by E. Nesbit
IX
THE RELATED MUFF
We had never seen our cousin Sidney till that Christmas Eve, and wedidn't want to see him then, and we didn't like him when we did seehim. He was just dumped down into the middle of us by mother, at a timewhen it would have been unkind to her to say how little we wanted him.
We knew already that there wasn't to be any proper Christmas for us,because Aunt Ellie--the one who always used to send the necklaces andcarved things from India, and remembered everybody's birthday--had comehome ill. Very ill she was, at a hotel in London, and mother had to goto her, and, of course, father was away with his ship.
And then after we had said good-bye to mother, and told her how sorry wewere, we were left to ourselves, and told each other what a shame itwas, and no presents or anything. And then mother came suddenly back ina cab, and we all shouted 'Hooray' when we saw the cab stop, and her getout of it. And then we saw she was getting something out of the cab, andour hearts leapt up like the man's in the piece of school poetry when hebeheld a rainbow in the sky--because we thought she had remembered aboutthe presents, and the thing she was getting out of the cab was _them_.
Of course it was not--it was Sidney, very thin and yellow, and lookingas sullen as a pig.
We opened the front door. Mother didn't even come in. She just said,'Here's your Cousin Sidney. Be nice to him and give him a good time,there's darlings. And don't forget he's your visitor, so be very extranice to him.'
I have sometimes thought it was the fault of what mother said about thevisitor that made what did happen happen, but I am almost sure reallythat it was the fault of us, though I did not see it at the time, andeven now I'm sure we didn't mean to be unkind. Quite the opposite. Butthe events of life are very confusing, especially when you try to thinkwhat made you do them, and whether you really meant to be naughty ornot. Quite often it is not--but it turns out just the same.
When the cab had carried mother away--Hilda said it was like a dragoncarrying away a queen--we said, 'How do you do' to our Cousin Sidney,who replied, 'Quite well, thank you.'
And then, curiously enough, no one could think of anything more to say.
Then Rupert--which is me--remembered that about being a visitor, and hesaid:
'Won't you come into the drawing-room?'
He did when he had taken off his gloves and overcoat. There was a firein the drawing-room, because we had been going to have games there withmother, only the telegram came about Aunt Ellie.
So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing tosay harder than ever.
Hilda did say, 'How old are you?' but, of course, we knew the answer tothat. It was ten.
And Hugh said, 'Do you like England or India best?'
And our cousin replied, 'India ever so much, thank you.'
I never felt such a duffer. It was awful. With all the millions ofinteresting things that there are to say at other times, and I couldn'tthink of one. At last I said, 'Do you like games?'
So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thoughtof nothing to say harder than ever.]
And our cousin replied, 'Some games I do,' in a tone that made me surethat the games he liked wouldn't be our kind, but some wild Indian sortthat we didn't know.
I could see that the others were feeling just like me, and I knew wecould not go on like this till tea-time. And yet I didn't see any otherway to go on in. It was Hilda who cut the Gorgeous knot at last. Shesaid:
'Hugh, let you and I go and make a lovely surprise for Rupert andSidney.'
And before I could think of any way of stopping them without beingdownright rude to our new cousin, they had fled the scene, just like anyold conspirators. Rupert--me, I mean--was left alone with the stranger.I said:
'Is there anything you'd like to do?'
And he said, 'No, thank you.'
Then neither of us said anything for a bit--and I could hear the othersshrieking with laughter in the hall.
I said, 'I wonder what the surprise will be like.'
He said, 'Yes, I wonder'; but I could tell from his tone that he did notwonder a bit.
The others were yelling with laughter. Have you ever noticed how veryamused people always are when you're not there? If you're in bed--ill,or in disgrace, or anything--it always sounds like far finer jokes thanever occur when you are not out of things.
'Do you like reading?' said I--who am Rupert--in the tones of despair.
'Yes,' said the cousin.
'Then take a book,' I said hastily, for I really could not stand itanother second, 'and you just read till the surprise is ready. I think Iought to go and help the others. I'm the eldest, you know.'
I did not wait--I suppose if you're ten you can choose a book foryourself--and I went.
Hilda's idea was just Indians, but I thought a wigwam would be nice. Sowe made one with the hall table and the fur rugs off the floor. Ifeverything had been different, and Aunt Ellie hadn't been ill, we wereto have had turkey for dinner. The turkey's feathers were splendid forIndians, and the striped blankets off Hugh's and my beds, and allmother's beads. The hall is big like a room, and there was a fire. Theafternoon passed like a beautiful dream. When Rupert had done his ownfeathering and blanketing, as well as brown paper moccasins, he helpedthe others. The tea-bell rang before we were quite dressed. We gotLouisa to go up and tell our cousin that the surprise was ready, and weall got inside the wigwam. It was a very tight fit, with the feathersand the blankets.
