The Wouldbegoods

by E. Nesbit

  THE DRAGON'S TEETH; OR ARMY-SEED

  Albert's uncle was out on his bicycle as usual. After the day when webecame Canterbury Pilgrims and were brought home in the dog-cart withred wheels by the lady he told us was his long-lost grandmother he hadknown years ago in India, he spent not nearly so much of his time inwriting, and he used to shave every morning instead of only whenrequisite, as in earlier days. And he was always going out on hisbicycle in his new Norfolk suit. We are not so unobserving as grown-uppeople make out. We knew well enough he was looking for the long-lost.And we jolly well wished he might find her. Oswald, always full ofsympathy with misfortune, however undeserved, had himself tried severaltimes to find the lady. So had the others. But all this is what theycall a digression; it has nothing to do with the dragon's teeth I am nownarrating.

  It began with the pig dying--it was the one we had for the circus, butit having behaved so badly that day had nothing to do with its illnessand death, though the girls said they felt remorse, and perhaps if wehadn't made it run so that day it might have been spared to us. ButOswald cannot pretend that people were right just because they happen tobe dead, and as long as that pig was alive we all knew well enough thatit was it that made us run--and not us it.

  The pig was buried in the kitchen garden. Bill, that we made thetombstone for, dug the grave, and while he was away at his dinner wetook a turn at digging, because we like to be useful, and besides, whenyou dig you never know what you may turn up. I knew a man once thatfound a gold ring on the point of his fork when he was digging potatoes,and you know how we found two half-crowns ourselves once when we weredigging for treasure.

  Oswald was taking his turn with the spade, and the others were sittingon the gravel and telling him how to do it.

  "Work with a will," Dicky said, yawning.

  Alice said: "I wish we were in a book. People in books never dig withoutfinding something. I think I'd rather it was a secret passage thananything."

  Oswald stopped to wipe his honest brow ere replying.

  "A secret's nothing when you've found it out. Look at the secretstaircase. It's no good, not even for hide-and-seek, because of itssqueaking. I'd rather have the pot of gold we used to dig for when wewere little." It was really only last year, but you seem to grow oldvery quickly after you have once passed the prime of your youth, whichis at ten, I believe.

  "How would you like to find the mouldering bones of Royalist soldiersfoully done to death by nasty Ironsides?" Noel asked, with his mouthfull of plum.

  "If they were really dead it wouldn't matter," Dora said. "What I'mafraid of is a skeleton that can walk about and catch at your legs whenyou're going up-stairs to bed."

  "Skeletons can't walk," Alice said in a hurry; "you know they can't,Dora."

  And she glared at Dora till she made her sorry she had said what shehad. The things you are frightened of, or even those you would rathernot meet in the dark, should never be mentioned before the little ones,or else they cry when it comes to bedtime, and say it was because ofwhat you said.

  "We sha'n't find anything. No jolly fear," said Dicky.

  And just then my spade I was digging with struck on something hard, andit felt hollow. I did really think for one joyful space that we hadfound that pot of gold. But the thing, whatever it was, seemed to belongish; longer, that is, than a pot of gold would naturally be. And asI uncovered it I saw that it was not at all pot-of-gold-color, but likea bone Pincher has buried. So Oswald said:

  "It _is_ the skeleton."

  The girls all drew back, and Alice said, "Oswald, I wish you wouldn't."

  A moment later the discovery was unearthed, and Oswald lifted it up withboth hands.

  "It's a dragon's head," Noel said, and it certainly looked like it. Itwas long and narrowish and bony, and with great yellow teeth sticking inthe jaw.

  Bill came back just then and said it was a horse's head, but H. O. andNoel would not believe it, and Oswald owns that no horse he has everseen had a head at all that shape.

  But Oswald did not stop to argue, because he saw a keeper who showed mehow to set snares going by, and he wanted to talk to him about ferrets,so he went off, and Dicky and Denny and Alice with him. Also Daisy andDora went off to finish reading _Ministering Children_. So H. O. andNoel were left with the bony head. They took it away.

  The incident had quite faded from the mind of Oswald next day. But justbefore breakfast Noel and H. O. came in, looking hot and anxious. Theyhad got up early and had not washed at all--not even their hands andfaces. Noel made Oswald a secret signal. All the others saw it, and withproper delicate feeling pretended not to have.

  When Oswald had gone out with Noel and H. O., in obedience to the secretsignal, Noel said:

  "You know that dragon's head yesterday?"

  "Well?" Oswald said, quickly, but not crossly--the two things are quitedifferent.

  "Well, you know what happened in Greek history when some chap soweddragon's teeth?"

  "They came up armed men," said H. O.; but Noel sternly bade him shut up,and Oswald said "Well," again. If he spoke impatiently it was because hesmelled the bacon being taken in to breakfast.

  "Well," Noel went on, "what do you suppose would have come up if we'dsowed those dragon's teeth we found yesterday?"

  "Why, nothing, you young duffer," said Oswald, who could now smell thecoffee. "All that isn't History--it's Humbug. Come on in to brekker."

  "It's _not_ humbug," H. O. cried, "it _is_ history. We _did_ sow--"

  "Shut up," said Noel again. "Look here, Oswald. We did sow thosedragon's teeth in Randall's ten-acre meadow, and what do you think hascome up?"

  "Toadstools, I should think," was Oswald's contemptible rejoinder.

  "They have come up a camp of soldiers," said Noel--"_armed men_. So yousee it _was_ history. We have sowed army-seed, just like Cadmus, and ithas come up. It was a very wet night. I dare say that helped it along."

  Oswald could not decide which to disbelieve--his brother or his ears. Sodisguising his doubtful emotions without a word, he led the way to thebacon and the banqueting hall.

  He said nothing about the army-seed then, neither did Noel and H. O.But after the bacon we went into the garden, and then the good elderbrother said:

  "Why don't you tell the others your cock-and-bull story?"

  So they did, and their story was received with warm expressions ofdoubt. It was Dicky who observed:

  "Let's go and have a squint at Randall's ten-acre, anyhow. I saw a harethere the other day."

  We went. It is some little way, and as we went disbelief reigned superbin every breast except Noel's and H. O.'s, so you will see that even theready pen of the present author cannot be expected to describe to youhis variable sensations when he got to the top of the hill and suddenlysaw that his little brothers had spoken the truth. I do not mean thatthey generally tell lies, but people make mistakes sometimes and theeffect is the same as lies if you believe them.

  There _was_ a camp there with real tents and soldiers in gray and redtunics. I dare say the girls would have said coats. We stood in ambush,too astonished even to think of lying in it, though of course we knowthat this is customary. The ambush was the wood on top of the littlehill, between Randall's ten-acre meadow and Sugden's Waste Wake pasture.

  "There would be cover here for a couple of regiments," whispered Oswald,who was, I think, gifted by Fate with the far-seeingness of a borngeneral.

