A Pair of Clogs by Amy Walton (best summer reads TXT) 📕

words, they did not sink into her mind any more than the water on the ducks' backs in the river outside; they rolled off it at once, and only the wonderful, wonderful fact remained, that she was not Mary Vallance. Who was she, then? And, above all, what could Rice have meant by "brown as a berry?" Who was brown as a berry? Certainly not Mary herself; she was quite used to hearing that she was "as white as snow" and "as fair as a lily"--it was Agatha Chelwood who had a brown skin. Altogether it was very mysterious and deeply interesting; soon she began to make up long stories about herself, in which it was always discovered at last that she belonged to very rich people with grand titles. This was what people had meant when they whispered that she was "no common child." Mary's foolish head was in a whirl of excitement, and filled from morning to night with visions of grandeur. If the little clog could only have spoken! Mute, yet full of expression it stood there, while Mary dreamed in her little white bed of palaces and princesses.

"I was not made," it would have said, "for foot of princess or lady, or to tread on soft carpets and take dainty steps; I am a hardworking shoe made by rough hands, though the heart they belonged to was kind and gentle; I have nothing to do with luxury and idleness."

But no one understood this silent language. The clog was admired, and wondered at, and called "a quaint little shoe," and its history remained unknown.

Mary longed now to tell Jackie her mighty secret, which began to weigh too heavily to keep to herself; but when he did come to the vicarage again, he was not nearly so much impressed by it as she had hoped. This was partly, perhaps, because his mind was full of a certain project which he wished her to join, and she had scarcely bound him by a solemn promise not to breathe a word to the other children of what she had told him, than he began eagerly:

"We're going to spend the day at Maskells to-morrow--the _whole_ day. Will Mrs Vallance let you go too?"

"Come and ask her," said Mary; and Jackie, rather breathless, for he had run the whole way from the White House, proceeded with his request:

"The donkey-cart's going," he said, "and the three little ones, and Rice, and Fraulein, and all of us, and we're going quite early because it's so hot, and we shall stop to tea, and make a fire, of course, and mother hopes you'll let Mary go."

"Well, I can't say no," said Mrs Vallance, smiling at Jackie's heated face; "but I'm not very fond of Maskells, there are so many dangerous places in it."

"Oh, you mean the forbidden rooms," said Jackie; "we don't go into those now. There are three of them, where the floor's given way, you know, with great holes in them. Maskells is _such_ a jolly place," he added pleadingly; "we don't like any other half so well."

"You say Fraulein is going?" said Mrs Vallance.

"Yes, and Rice, too; but they won't be in the way, because Fraulein's going to sketch, and Rice will have to be with the little ones."

"I hope they _will_ be in the way," replied Mrs Vallance, "and prevent you heedless children climbing about in unsafe places and breaking your limbs."

"Then Mary may go? And we start _punctually_ at nine, so she mustn't be late."

Consent once given, Jackie took his departure, and his stout knickerbockered legs were soon out of sight.

Mary was delighted, for Maskells was the most charming place possible to spend a day in, and the prospect of going there made her forget for a time the one subject which had lately filled her mind--herself.

Maskells was a deserted house standing near the high-road between the White House and Dorminster; it had once been a place of some consequence, and still had pleasant meadows round it, sloping down to a river at the back; but the garden and orchard were tangled and neglected--much more interesting, the children thought, than if they had been properly cared for.

The house had two projecting wings, and quaint latticed windows; outside, it had the appearance of being in tolerable repair, but there was in truth scarcely a whole room in it, floors and ceilings had given way, and great rifts and gaps yawned in them. The rotten old staircases were all the more dangerous because they still looked firm enough to bear a light weight, and though Jackie had once crawled up to the top of one, out on to the roof, the attempt was never repeated. He had remained there for half an hour clinging on to the side of a tall chimney, unable to move, until a farmer had fetched a ladder and got him down. Since then staircases and upper rooms had been forbidden, and the children had to content themselves with playing on the ground floor and in the outhouses. There was a mystery hanging about the old place which added to its attractions, for they had heard that it had fallen into this decay and been uninhabited so long because it was "in Chancery." A mysterious expression, which might mean anything, and was more than enough to clothe it with all the terrors which belong to the unknown.

When dusk came on, and the owls and bats flapped their wings in shadowy corners, it was desirable to cling closely together and feel afraid in company--a tremor was excusable in the boldest. Patrick, indeed, always declared he had once seen a ghost in Maskells. Pressed for details, he had been unable to give any clear account of it, and was a good deal laughed at, especially by Mary; but it was dimly felt by all that there might be truth in it--anything was possible for a place "in Chancery."

