The Bars of Iron

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER VI

  THE RACE

  "Hooray! No more horrid sums for a whole month!" Gracie Lorimer'sarithmetic-book soared to the ceiling and came down with a bang whileGracie herself pivoted, not ungracefully, on her toes till sheergiddiness and exhaustion put an end to her rhapsody. Then she staggeredto Avery who was darning the family stockings by the window and flungecstatic arms about her neck.

  "Dear Mrs. Denys, aren't you glad it's holidays?" she gasped. "We'll giveyou such a lovely time!"

  "I'm sure you will, dear," said Avery. "But do mind the needle!"

  She kissed the brilliant childish face that was pressed to hers. She andGracie were close friends. Gracie was eleven, and the prettiest madcap ofthem all. It was a perpetual marvel to Avery that the child managed to beso happy, for she was continually in trouble. But she seemed to possess acheery knack of throwing off adversity. She was essentially gay of heart.

  "Do put away those stupid old stockings and come out with us!" shebegged, still hanging over Avery. "Don't you hate darning? I do. We hadto do our own before you came. I was very naughty one day last summer. Iwent out and played in the garden instead of mending my stockings, andFather found out." Gracie cast up her eyes dramatically. "He sent me into do them, and went off to one of his old parish parties; and I justsneaked out as soon as his back was turned and went on with the game. Butthere was no luck that day. He came back to fetch something and caughtme. And then--just imagine!" Again Gracie was dramatic, though this timeunconsciously. "He sent me to bed and--what do you think? When he camehome to tea, he--whipped me!"

  Avery threaded her needle with care. She said nothing.

  "I think it was rather a shame," went on Gracie unconcernedly. "Becausehe never whips Jeanie or Olive. But then, he can make them cry without,and he can't make me. I 'spect that's what made him do it, don't you?"

  "I don't know, dear," said Avery rather shortly.

  Gracie peered round into her face. "Mrs. Denys, you don't like Father, doyou?" she said.

  "My dear, that's not a nice question to ask," said Avery, with her eyeson her work.

  "I don't know why not," said Gracie. "I don't like him myself, and heknows I don't. He'd whip me again if he got the chance, but I'm too jollycareful now. I was pleased that you got Ronnie and Julian off the otherday. He never suspected, did he? I thought I should have burst duringprayers. It was so funny."

  "My dear!" protested Avery.

  "Yes, I know," said Gracie. "But you aren't really shocked, dear, kindMrs. Denys! You know you aren't. I can see your sweet little dimple.No, I can't! Yes, I can! I do love your dimple. It goes in and outlike the sun."

  Avery leaned back abruptly in her chair. "Oh, foolish one!" she said, andgathered the child to her with a warmth to which the ardent Gracie wasswift to respond.

  "And you are coming out with us, aren't you? Because it's so lovely andcold. I want to go up on that big hill in Rodding Park, and run and runand run till I just can't run any longer. Ronnie and Julian are comingtoo. And Jeanie and Olive and Pat. We ought to begin and collect hollyfor the church decorations. You'll be able to help this year, won't you?Miss Whalley always bosses things. Have you met Miss Whalley yet? She'squite the funniest person in Rodding. She was the daughter of the lastVicar, and she has never forgotten it. So odd of her! As if there wereanything in it! I often wish I weren't a parson's daughter. I'd muchrather belong to someone who had to go up to town every day. There wouldbe much more fun for everybody then."

  Avery was laying her mending together. She supposed she ought to checkthe child's chatter, but felt too much in sympathy with her to do so. "Ireally don't know if I ought to come," she said. "But it is certainly toofine an afternoon for you to waste indoors. Where are the boys?"

  "Oh, they're messing about somewhere in the garden. You see, they've gotto keep out of sight or Father will set them to work to roll the lawn. Healways does that sort of thing. He calls it 'turning our youthfulenergies to good account.'" Very suddenly and wickedly Grade mimicked thepastoral tones. "But the boys call it 'nigger-driving,'" she added, "andI think the boys are right. When I'm grown up, I'll never, never, nevermake my children do horrid things like that. They shall have--oh, such agood time!"

  There was unconscious pathos in the declaration. Avery looked at thebright face very tenderly.

  "I wonder what you'll do with them when they're naughty, Gracie," shesaid.

  "I shall never whip them," said Gracie decidedly. "I think whipping is ahorrid punishment. It makes you hate everybody. I think I shan't punishthem at all, Mrs. Denys. I shall just tell them how wrong they've been,and that they are never to do it again. And I'm sure they won't," sheadded, with confidence. "They'll love me too much."

  She slipped her arm round Avery's waist as she rose. "Do you know I woulddreadfully like to call you Aunt Avery?" she said. "I said so to Jeanie,and Jeanie wants to too. Do you mind?"

  "Mind!" said Avery. "I shall love it."