  Alice merely said "Hist," and we went down to mingle with the troops asthough by accident, and seek for information.

  The first man we came to at the edge of the camp was cleaning a sort ofcauldron thing like witches brew bats in.

  We went up to him and said, "Who are you? Are you English, or are youthe enemy?"

  "We're the enemy," he said, and he did not seem ashamed of being what hewas. And he spoke English with quite a good accent for a foreigner.

  "The enemy!" Oswald echoed, in shocked tones. It is a terrible thing toa loyal and patriotic youth to see an enemy clea
ning a pot in an Englishfield, with English sand, and looking as much at home as if he was inhis foreign fastnesses.

  The enemy seemed to read Oswald's thoughts with deadly unerringness. Hesaid:

  "The English are somewhere over on the other side of the hill. They aretrying to keep us out of Maidstone."

  After this our plan of mingling with the troops did not seem worth goingon with. This soldier, in spite of his unerringness in reading Oswald'sinmost heart, seemed not so very sharp in other things, or he wouldnever have given away his secret plans like this, for he must have knownfrom our accents that we were Britons to the backbone. Or perhaps(Oswald thought this, and it made his blood at once boil and freeze,which our uncle had told us was possible, but only in India), perhaps hethought that Maidstone was already as good as taken and it didn'tmatter what he said. While Oswald was debating within his intellect whatto say next, and how to say it so as to discover as many as possible ofthe enemy's dark secrets, Noel said:

  "How did you get here? You weren't here yesterday at tea-time."

  The soldier gave the pot another sandy rub, and said:

  "I dare say it does seem quick work--the camp seems as if it had sprungup in the night, doesn't it?--like a mushroom."

  Alice and Oswald looked at each other, and then at the rest of us. Thewords "_sprung up in the night_" seemed to touch a string in everyheart.

  "You see," whispered Noel, "he won't tell us how he came here. _Now_, isit humbug or history?"

  Oswald, after whisperedly requesting his young brother to dry up and notbother, remarked:

  "Then you're an invading army?"

  "Well," said the soldier, "we're a skeleton battalion, as a matter offact, but we're invading all right enough."

  And now indeed the blood of the stupidest of us froze, just as thequick-witted Oswald's had done earlier in the interview. Even H. O.opened his mouth and went the color of mottled soap; he is so fat thatthis is the nearest he can go to turning pale.

  Denny said, "But you don't look like skeletons."

  The soldier stared, then he laughed and said: "Ah, that's the paddingin our tunics. You should see us in the gray dawn taking our morningbath in a bucket."

  It was a dreadful picture for the imagination. A skeleton, with itsbones all loose most likely, bathing anyhow in a pail. There was asilence while we thought it over.

  Now, ever since the cleaning-cauldron soldier had said that about takingMaidstone, Alice had kept on pulling at Oswald's jacket behind, and hehad kept on not taking any notice. But now he could not stand it anylonger, so he said, "Well, what is it?"

  Alice drew him aside, or rather, she pulled at his jacket so that henearly fell over backwards, and then she whispered, "Come along, don'tstay parleying with the foe. He's only talking to you to gain time."

  "What for?" said Oswald.

  "Why, so that we shouldn't warn the other army, you silly," Alice said,and Oswald was so upset by what she said that he forgot to be properlyangry with her for the wrong word she used.

  "But we ought to warn them at home," she said; "suppose the Moat Housewas burned down, and all the supplies commandeered for the foe?"

  Alice turned boldly to the soldier. "_Do_ you burn down farms?" sheasked.

  "Well, not as a rule," he said, and he had the cheek to wink at Oswald,but Oswald would not look at him. "We've not burned a farm since--oh,not for years."

  "A farm in Greek history it was, I expect," Denny murmured.

  "Civilized warriors do not burn farms nowadays," Alice said, sternly,"whatever they did in Greek times. You ought to know that."

  The soldier said things had changed a good deal since Greek times. So wesaid good-morning as quickly as we could: it is proper to be polite evento your enemy, except just at the moments when it has really come torifles and bayonets or other weapons.

  The soldier said, "So long!" in quite a modern voice, and we retracedour footsteps in silence to the ambush--I mean the wood. Oswald didthink of lying in the ambush then, but it was rather wet, because of therain the night before, that H. O. said had brought the army-seed up. AndAlice walked very fast, saying nothing but "Hurry up, can't you!" anddragging H. O. by one hand and Noel by the other. So we got into theroad.

  Then Alice faced round and said, "This is all our fault. If we hadn'tsowed those dragon's teeth there wouldn't have been any invading army."

  I am sorry to say Daisy said, "Never mind, Alice, dear. _We_ didn't sowthe nasty things, did we, Dora?"

  But Denny told her it was just the same. It was _we_ had done it, solong as it was any of us, especially if it got any of us into trouble.Oswald was very pleased to see that the Dentist was beginning tounderstand the meaning of true manliness, and about the honor of thehouse of Bastable, though of course he is only a Foulkes. Yet it issomething to know he does his best to learn.

  If you are very grown-up, or very clever, I dare say you will now havethought of a great many things. If you have you need not say anything,especially if you're reading this aloud to anybody. It's no good puttingin what you think in this part, because none of us thought anything ofthe kind at the time.

  We simply stood in the road without any of your clever thoughts, filledwith shame and distress to think of what might happen owing to thedragon's teeth being sown. It was a lesson to us never to sow seedwithout being quite sure what sort it is. This is particularly true ofthe penny packets, which sometimes do not come up at all, quite unlikedragon's teeth.

  Of course H. O. and Noel were more unhappy than the rest of us. This wasonly fair.

  "How can we possibly prevent their getting to Maidstone?" Dicky said."Did you notice the red cuffs on their uniforms? Taken from the bodiesof dead English soldiers, I shouldn't wonder."

  "If they're the old Greek kind of dragon's-teeth soldiers they ought tofight each other to death," Noel said; "at least, if we had a helmet tothrow among them."

  But none of us had, and it was decided that it would be no use for H.O. to go back and throw his straw hat at them, though he wanted to.

  Denny said, suddenly:

  "Couldn't we alter the sign-posts, so that they wouldn't know the way toMaidstone?"

  Oswald saw that this was the time for true generalship to be shown. Hesaid:

  "Fetch all the tools out of your chest--Dicky go too, there's a goodchap, and don't let him cut his legs with the saw." He did once,tumbling over it. "Meet us at the cross-roads, you know, where we hadthe Benevolent Bar. Courage and despatch, and look sharp about it."

  When they had gone we hastened to the cross-roads, and there a greatidea occurred to Oswald. He used the forces at his command so ably thatin a very short time the board in the field which says "No thoroughfare.Trespassers will be prosecuted" was set up in the middle of the road toMaidstone. We put stones, from a heap by the road, behind it to make itstand up.

