New Treasure Seekers; Or, The Bastable Children in Search of a Fortune

by E. Nesbit

  _ZAIDA, THE MYSTERIOUS PROPHETESS OF THE GOLDEN ORIENT_

  THIS is the story of how we were gipsies and wandering minstrels. And,like everything else we did about that time, it was done to make moneyfor Miss Sandal, whose poorness kept on, making our kind hearts ache.

  It is rather difficult to get up any good game in a house like MissSandal's, where there is nothing lying about, except your own things,and where everything is so neat and necessary. Your own clothes areseldom interesting, and even if you change hats with your sisters it isnot a complete disguise.

  The idea of being gipsies was due to Alice. She had not at all likedbeing entirely out of the smuggling affray, though Oswald explained toher that it was her own fault for having been born a girl. And, ofcourse, after the event, Dicky and I had some things to talk about thatthe girls hadn't, and we had a couple of wet days.

  You have no idea how dull you can be in a house like that, unless youhappen to know the sort of house I mean. A house that is meant forplain living and high thinking, like Miss Sandal told us, may be verynice for the high thinkers, but if you are not accustomed to thinkinghigh there is only the plain living left, and it is like boiled rice forevery meal to any young mind, however much beef and Yorkshire there maybe for the young insides. Mrs. Beale saw to our having plenty of nicethings to eat, but, alas! it is not always dinner-time, and in betweenmeals the cold rice-pudding feeling is very chilling. Of course we hadthe splendid drawings of winged things made by our Flying Lodger, butyou cannot look at pictures all day long, however many coloured chalksthey are drawn with, and however fond you may be of them.

  Miss Sandal's was the kind of house that makes you wander all round itand say, "What shall we do next?" And when it rains the little ones getcross.

  It was the second wet day when we were wandering round the house to thesad music of our boots on the clean, bare boards that Alice said--

  "Mrs. Beale has got a book at her house called 'Napoleon's book ofFate.' You might ask her to let you go and get it, Oswald. She likes youbest."

  Oswald is as modest as any one I know, but the truth is the truth.

  "We could tell our fortunes, and read the dark future," Alice went on."It would be better than high thinking without anything particular tothink about."

  So Oswald went down to Mrs. Beale and said--

  "I say, Bealie dear, you've got a book up at your place. I wish you'dlend it to us to read."

  "If it's the Holy Book you mean, sir," replied Mrs. Beale, going on withpeeling the potatoes that were to be a radiant vision later on, allbrown and crisp in company with a leg of mutton--"if it's the Holy Bookyou want there's one up on Miss Sandal's chest of drawerses."

  "I know," said Oswald. He knew every book in the house. The backs ofthem were beautiful--leather and gold--but inside they were like whitedsepulchres, full of poetry and improving reading. "No--we didn't wantthat book just now. It is a book called 'Napoleon's book of Fate.' Wouldyou mind if I ran up to your place and got it?"

  "There's no one at home," said Mrs. Beale; "wait a bit till I go alongto the bakus with the meat, and I'll fetch it along."

  "You might let me go," said Oswald, whose high spirit is alwaysill-attuned to waiting a bit. "I wouldn't touch anything else, and Iknow where you keep the key."

  "There's precious little as ye don't know, it seems to me," said Mrs.Beale. "There, run along do. It's on top of the mantelshelf alongsidethe picture tea-tin. It's a red book. Don't go taking the 'WesleyanConference Reports' by mistake, the two is both together on the mantel."

  "I SAY, BEALIE DEAR, YOU'VE GOT A BOOK UP AT YOURPLACE."]

  Oswald in his macker splashed through the mud to Mrs. Beale's, found thekey under the loose tile behind the water-butt, and got the book withoutadventure. He had promised not to touch anything else, so he could notmake even the gentlest booby-trap as a little surprise for Mrs. Bealewhen she got back.

  And most of that day we were telling our fortunes by the ingenious meansinvented by the great Emperor, or by cards, which it is hard to rememberthe rules for, or by our dreams. The only blights were that the othersall wanted to have the book all the time, and that Noel's dreams were solong and mixed that we got tired of hearing about them before he did.But he said he was quite sure he had dreamed every single bit of everyone of them. And the author hopes this was the truth.

