CHAPTER II.
BREAD AND MILK.
"Words which tenderness can speak From the truths of homely reason." WORDSWORTH.
Grandmamma would probably have spoken to Nurse the next day about beingcareful as to what she said before the children, had not the next daybrought rather a commotion. Nurse was ill, which, old as she, too, was,rarely happened. It was a bad attack of rheumatism, and very likely itscoming on had made her less patient than usual the day before. Howeverthat may have been, Grandmamma was far too sorry to see her suffering tosay anything which might have troubled her, for she was alreadydistressed enough at not being able to get up and go about as usual.
"Never mind, Nurse," said the children to console her, when a messagehad been brought from Grandmamma in the morning to say that Nurse was onno account to try to get up till the doctor had seen her, "us is goingto be very good. Us can do all your work, and you can stay in bed tillyour legs is not cracked any more," for they had heard her complainingof her knees and ankles being "wracked" with pain.
On the whole I am afraid Duke and Pamela did not think Nurse'srheumatism altogether an "ill-wind," as they sat on their high chairs atbreakfast at the nursery table.
"Shall you eat all yours up, bruvver?" asked Pamela, pointing to thebowl of bread and milk which Duke was discussing.
"Shall you?" asked Duke warily, before committing himself.
Pamela looked contemplatively at her bowl.
"I think I'll leave just a very little," she said. "Cook won't see. Iwish the bowls wasn't _quite_ so big."
"_Cook_ wouldn't see if us left a great deal," said Duke insinuatingly,but Pamela looked shocked.
"That would be very naughty," she said. "_If_ you leave a great deal,Duke, I'll have to put it in the cupboard myself."
Upon which mysterious hint Duke set to work valiantly. But he had asmall appetite, and so had Pamela. It was almost the only remains oftheir having been such delicate little children, and perhaps if they hadbeen _too_ much given in to about eating, they would have ended byeating almost nothing at all, and being much less strong and well thanthey were. Nurse, who had come to them from a family of great strongboys and girls at a country rectory, had no patience with "fads andfancies;" and as, on the whole, the children had prospered wonderfullyunder her care and she was really good to them, Grandmamma did not ofteninterfere, nor did it ever occur to them to complain, even thoughnowadays children would, I think, find some of old Nurse's rules verymuch to be complained of indeed. Of these one was, that if the childrendid not finish the bowl of bread and milk at breakfast it was put awayin the nursery cupboard and had to be eaten, cold and uninviting-lookingas it had then become, before anything else at dinner-time. This was asore trouble to the little brother and sister, more especially as ifthey did not finish the bread and milk they could not expect to have thetreat waiting for them downstairs in the dining-room at Grandpapa's andGrandmamma's breakfast--of a cup of weak but sweet tea and a tiny sliceof bread and butter or toast, with sometimes the tops of the oldpeople's eggs, and at others a taste of honey, or marmalade, orstrawberry jam, all daintily set out by Grandmamma's own little whitehands!
So for every reason Duke and Pamela wished to eat up the bread and milkto the last spoonful. It was not that they did not like it--it was asgood and nice as bread and milk could be, and they were not dainty. Onlythey could not eat so much! This morning they had not half finished whentheir appetites began to flag. Perhaps it was with the excitement ofNurse being absent--perhaps they chattered and "played" over theirbreakfast, not having her to keep them up to the mark--I can't say. Butthe bowls were still deplorably full, though the milk was no longersteaming, and the little squares of bread had lost their neat shape, andwere all "squashy" together, when Duke threw down his spoon in despair.
"I can't eat any more, sister. I cannot try any more."
Pamela opened her lips to make some reproach; she was a very "proper"little girl, as you have probably discovered, but the words died awaybefore they were uttered, as her eyes fell on her own bowl, and with adeep sigh she said:
"I'm afraid I can't finish mine either. And after us saying to Nurseabout going to be so good."
Her blue eyes began to look very dewy. Duke, who could not bear to seehis dear "sister" sad, spoke out (in Nurse's absence be it observed)valiantly--more so, it must be confessed, than was his wont.
"I don't see that it's naughty of us not to eat more when us isn'thungry for more. _I_ think it would be like little pigs to eat more thanthey want. Little pigs would go on eating all day just 'cos they're toosilly, and they've got nothing else to do."
"But," objected Pamela, "us haven't eaten as much as us _can_, Duke, foryou know downstairs us _could_ eat Grandmamma's treat. _I_ could--Icould snap it up in a minute, and the tea too, and yet I _can't_ eat anymore bread and milk!" and she gazed at the bowl with a puzzled as wellas doleful expression. "I'm afraid--yes, I'm afraid, Duke, that us isdainty like Master Frederick and Miss Lucy in 'Amusing Tales.' And Nursesays it is so very naughty to be dainty when so many poor children wouldfink our bread and milk such a great treat."