  Then Dicky and Denny came back, and Dicky shinned up the sign-post andsawed off the two arms, and we nailed them up wrong, so that it said "ToMaidstone" on the Dover Road, and "To Dover" on the road to Maidstone.We decided to leave the Trespassers board on the real Maidstone road, asan extra guard.

  Then we settled to start at once to warn Maidstone.

  Some of us did not want the girls to go, but it would have been unkindto say so. However, there was at least one breast that felt a pang ofjoy when Dora and Daisy gave out that they would rather stay where theywere and tell anybody who came by which was the real road.

  "Because it would be so dreadful if some one was going to buy pigs orfetch a doctor or anything in a hurry and then found they had got toDover instead of where they wanted to go to," Dora said. But when itcame to dinner-time they went home, so that they were entirely out ofit. This often happens to them by some strange fatalism.

  We left Martha to take care of the two girls, and Lady and Pincher wentwith us. It was getting late in the day, but I am bound to remember noone said anything about their dinners, whatever they may have thought.We cannot always help our thoughts. We happened to
know it was roastrabbits and currant jelly that day.

  We walked two and two, and sang the "British Grenadiers" and "Soldiersof the Queen" so as to be as much part of the British army as possible.The Cauldron-Man had said the English were the other side of the hill.But we could not see any scarlet anywhere, though we looked for it ascarefully as if we had been fierce bulls.

  But suddenly we went round a turn in the road and came plump into a lotof soldiers. Only they were not red-coats. They were dressed in gray andsilver. And it was a sort of furzy-common place, and three roadsbranching out. The men were lying about, with some of their beltsundone, smoking pipes and cigarettes.

  "It's not British soldiers," Alice said. "Oh, dear, oh, dear, I'm afraidit's more enemy. You didn't sow the army-seed anywhere else, did you, H.O., dear?"

  H. O. was positive he hadn't. "But perhaps lots more came up where wedid sow them," he said; "they're all over England by now, very likely._I_ don't know how many men can grow out of one dragon's tooth."

  Then Noel said, "It was my doing, anyhow, and I'm not afraid," and hewalked straight up to the nearest soldier, who was cleaning his pipewith a piece of grass, and said:

  "Please, are you the enemy?" The man said:

  "No, young commander-in-chief, we're the English."

  Then Oswald took command.

  "Where is the general?" he said.

  "We're out of generals just now, field-marshal," the man said, and hisvoice was a gentleman's voice. "Not a single one in stock. We might suityou in majors now--and captains are quite cheap. Competent corporalsgoing for a song. And we have a very nice colonel, too--quiet to ride ordrive."

  Oswald does not mind chaff at proper times. But this was not one.

  "You seem to be taking it very easy," he said, with disdainfulexpression.

  "This _is_ an easy," said the gray soldier, sucking at his pipe to seeif it would draw.

  "I suppose _you_ don't care if the enemy gets into Maidstone or not!"exclaimed Oswald, bitterly. "If I were a soldier I'd rather die than bebeaten."

  The soldier saluted. "Good old patriotic sentiment," he said, smiling atthe heartfelt boy. But Oswald could bear no more.

  "Which is the colonel?" he asked.

  "Over there--near the gray horse."

  "The one lighting a cigarette?" H. O. asked.

  "Yes--but I say, kiddie, he won't stand any jaw. There's not an ounce ofvice about him, but he's peppery. He might kick out. You'd better bunk."

  "Better what?" asked H. O.

  "Bunk, bottle, scoot, skip, vanish, exit," said the soldier.

  "That's what you'd do when the fighting begins," said H. O. He is oftenrude like that--but it was what we all thought, all the same. Thesoldier only laughed.

  A spirited but hasty altercation among ourselves in whispers ended inour allowing Alice to be the one to speak to the colonel. It was she whowanted to. "However peppery he is he won't kick a girl," she said, andperhaps this was true.

  But of course we all went with her. So there were six of us to stand infront of the colonel. And as we went along we agreed that we wouldsalute him on the word three. So when we got near, Dick said, "One,two, three," and we all saluted very well--except H. O., who chose thatminute to trip over a rifle a soldier had left lying about, and was onlysaved from falling by a man in a cocked hat who caught him deftly by theback of his jacket and stood him up on his legs.

  "Let go, can't you," said H. O. "Are you the general?"

  Before the Cocked Hat had time to frame a reply, Alice spoke to thecolonel. I knew what she meant to say, because she had told me as wethreaded our way among the resting soldiery. What she really said was:

  "Oh, how _can_ you!"

  "How can I _what_?" said the colonel, rather crossly.

  "Why, _smoke_?" said Alice.

  "My good children, if you're an infant Band of Hope, let me recommendyou to play in some other back yard," said the Cocked-Hatted Man.

  H. O. said, "Band of Hope yourself"--but no one noticed it.

  "We're _not_ a Band of Hope," said Noel. "We're British, and the manover there told us you are. And Maidstone's in danger, and the enemy nota mile off, and you stand _smoking_." Noel was standing crying, himself,or something very like it.

  "It's quite true," Alice said.

  The colonel said, "Fiddle de dee."

  But the Cocked-Hatted Man said, "What was the enemy like?"

  "SO WE LED HIM ALONG TO THE AMBUSH"]

  We told him exactly. And even the colonel then owned there might besomething in it.

  "Can you show me the place where they are on the map?" he asked.

  "Not on the map, we can't," said Dicky; "at least, I don't think so, buton the ground we could. We could take you there in a quarter of anhour."

  The Cocked-Hatted One looked at the colonel, who returned his scrutiny;then he shrugged his shoulders.

  "Well, we've got to do something," he said, as if to himself. "Lead on,Macduff!"

  The colonel roused his soldiery from their stupor of pipes by words ofcommand which the present author is sorry he can't remember.

  Then he bade us boys lead the way. I tell you it felt fine, marching atthe head of a regiment. Alice got a lift on the Cocked-Hatted One'shorse. It was a red-roan steed of might, exactly as if it had been in aballad. They call a gray-roan a "blue" in South Africa, theCocked-Hatted One said.

  We led the British army by unfrequented lanes till we got to the gate ofSugden's Waste Wake pasture. Then the colonel called a whispered halt,and choosing two of us to guide him, the dauntless and discerningcommander went on, on foot, with an orderly. He chose Dicky and Oswaldas guides. So we led him to the ambush, and we went through it asquietly as we could. But twigs do crackle and snap so when you arereconnoitring, or anxious to escape detection for whatever reason.

  Our Colonel's orderly crackled most. If you're not near enough to tell acolonel by the crown and stars on his shoulder-strap, you can tell himby the orderly behind him, like "follow my leader."

  "Look out!" said Oswald in a low but commanding whisper, "the camp'sdown in that field. You can see if you take a squint through this gap."

  The speaker took a squint himself as he spoke, and drew back, baffledbeyond the power of speech. While he was struggling with his bafflednessthe British Colonel had his squint. He also drew back, and said a wordthat he must have known was not right--at least when he was a boy.