  We all went to bed hoping we should dream something that we could lookup in the dream book, but none of us did.

  And in the morning it was still raining and Alice said--

  "Look here, if it ever clears up again let's dress up and be gipsies. Wecan go about in the distant villages telling people's fortunes. Ifyou'll let me have the book all to-day I can learn up quite enough totell them mysteriously and darkly. And gipsies always get their handscrossed with silver."

  Dicky said that was one way of keeping the book to herself, but Oswaldsaid--

  "Let her try. She shall have it for an hour, and then we'll have anexam. to see how much she knows."

  This was done, but while she was swatting the thing up with her fingersin her ears we began to talk about how gipsies should be dressed.

  And when we all went out of the room to see if we could find anything inthat tidy house to dress up in, she came after us to see what was up. Sothere was no exam.

  We peeped into the cupboards and drawers in Miss Sandal's room, buteverything was grey or brown, not at all the sort of thing to dress upfor children of the Sunny South in. The plain living was shown in allher clothes; and besides, grey shows every little spot you may happen toget on it.

  We were almost in despair. We looked in all the drawers in all therooms, but found only sheets and tablecloths and more grey and brownclothing.

  We tried the attic, with fainting hearts. Servants' clothes are alwaysgood for dressing-up with; they have so many different colours. But MissSandal had no servant. Still, she might have had one once, and theservant might have left something behind her. Dora suggested this andadded--

  "If you don't find anything in the attic you'll know it's Fate, andyou're not to do it. Besides, I'm almost sure you can be put in prisonfor telling fortunes."

  "Not if you're a gipsy you can't," said Noel; "they have licences totell fortunes, I believe, and judges can't do anything to them."

  So we went up to the attic. And it was as bare and tidy as the rest ofthe house. But there were some boxes and we looked in them. The smallestwas full of old letters, so we shut it again at once. Another had booksin it, and the last had a clean towel spread over what was inside. So wetook off the towel, and then every one said "Oh!"

  In right on the top was a scarlet thing, embroidered heavily with gold.It proved, on unfolding, to be a sort of coat, like a Chinaman's. Welifted it out and laid it on the towel on the floor. And then the fullglories of that box were revealed. There were cloaks and dresses andskirts and scarves, of all the colours of a well-chosen rainbow, and allmade of the most beautiful silks and stuffs, with things worked on themwith silk, as well as chains of beads and many lovely ornaments. Wethink Miss Sandal must have been very fond of pretty things when she wasyoung, or when she was better off.

  "Well, there won't be any gipsies near by to come up to _us_," saidOswald joyously.

  "Do you think we ought to take them, without asking?" said Dora.

  "Of course not," said Oswald witheringly; "we ought to write to her andsay, 'Please, Miss Sandal, we know how poor you are, and may we borrowyour things to be gipsies in so as we get money for you---- All right!You go and write the letter, Dora."

  "I only just asked," said Dora.

  We tried the things on. Some of them were so ladylike that they were nogood--evening dresses, and things like that. But there were enoughuseful things to go round. Oswald, in white shirt and flannelknee-breeches, tied a brick-coloured silk scarf round his middle part,and a green one round his head for a turban. The turban was fastenedwith a sparkling brooch with pink stones in it. He looked like a Moorishtoreador. Dicky had the scarlet
and gold coat, which was the rightlength when Dora had run a tuck in it.

  Alice had a blue skirt with embroidery of peacock's feathers on it, anda gold and black jacket very short with no sleeves, and a yellow silkhandkerchief on her head like Italian peasants, and another handkieround her neck. Dora's skirt was green and her handkerchiefs purple andpink.

  Noel insisted on having his two scarves, one green and one yellow,twisted on his legs like putties, and a red scarf wound round hismiddle-part, and he stuck a long ostrich feather in his own bicycle capand said he was a troubadour bard.

  H.O. was able to wear a lady's blouse of mouse-coloured silk,embroidered with poppies. It came down to his knees and a jewelled beltkept it in place.

