The Cuckoo Clock

by Mrs. Molesworth

  CHAPTER XI.

  "CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!"

  "Children, try to be good! That is the end of all teaching; Easily understood, And very easy in preaching. And if you find it hard, Your efforts you need but double; Nothing deserves reward Unless it has given as trouble."

  --When she forgot everything, and fell fast, fast asleep, to wake, ofcourse, in her own little bed as usual!

  "One of your tricks again, Mr. Cuckoo," she said to herself with asmile. "However, I don't mind. It _was_ a short cut home, and it wasvery comfortable in the boat, and I certainly saw a great deal lastnight, and I'm very much obliged to you--particularly for making it allright with Phil about not coming to play with me to-day. Ah! thatreminds me, I'm in disgrace. I wonder if Aunt Grizzel will really makeme stay in my room all day. How tired I shall be, and what will Mr.Kneebreeches think! But it serves me right. I _was_ very cross andrude."

  There came a tap at the door. It was Dorcas with the hot water.

  "Good morning, missie," she said gently, not feeling, to tell the truth,very sure as to what sort of a humour "missie" was likely to be found inthis morning. "I hope you've slept well."

  "Exceedingly well, thank you, Dorcas. I've had a delightful night,"replied Griselda amiably, smiling to herself at the thought of whatDorcas would say if she knew where she had been, and what she had beendoing since last she saw her.

  "That's good news," said Dorcas in a tone of relief; "and I've goodnews for you, too, missie. At least, I hope you'll think it so. Youraunt has ordered the carriage for quite early this morning--so you seeshe really wants to please you, missie, about playing with little MasterPhil; and if to-morrow's a fine day, we'll be sure to find some way ofletting him know to come."

  "Thank you, Dorcas. I hope it will be all right, and that Lady Lavanderwon't say anything against it. I dare say she won't. I feel ever so muchhappier this morning, Dorcas; and I'm very sorry I was so rude to AuntGrizzel, for of course I know I _should_ obey her."

  "That's right, missie," said Dorcas approvingly.

  "It seems to me, Dorcas," said Griselda dreamily, when, a few minuteslater, she was standing by the window while the old servant brushed outher thick, wavy hair, "it seems to me, Dorcas, that it's _all_ 'obeyingorders' together. There's the sun now, just getting up, and the moonjust going to bed--_they_ are always obeying, aren't they? I wonder whyit should be so hard for people--for children, at least."

  "To be sure, missie, you do put it a way of your own," replied Dorcas,somewhat mystified; "but I see how you mean, I think, and it's quitetrue. And it _is_ a hard lesson to learn."

  "I want to learn it _well_, Dorcas," said Griselda, resolutely. "So willyou please tell Aunt Grizzel that I'm very sorry about last night, andI'll do just as she likes about staying in my room or anything. But, ifshe _would_ let me, I'd far rather go down and do my lessons as usualfor Mr. Kneebreeches. I won't ask to go out in the garden; but I wouldlike to please Aunt Grizzel by doing my lessons _very_ well."

  Dorcas was both delighted and astonished. Never had she known her little"missie" so altogether submissive and reasonable.

  "I only hope the child's not going to be ill," she said to herself. Butshe proved a skilful ambassadress, notwithstanding her misgivings; andGriselda's imprisonment confined her only to the bounds of the house andterrace walk, instead of within the four walls of her own little room,as she had feared.

  Lessons _were_ very well done that day, and Mr. Kneebreeches' report wasall that could be wished.

  "I am particularly gratified," he remarked to Miss Grizzel, "by theintelligence and interest Miss Griselda displays with regard to thestudy of astronomy, which I have recently begun to give her someelementary instruction in. And, indeed, I have no fault to find with theway in which any of the young lady's tasks are performed."

  "I am extremely glad to hear it," replied Miss Grizzel graciously, andthe kiss with which she answered Griselda's request for forgiveness wasa very hearty one.

  And it was "all right" about Phil.

  Lady Lavander knew all about him; his father and mother were friends ofhers, for whom she had a great regard, and for some time she had beenintending to ask the little boy to spend the day at Merrybrow Hall, tobe introduced to her god-daughter Griselda. So, _of course_, as LadyLavander knew all about him, there could be no objection to his playingin Miss Grizzel's garden!

  And "to-morrow" turned out a fine day. So altogether you can imaginethat Griselda felt very happy and light-hearted as she ran down thewood-path to meet her little friend, whose rosy face soon appeared amongthe bushes.

  "What did you do yesterday, Phil?" asked Griselda. "Were you sorry notto come to play with me?"

  "No," said Phil mysteriously, "I didn't mind. I was looking for the wayto fairyland to show you, and I do believe I've found it. Oh, it _is_such a pretty way."

  Griselda smiled.

  "I'm afraid the way to fairyland isn't so easily found," she said. "ButI'd like to hear about where you went. Was it far?"

  "A good way," said Phil. "Won't you come with me? It's in the wood. Ican show you quite well, and we can be back by tea-time."

  "Very well," said Griselda; and off they set.

