CHAPTER TEN.
ONE WHITE PAW.
The jackdaws' house got on slowly, and this was not surprising, asDennis had a way of pulling his work to pieces and doing it all overagain. Maisie grew impatient sometimes, for at this rate she thoughtthe jackdaws would not be settled in their home until summer was over.
"Hadn't you better let Tuvvy finish it off?" she said one day, whenDennis had spent a full hour in trying to fix a perch to hissatisfaction; "it wouldn't take a real carpenter more than half anhour."
Dennis made no answer at first to this taunt. Maisie was only a girl,who did not understand, so it did not matter what she said. Whistlingsoftly, he tried all manner of different positions for the perch, butnone pleased him. After all, it would certainly be necessary to haveTuvvy's advice, but that was quite another matter to letting him do thework.
"I shall have to go and see Tuvvy," he said, carelessly throwing downthe piece of wood he held; "perhaps Aunt Katharine will let you go too.You could stop at old Sally's, if you didn't want to go into the barn."
As it happened, Aunt Katharine wanted to send a pudding to old Sally,who had been ill, and she gladly gave Maisie leave to go with Dennis, soPeter in attendance, and the pudding in a basket, the children set outthe next morning directly after their lessons.
Maisie was pleased to make this visit, and it was such a very brightfresh June morning, that everything out of doors seemed to be as happyas herself as she danced along, with Peter jumping and barking at herside. The sky was as bright blue as the speedwell in the hedges; theleaves on the trees, not old enough yet to be dark and heavy, flutteredgaily in the wind, and made a light green shimmer everywhere. Thefields were still dressed in yellow and white, for none of the farmershad cut their grass, and in the woods the deep purple hyacinths stilllingered, though these were nearly over. It looked a very happy,bright, flowery world, with everything in it fresh and new, and nothingold or sad to think about.
Maisie had not much to trouble her either that morning, but there wasone little sad thought which would come creeping out of a corner in hermind sometimes, and that was the fate of the grey kitten. She wonderednow, as she checked her pace to a walk, and rebuked Peter for snuffingat the pudding, whether old Sally might have heard something about itfrom Eliza. There was always a faint hope of this, but it grew fainterwith each visit, and Dennis thought it quite silly to put the questionat all. Nevertheless Maisie made up her mind, with a quiet little nodto herself, that she would not forget to ask to-day.
Sally and Anne were talking so very loud inside the cottage, that it wasa long while before the children could make themselves heard, and it wasnot until Dennis had battered on the door with his stick that it wasslowly opened.
"Lawk, mother!" cried Anne, "it's the young lady and gentleman fromFieldside.--Come in, dearies, and sit ye down."
Old Sally was sitting in the chimney corner wrapped in a shawl, herbrown old face looking a shade paler than usual. Anne set chairs forthe visitors next to her, and drew closely up herself on the other sideof them, prepared to join in the conversation as much as allowed by hermother, who was a great talker, and always took the lead. The two oldlilac sun-bonnets nodded one on each side of the children, as old Sallybegan plaintively:
"Yes, I've lost my appetite. I don't seem as if I could fancy nothingjust lately. I'm tired of the food--it's taters, taters, taters, tillI'm fair sick on 'em. Seems as if I could have a bit of summat green,it'd go down better. There was a gal brought me a mite of turnip topst'other day. 'Twarn't on'y a morsel, so as I could hardly find it inthe pot when it was biled, but it give a relish, like."
"Aunt Katharine's sent you a pudding," shouted Maisie, taking it out ofthe basket.
"And sech a cough as _I've_ had," put in Anne, seizing the opportunityto speak, while her mother warmed the end of her trumpet at the fire; "Iexpect it's a sharp touch of influenzy."
"I seem to get weaker every day," resumed old Sally, presenting hertrumpet for Maisie's use. "I crawled down to the gate, and couldn'thardly get back this morning."
"Why don't you have the doctor?" asked Maisie.
Sally shook her head.
"I've never taken no doctor's stuff in all my days," she said. "Annethere, she's had a deal, poor child; but 'twouldn't do _me_ no good."