  "I don't care," said Oswald, "they were there this morning. White tentslike mushrooms, and an enemy cleaning a caldron."

  "With sand," said Dicky.

  "That's most convincing," said the Colonel, and I did not like the wayhe said it.

  "I say," Oswald said, "let's get to the top corner of the ambush--thewood, I mean. You can see the cross-roads from there."

  We did, and quickly, for the crackling of branches no longer dismayedour almost despairing spirits.

  We came to the edge of the wood, and Oswald's patriotic heart really didgive a jump, and he cried, "There they are, on the Dover Road."

  Our miscellaneous sign-board had done its work.

  "By Jove, young un, you're right! And in quarter column, too! We've got'em on toast--on toast, egad!"

  I never heard any one not in a book say "egad" before, so I sawsomething really out of the way was indeed up.

  The Colonel was a man of prompt and decisive action. He sent the orderlyto tell the Major to advance two companies on the left flank and takecover. Then we led him back through the wood the nearest way, because hesaid he must rejoin the main body at once. We found the main body Veryfriendly with Noel and H. O. and the others, and Alice was talking tothe Cocked-Hatted One as if she had known him all her life. "I thinkhe's a general in disguise," Noel said. "He's been giving us chocolateout of a pocket in his saddle." Oswald thought about the roast rabbitthen--and he is not ashamed to own it--yet he did not say a word. ButAlice is really not a bad sort. She had saved two bars of chocolate forhim and Dicky. Even in war girls can sometimes be useful i
n their humbleway.

  The Colonel fussed about and said, "Take cover there!" and everybody hidin the ditch, and the horses and the Cocked Hat, with Alice, retreateddown the road out of sight. We were in the ditch too. It was muddy--butnobody thought of their boots in that perilous moment. It seemed a longtime we were crouching there. Oswald began to feel the water squelchingin his boots; so we held our breath and listened. Oswald laid his earto the road like a Red Indian. You would not do this in time of peace,but when your county is in danger you care but little about keeping yourears clean. His backwoods strategy was successful. He rose and dustedhimself and said:

  "They're coming!"

  It was true. The footsteps of the approaching foe were now to be heardquite audibly, even by ears in their natural position. The wicked enemyapproached. They were marching with a careless swaggeringness thatshowed how little they suspected the horrible doom which was about toteach them England's might and supremeness. Just as the enemy turned thecorner so that we could see them, the Colonel shouted:

  "Right section, fire!" and there was a deafening banging.

  The enemy's officer said something, and then the enemy got confused andtried to get into the fields through the hedges. But all was vain. Therewas firing now from our men, on the left as well as the right. And thenour Colonel strode nobly up to the enemy's Colonel and demandedsurrender. He told me so afterwards. His exact words are only known tohimself and the other Colonel. But the enemy's Colonel said, "I wouldrather die than surrender," or words to that effect.

  Our Colonel returned to his men and gave the order to fix bayonets, andeven Oswald felt his manly cheek turn pale at the thought of the amountof blood about to be shed. What would have happened can never now berevealed. For at this moment a man on a piebald horse came clatteringover a hedge--as carelessly as if the air was not full of lead and steelat all. Another man rode behind him with a lance and a red pennon on it.I think he must have been the enemy's General coming to tell his men notto throw away their lives on a forlorn hope, for directly he said theywere captured the enemy gave in and owned that they were. The enemy'sColonel saluted and ordered his men to form quarter column again. Ishould have thought he would have had about enough of that myself.

  He had now given up all thought of sullen resistance to the bitter end.He rolled a cigarette for himself, and had the foreign cheek to say toour Colonel:

  "By Jove, old man, you got me clean that time! Your scouts seem to havemarked us down uncommonly neatly."

  It was a proud moment when our Colonel laid his military hand onOswald's shoulder and said:

  "This is my chief scout," which were high words, but not undeserved, andOswald owns he felt red with gratifying pride when he heard them.

  "So you are the traitor, young man," said the wicked Colonel, going onwith his cheek.

  Oswald bore it because our Colonel had, and you should be generous to afallen foe, but it is hard to be called a traitor when you haven't.

  He did not treat the wicked Colonel with silent scorn as he might havedone, but he said:

  "We aren't traitors. We are the Bastables and one of us is a Foulkes. Weonly mingled unsuspected with the enemy's soldiery and learned thesecret of their acts, which is what Baden-Powell always does when thenatives rebel in South Africa; and Denis Foulkes thought of altering thesign-posts to lead the foe astray. And if we did cause all thisfighting, and get Maidstone threatened with capture and all that, it wasonly because we didn't believe Greek things could happen in GreatBritain and Ireland, even if you sow dragon's teeth, and besides, someof us were not asked about sowing them."

  Then the Cocked-Hatted One led his horse and walked with us and made ustell him all about it, and so did the Colonel. The wicked Colonellistened too, which was only another proof of his cheek.

  And Oswald told the tale in the modest yet manly way that some peoplethink he has, and gave the others all the credit they deserved. Hisnarration was interrupted no less than four times by shouts of "Bravo!"in which the enemy's Colonel once more showed his cheek by joining. Bythe time the story was told we were in sight of another camp. It was theBritish one this time. The Colonel asked us to have tea in his tent, andit only shows the magnanimosity of English chivalry in the field ofbattle that he asked the enemy's Colonel too. With his usual cheek heaccepted. We were jolly hungry.

  When every one had had as much tea as they possibly could, the Colonelshook hands with us all, and to Oswald he said:

  "Well, good-bye, my brave scout. I must mention your name in mydespatches to the War Office."

  H. O. interrupted him to say, "His name's Oswald Cecil Bastable, andmine is Horace Octavius." I wish H. O. would learn to hold his tongue.No one ever knows Oswald was christened Cecil as well, if he canpossibly help it. _You_ didn't know it till now.

  "Mr. Oswald Bastable," the Colonel went on--he had the decency not totake any notice of the "Cecil"--"you would be a credit to any regiment.No doubt the War Office will reward you properly for what you have donefor your country. But meantime, perhaps, you'll accept five shillingsfrom a grateful comrade-in-arms."

  Oswald felt heart-feltly sorry to wound the good Colonel's feelings, buthe had to remark that he had only done his duty, and he was sure noBritish scout would take five bob for doing that. "And besides," hesaid, with that feeling of justice which is part of his young character,"it was the others just as much as me."

  "Your sentiments, sir," said the Colonel, who was one of the politestand most discerning colonels I ever saw, "your sentiments do you honor.But, Bastables all, and--and non-Bastables" (he couldn't rememberFoulkes; it's not such an interesting name as Bastable, of course), "atleast you'll accept a soldier's pay?"

  "Lucky to touch it, a shilling a day!" Alice and Denny said together.And the Cocked-Hatted Man said something about knowing your own mind andknowing your own Kipling.