  Whether it was the way to fairyland or not, it was not to be wondered atthat little Phil thought so. He led Griselda right across the wood to apart where she had never been before. It was pretty rough work part ofthe way. The children had to fight with brambles and bushes, and hereand there to creep through on hands and knees, and Griselda had toremind Phil several times of her promise to his nurse that his clothesshould not be the worse for his playing with her, to prevent hisscrambling through "anyhow" and leaving bits of his knickerbockersbehind him.

  But when at last they reached Phil's favourite spot all their troubleswere forgotten. Oh, how pretty it was! It was a sort of tiny glade inthe very middle of the wood--a little green nest enclosed all round bytrees, and right through it the merry brook came rippling along as ifrejoicing at getting out into the sunlight again for a while. And allthe choicest and sweetest of the early summer flowers seemed to becollected here in greater variety and profusion than in any other partof the wood.

  "_Isn't_ it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on thesoft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'msure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland ishidden somewhere here, if only we could find it."

  "If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but,any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come herevery often."

  Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work to make themselves a house inthe centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed itvery much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood andbig stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes upwith bracken and furze.

  "And if the fairies _do_ come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleasedto find a house all ready, won't they?"

  Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dryleaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it wasquite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they werevery hot and very tired and _rather_ dirty. Suddenly a thought struckGriselda.

  "Phil," she said, "it must be getting late."

  "Past tea-time?" he said coolly.

  "I dare say it is. Look how low down the sun has got. Come, Phil, wemust be quick. Where is the place we came out of the wood at?"

  "Here," said Phil, diving at a little opening among the bushes.

  Griselda followed him. He had been a good guide hitherto, and shecertainly could not have found her way alone. They scrambled on for someway, then the bushes suddenly seemed to grow less thick, and in a minutethey came out upon a little path.

  "Phil," said Griselda, "this isn't the way we came."

  "Isn't it?" said Phil, looking about him. "Then we must have comed thewrong way."

  "I'm afraid so," said Gris
elda, "and it seems to be so late already. I'mso sorry, for Aunt Grizzel will be vexed, and I did so want to pleaseher. Will your nurse be vexed, Phil?"

  "I don't care if she are," replied Phil valiantly.

  "You shouldn't say that, Phil. You know we _shouldn't_ have stayed solong playing."

  "Nebber mind," said Phil. "If it was mother I would mind. Mother's sogood, you don't know. And she never 'colds me, except when I _am_naughty--so I _do_ mind."

  "She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda indistress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way_shall_ we go?"

  They had followed the little path till it came to a point where tworoads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran acrossthe road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griseldastood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already themoon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.Griselda looked up to the sky.

  "To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my wayin a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side ofthe moon last night."

  The remembrance put another thought into her mind.

  "Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"

  Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands inher own.

  She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came thewell-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet soclear.

  Phil clapped his hands.

  "He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way.That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pullingGriselda along, he darted down the road to the right--the direction fromwhence came the cry.

  They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction,but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss--wheneverthe path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and,without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it broughtthem out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate.

  "I know the way now, good cuckoo," exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alonenow, if your aunt will be vexed with you."

  "No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear.I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must beme, not you."

  There was a little bustle about the door of the farmhouse as thechildren wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing togetherreceiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse wastalking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants.

  "Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to lookfor him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-nightof all nights, just when your--I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to theparlour at once--and this little girl, who is she?"

  "She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, puttingon his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have somesupper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie'shouse--that's what I say."

  More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for she was reallyin a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into theparlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry thatbroke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A ladywas standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quicklygrowing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figureshe was watching for so anxiously.

  The noise of the door opening made her look round.

  "Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? Youdidn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?"

  "Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms.

  But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filledher eyes as for a minute or two she listened to the cooings andcaressings of the mother and son.

  Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her.

  "Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She'sthe little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has nomother," he added in a lower tone.

  The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did notseem surprised.

  "I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into herface with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's.

  And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about theanxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at onceto tell of her being safe at the farm.

  But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had hadsome nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested.

  "And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she askedpresently.

  "I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland,and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come,and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explainedPhil.

  "And _was_ it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.

  Griselda shook her head as she replied--

  "Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough.The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find itfor ourselves, mustn't we?"

  She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that _she_understood.

  "Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly."But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."

  Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Philaway, are you?" she whispered.

  "No, I have come to stay here," she answered, "and Phil's father iscoming too, soon. We are going to live at the White House--the house onthe other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad,children?"

  * * * * *

  Griselda had a curious dream that night--merely a dream, nothing else.She dreamt that the cuckoo came once more; this time, he told her, tosay "good-bye."

  "For you will not need me now," he said.

  "I leave you in good hands, Griselda. You have friends now who willunderstand you--friends who will help you both to work and to play.Better friends than the mandarins, or the butterflies, or even than yourfaithful old cuckoo."

  And when Griselda tried to speak to him, to thank him for his goodness,to beg him still sometimes to come to see her, he gently fluttered away."Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo," he warbled; but somehow the last "cuckoo"sounded like "good-bye."

  In the morning, when Griselda awoke, her pillow was wet with tears. Thusmany stories end. She was happy, very happy in the thought of her kindnew friends; but there were tears for the one she felt she had saidfarewell to, even though he was only a cuckoo in a clock.

  London: Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited,Stamford Street and Charing Cross.