Dennis was beginning to make impatient signs, and Maisie knew he wouldnot stay much longer, so in spite of Anne, who was preparing to speak,she shouted hastily down the trumpet, "Has your daughter Eliza found thekitten?"
It was answered as she expected, by solemn shakes of the head, both fromSally and Anne, in the midst of which the children took their leave.
"Please the Lord to send the rain and make the greens grow," were oldSally's last words. But there did not seem much chance of rain yet, forthe sun was still shining splendidly, and as the children entered theshadowy barn, Tuvvy's dark figure was lighted up by a ray which camestraight through the little window. Maisie seated herself modestly inthe background on a chopping-block, while Dennis asked his questions,for she was rather in awe of Tuvvy, though she liked the barn very much,and found plenty to interest her. High up among the rough rafters overher head there were so many cobwebs hanging about, that it puzzled herto think where all the spiders were who had spun them. There were nospiders now, but there were masses of cobwebs in every nook and corner,some of them waving in the dimness like flimsy grey veils, others spreadabout in such strange shapes that they almost seemed alive. No doubtbats lived up there, Maisie thought, and she even fancied she could seethem clinging to the wall, dusky and shadowy as the cobwebs themselves.She turned her eyes with a little shudder, for she did not like bats, tothe floor of the barn, and this was much more cheerful to look at, forit was covered with pretty light yellow shavings all in curls andtwists. More continually floated down to join them from Tuvvy's bench,where he was planing a piece of wood for Dennis; they were exactly likethe flaxen hair of Maisie's favourite doll. Her serious gaze wanderedon to the end of the barn, which was almost filled up by a great machinesomething like a gigantic grasshopper. It looked terribly strong withits iron limbs, although it was at rest, and she felt half afraid of it,though she had often seen it before. What was it, and why was it there?
She could easily have put this question to Tuvvy, but Maisie seldomasked questions. She had a habit of turning things over in her ownlittle mind, and wrapping fancies round them, until she had quite acollection of strange objects in her small world. She would have missedthese very much, if they had been exposed to daylight and turned intofacts, and in this she was quite different from Dennis; he always wantedto know the reason why, and to have the meaning of things made quiteclear to him.
She was not left long, however, to wonder about the big machine, forTuvvy, giving a sudden wag of his head towards it, said: "The elevator'smy next job, soon as hay harvest's over. Wants a lick o' paint."
"How jolly!" exclaimed Dennis, turning towards it with admiration andenvy. "I say, won't it just take a lot of paint! What a jolly job!"
"I wish you had it then, master," said Tuvvy grimly. "'Tain't the sortas pleases _me_. It don't give you no credit when it's done, and thepaint splashes you awful. It's what I call a reg'lar comical sort of ajob."
"I should _like_ it," said Dennis with deep conviction, still staring atthe elevator. "What colour shall you paint it?"
"Gaffer said 'twas to be a sort of a yaller," said Tuvvy; "but it don'tmake much odds. There, master," he continued, as he finished hisplaning, "that's what you want, and I'll stop to-morrow as I pass, andgive a look at the perches."
Dennis would gladly have stayed much longer to go fully into thepainting of the elevator, and other like subjects; but he had beenwarned not to take up much of Tuvvy's time, so he unwillingly startedhome with Maisie, clutching his piece of wood under his arm. Until theyreached the village, he was so lost in thought that he did not utter aword, but then, coming to a sudden standstill, he exclaimed: "Whyshouldn't we paint the jac
kdaws' house!"
Maisie was struck by the brilliancy of the idea. She stopped too, andgazed at Dennis with admiration.
"It would be splendid," she said. "Do you think Aunt Katharine wouldlet me help?"
"Why, of course," said Dennis; "it's _quite_ a different thing fromusing tools. _Any one_ can paint!"
"Only the splashes," said Maisie a little doubtfully. "Tuvvy said yougot splashed all over. Aunt Katharine mightn't like me to spoil myfrocks."
