wouldn't be tooproud of."
"Well," said the Squire, "certainly Bob Cooper is a rough nut, but whoknows what his heart may be like?"
Archie's room in the tower was opened in state next day. Old Kateherself had lit fires in it every night for a week before, though shenever would go up the long dark stair without Peter. Peter was only amite of a boy, but wherever he went, Fuss, the Skye terrier, accompaniedhim, and it was universally admitted that no ghost in its right senseswould dare to face Fuss.
Elsie was there of course, and Rupert too, though he had to be almostcarried up by stalwart Branson. But what a glorious little room it waswhen you were in it! A more complete boy's own room could scarcely beimagined. It was a _beau ideal_; at least Rupert and Archie and Elsiethought so, and even Mr Walton and Branson said the same.
Let me see now, I may as well try to describe it, but much must be leftto imagination. It was not a very big room, only about twelve feetsquare; for although the tower appeared very large from outside, theabnormal thickness of its walls detracted from available space insideit. There was one long window on each side, and a chair and small tablecould be placed on the sill of either. But this was curtained off atnight, when light came from a huge lamp that depended from the ceiling,and the rays from which fought for preference with those from theroaring fire on the stone hearth. The room was square. A door, alsocurtained, gave entrance from the stairway at one corner, and at each oftwo other corners were two other doors leading into turret chambers, andthese tiny, wee rooms were very delightful, because you were out beyondthe great tower when you sat in them, and their slits of windows grantedyou a grand view of the charming scenery everywhere about.
The furniture was rustic in the extreme--studiously so. There was atall rocking-chair, a great dais or sofa, and a recline forRupert--"poor Rupert" as he was always called--the big chair was theguest's seat.
The ornaments on the walls had been principally supplied by Branson.Stuffed heads of foxes, badgers, and wild cats, with any number ofbirds' and beasts' skins, artistically mounted. There were also headsof horned deer, bows and arrows--these last were Archie's own--andshields and spears that Uncle Ramsay had brought home from savage warsin Africa and Australia. The dais was covered with bear skins, andthere was quite a quantity of skins on the floor instead of a carpet.So the whole place looked primeval and romantic.
The bookshelf was well supplied with readable tales, and a harp stood ina corner, and on this, young though she was, Elsie could already play.
The guest to-night was old Kate. She sat in the tall chair in a corneropposite the door, Branson occupied a seat near her, Rupert was on hisrecline, and Archie and Elsie on a skin, with little Peter nursingwounded Fuss in a corner.
That was the party. But Archie had made tea, and handed it round; andsitting there with her cup in her lap, old Kate really looked a strange,weird figure. Her face was lean and haggard, her eyes almost wild, andsome half-grey hair peeped from under an uncanny-looking cap of blackcrape, with long depending strings of the same material.
Old Kate was housekeeper and general female factotum. She was really adistant relation of the Squire, and so had it very much her own way atBurley Old Farm.
She came originally from "just ayant the Border," and had a wealth ofold-world stories to tell, and could sing queer old bits of ballads too,when in the humour.
Old Kate, however, said she could not sing to-night, for she felt as yetunused to the place; and whether they (the boys) believed in ghosts ornot she (Kate) did, and so, she said, had her father before her. Butshe told stories--stories of the bloody raids of long, long ago, whenNorthumbria and the Scottish Borders were constantly at war--storiesthat kept her hearers enthralled while they listened, and to which theweird looks and strange voice of the narrator lent a peculiar charm.
Old Kate was just in the very midst of one of these when, twang! one ofthe strings of Elsie's harp broke. It was a very startling soundindeed; for as it went off it seemed to emit a groan that rang throughthe chamber, and died away in the vaulted roof. Elsie crept closer toArchie, and Peter with Fuss drew nearer the fire.
The ancient dame, after being convinced that the sound was nothinguncanny, proceeded with her narrative. It was a long one, with an oldhouse in it by the banks of a winding river in the midst of woods andwilds--a house that, if its walls had been able to speak, could havetold many a marrow-freezing story of bygone times.