  "A soldier," said the Colonel, "would certainly be lucky to touch it.You see there are deductions for rations. Five shillings is exactlyright, deducting twopence each for six teas."

  This seemed cheap for the three cups of tea and the three eggs and allthe strawberry-jam and bread-and-butter Oswald had had, as well as whatthe others ate, and Lady's and Pincher's teas, but I suppose soldiersget things cheaper than civilians, which is only right.

  Oswald took the five shillings then, there being no longer any scrupleswhy he should not.

  Just as we had parted from the brave Colonel and the rest we saw abicycle coming. It was Albert's uncle. He got off and said:

  "What on earth have you been up to? What were you doing with thosevolunteers?"

  We told him the wild adventures of the day, and he listened, and then hesaid he would withdraw the word volunteers if we liked.

  But the seeds of doubt were sown in the breast of Oswald. He was nowalmost sure that we had made jolly fools of ourselves without a moment'spause throughout the whole of this eventful day. He said nothing at thetime, but after supper he had it out with Albert's uncle about the wordwhich had been withdrawn.

  Albert's uncle said, of course, no one could be sure that the dragon'steeth hadn't come up in the good old-fashioned way, but that, on theother hand, it was barely possible that both the British and the enemywere only volunteers having a field-day or sham fight, and he ratherthought the Cocked-Hatted Man was not a general, but a doctor. And theman with a red pennon carried behind him _might_ have been the umpire.

  Oswald never told the others a word of this. Their young breasts wereall panting with joy because they had saved their country; and it wouldhave been but heartless unkindness to show them how silly they had been.Besides, Oswald felt he was much too old to have been so taken in--if he_had_ been. Besides, Albert's uncle did say that no one could be sureabout the dragon's teeth.

  The thing that makes Oswald feel most that, perhaps, the whole thing wasa beastly sell was that we didn't see any wounded. But he tries not tothink of this. And if he goes into the army when he grows up, he willnot go quite green. He has had experience of th
e arts of war and thetented field. And a real colonel has called him "Comrade-in-Arms," whichis exactly what Lord Roberts called his own soldiers when he wrote homeabout them.

  ALBERT'S UNCLE'S GRANDMOTHER; OR, THE LONG-LOST

  The shadow of the termination now descended in sable thunder-clouds uponour devoted nobs. As Albert's uncle said, "School now gaped for itsprey." In a very short space of time we should be wending our way backto Blackheath, and all the variegated delightfulness of the countrywould soon be only preserved in memory's faded flowers. (I don't carefor that way of writing very much. It would be an awful swat to keep itup--looking out the words and all that.)

  To speak in the language of every-day life, our holiday was jolly nearlyup. We had had a ripping time, but it was all but over. We really didfeel sorry--though, of course, it was rather decent to think of gettingback to father and being able to tell the other chaps about our raft,and the dam, and the Tower of Mystery, and things like that.

  When but a brief time was left to us, Oswald and Dicky met by chance inan apple-tree. (That sounds like "consequences," but it is meretruthfulness.) Dicky said:

  "Only four more days." Oswald said, "Yes."

  THE COUNCIL IN THE APPLE-TREE]

  "There's one thing," Dicky said, "that beastly society. We don't wantthat swarming all over everything when we get home. We ought to dissolveit before we leave here."

  The following dialogue now took place:

  _Oswald_--"Right you are. I always said it was piffling rot."

  _Dicky_--"So did I."

  _Oswald_--"Let's call a council. But don't forget we've jolly well gotto put our foot down."

  Dicky assented, and the dialogue concluded with apples.

  The council, when called, was in but low spirits. This made Oswald's andDicky's task easier. When people are sunk in gloomy despair about onething, they will agree to almost anything about something else. (Remarkslike this are called philosophic generalizations, Albert's uncle says.)Oswald began by saying:

  "We've tried the society for being good in, and perhaps it's done usgood. But now the time has come for each of us to be good or bad on hisown, without hanging on to the others."

  "The race is run by one and one, But never by two and two,"

  the Dentist said. The others said nothing. Oswald went on: "I move thatwe chuck--I mean dissolve--the Wouldbegoods Society; its appointed taskis done. If it's not well done, that's _its_ fault and not ours." Dickysaid, "Hear! hear! I second this prop."

  The unexpected Dentist said, "I third it. At first I thought it wouldhelp, but afterwards I saw it only made you want to be naughty, justbecause you were a Wouldbegood."

  Oswald owns he was surprised. We put it to the vote at once, so as notto let Denny cool. H. O. and Noel and Alice voted with us, so Daisy andDora were what is called a hopeless minority. We tried to cheer theirhopelessness by letting them read the things out of the Golden Deed bookaloud. Noel hid his face in the straw so that we should not see thefaces he made while he made poetry instead of listening, and when theWouldbegoods was by vote dissolved forever he sat up, with straws in hishair, and said:

  "THE EPITAPH

  "The Wouldbegoods are dead and gone, But not the golden deeds they have done. These will remain upon Glory's page To be an example to every age, And by this we have got to know How to be good upon our ow--N.

  N is for Noel, that makes the rhyme and the sense both right. O.W.N.,own; do you see?"

  We saw it, and said so, and the gentle poet was satisfied. And thecouncil broke up. Oswald felt that a weight had been lifted from hisexpanding chest, and it is curious that he never felt so inclined to begood and a model youth as he did then.

  As we went down the ladder out of the loft he said:

  "There's one thing we ought to do, though, before we go home. We oughtto find Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmother for him."

  Alice's heart beat true and steadfast. She said: "That's just exactlywhat Noel and I were saying this morning. Look out, Oswald, you wretch,you're kicking chaff into my eyes." She was going down the ladder justunder me.

  Oswald's young sister's thoughtful remark ended in another council. Butnot in the straw loft. We decided to have a quite new place, anddisregarded H. O.'s idea of the dairy and Noel's of the cellars. We hadthe new council on the secret staircase, and there we settled exactlywhat we ought to do. This is the same thing, if you really wish to begood, as what you are going to do. It was a very interesting council,and when it was over Oswald was so pleased to think that theWouldbegoods was unrecoverishly dead that he gave Denny and Noel, whowere sitting on the step below him, a good-humored, playful, gentle,loving, brotherly shove, and said, "Get along down, it's tea-time!"

  No reader who understands justice and the real rightness of things, andwho is to blame for what, will ever think it could have been Oswald'sfault that the two other boys got along down by rolling over and overeach other, and bursting the door at the bottom of the stairs open bytheir revolving bodies. And I should like to know whose fault it wasthat Mrs. Pettigrew was just on the other side of that door at that veryminute? The door burst open, and the impetuous bodies of Noel and Dennyrolled out of it into Mrs. Pettigrew, and upset her and the tea-tray.Both revolving boys were soaked with tea and milk, and there were one ortwo cups and things smashed. Mrs. Pettigrew was knocked over, but noneof her bones were broken. Noel and Denny were going to be sent to bed,but Oswald said it was all his fault. He really did this to give theothers a chance of doing a refined, golden deed by speaking the truthand saying it was _not_ his fault. But you cannot really count on anyone. They did not say anything, but only rubbed the lumps on theirlate-revolving heads. So it was bed for Oswald, and he felt theinjustice hard.