  We made up our costumes into bundles, and Alice thoughtfully bought apennyworth of pins. Of course it was idle to suppose that we could gothrough the village in our gipsy clothes without exciting _some_ remark.

  The more we thought of it the more it seemed as if it would be a goodthing to get some way from our village before we began our gipsy career.

  The woman at the sweet shop where Alice got the pins has a donkey andcart, and for two shillings she consented to lend us this, so that someof us could walk while some of us would always be resting in the cart.

  And next morning the weather was bright and blue as ever, and westarted. We were beautifully clean, but all our hairs had been arrangedwith the brush solely, because at the last moment nobody could find it'scomb. Mrs. Beale had packed up a jolly sandwichy and apply lunch for us.We told her we were going to gather bluebells in the woods, and ofcourse we meant to do that too.

  The donkey-cart drew up at the door and we started. It was foundimpossible to get every one into the cart at once, so we agreed to castlots for who should run behind, and to take it in turns, mile and mile.The lot fell on Dora and H.O., but there was precious little runningabout it. Anything slower than that donkey Oswald has never known, andwhen it came to passing its own front door the donkey simply would not.It ended in Oswald getting down and going to the animal's head, andhaving it out with him, man to man. The donkey was small, but ofenormous strength. He set all his four feet firm and leant back--andOswald set his two feet firm and leant back--so that Oswald and thefront part of the donkey formed an angry and contentious letter V. AndOswald gazed in the donkey's eyes in a dauntless manner, and the donkeylooked at Oswald as though it thought he was hay or thistles.

  Alice beat the donkey from the cart with a stick that had been given usfor the purpose. The rest shouted. But all was in vain. And four peoplein a motor car stopped it to see the heroic struggle, and laughed till Ithought they would have upset their hateful motor. However, it was allfor the best, though Oswald did not see it at the time. When they hadhad enough of laughing they started their machine again, and the noiseit made penetrated the donkey's dull intelligence, and he started offwithout a word--I mean without any warning, and Oswald has only justtime to throw himself clear of the wheels before he fell on the groundand rolled over, biting the dust.

  The motor car people behaved as you would expect. But accidents happeneven to motor cars, when people laugh too long and too unfeelingly.The driver turned round to laugh, and the motor instantly took the bitbetween its teeth and bolted into the stone wall of the churchyard. Noone was hurt except the motor, but that had to spend the day at theblacksmith's, we heard afterwards. Thus was the outraged Oswald avengedby Fate.

  ALICE BEAT THE DONKEY FROM THE CART. THE REST SHOUTED.]

  He was not hurt either--though much the motor people would have cared ifhe had been--and he caught up with the others at the end of the village,for the donkey's pace had been too good to last, and the triumphalprogress was resumed.

  It was some time before we found a wood sufficiently lurking-looking forour secret purposes. There are no woods close to the village. But atlast, up by Bonnington, we found one, and tying our noble steed to thesign-post that says how many miles it is to Ashford, we cast a hastyglance round, and finding no one in sight disappeared in the wood withour bundles.

  We went in just ordinary creatures. We came out gipsies of the deepestdye, for we had got a pennorth of walnut stain from Mr. Jameson thebuilder, and mixed with water--the water we had brought in amedicine-bottle--it was a prime disguise. And we knew it would wash off,unlike the Condy's fluid we once stained ourselves with during anever-to-be-forgotten game of Jungle-Book.

  We had put on all the glorious things we had bagged from Miss Sandal'sattic treasures, but still Alice had a small bundle unopened.

  "What's that?" Dora asked.

  "I meant to keep it as a reserve force in case the fortune-tellingdidn't turn out all our fancy painted it," said Alice; "but I don't mindtelling you now."

  She opened the bundle, and there was a tambourine, some black lace, apacket of cigarette papers, and our missing combs.

  "What ever on earth----" Dicky was beginning, but Oswald saw it all. Hehas a wonderfully keen nose. And he said--

  "Bully for you, Alice. I wish I'd thought it myself."

  Alice was much pleased by this handsome speech.