  "Oh, thank you--awfully!" Grade kissed her fervently. "I'll run and tellJeanie. She will be pleased."

  She skipped from the room, and Avery went to prepare for the walk. "Poorlittle souls!" she murmured to herself. "How I wish they were mine!"

  They mustered only five when they started--the three girls, Pat, andAvery herself; but ere they had reached the end of the lane the two elderboys leapt the Vicarage wall with a whoop of triumph and joined them. Theparty became at once uproariously gay. Everyone talked at the same time,even Jeanie becoming animated. Avery rejoiced to see the pretty faceflushed and merry. She had begun to feel twinges of anxiety about Jeanielately. But she was able to banish them at least for to-day, for Jeanieran and chattered with the rest. In fact, Olive was the only one whoshowed any disposition to walk sedately. It had to be remembered thatOlive was the clever one of the family. She more closely resembled herfather than any of the others, and Avery firmly believed her to be theonly member of the family that Mr. Lorimer really loved. She was acold-hearted, sarcastic child, extremely self-contained, giving nothingand receiving nothing in return. It was impossible to become intimatewith her. Avery had given up the attempt almost at the outset, realizingthat it was not in Olive's nature to be intimate with anyone. They werealways exceedingly polite to each other, but beyond that theiracquaintance made no progress. Olive lived in a world of books, and thepractical side of life scarcely touched her, and most certainly neverappealed to her sympathy. "She will be her father over again," Mrs.Lorimer would declare, with pathetic pride. "So dignified, so handsome,and so clever!"

  And Avery agreed, not without reserve, that she certainly resembled himto a marked degree.

  She was by far the most sober member of the party that entered RoddingPark that afternoon. Avery, inspired by the merriment around her, was ina frankly frivolous mood. She was fast friends with the two elder boys,who had voted her a brick on the night that she had intervened todeliver them from the just retribution for their misdeeds. They hadconceived an immense admiration for her which placed her in a highlyprivileged position.

  "If Mrs. Denys says so, it is so," was Ronald's fiat, and she knew thatsuch influence as he possessed with his brothers and sisters was alwaysat her disposal.

  She liked Ronald. The boy was a gentleman. Though slow, he was solid; andshe suspected that he possessed more depth of character than the morebrilliant Julian. Julian was crafty; there was no denying it. She wassure that he would get on in the world. But of Ronald's future she wasnot so sure. It seemed to her that he might plod on for ever withoutreaching his goal. He kept near her throughout that riotous scamperthrough the bare, wind-swept Park, making it plain that he regardedhimself as her lieutenant whether she required his services or not. As amatter of fact, she did not require them, but she was glad to have himthere and she keenly appreciated the gentlemanly consideration with whichhe helped her over every stile.

  They reached the high hill of Gracie's desire, and rapidly climbed it.The sun had passed over to the far west and had already begun to di
p erethey reached the summit.

  "Now we'll all stand in a row and race down," announced Gracie, whenthey reached the top. "Aunt Avery will start us. We'll run as far as thatbig oak-tree on the edge of the wood. Now line up, everybody!"

  "I'm not going to do anything so silly," said Olive decidedly. "Mrs.Denys and I will follow quietly."

  "Oh no!" laughed Avery. "You can do the starting, my dear, and I willrace with the others."

  Olive looked at her, faintly contemptuous. "Oh, of course if you preferit--" she said.

  "I do indeed!" Avery assured her. "But I think the two big boys and Iought to be handicapped. Jeanie and Gracie and Pat must go ten pacesin front."

  "I am bigger than Gracie and Pat," said Jeanie. "I think I ought togo midway."

  "Of course," agreed Ronald. "And, Aunt Avery, you must go with her. Youcan't start level with Julian and me."

  Avery laughed at the amendment and fell in with it. They adjustedthemselves for the trial of speed, while Olive stationed herself on amole-hill to give the signal.

  The valley below them was in deep shadow. The last of the sunlight layupon the hilltop. It shone dazzlingly in Avery's eyes as the race began.

  There had been a sprinkling of snow the day before, and the grass wascrisp and rough. She felt it crush under her feet with a keen sense ofenjoyment. Instinctively she put all her buoyant strength into the run.She left Jeanie behind, overtook and passed the two younger children, andraced like a hare down the slope. Keenly the wind whistled past her, andshe rejoiced to feel its clean purity rush into her lungs. She was forthe moment absurdly, rapturously happy,--a child amongst children.

  The sun went out of sight, and the darkness of the valley swallowed her.She sped on, fleet-footed, flushed and laughing, moving as if on wings.

  She neared the dark line of wood, and saw the stark, outstretchedbranches of the oak that was her goal. In the same instant she caughtsight of a man's figure standing beneath it, apparently waiting for her.

  He had evidently just come out of the wood. He carried a gun on hisshoulder, but the freedom of his pose was so striking that she likenedhim on the instant to a Roman gladiator.