  But he sat up in bed and read the _Last of the Mohicans_, and then hebegan to think. When Oswald really thinks he almost always thinks ofsomething. He thought of something now, and it was miles better than theidea we had decided on in the secret staircase, of advertising in the_Kentish Mercury_ and saying if Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmotherwould call at the Moat House she might hear of something much to heradvantage.

  What Oswald thought of was that if we went to Hazelbridge and asked Mr.B. Munn, grocer, that drove us home in the cart with the horse thatliked the wrong end of the whip best, he would know who the lady was inthe red hat and red wheels that paid him to drive us home thatCanterbury night. He must have been paid, of course, for even grocersare not generous enough to drive perfect strangers, and five of themtoo, about the country for nothing.

  Thus we may learn that even unjustness and sending the wrong people tobed may bear useful fruit, which ought to be a great comfort to everyone when they are unfairly treated. Only it most likely won't be. For ifOswald's brothers and sisters had nobly stood by him, as he expected, hewould not have had the solitudy reflections that led to the great schemefor finding the grandmother.

  Of course when the others came up to roost they all came and squatted onOswald's bed and said how sorry they were. He waived their apologieswith noble dignity, because there wasn't much time, and said he had anidea that would knock the council's plan into a cocked hat. But he wouldnot tell them what it was. He made them wait till next morning. This wasnot sulks, but kind feeling. He wanted them to have something else tothink of besides the way they hadn't stood by him in the bursting of thesecret staircase door and the tea-tray and the milk.

  Next morning Oswald kindly explained, and asked who would volunteer fora forced march to Hazelbridge. The word volunteer cost the young Oswalda pang as soon as he had said it, but I hope he can bear pangs with anyman living. "And mind," he added, hiding the pang under a general-likesevereness, "I won't have any one in the expedition who has anything inhis shoes except his feet."

  This could not have been put more delicately and decently. But Oswald isoften misunderstood. Even Alice said it was unkind to throw the pease upat Denny. When this little unpleasantness had passed away (it took sometime, because Daisy cr
ied, and Dora said, "There now, Oswald!") therewere seven volunteers, which, with Oswald, made eight, and was, indeed,all of us. There were no cockle-shells, or tape-sandals, or staves, orscrips, or anything romantic and pious about the eight persons who setout for Hazelbridge that morning, more earnestly wishful to be good anddeedful--at least Oswald, I know was--than ever they had been in thedays of the beastly Wouldbegood Society. It was a fine day. Either itwas fine nearly all last summer, which is how Oswald remembers it, orelse nearly all the interesting things we did came on fine days.

  With hearts light and gay, and no pease in any one's shoes, the walk toHazelbridge was perseveringly conducted. We took our lunch with us, andthe dear dogs. Afterwards we wished for a time that we had left one ofthem at home. But they did so want to come, all of them, and Hazelbridgeis not nearly as far as Canterbury, really, so even Martha was allowedto put on her things--I mean her collar--and come with us. She walksslowly, but we had the day before us, so there was no extra hurry.

  At Hazelbridge we went into B. Munn's grocer's shop and asked forginger-beer to drink. They gave it us, but they seemed surprised at uswanting to drink it there, and the glass was warm--it had just beenwashed. We only did it, really, so as to get into conversation with B.Munn, grocer, and extract information without rousing suspicion. Youcannot be too careful.

  However, when we had said it was first-class ginger-beer, and paid forit, we found it not so easy to extract anything more from B. Munn,grocer; and there was an anxious silence while he fiddled about behindthe counter among the tinned meats and sauce bottles, with a fringe ofhob-nailed boots hanging over his head.

  H. O. spoke suddenly. He is like the sort of person who rushes in whereangels fear to tread, as Denny says (say what sort of person that is).He said:

  "I say, you remember driving us home that day. Who paid for the cart?"

  Of course B. Munn, grocer, was not such a nincompoop (I like that word,it means so many people I know) as to say right off. He said:

  "I was paid all right, young gentleman. Don't you terrify yourself."

  People in Kent say terrify when they mean worry.

  So Dora shoved in a gentle oar. She said:

  "We want to know the kind lady's name and address, so that we can writeand thank her for being so jolly that day."

  B. Munn, grocer, muttered something about the lady's address being goodshe was often asked for. Alice said, "But do tell us. We forgot to askher. She's a relation of a second-hand uncle of ours, and I do so wantto thank her properly. And if you've got any extra strong peppermints ata penny an ounce, we should like a quarter of a pound."

  This was a master-stroke. While he was weighing out the peppermints hisheart got soft, and just as he was twisting up the corner of the paperbag, Dora said, "What lovely fat peppermints! Do tell us."

  And B. Munn's heart was now quite melted, and he said:

  "It's Miss Ashleigh, and she lives at The Cedars--about a mile down theMaidstone Road."

  We thanked him, and Alice paid for the peppermints. Oswald was a littleanxious when she ordered such a lot, but she and Noel had got the moneyall right, and when we were outside on Hazelbridge Green (a good deal ofit is gravel, really), we stood and looked at each other.

  Then Dora said:

  "Let's go home and write a beautiful letter and all sign it."

  Oswald looked at the others. Writing is all very well, but it's such abeastly long time to wait for anything to happen afterwards.

  The intelligent Alice divined his thoughts, and the Dentist divinedhers--he is not clever enough yet to divine Oswald's--and the two saidtogether:

  "Why not go and see her?"

  "She _did_ say she would like to see us again some day," Dora replied.So after we had argued a little about it we went.

  And before we had gone a hundred yards down the dusty road Martha beganto make us wish with all our hearts we had not let her come. She beganto limp, just as a pilgrim, who I will not name, did when he had thesplit pease in his silly, palmering shoes.

  So we called a halt and looked at her feet. One of them was quiteswollen and red. Bulldogs almost always have something the matter withtheir feet, and it always comes on when least required. They are not theright breed for emergencies.

  There was nothing for it but to take it in turns to carry her. She isvery stout, and you have no idea how heavy she is. A half-hearted,unadventurous person (I name no names, but Oswald, Alice, Noel, H. O.,Dicky, Daisy, and Denny will understand me) said, why not go straighthome and come another day without Martha? But the rest agreed withOswald when he said it was only a mile, and perhaps we might get a lifthome with the poor invalid. Martha was very grateful to us for ourkindness. She put her fat white arms round the person's neck whohappened to be carrying her. She is very affectionate, but by holdingher very close to you you can keep her from kissing your face all thetime. As Alice said, "Bulldogs do give you such large, wet, pinkkisses."