"As to that," said Dennis, "you could wear a big apron. Painters alwaysdo. Hulloa! it's raining!"
So it was. The bright sunshine had vanished, and the sky was downcastand grey. First it rained gently, then faster, then it made up its mindin good earnest, and a regular downpour of drops pattered on the hedges,and fell softly on the dusty roads.
"How pleased old Sally will be," said Maisie, "because of the greens!"
"P'r'aps we'd better go in somewhere," said Dennis, looking at hissister's frock; "you're getting awfully wet, and we haven't got anumbrella."
They were just passing Dr Price's lodgings. Snip and Snap, who stood atthe gate snuffing up the moist fresh air with their black noses, waggedtheir stumpy tails in a friendly manner to the children, and growled atPeter at the same time.
"You go in," continued Dennis, hurrying his sister up to the door, "andI'll run home and fetch umbrellas and cloaks for you. Aunt Katharinealways says you're not to get wet."
Maisie would much rather have gone on with Dennis, and did not mind therain a bit; but it was quite true that Aunt Katharine did not like herto get wet. So she yielded, and stood waiting in the little porch forthe door to be opened, while Dennis sped up the road, and was soon outof sight.
"Come in, dearie, and welcome," said Mrs Budget, the doctor's landlady,when Maisie had asked for shelter, "and I'll just get a clean cloth andtake off the worst of the damp."
She led the way to a very clean kitchen, talking all the while, andflapped vigorously at Maisie's skirt with a towel.
"The doctor's just in, and I says to him, `Now I do hope, sir, you'llget your meal in comfort to-day, for it's as tidy a little bit ofgriskin as any one need wish to see, and done to a turn.' Owin' to hisprofession, he don't give his vittles no chance, the doctor don't. Mosttimes he eats 'em standing, and then up in saddle and off again. It's ahard life, that it is, and he don't even get his nights reg'lar. Snugand warm in bed, and ring goes that bothering night-bell. If it was me,I should turn a deaf ear sometimes, pertickler in the winter.--Is yourboots wet, my dear? No; then come in and see the doctor. He'll bepleased."
Maisie would have liked to stay in the kitchen with Mrs Budget, but shewas too polite to refuse this invitation, and soon found herself at thedoor of the doctor's sitting-room.
"Little Miss Chester, sir," said Mrs Budget, "come to shelter from therain;" and thereupon vanished to dish up the dinner.
Maisie looked curiously round the room. It was small, and smeltstrongly of tobacco smoke; chairs, mantelpiece, and floor were untidilylittered with old newspapers, books, pipes, and bills scattered about inconfusion; a pair of boxing-gloves, which looked to her like theenormous hands of some dead giant, hung on the wall, and on each side ofthem a bright silver tankard on a bracket.
The doctor himself looming unnaturally large, sat sideways at the tableon which a cloth was laid, reading a newspaper. He had his hat on,slightly tilted over one eye, and his booted legs were stretched outbefore him with an air of relief after fatigue. He jumped up when hesaw the shy little figure on the threshold, and took off his hat.
"Come in, come in, Miss Maisie," he said. "Why, this _is_ an honour.Where's your brother?"
"Dennis ran home for umbrellas," said Maisie, placing herself with somedifficulty on the high horsehair-chair which he cleared with a sweep ofhis large hand; "it's raining fast."
"Why, so it is," said her host, glancing out of the window, "and tenminutes ago there was no sign of it. That's a good sight for thefarmers. And where have you been? Far?"
"We've been to see Tuvvy," replied Maisie gravely; "he's helping Dennis,you know, with the jackdaws' house."
"Ah, to be sure," said Dr Price readily, though this was the first timehe had heard of such a thing. "Tuvvy's a clever fellow, isn't he? Andso he's going to stay on at the farm, after all?"
"Dennis did that, you know," said Maisie, forgetting her shyness alittle. "Dennis made a Round Robin, and all the men put their names,and so Mr Solace let Tuvvy stop."
The doctor nodded, with a little smile. He seemed to know all about it,and this did not surprise Maisie, who thought it quite natural that sucha great event should be widely spread.