  "Yes," she said; "perhaps really it would be best to begin with it. Itwould attract the public's attention, and then we could tell thefortunes. You see," she kindly explained to Dicky and H.O. and Dora, whohad not seen it yet--though Noel had, almost as soon as I did--"you see,we'll all play on the combs with the veils over our faces, so that noone can see what our instruments are. Why, they might be mouth-organsfor anything any one will know, or some costly instruments from thefar-off East, like they play to sultans in zenanas. Let's just try atune or two before we go on, to be sure that all the combs work right.Dora's has such big teeth, I shouldn't wonder if it wouldn't act atall."

  So we all papered our combs and did "Heroes," but that sounded awful."The Girl I Left Behind Me" went better, and so did "Bonnie Dundee." Butwe thought "See the Conquering" or "The Death of Nelson" would be thebest to begin with.

  It was beastly hot doing it under the veils, but when Oswald had doneone tune without the veil to see how the others looked he could not helpowning that the veils did give a hidden mystery that was a stranger tosimple combs.

  We were all a bit puffed when we had played for awhile, so we decidedthat as the donkey seemed calm and was eating grass and resting, wemight as well follow his example.

  "We ought not to be too proud to take pattern by the brute creation,"said Dora.

  So we had our lunch in the wood. We lighted a little fire of sticks andfir-cones, so as to be as gipsyish as we could, and we sat round thefire. We made a charming picture in our bright clothes, among what wouldhave been our native surroundings if we had been real gipsies, and weknew how nice we looked, and stayed there though the smoke got in oureyes, and everything we ate tasted of it.

  The woods were a little damp, and that was why the fire smoked so. Therewere the jackets we had cast off when we dressed up, to sit on, andthere was a horse-cloth in the cart intended for the donkey's wear, butwe decided that our need was greater than its, so we took the blanketto recline on.

  It was as jolly a lunch as ever I remember, and we lingered over thatand looking romantic till we could not bear the smoke any more.

  Then we got a lot of bluebells and we trampled out the fire mostcarefully, because we know about not setting woods and places alight,rolled up our clothes in bundles, and went out of the shadowy woodlandinto the bright sunlight, as sparkling looking a crew of gipsies as anyone need wish for.

  Last time we had seen the road it had been quite white and bare ofpersons walking on it, but now there were several. And not only walkers,but people in carts. And some carriages passed us too.

  Every one stared at us, but they did not seem so astonished as we hadevery right to expect, and though interested they were not rude, andthis is very rare among English people--and not only poor peopleeither--when they see anything at all out of the way.

  We asked one man, who was very Sunday-best indeed in black clothes and ablue tie,
where every one was going, for every one was going the sameway, and every one looked as if it was going to church, which wasunlikely, it being but Thursday. He said--

  "Same place wot you're going to I expect."

  And when we said where was that we were requested by him to get alongwith us. Which we did.

  An old woman in the heaviest bonnet I have ever seen and the highest--itwas like a black church--revealed the secret to us, and we learned thatthere was a Primrose _fete_ going on in Sir Willoughby Blockson'sgrounds.

  We instantly decided to go to the _fete_.

  "I've been to a Primrose _fete_, and so have you, Dora," Oswaldremarked, "and people are so dull at them, they'd gladly give gold tosee the dark future. And, besides, the villages will be unpopulated, andno one at home but idiots and babies and their keepers."

  So we went to the _fete_.

  The people got thicker and thicker, and when we got to Sir Willoughby'slodge gates, which have sprawling lions on the gate-posts, we were toldto take the donkey cart round to the stable-yard.

  This we did, and proud was the moment when a stiff groom had to bend hisproud stomach to go to the head of Bates's donkey.

  "This is something like," said Alice, and Noel added:

  "The foreign princes are well received at this palace."

  "We aren't princes, we're gipsies," said Dora, tucking his scarf in. Itwould keep on getting loose.

  "There _are_ gipsy princes, though," said Noel, "because there are gipsykings."

  "You aren't always a prince first," said Dora; "don't wriggle so or Ican't fix you. Sometimes being made a king just happens to some one whoisn't any one in particular."