  A mile is a good way when you have to take your turn at carrying Martha.

  At last we came to a hedge with a ditch in front of it, and chainsswinging from posts to keep people off the grass and out of the ditch,and a gate with "The Cedars" on it in gold letters. All very neat andtidy, and showing plainly that more than one gardener was kept. There westopped. Alice put Martha down, grunting with exhaustedness, and said:

  "Look here, Dora and Daisy, I don't believe a bit that it's hisgrandmother. I'm sure Dora was right, and it's only his horridsweetheart. I feel it in my bones. Now, don't you really think we'dbetter chuck it; we're sure to catch it for interfering. We always do."

  "The cross of true love never did come smooth," said the Dentist. "Weought to help him to bear his cross."

  "But if we find her for him, and she's not his grandmother, he'll_marry_ her," Dicky said, in tones of gloominess and despair.

  Oswald felt the same, but he said, "Never mind. We should all hate it,but perhaps Albert's uncle _might_ like it. You can never tell. If youwant to do a really unselfish action and no kid, now's your time, mylate Wouldbegoods."

  No one had the face to say right out that they didn't want to beunselfish.

  But it was with sad hearts that the unselfish seekers opened the longgate and went up the gravel drive between the rhododendrons and othershrubberies towards the house.

  I think I have explained to you before that the eldest son of anybody iscalled the representative of the family if his father isn't there. Thiswas why Oswald now took the lead. When we got to the last turn of thedrive it was settled that the others were to noiselessly ambush in therhododendrons, and Oswald was to go on alone and ask at the house forthe grandmother from India--I mean Miss Ashleigh.

  So he did, but when he got to the front of the house and saw how neatthe flower-beds were with red geraniums, and the windows all bright andspeckless with muslin blinds and brass rods, and a green parrot in acage in the porch, and the doorstep newly whited, lying clean anduntrodden in the sunshine, he stood still and thought of his boots andhow dusty the roads were, and wished he had not gone into the farmyardafter eggs before starting that morning. As he stood there in anxiousuncertainness he heard a low voice among the bushes. It said, "Hist!Oswald, here!" and it was the voice of Alice.

  So he went back to the others among the shrubs, and they all crowdedround their leader, full of impartable news.

  "She's not in the house; she's _here_," Alice said, in a low whisperthat seemed nearly all S's. "Close by--she went by just this minute witha gentleman."

  "And they're sitting on a seat under a tree on a little lawn, and she'sgot her head on his shoulder, and he's holding her hand. I never saw anyone look so silly in all my born," Dicky said.

  "It's sickening," Denny said, trying to look very manly with his legswide apart.

  "I don't know," Oswald whispered. "I suppose it wasn't Albert's uncle?"

  "Not much," Dicky briefly replied.

  "Then don't you see it's all right. If she's going on like that withthis other fellow, she'll w
ant to marry him, and Albert's uncle is safe.And we've really done an unselfish action without having to suffer forit afterwards." With a stealthy movement Oswald rubbed his hands as hespoke in real joyfulness. We decided that we had better bunk unnoticed.But we had reckoned without Martha. She had strolled off limping to lookabout her a bit in the shrubbery. "Where's Martha?" Dora suddenly said.

  "She went that way," pointingly remarked H. O.

  "Then fetch her back, you young duffer! What did you let her go for?"Oswald said; "and look sharp. Don't make a row."

  He went. A minute later we heard a hoarse squeak from Martha--the oneshe always gives when suddenly collared from behind--and a little squealin a lady-like voice, and a man say "Hallo!" and then we knew that H. O.had once more rushed in where angels might have thought twice about it.We hurried to the fatal spot, but it was too late. We were just in timeto hear H. O. say:

  "ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY THE LADY?"]

  "I'm sorry if she frightened you. But we've been looking for you. Areyou Albert's uncle's long-lost grandmother?"

  "_No_," said our lady, unhesitatingly.

  It seemed vain to add seven more agitated actors to the scene now goingon. We stood still. The man was standing up. He was a clergyman, and Ifound out afterwards he was the nicest we ever knew, except our own Mr.Bristow at Lewisham, who is now a canon, or a dean, or something grandthat no one ever sees. At present I did not like him. He said: "No, thislady is nobody's grandmother. May I ask in return how long it is sinceyou escaped from the lunatic asylum, my poor child, and where yourkeeper is?"

  H. O. took no notice of this at all, except to say: "I think you arevery rude, and not at all funny, if you think you are."

  The lady said: "My dear, I remember you now perfectly. How are all theothers, and are you pilgrims again to-day?"

  H. O. does not always answer questions. He turned to the man and said:

  "Are you going to marry the lady?"

  "Margaret," said the clergyman, "I never thought it would come to this:he asks me my intentions!"

  "If you _are_," said H. O., "it's all right; because if you do, Albert'suncle can't--at least, not till you're dead. And we don't want him to."

  "Flattering, upon my word," said the clergyman, putting on a deep frown."Shall I call him out, Margaret, for his poor opinion of you, or shall Isend for the police?"

  Alice now saw that H. O., though firm, was getting muddled and ratherscared. She broke cover and sprang into the middle of the scene.

  "Don't let him rag H. O. any more," she said, "it's all our faults. Yousee, Albert's uncle was so anxious to find you, we thought perhaps youwere his long-lost heiress sister or his old nurse who alone knew thesecret of his birth, or something, and we asked him, and he said youwere his long-lost grandmother he had known in India. And we thoughtthat must be a mistake and that really you were his long-lostsweetheart. And we tried to do a really unselfish act and find you forhim. Because we don't want him to be married at all."

  "It isn't because we don't like _you_," Oswald cut in, now emerging fromthe bushes; "and if he must marry, we'd sooner it was you than any one.Really we would."

  "A generous concession, Margaret," the strange clergyman uttered, "mostgenerous, but the plot thickens. It's almost pea-soup-like now. One ortwo points clamor for explanation. Who are these visitors of yours? Whythis Red Indian method of paying morning calls? Why the lurking attitudeof the rest of the tribe which I now discern among the undergrowth?Won't you ask the rest of the tribe to come out and join the gladthrong?"

  Then I liked him better. I always like people who know the same songs wedo, and books and tunes and things.

  The others came out. The lady looked very uncomfy, and partly as if shewas going to cry. But she couldn't help laughing, too, as more and moreof us came out.

  "And who," the clergyman went on--"who in fortune's name is Albert? Andwho is his uncle? And what have they or you to do in this _galere_--Imean garden?"

  We all felt rather silly, and I don't think I ever felt more than thenwhat an awful lot there were of us.

  "Three years' absence in Calcutta or elsewhere may explain my ignoranceof these details, but still--"

  "I think we'd better go," said Dora. "I'm sorry if we've done anythingrude or wrong. We didn't mean to. Good-bye. I hope you'll be happy withthe gentleman, I'm sure."