"And since then," she went on, encouraged the attentive expression onher listener's face, "he's been as steady as steady! He doesn't have topass the Cross Keys now, you know, because he goes home over our field,and he thinks it's partly that. It was the red blind drew him in, yousee, and then he couldn't come out again."
Dr Price nodded again, and his smile widened in spite of evident effortsto conceal it, as Maisie turned her serious gaze full upon him.
"Just so," he said.
At that very minute it struck Maisie that she had made a dreadfulmistake. She ought not to have mentioned red blinds to Dr Price.Dennis had told her he was sometimes "like Tuvvy." She hung her head,and her round cheeks flushed scarlet.
"I heard all about it the other day, Miss Maisie," said the doctor in avery kind voice, "and who do you think told me? Tuvvy's little girl.She's got a brother about the age of yours, and they both think a lot ofwhat you did for their father."
Maisie began to forget her confusion in the interest of Tuvvy's littlegirl. She stole a glance at the doctor, who did not look a bit vexed ather unlucky speech, but went on as good-naturedly as ever.
"She's a nice little maid, and it's hard lines for her just now. Shehas to lie quite still all day because she's hurt her back. But she'svery good and patient."
"Can't you make her well?" asked Maisie, remembering the firm faith ofthe village people in Dr Price.
"Oh, I hope so," he replied cheerfully. "But it takes time, and it'sdull and lonely for her, you see, while her people are out at work allday."
"Is she _all_ alone?" asked Maisie. "Hasn't she got _any one_ to bewith her?"
"Well, she's got a kitten," answered Dr Price, "and that seems a comfortto her, but that's about all. By the way, Miss Maisie," he added, "howare all your cats? What became of the kitten you offered me some timeback?"
"Oh," said Maisie sorrowfully, "didn't you hear about it? We gave it toold Sally's Eliza at Upwell, and it ran out through the front shop andgot lost in the streets. Aunt Katharine doesn't think we shall hear ofit again now. It _was_ such a dear little kitten; not pretty likeDarkie, but very good and sweet, and purred more than any of them."
"That _was_ a bad job," said the doctor sympathetically.
"Is Tuvvy's little girl's kitten a pretty one?" asked Maisie.
"Well, as to that," he replied slowly, "it looked to me about like othercats, but then I didn't notice it much, you see, because I'm not so fondof 'em as you are. If it had been a dog now, I could have told you allits points at once. The little girl--Becky her name is--was very fondof it, that's quite certain."
Deeply interested, Maisie secretly wondered what the "points" of a dogwere, and concluded that they must mean its paws and the tip of itstail. After a minute's silence she put another question, rathersternly.
"What colour was it? You _must_ have seen that."
Dr Price looked quite cast down by this severe examination.
"I'm afraid I didn't," he said humbly; "you see they always look aliketo me."
"There's _quite_ as much difference in them as there is in dogs," saidMaisie in an instructive voice; "Madam's three last kittens were not abit alike. One was black--we kept that; one was quite white--we gavethat to Philippa; and one was stripey grey, and that was the one thatwent to Upwell and got lost."
/> "It would be odd, wouldn't it?" suggested the doctor, "if it was the oneI saw at Tuvvy's."
Maisie sat very upright, with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.
"Could it be?" she exclaimed. "How did the little girl get it?"
Dr Price shook his head with a guilty air. "Didn't ask," he said.
His conduct with regard to the kitten had been thoroughlyunsatisfactory, but he looked so sorry, that Maisie could not be hardupon him.
"Never mind," she said graciously; "I daresay, if you don't like cats--It had one white paw," she added quickly, with renewed hope, "but Idaresay you didn't even notice that."
Dr Price was so anxious to please, that it is possible he might havegone the length of remembering the one white paw, but he was saved fromthis rashness by the entrance of Mrs Budget, bearing a covered dish fromwhich came a very savoury smell.
"There's Miss Pringle stepping down with cloak and umbrella for MissChester," she said, "so I thought I'd just bring the dinner straight in.It's done to a turn, and smells like a nosegay," she added, lifting thecover with a triumphant flourish.