  She could not stop herself at once though she checked her speed, and whenshe finally managed to come to a stand, she was close to him.

  He stepped forward to meet her with a royal air of welcome. "How nice ofyou to come and call on me!" he said.

  His dark eyes shone mischievously as they greeted her, and she was tooflushed and dishevelled to stand upon ceremony. Pantingly she threw backher gay reply.

  "This is the children's happy hunting ground, not mine, I suppose, if thetruth were told, we are trespassing."

  He made her his sweeping bow. "There is not a corner of this estate thatis not utterly and for ever at your service."

  He turned as the two elder boys came racing up, and she saw thehalf-mocking light go out of his eyes as they glanced up the hill."Hullo!" he said. "There's one of them come to grief."

  Sharply she turned also. Pat and Gracie were having a spirited race downthe lower slope of the hill. Olive had begun to descend from the top withbecoming dignity. And midway, poor Jeanie crouched in a forlorn littleheap with her hands tightly covering her face.

  "The child's hurt!" exclaimed Avery.

  She started to run back, but in a moment Piers sprang past her, crying,"All right. Don't run! Take it easy!"

  He himself went like the wind. She watched him with subconsciousadmiration. He was so superbly lithe and strong.

  She saw him reach Jeanie and kneel down beside her. There was nohesitation about him. He was evidently deeply concerned. He slipped apersuasive arm about the child's huddled form.

  When Avery reached them, Jeanie's head in its blue woollen cap waspillowed against him and she was telling him sobbingly of her trouble.

  "I--I caught my foot. I don't know--how I did it. It twisted rightround--and oh, it does hurt, I--I--I can't help--being silly!"

  "All right, kiddie, all right!" said Piers. "It was one of thoseconfounded rabbit-holes. There! You'll be better in a minute. Got ahandkerchief, what? Oh, never mind! Take mine!"

  He pulled it out and dried her eyes as tenderly as if he had been awoman; then raised his head abruptly and spoke to Avery.

  "I expect it's a sprain. I'd better get her boot off and see, what?"

  "No, we had better take her home first," said Avery with quick decision.

  "All right," said Piers at once. "I'll carry her. I daresay she isn'tvery heavy. I say, little girl, you mustn't cry." He patted her shoulderkindly. "It hurts horribly, I know. These things always do. But you'regoing to show me how plucky you can be. Women are always braver than men,aren't they, Mrs. Denys?"

  Thus admonished, Jeanie lifted her face and made a valiant effort toregain her self-command. But she clasped her two hands very tightly uponPiers' arm so that he could not move to lift her.

  "I'll be brave in a minute," she promised him tremulously. "You won'tmind waiting--just a minute?"

  "Two, if you like," said Piers.

  Avery was stooping over the injured foot. Jeanie was propped sideways,half-lying against Piers' knee.

  "Don't touch it, please, Aunt Avery!" she whispered.

  The other children had drawn round in an interested group. "It looks likea fracture to me," observed Olive in her precise voice.

  Piers flashed her a withering glance. "Mighty lot you know about it!" heretorted rudely.

  Pat sniggered. He was not fond of his second sister. But his mirth waschecked by the impulsive Gracie who pushed him aside with a brief,"Don't be a pig!"

  Olive retired into the background with her nose in the air, looking soabsurdly like her father that a gleam of humour shot through even Piers'sternness. He suppressed it and turned to the two elder boys.

  "Which of you is to be trusted to carry a loaded gun?"

  "I am," said Julian.

  "No--Ronald," said Avery very firmly.

  Julian stuck out his tongue at her, and was instantly pummeled thereforby the zealous Gracie.

  "Ronald," said Piers. "Mind how you pick it up, and don't point it atanyone! Carry it on your shoulder! That's the way. Go slow with it! Nowyou walk in front and take it down to the lodge!"

  He issued his orders with the air of a commanding-officer, and havingissued them turned again with renewed gentleness to the child who layagainst his arm.

  "Now, little girl, shall we make a move? I'm afraid postponing it won'tmake it any better. I'll carry you awfully carefully."

  "Thank you," whispered Jeanie.

  He stooped over her. "Put your arm round my neck! That'll be a help. Mrs.Denys, can you steady her foot while I get up?"

  Avery bent to do so. He moved with infinite care; but even so the strainupon the foot was inevitable. Jeanie gave a sharp cry, and sank helplessin his arms.

  He began to speak encouragingly but broke off in the middle, feeling thechild's head lie limp upon his shoulder.

  "Afraid it's serious," he said to Avery. "We will get her down to thelodge and send for a doctor."

  "By Jove! She's fainted!" remarked Julian. "It's a jolly bad sprain."

  "It's not a sprain at all," said Olive loftily.

  And much as she would have liked to disagree, Avery knew that shewas right.