Mary liked to imagine things about Maskells; it would do for the Tower of London with dungeons in it, or for Lochleven with Mary Queen of Scots escaping by night, or for a besieged castle, and hundreds of other fancies. She invented games founded on those scenes which were popular at first, but as she always took the leading parts herself, the other children soon tired of them.

"Don't let's pretend anything else," Jennie would say, who had a practical mind; "let's have a game of hide-and-seek."

And certainly no place could have been better fitted than Maskells for the purpose.


STORY ONE, CHAPTER 3.

THE ADVENTURE.

Mary did not fail to start in good time for the White House on the morning after Jackie's invitation, and reached the gates leading into the stable-yard just as the clock was striking nine. The donkey-cart was standing there ready, and the four elder children were busily engaged round it stowing away large parcels to the best advantage, and thrusting in a variety of small ones. There was an anxious look on all their faces, for they had so many things to remember and the cart was small. Rice, the old nurse, stood by with the youngest child in her arms; she was to ride in the cart with her three charges, who were too small to walk so far, but it seemed more than doubtful at present if there would be room by the time the packing was finished. Taught by experience, however, she wisely forebore to interfere with the arrangements and waited patiently.

"Have you got everything?" asked Mary as she entered.

There was not much more visible of Jackie than his boots, for he was making great exertions head-foremost in the cart, but he answered in a muffled voice:

"I think so. Read the list, Agatha."

"Potatoes and apples to roast--" began Agatha.

"There, now!" said Jackie, and the next minute he was plunging in at the kitchen door.

"I _knew_ you'd forget something," said Mary triumphantly. "What a good idea it was of mine to have a list!"

Jackie soon came back with a knobbly-looking canvas bag in his hand, and followed by Fraulein Schnipp the German governess.

"I say," he said, "we've forgotten Fraulein's camp-stool and sketching things; and she says she can't go without them."

"Well," said Jennie in a low tone, "I don't believe you can get them in. I should think she might carry them herself."

"Don't," said Patrick with a nudge of his elbow; "you'll make her cry."

It was a puzzling habit that Fraulein had, to weep silently at unexpected moments, and say her feelings were hurt. This was so distressing that the children were always anxious to avoid it if possible. She stood looking on now with a pleased smile, grasping her camp-stool, and understanding very little of the chatter going on round her. Fraulein was very good-natured looking, with large soft blue eyes and a quantity of frizzy fair hair.

At last the packing was done; camp-stool, sketching-books, and three small children on the top of everything. Rice would have to walk by the side of the cart. It really was a wonderfully hot day, and there was scarcely any shade; the donkey went even slower than usual, and by the time they reached Maskells the whole party was rather exhausted-- Fraulein more so than anyone, and she sank at once on the ground under some beech-trees opposite the house. It was in this spot that the cart was always unpacked, the cloth laid, and dinner spread. Later on in the day a fire was made here to boil the kettle for tea, but until then the children were free to roam about and do as they liked.

As Jackie had said, Fraulein was anxious to make a sketch of the old house, and after dinner was over and she had a little recovered from her fatigue she planted her camp-stool conveniently and set to work. The children knew now that neither she nor Rice would be "in the way" that afternoon; they were both comfortably settled and would not be likely to stir for hours.

But it was almost too hot to play, and the games went on languidly until four o'clock, when it began to get cooler, and there were pleasant shadows round about.

"We ought to begin to pick up wood," said the careful Agatha, "or the fire won't be ready for tea-time."

"Well, we'll just have one game of hide-and-seek first," said Jackie; and so it was agreed.

Agatha hid first, but she was soon found, for she was not fond of venturing far into the dark corners round Maskells; then it was Jackie's turn, and then it came to Mary.

Determined to distinguish herself, and find a more difficult place than the others, she wandered round to the side of the house which looked upon the neglected orchard, and was furthest away from where Fraulein and Rice were sitting. She would not cry "Whoop!" for a long while, she thought, till she had found a very good place indeed. As she pushed her way among the low boughs of the apple-trees, and through the tall tangled grass which reached nearly to her waist, she felt very bold and adventurous, for the children seldom ventured on this side--it was unknown ground. Certainly the house looked far more mournful and ruinous here than it did in front. Wooden shutters were fastened