  "I don't think so," said Noel; "you have to be a prince before you're aking, just as you have to be a kitten before you're a cat, or a puppybefore you're a dog, or a worm before you're a serpent, or----"

  "What about the King of Sweden?" Dora was beginning, when a very nicetall, thin man, with white flowers in his buttonhole like for a wedding,came strolling up and said--

  "And whose show is this? Eh, what?"

  We said it was ours.

  "Are you expected?" he asked.

  We said we thought not, but we hoped he didn't mind.

  "What are you? Acrobats? Tight-rope? That's a ripping Burmese coatyou've got there."

  "Yes, it is. No we aren't," said Alice, with dignity. "I am Zaida, themysterious prophetess of the golden Orient, and the others aremysterious too, but we haven't fixed on their names yet."

  "By jove!" said the gentleman; "but who are you really?"

  "Our names are our secret," said Oswald, with dignity, but Alice said,"Oh, but we don't mind telling _you_, because I'm sure you're nice.We're really the Bastables, and we want to get some money for some onewe know that's rather poor--of course I can't tell you _her_ name. Andwe've learnt how to tell fortunes--really we have. Do you think they'lllet us tell them at the _fete_. People are often dull at _fetes_, aren'tthey?"

  "By Jove!" said the gentleman again--"by Jove, they are!"

  He plunged for a moment in deep reflection.

  "We've got co--musical instruments," said Noel; "shall we play to you alittle?"

  "Not here," said the gentleman; "follow me."

  He led the way by the backs of shrubberies to an old summer-house, andwe asked him to wait outside.

  Then we put on our veils and tuned up. "See, see the conquering----"

  But he did not let us finish the tune; he burst in upon us, crying--

  "Ripping--oh, ripping! And now tell me my fortune."

  Alice took off her veil and looked at his hand.

  "You will travel in distant lands," she said; "you will have greatwealth and honour; you will marry a beautiful lady--a very fine woman,it says in the book, but I think a beautiful lady sounds nicer, don'tyou?"

  "WE'VE GOT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS," SAID NOEL.]

  "Much; but I shouldn't mention the book when you're telling thefortune."

  "I wouldn't, except to you," said Alice, "and she'll have lots of moneyand a very sweet disposition. Trials and troubles beset your path, butdo but be brave and fearless and you will overcome all your enemies.Beware of a dark woman--most likely a widow."

  "I will," said he, for Alice had stopped for breath. "Is that all?"

  "No. Beware of a dark woman and shun the society of drunkards andgamblers. Be very cautious in your choice of acquaintances, or you willmake a false friend who will be your ruin. That's all, except that youwill be married very soon and live to a green old age with the belovedwife of your bosom, and have twelve sons and----"

  "Stop, stop!" said the gentleman; "twelve sons are as many as I canbring up handsomely on my present income. Now, look here. You did thatjolly well, only go slower, and pretend to look for things in the handbefore you say them. Everything's free at the _fete_, so you'll get nomoney for your fortune-telling."

  Gloom was on each young brow.

  "It's like this," he went on, "there is a lady fortune-teller in a tentin the park."

  "Then we may as well get along home," said Dicky.

  "Not at all," said our new friend, for such he was now about to provehimself to be; "that lady does not want to tell fortunes to-day. She hasa headache. Now, if you'll really stick to it, and tell the people'sfortunes as well as you told mine, I'll stand you--let's see--two quidfor the afternoon. Will that do? What?"

  We said we should just jolly well think it would.

  "I've got some Eau de Cologne in a medicine-bottle," Dora said; "mybrother Noel has headaches sometimes, but I think he's going to be allright to-day. Do take it, it will do the lady's head good."

  "I'll take care of her head," he said, laughing, but he took the bottleand said, "Thank you."

  Then he told us to stay where we were while he made final arrangements,and we were left with palpitating breasts to look wildly through theBook of Fate, so as to have the things ready. But it turned out to betime thrown away, for when he came back he said to Alice--

  "It'll have to be only you and your sister, please, for I see they'vestuck up a card with 'Esmeralda, the gipsy Princess, reads the hand andforetells the future' on it. So you boys will have to be mum. You can beattendants--mutes, by jove!--yes that's it. And, I say, kiddies, youwill jolly well play up, won't you? Don't stand any cheek. Stick it on,you know. I can't tell you how important it is about----about the lady'sheadache."

