine order, with all its shelves full, and all its specimens neatly labelled and arranged. The doctor himself had climbed the steep staircase to pay a visit to it, and squeezed himself with difficulty through the low doorway. True, there was only one corner in it where he could stand upright, because the roof sloped so much and he was so tall; but if it had been a palace he could not have admired it more, or looked more really pleased with everything in it.
The boys, therefore, were quite satisfied; there could not be a better thing to celebrate the return than to open the museum. But Pennie and Nancy were quite outside all this, and they had a strong feeling that they too would like to do something remarkable on Monday. Only what should it be?
"It's of no use at all to keep on saying you're glad," said Pennie. "Of course we're glad, but what can we do to show it?"
"Couldn't we decorate the house," said Nancy, "like Christmas?"
"It would be better than nothing," said Pennie, but she evidently did not think it much of an idea.
"What do you call those things that emperors drive under when they come back from wars?" asked Nancy suddenly.
"Laurels," suggested Pennie doubtfully.
"No, no," said Nancy, "you know what I mean. I've heard you read about them to Miss Grey in history."
"Canopies," said Pennie after deep thought. But that was wrong too. Nancy bit her lips with impatience.
"It's something to do with an arch," she said, "only there's another word before it."
"_I_ know," said Pennie, "you mean a triumphant arch."
"That's it," exclaimed Nancy with great relief. "Well, why couldn't we make a triumphant arch over the white gate for them to drive under?"
Pennie approved of this.
"If the boys would help," she added; "you and I couldn't do it alone, we shouldn't have time. And besides we should want their hammers and things."
"We must ask them at once," said Nancy springing up. "They must be tired of staring at that stupid museum."
The boys were quite ready, for there really was nothing more to do to the museum, and they were glad of a change. The next person to be appealed to was Andrew, but here came an unexpected difficulty. Andrew would not allow a single twig to be cut while master was away.
"But we must have ever-greens," insisted Ambrose, "it's to make a triumphant arch for father and mother."
But Andrew was firm. They might make as many triumphant arches as they liked after master was at home, but he couldn't cut ever-greens without orders.
"It wouldn't be a bit of use afterwards," said David. "People never have triumphant arches _after_ they get back. We must have some now."
"Not from me, Master David," was Andrew's answer, and he left the children in a downcast group and went on his way. Poor Nancy was almost in tears. It was very hard to have her plan so suddenly destroyed, but she knew that Andrew was not to be persuaded to change his mind.
"It's a shame!" she exclaimed with heated cheeks. "I'm sure mother and father would like us to have them. I shall go and ask Miss Grey."
She ran off towards the house, and Pennie followed more slowly. The boys, easily consoled by remembering that there was still the museum, gave up the triumphant arch without any more effort, and went about their own affairs.
Nancy soon came back.
"Well?" said Pennie inquiringly.
"Miss Grey's just as bad as Andrew," said Nancy moodily. "She says she couldn't give us leave to have ever-greens in father's absence."
"Why, then, we must give it up," said Pennie soothingly, "and think of something else."
"There is nothing else," said Nancy.
It made her feel cross to see Pennie take it so quietly, and, refusing to go into the house with her, she marched off rather sulkily by herself. First she wandered listlessly about the garden, casting looks of disdain at Andrew, who was quite unaware of them, and then she went down to the white gate leading into the road, and thought how beautiful the triumphant arch would have looked.
Presently she climbed on to the top of the gate, and sat there feeling very cross with all the world--with Andrew, with Miss Grey, with the boys, and even with Pennie because she was not cross too. Engaged in these moody thoughts, she at length saw a large figure coming slowly down the road towards her. It wore black baggy clothes and a wideawake hat, and it often stopped and made lines in the dusty road with the stout stick it carried. By all this Nancy knew that it was Dr Budge, and as she sat there with her chin resting on her hand she wondered how often he would stop before he reached her, to make pictures in the dust.
She thought she would count. And she began to say one, two, three, aloud, so that she might remember. The doctor got nearer and nearer, quite unconscious of the little figure on the vicarage gate.
"Five," said Nancy's clear little voice, breaking in on his reflections as he came to a stand-still near her.
She was so used to be unnoticed by him that she was surprised to see him look quickly at her, as though he knew who she was. Not being at all shy she at once gave him a cheerful little nod.