"I'm sure I wish, then, they'd come and eat it," said Duke. "I'd be veryglad to give it them."
His boldness quite took away his sister's breath, and she looked up athim in astonishment.
"_Bruvver!_" she said reproachfully.
"Well, there's nothing naughty in that. It would be much better thanletting it all be wasted. And----" but just at that moment came a queerlittle sound at the door, which made Duke tumble off his high chair asfast as he could, and hurry to open it.
"It's Toby," he cried.
Toby, sure enough, it was--Toby with his little black nose and brighteyes gleaming from behind the overhanging shaggy hair, that no one _but_a Toby could have seen through without squinting--Toby, rather subduedand meekly inquiring at first, as if not quite sure of his welcome,till--a glance round the room satisfying him that there was no one todread, no one but his two dearly-beloved friends--his courage returned,and he rushed towards them with short yelps of delight, twisting abouthis furry little body, and wagging his queer short feathery tail, tillone could not tell what was what of him, and almost expected to see himshake himself into bits!
"Toby, dear Toby!" cried the children, all their perplexities forgottenfor the moment. "_How_ clever of him--isn't it?--to come to see us thismorning, just as if he knew us was alone. Dear Toby--but hush! don'tmake a noise, Toby, or Nurse may be vexed--are you so pleased to see us,Toby?"
Suddenly Duke separated himself from the group of three all rolling in aheap on the floor together and made for the table, and before Pamelacould see what he was doing he was back again--his bowl, into which hehad poured the contents of his sister's as well, in his hand, and inanother moment Toby's nose was in the bowl too, to Toby's supremecontent! It was done now--there was no stopping him till _he_ had done.Aghast, and yet filled with admiration, Pamela could only express herfeelings by the one word--"Bruvver!"
"Isn't it a good thought?" said Duke. "Why, he'll have finished it allin a minute, and nobody will ever know that it wasn't us. And nothingwill have been wasted. There now," as Toby, having really madewonderfully quick work, lifted from the now empty bowl his hairy muzzlebespattered with remains of bread and milk, which he proceeded to lickaway with his sharp bright-red tongue, with an air of the greatestsatisfaction.
For a moment or two Pamela's face expressed nothing but approval. Butgradually a little cloud stole over it.
"What shall us say if Grandpapa and Grandmamma ask if us have eaten allour bread and milk?" she said.
Duke considered.
"Us can say the bowls are quite empty. _That_ won't be a story," andPamela's face cleared again. Just then she had no time for secondthoughts, for the sound of a bell ringing downstairs made both childrenstart.
"Prayers," they exclaimed, and as they said the word a young housemaidput her face in at the door.
"Master Du
ke and Miss Pamela," she said, "Nurse says I'm to take youdown to prayers. But you must come first to wash your hands and smoothyour hair."
A very correct little couple presented themselves a few minutes later atthe dining-room door, and after the salute and the curtsey, and wishingGrandpapa and Grandmamma "a very good morning," seated themselves one oneach side of the old lady, while Grandpapa read from the prayer-book afew verses of the Bible, the Collect of last Sunday, and two or threeprayers for the benefit of the whole family, including a row of neat,mostly elderly, servants near the door. Duke and Pamela listenedattentively, their hands crossed on their knees, their eyes fixed onGrandpapa--no fidgetting or staring about or making signs to each other.Such things would probably have been severely punished.
And then came what was almost the happiest part of the day for"us,"--breakfast number two; that is, breakfast with Grandpapa andGrandmamma. With the greatest interest they watched to see what was tobe given them. This morning there were no eggs, but there were sometempting little slices of toast, fresh butter, and a glass dish ofhoney, clear as amber, with which materials Grandmamma proceeded tofabricate two delicious sandwiches, having already filled the littlecups with weak, but, this morning, sugarless tea.
"No need to put sugar when you are eating honey. You would not tasteit," she explained. "Now, then, is not that a nice little treat for mytwo good children?" and Duke and Pamela were eagerly drawing in theirchairs when another question from Grandmamma suddenly reminded them ofwhat they had for the time forgotten. "You ate your breakfast nicelyupstairs, I hope? Did you finish all the bread and milk?"
Brother looked at sister and sister looked at brother. Both grew rosierthan usual, but Grandmamma, though fairly quick of hearing, was somewhatnear-sighted. Pamela touched Duke without the old lady seeing, and_looked_ what he understood--"Let us tell, Duke." But Duke would notallow himself to think he did understand. The tea and the honeysandwiches were so tempting!
"The bowls were quite empty, Grandmamma," he said. And Grandmamma, whohad wondered a little at their hesitation in answering, seemed relieved.For, kind as she was, "rules were rules," to Grandmamma's thinking; and,though it would have pained her more than the children, she wouldcertainly have thought it right to send them upstairs treatless had theanswer been different.