  "I _hope_ so too," said Noel, and I know he was thinking how much nicerAlbert's uncle was. We turned to go. The lady had been very silentcompared with what she was when she pretended to show us Canterbury. Butnow she seemed to shake off some dreamy silliness, and caught hold ofDora by the shoulder.

  "No, dear, no," she said, "it's all right, and you must have sometea--we'll have it on the lawn. John, don't tease them any more.Albert's uncle is the gentleman T told you about. And, my dearchildren, this is my brother that I haven't seen for three years."

  "Then he's a long-lost too," said H. O.

  The lady said, "Not now," and smiled at him. And the rest of us weredumb with confounding emotions. Oswald was particularly dumb. He mighthave known it was her brother, because in rotten grown-up books if agirl kisses a man in a shrubbery that is not the man you think she's inlove with; it always turns out to be a brother, though generally thedisgrace of the family and not a respectable chaplain from Calcutta.

  The lady now turned to her reverend and surprising brother and said:"John, go and tell them we'll have tea on the lawn."

  When he was gone she stood quite still a minute. Then she said: "I'mgoing to tell you something, but I want to put you on your honor not totalk about it to other people. You see it isn't every one I would tellabout it. He, Albert's uncle, I mean, has told me a lot about you, and Iknow I can trust you."

  We said "Yes," Oswald with a brooding sentiment of knowing all too wellwhat was coming next.

  The lady then said: "Though I am not Albert's uncle's grandmother, I didknow him in India once, and we were going to be married, but we hada--a--misunderstanding."

  "Quarrel?" "Row?" said Noel and H. O. at once.

  "Well, yes, a quarrel, and he went away. He was in the Navy then. Andthen,... well, we were both sorry; but well, anyway, when his ship cameback we'd gone to Constantinople, then to England, and he couldn't findus. And he says he's been looking for me ever since."

  "Not you for him?" said Noel.

  "Well, perhaps," said the lady.

  And the girls said "Ah!" with deep interest. The lady went on morequickly. "And then I found you, and then he found me, and now I mustbreak it to you. Try to bear up...."

  She stopped. The branches crackled, and Albert's uncle was in our midst.He took off his hat. "Excuse my tearing my hair," he said to the lady,"but has the pack really hunted you down?"

  "It's all right," she said, and when she looked at him she got milesprettier quite suddenly. "I was just breaking to them...."

  "Don't take that proud privilege from me," he said. "Kiddies, allow meto present you to the future Mrs. Albert's uncle, or shall we sayAlbert's new aunt?"

  * * * * *

  There was a good deal of explaining done before tea--about how we gotthere, I mean, and why. But after the first bitterness of disappointmentwe felt not nearly so sorry as we had expected to. For Albert's uncle'slady was very jolly to us, and her brother was awfully decent, andshowed us a lot of first-class native curiosities and things, unpackingthem on purpose: skins of beasts, and beads, and brass things, andshells from different savage lands besides India. And the lady told thegirls that she hoped they would like her as much as she liked them, andif they wanted a new aunt she would do her best to give satisfaction inthe new situation. And Alice thought of the Murdstone aunt belonging toDaisy and Denny, and how awful it would have been if Albert's uncle hadmarried _her_. And she decided, she told me afterwards, that we mightthink ourselves jolly lucky it was no worse.

  Then the lady led Oswald aside, pretending to show him the parrot, whichhe had explored thoroughly before, and told him she
was not like somepeople in books. When she was married she would never try to separateher husband from his bachelor friends, she only wanted them to be herfriends as well.

  Then there was tea, and thus all ended in amicableness, and the reverendand friendly drove us home in a wagonette. But for Martha we shouldn'thave had tea, or explanations, or lift, or anything. So we honored her,and did not mind her being so heavy and walking up and down constantlyon our laps as we drove home.

  * * * * *

  And that is all the story of the long-lost grandmother and Albert'suncle. I am afraid it is rather dull, but it was very important (tohim), so I felt it ought to be narrated. Stories about lovers andgetting married are generally slow. I like a love-story where the heroparts with the girl at the garden-gate in the gloaming and goes off andhas adventures, and you don't see her any more till he comes home tomarry her at the end of the book. And I suppose people have to marry.Albert's uncle is awfully old--more than thirty, and the lady isadvanced in years--twenty-six next Christmas. They are to be marriedthen. The girls are to be bridesmaids in white frocks with fur. Thisquite consoles them. If Oswald repines sometimes, he hides it. What'sthe use? We all have to meet our fell destiny, and Albert's uncle is notextirpated from this awful law.

  Now the finding of the long-lost was the very last thing we did for thesake of its being a noble act, so that is the end of the Wouldbegoods,and there are no more chapters after this. But Oswald hates books thatfinish up without telling you the things you might want to know aboutthe people in the book. So here goes. We went home to the beautifulBlackheath house. It seemed very stately and mansion-like after the MoatHouse, and every one was most frightfully pleased to see us.

  Mrs. Pettigrew _cried_ when we went away. I never was so astonished inmy life. She made each of the girls a fat red pincushion like a heart,and each of us boys had a knife bought out of the housekeeping (I meanhousekeeper's own) money.

  Bill Simpkins is happy as sub-under-gardener to Albert's uncle's lady'smother. They do keep three gardeners--I knew they did. And our trampstill earns enough to sleep well on from our dear old Pig-man.

  Our last three days were entirely filled up with visits of farewellsympathy to all our many friends who were so sorry to lose us. Wepromised to come and see them next year. I hope we shall.

  Denny and Daisy went back to live with their father at Forest Hill. Idon't think they'll ever be again the victims of the Murdstone aunt--whois really a great-aunt and about twice as much in the autumn of her daysas our new Albert's uncle aunt. I think they plucked up spirit enough totell their father they didn't like her--which they'd never thought ofdoing before. Our own robber says their holidays in the country did themboth a great deal of good. And he says us Bastables have certainlytaught Daisy and Denny the rudiments of the art of making home happy. Ibelieve they have thought of several quite new naughty things entirelyon their own--and done them too--since they came back from the MoatHouse.

  I wish you didn't grow up so quickly. Oswald can see that ere long hewill be too old for the kind of games we can all play, and he feelsgrown-upness creeping inordiously upon him. But enough of this.

  And now, gentle reader, farewell. If anything in these chronicles of theWouldbegoods should make you try to be good yourself, the author will bevery glad, of course. But take my advice and don't make a society fortrying in. It is much easier without.

  And do try to forget that Oswald has another name besides Bastable. Theone beginning with C., I mean. Perhaps you have not noticed what it was.If so, don't look back for it. It is a name no manly boy would like tobe called by--if he spoke the truth. Oswald is said to be a very manlyboy, and he despises that name, and will never give it to his own sonwhen he has one. Not if a rich relative offered to leave him an immensefortune if he did. Oswald would still be firm. He would, on the honor ofthe House of Bastable.

  THE END