"Five what?" asked the doctor.
"I was counting how many times you stopped before you came to the gate," said Nancy.
Dr Budge laughed. "Well, you're not very busy then, I suppose?" he said, "or is this the way you generally spend your mornings?"
"I'm not at all busy," said Nancy in an injured tone as she remembered her disappointment, "but I should like to be. I wanted to be very busy indeed, but I can't, because of that tiresome Andrew."
The doctor stood facing the gate, his stout stick in his hand, and his eyes fixed on her quite as if he knew who she was.
"He doesn't look as if he thought I was David to-day," said Nancy to herself; and encouraged by the doctor's attention she went on confidentially.
"You see, father and mother and the little ones are coming back on Monday, and the boys are going to open the museum, but Pennie and I haven't anything to do with that, and we wanted to make a triumphant arch and decorate the house, and Andrew won't let us have any ever-greens."
"A triumphant arch, eh!" said the doctor, and Nancy wondered why he smiled as he said it, as though it were something odd; "but wouldn't it be difficult for you to make that?"
"The boys would help us," said Nancy; "but it's no use thinking of it, because we can't have any ever-greens."
"It's a splendid idea," said the doctor thoughtfully. "Whose was it?"
"Mine," said Nancy proudly. She began to like Dr Budge very much.
"Why shouldn't you go up into the woods," said he after a moment. "There's plenty of ivy and holly there, and you might get as much as you liked."
"We mus'n't go there alone," said Nancy sadly, "and Miss Grey couldn't walk so far, and if she could it's too late now, for it would take us all the afternoon to get there and back, and to-morrow's Sunday."
"But you could get up early, I suppose, on Monday morning and put up the triumphant arch," persisted the doctor.
Nancy looked quickly at him with a gleam of hope in her eyes.
"If," she began, "someone could go with us--" She stopped, but the rest of the sentence was written on her face, and Dr Budge understood as well as though she had spoken it.
He nodded gravely.
"If Miss Grey gives leave," he said, "you can meet me at two o'clock at the corner of the road. And, of course, the boys are to come too."
"And Pennie," added Nancy. In her excitement she stood up on the bar of the gate as though she meant to fling herself upon the doctor's neck, but checking this impulse she climbed down and held out her hand to him.
"Thank you tremendously," she said very earnestly. "Miss Grey will be sure to let us go with you."
In this way the doctor proved himself a friend in need for the second time, and now Nancy and Pennie were loud in his praise as well as the boys. He knew so much about everything, as well as about Latin and Greek and museums. Where to find the best sort of ivy, how much would be wanted for the arch, and finally, how to get the bundle of ever-greens down the hill. He even produced out of one baggy pocket a ball of stout twine, and showed the children how to bind it all together and pull it along after them. He was the most delightful person to go out with. Miss Grey sometimes said "Not so much noise Nancy," or, "Remember you are a young lady;" but on this occasion Nancy made as much noise as she liked, scrambled about among the bushes, tore her frock, and enjoyed herself to the full.
The children went to bed happy in the thought that in spite of Andrew there was a big bundle of ever-greens in the barn, and that nothing would be wanting to the triumphant arch on Monday.
Very early in the morning it was all ready, and they stood round the white gate looking up at it with some pride, but also a little doubt.
"Doesn't it look rather wobbly?" said Nancy. "I thought pea-sticks wouldn't be strong enough, but Andrew wouldn't let us have anything else."
The ever-greens had been tied on with such a generous hand that their weight seemed a little too much for the triumphant arch, so that it trembled gently in the wind.
"Suppose," said Ambrose, "that it should fall just as father and mother drive through. And I don't believe," he added, "that Andrew, on the box, with his tall hat on, will be able to drive through without touching the top." This seemed so likely, and was such an awful thought, that the children were silent for a moment. If Andrew's tall hat did knock against the arch it would certainly fall, and perhaps hurt the whole party.
"We must tell him to be sure to bend his head," said Pennie at last, "or it would be still better if he would take off his hat, but I'm afraid he wouldn't do that."
"Well, anyhow," said Nancy, "we can't alter it now, because we've got all the house to do. We must just leave it to chance."