Pringle was Aunt Katharine's maid. It was most tiresome of her to comejust now, for Maisie felt she might really be on the track of the lostkitten at last. She knew, however, that she must not stay any longer,and keep the doctor from the enjoyment of his dinner, so with a littlesigh she slid off her chair, and held out her band to say good-bye.
"And if I were you, Miss Maisie," were the doctor's parting words, as hefollowed her out to the door, and folded the big cloak carefully roundher, "I should just go over to Upwell, and have a look at that kittenone day. You'd leave it with Becky, wouldn't you, if it does turn outto be yours?"
Maisie's eyes were bright, and her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Of course we should," she said; "that is, if old Sally's Eliza doesn'tmind, and it's a really good home."
The doctor lingered so long in the porch looking after his little guestas she hurried up the wet road by Pringle's side, that Mrs Budgetreplaced the cover with a hasty crash.
"There's no credit in cooking for him, none at all," she muttered.
As for Maisie, she would have liked wings to fly back to Fieldside withthis wonderful news, but she had to restrain her impatience and keeppace with Pringle, who held the umbrella and took mincing steps throughthe mud.
The way seemed endless, and when she did arrive, it was disappointing tofind that Aunt Katharine would not be home till late in the evening.There was therefore only Dennis to whom she could pour out the story ofTuvvy's little daughter, and her hopes and fears about the grey kitten.He was interested and impressed at first, but very soon ready to dismissthe subject and return to the one which really filled his mind--thepainting of the jackdaws' house.
"Only fancy," said Maisie, breaking out again for the twentieth time, asthe children sat at dinner, "if it should be our dear little grey kittenwho we thought was dead. Wouldn't it be lovely?"
"Yes," said Dennis absently. Then, after a moment's pause: "What colourhad we better paint it?"
"Paint it!" repeated Maisie vaguely; but meeting a look of scorn fromDennis, she hastily added: "Oh, you mean the jackdaws' house; but you_are_ pleased about the kitten, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," answered Dennis rather impatiently, "but that's only achance, you see. If it is the kitten, it is; and if it isn't, it isn't.But the jackdaws' house is a real thing, and we _must_ settle about thecolour. How do you think," he went on seriously, "it would do to haveit the same colour that Tuvvy's going to do the elevator? He might letus have some of his paint, you see."
"I shouldn't like it at all," said Maisie promptly; "he said it was tobe a sort of a yaller, and I thought it sounded very ugly."
"Well, then," said Dennis, "you say a colour."
Maisie thought it over, her eyes fixed on the meadows and thefast-falling rain outside.
"I should paint it green," she said suddenly.
"Why?" asked Dennis.
"Because it's a pretty colour," she replied, "and the jackdaws wouldlike it. It's like the leaves and grass, and they might think they werein a tree."
Dennis received the idea with a short laugh of contempt.
"Jackdaws are not such ninnies as that," he said. "They're sharp birds;they're not likely to mistake a cage for a tree. If we don't have ityellow, let's have it bright red, like Mr Solace's new wagon."
Maisie had known from the first that her opinion was merely asked as amatter of form, Dennis would have the colour he wished and no other; soshe made no further objection, and it was settled, subject to AuntKatharine's approval, that the jackdaws' house should be painted thebrightest red possible to get. This done, Maisie retired into a cornerof the play-room with Madam, and related to her attentive ear thediscovery of that morning.--She was a better listener than Dennis, forat any rate she was not eager to talk on other matters, but Maisielonged to tell some one who really cared as much as she did herself.Aunt Katharine would be home soon, which was a comfort, and perhapsPhilippa too would like to know. She had never seen the grey kitten,but she had heard about it so very often. Maisie made up her mind towrite to her. She would have been surprised if she had known thatPhilippa also had made a discovery, and bad news to tell her of Madam'slost child. To hear what this discovery was, we must go back to the daywhen Philippa went home after her visit to Fieldside.
Black, White and Gray: A Story of Three Homes Page 10