"That is well," she said cheerfully, and then the two climbed on totheir chairs and drew their cups and plates close to them; whileGrandmamma went round to her own end of the table, where--for she was avery tiny little old lady--she was almost hidden from view by the largesilver tea-urn. She went on talking to Grandpapa, and the children setto work at what was before them. They were quite silent; not that theyever thought of really speaking, except when "spoken to," at theirgrandparents' table, but no little whispers or smiles passed betweenthemselves as usual; they ate on solemnly, and _somehow_--how wasit?--the honey sandwiches did not taste quite as delicious as they hadexpected. But though each had the same sort of disappointed feeling,neither said anything about it to the other.
After breakfast Grandpapa went off to his study, and Grandmamma rang thebell for Dymock, who carried away the big tea-urn, the silver hot-waterdish in which was served Grandpapa's rasher of bacon, the knives andforks,--everything, in short, on the table except the cups and saucersand the rest of the china belonging to the breakfast-service. This chinawas very curious, and, to those who understood such things, verybeautiful. Grandpapa had got it in his travels at some out-of-the-wayplace, and the story went that it had been made for some great Chineselady--some "mandarin-ess," Grandmamma used to say in laughing, who hadnever allowed it to be copied. How it had been got from _her_ I cannotsay. It was very fine in quality, and it was painted all over with greendragons, with gilt tongues and eyes, and the edges of the cups andsaucers were also gilt. There were large as well as small cups; thelarge ones, of course, were for breakfast, and the small ones for tea,but Grandmamma always kept out two of the latter for Duke and Pamela. Inthose days one never saw large cups of oriental china, and this was whatmade the service particularly uncommon, and Grandpapa had never beenable to find out if the large ones were really Chinese or onlyimitation, copied from the smaller ones. If really Chinese, then thelady-mandarin was most likely an Englishwoman after all, who had hadthem specially made for her.
You will be surprised to hear that during the thirty or forty yearsduring which Grandpapa and Grandmamma had daily used this precious chinanot a single piece had been broken, scarcely even chipped, though, byforce of simple usage, the green dragons had grown less brilliant, andhere and there the golden tongues and eyes had altogether disappeared,while the whole had grown soft and mellowed, so that a moment's glancewas enough to show it was really _old_ porcelain. And perhaps you willbe still more surprised to learn how it was that these happy cups andsaucers had escaped the usual fate of their kind. It was becauseGrandmamma always washed them up herself! I think there was no part ofthe day more pleasant to "us" than when--Dymock having cleared away allthat was his charge, and brought all that Grandmamma required from thepantry--the old lady established herself at one end of the table, withtwo bowls of beautifully white wood, and a jug of hot water before her,and a towel of fine damask in her hand, and set to work daintily torinse out each cup and saucer in the first bowl, passing them then intothe fresh water of the second, and wiping them--after they had stood todrip for a moment or two on a small slab of wood made for thepurpose--most carefully with the little cloth. It was nice to watchher--her hands looked so white, and moved so nimbly, and--I hadforgotten to mention that--looked so business-like with the brownholland cuffs braided in white which she kept for this occasion, andalways put on, with the big holland apron to match, before she beganoperations. Yes, it had been a treat to "us" merely to watch her, and soyou can fancy how very proud Duke and Pamela felt when she at lengthallowed them, each with a little towel, to wipe their own cups andsaucers. They had been promoted to this for some months now, and noaccident had happened; and on those days--few and far between, it mustbe allowed--on which they had not been found deserving of theirbreakfast number two, I think the punishment of not "helping Grandmammato wash up" had been quite as great as that of missing the treat itself.For very often, while deftly getting through her task, Grandmamma wouldtalk so nicely to the children, telling them stories of the time whenshe was a little girl herself, and of all the changes between thosefar-away days and "now"; of the strange, wonderful places she hadvisited with Grandpapa; of cities with mosques and minarets gleamingagainst the intense blue sky of the East in the too splendid, scorchingsunshine that no one who has not seen it can picture to himself; ofrides--weary endless rides--night after night through the desert; orvoyages of months and months together across the pathless ocean. Theywould sit, the little brother and sister, staring up at her with theirgreat solemn blue eyes, as if they would never tire of listening--howwonderfully wise Grandpapa and Grandmamma must be!--"Surely," saidlittle Pamela one day with a great sigh, "surely Grandmamma must know_everyfing_;" while Duke's breast swelled with the thought that he too,like his father and grandfather before him, would journey some day tothose distant lands, there, if need were, like them "to fight for theking." For there were times at which "bruvver" was quite determined tobe a soldier, though at others--the afternoon, for instance, when theyoung bull poked his head through the hedge and shook it at him andPamela, and Duke's toy-sword had unfortunately been left at home in thenursery--he did not feel quite so sure about it!