Nancy was fond of leaving things to chance, and though this was a more serious matter than usual, the children at last agreed that there was nothing else to be done. The rest of the morning was spent in putting ivy and holly wherever it could be put, especially on the staircase leading up to the museum. David with his hammer nailed up wreaths and sprays as fast as
The boys, therefore, were quite satisfied; there could not be a better thing to celebrate the return than to open the museum. But Pennie and Nancy were quite outside all this, and they had a strong feeling that they too would like to do something remarkable on Monday. Only what should it be?
"It's of no use at all to keep on saying you're glad," said Pennie. "Of course we're glad, but what can we do to show it?"
"Couldn't we decorate the house," said Nancy, "like Christmas?"
"It would be better than nothing," said Pennie, but she evidently did not think it much of an idea.
"What do you call those things that emperors drive under when they come back from wars?" asked Nancy suddenly.
"Laurels," suggested Pennie doubtfully.
"No, no," said Nancy, "you know what I mean. I've heard you read about them to Miss Grey in history."
"Canopies," said Pennie after deep thought. But that was wrong too. Nancy bit her lips with impatience.
"It's something to do with an arch," she said, "only there's another word before it."
"_I_ know," said Pennie, "you mean a triumphant arch."
"That's it," exclaimed Nancy with great relief. "Well, why couldn't we make a triumphant arch over the white gate for them to drive under?"
Pennie approved of this.
"If the boys would help," she added; "you and I couldn't do it alone, we shouldn't have time. And besides we should want their hammers and things."
"We must ask them at once," said Nancy springing up. "They must be tired of staring at that stupid museum."
The boys were quite ready, for there really was nothing more to do to the museum, and they were glad of a change. The next person to be appealed to was Andrew, but here came an unexpected difficulty. Andrew would not allow a single twig to be cut while master was away.
"But we must have ever-greens," insisted Ambrose, "it's to make a triumphant arch for father and mother."
But Andrew was firm. They might make as many triumphant arches as they liked after master was at home, but he couldn't cut ever-greens without orders.
"It wouldn't be a bit of use afterwards," said David. "People never have triumphant arches _after_ they get back. We must have some now."
"Not from me, Master David," was Andrew's answer, and he left the children in a downcast group and went on his way. Poor Nancy was almost in tears. It was very hard to have her plan so suddenly destroyed, but she knew that Andrew was not to be persuaded to change his mind.
"It's a shame!" she exclaimed with heated cheeks. "I'm sure mother and father would like us to have them. I shall go and ask Miss Grey."
She ran off towards the house, and Pennie followed more slowly. The boys, easily consoled by remembering that there was still the museum, gave up the triumphant arch without any more effort, and went about their own affairs.
Nancy soon came back.
"Well?" said Pennie inquiringly.
"Miss Grey's just as bad as Andrew," said Nancy moodily. "She says she couldn't give us leave to have ever-greens in father's absence."
"Why, then, we must give it up," said Pennie soothingly, "and think of something else."
"There is nothing else," said Nancy.
It made her feel cross to see Pennie take it so quietly, and, refusing to go into the house with her, she marched off rather sulkily by herself. First she wandered listlessly about the garden, casting looks of disdain at Andrew, who was quite unaware of them, and then she went down to the white gate leading into the road, and thought how beautiful the triumphant arch would have looked.
Presently she climbed on to the top of the gate, and sat there feeling very cross with all the world--with Andrew, with Miss Grey, with the boys, and even with Pennie because she was not cross too. Engaged in these moody thoughts, she at length saw a large figure coming slowly down the road towards her. It wore black baggy clothes and a wideawake hat, and it often stopped and made lines in the dusty road with the stout stick it carried. By all this Nancy knew that it was Dr Budge, and as she sat there with her chin resting on her hand she wondered how often he would stop before he reached her, to make pictures in the dust.
She thought she would count. And she began to say one, two, three, aloud, so that she might remember. The doctor got nearer and nearer, quite unconscious of the little figure on the vicarage gate.
"Five," said Nancy's clear little voice, breaking in on his reflections as he came to a stand-still near her.
She was so used to be unnoticed by him that she was surprised to see him look quickly at her, as though he knew who she was. Not being at all shy she at once gave him a cheerful little nod.
"Five what?" asked the doctor.
"I was counting how many times you stopped before you came to the gate," said Nancy.