  "I should think this would be a cool place for a headache to be quietin," said Dora; and it was, for it was quite hidden in the shrubbery andno path to it.

  "By Jove!" he remarked yet once again, "so it would. You're right!"

  He led us out of the shrubbery and across the park. There were peopledotted all about and they stared, but they touched their hats to thegentleman, and he returned their salute with stern politeness.

  Inside the tent with "Esmeralda, &c.," outside there was a lady in a hatand dust-cloak. But we could see her spangles under the cloak.

  "Now," said the gentleman to Dicky, "you stand at the door and letpeople in, one at a time. You others can just play a few bars on yourinstruments for each new person--only a very little, because you do getout of tune, though that's barbaric certainly. Now, here's the two quid.And you stick to the show till five; you'll hear the stable clockchime."

  The lady was very pale with black marks under her eyes, and her eyeslooked red, Oswald thought. She seemed about to speak, but the gentlemansaid--

  "Do trust me, Ella. I'll explain everything directly. Just go to the oldsummer-house--_you_ know--and I'll be there directly. I'll take a coupleof pegs out of the back and you can slip away among the trees. Hold yourcloak close over your gown. Goodbye, kiddies. Stay, give me youraddress, and I'll write and tell you if my fortune comes true."

  So he shook hands with us and went. And we did stick to it, though it isfar less fun than you would think telling fortunes all the afternoon ina stuffy tent, while outside you know there are things to eat and peopleenjoying themselves. But there were the two
gold quid, and we weredetermined to earn them. It is very hard to tell a different fortune foreach person, and there were a great many. The girls took it in turns,and Oswald wonders why their hairs did not go gray. Though of course itwas much better fun for them than for us, because we had just to bemutes when we weren't playing on the combs.

  The people we told fortunes to at first laughed rather, and said we weretoo young to know anything. But Oswald said in a hollow voice that wewere as old as the Pyramids, and after that Alice took the tucks out ofDicky's red coat and put it on and turbaned herself, and looked mucholder.

  The stable clock had chimed the quarter to five some little time, whenan elderly gentleman with whiskers, who afterwards proved to be SirWilloughby, burst into the tent.

  "Where's Miss Blockson?" he said, and we answered truthfully that we didnot know.

  "How long have you been here?" he furiously asked.

  "Ever since two," said Alice wearily.

  He said a word that I should have thought a baronet would have beenabove using.

  "Who brought you here?"

  We described the gentleman who had done this, and again the baronet saidthings we should never be allowed to say. "That confounded Carew!" headded, with more words.

  "Is anything wrong?" asked Dora--"can we do anything? We'll stay onlonger if you like--if you can't find the lady who was doing Esmeraldabefore we came."

  "I'm not very likely to find her," he said ferociously. "Stay longerindeed! Get away out of my sight before I have you locked up forvagrants and vagabonds."

  He left the scene in bounding and mad fury. We thought it best to do ashe said, and went round the back way to the stables so as to avoidexciting his ungoverned rage by meeting him again. We found our cart andwent home. We had got two quid and something to talk about.

  But none of us--not even Oswald the discerning--understood exactly whatwe had been mixed up in, till the pink satin box with three largebottles of A1 scent in it, and postmarks of foreign lands, came to Dora.And there was a letter. It said--

  "My dear Gipsies,--I beg to return the Eau de Cologne you so kindly lentme. The lady did use a little of it, but I found that foreign travel waswhat she really wanted to make her quite happy. So we caught the 4.15to town, and now we are married, and intend to live to a green old age,&c., as you foretold. But for your help my fortune couldn't have cometrue, because my wife's father, Sir Willoughby, thought I was not richenough to marry. But you see I was. And my wife and I both thank youheartily for your kind help. I hope it was not an awful swat. I had tosay five because of the train. Good luck to you, and thanks awfully.

  "Yours faithfully, "CARISBROOK CAREW."

  If Oswald had known beforehand we should never have made that two quidfor Miss Sandal.

  For Oswald does not approve of marriages and would never, if he knew it,be the means of assisting one to occur.