But on this particular morning the little pair were less interested andtalkative than usual. They sat so quiet while Grandmamma made herarrangements that her attention was aroused.
"You are very silent little mice, this morning," she said. "Is itbecause poor Nurse is ill that you seem in such low spirits?"
Duke and Pamela looked at each other. It would have been so easy to say"yes," and Grandmamma would have thought them so kind-hearted andsympathising! Once one has swerved a little bit from the straight exactroad and begun to go down-hill even in t
he least, it is so tempting togo on a little farther--so much less difficult than to stop short, or,still more, to try to go back again. But these children were so unusedto say anything not quite true that they hesitated, and this hesitationsaved them from making another step in the wrong direction.
"I wasn't finking of Nurse, Grandmamma," said Pamela at last in rather alow voice.
"Nor I wasn't neither," said Duke, taking courage by her example.
"That's all right, then," said Grandmamma cheerfully, not having noticedanything unusual in their tone. "Poor Nurse, we are sorry for her to beill, but I don't think it will be anything very bad. And I am sure youwill try to be _very_ good."
"Yes, Grandmamma," said the two voices together, but less confidentlyand more timidly than usual. This time their tone caught the old lady'sattention.
"There's something on their minds," she said to herself. But she was awise old lady, and thought it better to wait a while before trying tofind out what it was.
"When I was a little girl," she began--and the children pricked up theirears--"when I was a little girl I remember once that our nurse was ill,or she had to go away to see some friend who was ill, and, as I was theeldest of several little brothers and sisters, I had to help to takecare of them. I had always thought it would be very pleasant to bewithout a nurse, though we liked ours very well, and to be able to dojust as we wished. But I shall never forget how pleased I was to see hercome back again," and Grandmamma laughed a little at the recollection.
"Why were you so pleased, Grandmamma?" asked Pamela. "Had you doneanyfing naughty?"
"_That_ wouldn't have made Grandmamma pleased for her nurse to comeback," said Duke; and a sudden thought of how "us" would have felt hadNurse come into the room just as Toby was licking up the last of thebread and milk made his face grow rosy.
"We had not meant to be naughty," said Grandmamma, "but we were not fitto manage for ourselves. Each of us wanted to do a different way, and wewere like a flock of poor little sheep without a shepherd. You do notknow, children, what a comfort it is to have rules one must obey."
"But big people don't have to obey," said Duke.
"Ah yes, they have; and when they try to think they have not, then it isthat everything goes wrong with them;" and seeing by the look in the twolittle faces that they were still puzzled--"People have to _obey_ alltheir lives if they want to be happy," she went on. "Long after theyhave no more nurses or fathers and mothers--or grandpapas andgrandmammas," with a little smile, which somehow made the corners ofDuke's and Pamela's mouths go down. "The use of all those when we areyoung is only to teach us what obeying means--to teach us to listen tothe voice we should _always_ obey----" and Grandmamma stopped a minuteand looked at "us."
"God," said the two very solemnly.
"Yes; but God speaks to us in different ways, and we have to learn toknow His voice. And the way of all in which we _most_ need to know it iswhen it speaks to us in our own hearts--in ourselves. It would be a verypoor sort of being good or obeying if it was only so long as somebodyelse was beside us telling us what to do and looking to see that we didit."
"Yes," said the two little voices together, lower and still more solemn.
"As, for instance, this morning if, just because Nurse was not with you,you had done anything you would not have done had she been there," saidGrandmamma, looking keenly at the two flushed faces.
Another--"Yes, Grandmamma."
"Or," went on the old lady, speaking more slowly, "a worse kind ofdisobeying--the telling what is not really true; lots of people, big aswell as little, do that, and sometimes they try to make _themselves_think, by all sorts of twistings and turnings, that they have not doneso when their own hearts know they _have_. For the voice inside us is_very_ hard to silence or deceive--I think sometimes indeed it _never_is silenced, but that our ears grow deaf to it--that we make them so.But this is very grave talk for you, my dear children--too grave anddifficult perhaps. I am getting so old that I suppose I sometimes forgethow very young you are! And here come your own little cups and saucers,nicely rinsed out, and waiting to be wiped dry."
"Thank you, Grandmamma," said Duke.
"Fank you, Grandmamma," said Pamela.
And the two small pairs of hands set to work carefully at their dailytask. But they did not speak or ask Grandmamma any questions, andsomehow the old lady felt a little uneasy, for, even though they were onthe whole quiet children, this morning there was a sort of constraintabout them which she did not understand. And they, on their side, feltglad when the "washing-up" was over and Grandmamma sent them upstairs totheir nursery, where they had lessons every morning for two hours with ayoung girl whose mother had a sort of dame school in the village.
Us, An Old Fashioned Story Page 2