There was a room in this house that was haunted. Old Kate was justcoming to this, and to the part of her tale on which the ghosts on acertain night of the year always appeared in this room, and stood over adark stain in the centre of the floor.
"And ne'er a ane," she was saying, "could wash that stain awa'. Weel,bairns, one moonlicht nicht, and at the deadest hoor o' the nicht,nothing would please the auld laird but he maun leave his chaimber andgo straight along the damp, dreary, long corridor to the door o' thehauntid room. It was half open, and the moon's licht danced in on thefleer. He was listening--he was looking--"
But at this very moment, when old Kate had lowered her voice to awhisper, and the tension at her listeners' heart-strings was thegreatest, a soft, heavy footstep was heard coming slowly, painfully asit might be, up the turret stairs.
To say that every one was alarmed would but poorly describe theirfeelings. Old Kate's eyes seemed as big as watch-glasses. Elsiescreamed, and clung to Archie.
"Who--oo--'s--Who's there?" cried Branson, and his voice sounded fearfuland far away.
No answer; but the steps drew nearer and nearer. Then the curtain waspushed aside, and in dashed--what? a ghost?--no, only honest greatBounder.
Bounder had found out there was something going on, and that Fuss was upthere, and he didn't see why he should be left out in the cold. Thatwas all; but the feeling of relief when he did appear was unprecedented.
Old Kate required another cup of tea after that. Then Branson got outhis fiddle from a green baize bag; and if he had not played those merryairs, I do not believe that old Kate would have had the courage to godownstairs that night at all.
Archie's pony was great fun at first. The best of it was that he hadnever been broken in. The Squire, or rather his bailiff, had bought himout of a drove; so he was, literally speaking, as wild as the hills, andas mad as a March hare. But he soon knew Archie and Elsie, and, underBranson's supervision, Scallowa was put into training on the lawn. Hewas led, he was walked, he was galloped. But he reared, and kicked, androlled whenever he thought of it, and yet there was not a bit of viceabout him.
Spring had come, and early summer itself, before Scallowa permittedArchie to ride him, and a week or two after this the difficulty wouldhave been to have told which of the two was the wilder and dafter,Archie or Scallowa. They certainly had managed to establish the mostamicable relations. Whatever Scallowa thought, Archie agreed to, and_vice versa_, and the pair were never out of mischief. Of course Archiewas pitched off now and then, but he told Elsie he did not mind it, andin fact preferred it to constant uprightness: it was a change. But thepony never ran away, because Archie always had a bit of carrot in hispocket to give him when he got up off the ground.
Mr Walton assured Archie that these carrots accounted for his manytumbles. And there really did seem to be a foundation of truth aboutthis statement. For of course the pony had soon come to know that itwas to his interest to throw his rider, and acted accordingly. So aftera time Archie gave the carrot-payment up, and matters were mended.
It was only when school was over that Archie went for a canter, unlesshe happened to get up very early in the morning for the purpose ofriding. And this he frequently did, so that, before the summer wasdone, Scallowa and Archie were as well known over all the countryside asthe postman himself.
Archie's pony was certainly not very long in the legs, but neverthelessthe leaps he could take were quite surprising.
On the second summer after Archie got this pony, both horse and riderwere about perfect in their training,
and in the following winter heappeared in the hunting-field with the greatest _sang-froid_, althoughmany of the farmers, on their weight-carrying hunters, could have jumpedover Archie, Scallowa, and all. The boy had a long way to ride to thehounds, and he used to start off the night before. He really did notcare where he slept. Old Kate used to make up a packet of sandwichesfor him, and this would be his dinner and breakfast. Scallowa he usedto tie up in some byre, and as often as not Archie would turn in besidehim among the straw. In the morning he would finish the remainder ofKate's sandwiches, make his toilet in some running stream or lake, andbe as fresh as a daisy when the meet took place.
Both he and Scallowa were somewhat uncouth-looking. Elsie, his sister,had proposed that he should ride in scarlet, it would look so romanticand pretty; but Archie only laughed, and said he would not feel at homein such finery, and his "Eider
From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New Page 4