Dr Budge laughed. "Well, you're not very busy then, I suppose?" he said, "or is this the way you generally spend your mornings?"
"I'm not at all busy," said Nancy in an injured tone as she remembered her disappointment, "but I should like to be. I wanted to be very busy indeed, but I can't, because of that tiresome Andrew."
The doctor stood facing the gate, his stout stick in his hand, and his eyes fixed on her quite as if he knew who she was.
"He doesn't look as if he thought I was David to-day," said Nancy to herself; and encouraged by the doctor's attention she went on confidentially.
"You see, father and mother and the little ones are coming back on Monday, and the boys are going to open the museum, but Pennie and I haven't anything to do with that, and we wanted to make a triumphant arch and decorate the house, and Andrew won't let us have any ever-greens."
"A triumphant arch, eh!" said the doctor, and Nancy wondered why he smiled as he said it, as though it were something odd; "but wouldn't it be difficult for you to make that?"
"The boys would help us," said Nancy; "but it's no use thinking of it, because we can't have any ever-greens."
"It's a splendid idea," said the doctor thoughtfully. "Whose was it?"
"Mine," said Nancy proudly. She began to like Dr Budge very much.
"Why shouldn't you go up into the woods," said he after a moment. "There's plenty of ivy and holly there, and you might get as much as you liked."
"We mus'n't go there alone," said Nancy sadly, "and Miss Grey couldn't walk so far, and if she could it's too late now, for it would take us all the afternoon to get there and back, and to-morrow's Sunday."
"But you could get up early, I suppose, on Monday morning and put up the triumphant arch," persisted the doctor.
Nancy looked quickly at him with a gleam of hope in her eyes.
"If," she began, "someone could go with us--" She stopped, but the rest of the sentence was written on her face, and Dr Budge understood as well as though she had spoken it.
He nodded gravely.
"If Miss Grey gives leave," he said, "you can meet me at two o'clock at the corner of the road. And, of course, the boys are to come too."
"And Pennie," added Nancy. In her excitement she stood up on the bar of the gate as though she meant to fling herself upon the doctor's neck, but checking this impulse she climbed down and held out her hand to him.
"Thank you tremendously," she said very earnestly. "Miss Grey will be sure to let us go with you."
In this way the doctor proved himself a friend in need for the second time, and now Nancy and Pennie were loud in his praise as well as the boys. He knew so much about everything, as well as about Latin and Greek and museums. Where to find the best sort of ivy, how much would be wanted for the arch, and finally, how to get the bundle of ever-greens down the hill. He even produced out of one baggy pocket a ball of stout twine, and showed the children how to bind it all together and pull it along after them. He was the most delightful person to go out with. Miss Grey sometimes said "Not so much noise Nancy," or, "Remember you are a young lady;" but on this occasion Nancy made as much noise as she liked, scrambled about among the bushes, tore her frock, and enjoyed herself to the full.
The children went to bed happy in the thought that in spite of Andrew there was a big bundle of ever-greens in the barn, and that nothing would be wanting to the triumphant arch on Monday.
Very early in the morning it was all ready, and they stood round the white gate looking up at it with some pride, but also a little doubt.
"Doesn't it look rather wobbly?" said Nancy. "I thought pea-sticks wouldn't be strong enough, but Andrew wouldn't let us have anything else."
The ever-greens had been tied on with such a generous hand that their weight seemed a little too much for the triumphant arch, so that it trembled gently in the wind.
"Suppose," said Ambrose, "that it should fall just as father and mother drive through. And I don't believe," he added, "that Andrew, on the box, with his tall hat on, will be able to drive through without touching the top." This seemed so likely, and was such an awful thought, that the children were silent for a moment. If Andrew's tall hat did knock against the arch it would certainly fall, and perhaps hurt the whole party.
"We must tell him to be sure to bend his head," said Pennie at last, "or it would be still better if he would take off his hat, but I'm afraid he wouldn't do that."
"Well, anyhow," said Nancy, "we can't alter it now, because we've got all the house to do. We must just leave it to chance."
Nancy was fond of leaving things to chance, and though this was a more serious matter than usual, the children at last agreed that there was nothing else to be done. The rest of the morning was spent in putting ivy and holly wherever it could be put, especially on the staircase leading up to the museum. David with his hammer nailed up wreaths and sprays as fast as
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