He came down the stairs very slowly, reading all the time, and when hegot to the mat at the bottom of the stairs we burst forth in all ourwar-paint from the wigwam. It upset, because Hugh and Hilda stuckbetween the table's legs, and it fell on the stone floor with quite aloud noise. The wild Indians picked themselves up out of the ruins anddid the finest war-dance I've ever seen in front of my cousin Sidney.
He gave one little scream, and then sat down suddenly on the bottomsteps. He leaned his head against the banisters and we thought he wasadmiring the war-dance, till Eliza, who had been laughing and making asmuch noise as any one, suddenly went up to him and shook him.
'Stop that noise,' she said to us, 'he's gone off into a dead faint.'
He had.
Of course we were very sorry and all that, but we never thought he'd besuch a muff as to be frightened of three Red Indians and a wigwam thathappened to upset. He was put to bed, and we had our teas.
'I wish we hadn't,' Hilda said.
'So do I,' said Hugh.
But Rupert said, 'No one _could_ have expected a cousin of ours to be achicken-hearted duffer. He's a muff. It's bad enough to have a muff inthe house at all, and at Christmas time, too. But a related muff!'
Still the affair had cast a gloom, and we were glad when it wasbed-time.
Next day was Christmas Day, and no presents, and nobody but the servantsto wish a Merry Christmas to.
Our cousin Sidney came down to breakfast, and as it was Christmas DayRupert bent his proud spirit to own he was sorry about the Indians.
Sidney said, 'It doesn't matter. I'm sorry too. Only I didn't expectit.'
We suggested two or three games, such as Parlour Cricket, NationalGallery, and Grab--but Sidney said he would rather read. So we saidwould he mind if we played out the Indian game which we had dropped, outof politeness, when he fainted.
He said:
'I don't mind at all, now I know what it is you're up to. No, thank you,I'd rather read,' he added, in reply to Rupert's unselfish offer todress him for the part of Sitting Bull.
So he read _Treasure Island_, and we fought on the stairs with nocasualties except the gas globes, and then we scalped all thedolls--putting on paper scalps first because Hilda wished it--and wescalped Eliza as she passed through the hall--hers was a white scalpwith lacey stuff on it and long streamers.
'We scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall.']
And when it was beginning to get dark we thought of flying machines. Ofcourse Sidney wouldn't play at that either, and H
ilda and Hugh werecontented with paper wings--there were some rolls of rather decentyellow and pink crinkled paper that mother had bought to make lampshades of. They made wings of this, and then they played at fairies upand down the stairs, while Sidney sat at the bottom of the stairs andwent on reading _Treasure Island_. But Rupert was determined to have aflying machine, with real flipper-flappery wings, like at Hendon. So hegot two brass fire-guards out of the spare room and mother's bedroom,and covered them with newspapers fastened on with string. Then he got atea-tray and fastened it on to himself with rug-straps, and then heslipped his arms in between the string and the fire-guards, and went tothe top of the stairs and shouting, 'Look out below there! Beware FlyingMachines!' he sat down suddenly on the tray, and tobogganed gloriouslydown the stairs, flapping his fire-guard wings. It was a great success,and felt more like flying than anything he ever played at. But Hilda hadnot had time to look out thoroughly, because he did not wait any timebetween his warning and his descent. So that she was still fluttering,in the character of Queen of the Butterfly Fairies, about half-way downthe stairs when the flying machine, composed of the two guards, thetea-tray, and Rupert, started from the top of them, and she could onlyget out of the way by standing back close against the wall. Unluckilythe place where she was, was also the place where the gas was burning ina little recess. You remember we had broken the globe when we wereplaying Indians.
Now, of course, you know what happened, because you have read _Harriettand the Matches_, and all the rest of the stories that have been writtento persuade children not to play with fire. No one was playing with firethat day, it is true, or doing anything really naughty at all--buthowever naughty we had been the thing that happened couldn't have beenmuch worse. For the flying machine as it came rushing round the curve ofthe staircase banged against the legs of Hilda. She screamed andstumbled back. Her pink paper wings went into the gas that hadn't aglobe. They flamed up, her hair frizzled, and her lace collar caughtfire. Rupert could not do anything because he was held fast in hisflying machine, and he and it were rolling painfully on the mat at thebottom of the stairs.
Sidney threw the rug over her, and rolled her over andover.]
Hilda screamed.
I have since heard that a great yellow light fell on the pages of_Treasure Island_.
Next moment _Treasure Island_ went spinning across the room. Sidneycaught up the fur rug that was part of the wigwam, and as Hilda,screaming horribly, and with wings not of paper but of flames, rusheddown the staircase, and stumbled over the flying machine, Sidney threwthe rug over her, and rolled her over and over on the floor.
'Lie down!' he cried. 'Lie down! It's the only way.'
But somehow people never will lie down when their clothes are on fire,any more than they will lie still in the water if they think they aredrowning, and some one is trying to save them. It came to something verylike a fight. Hilda fought and struggled. Rupert got out of hisfire-guards and added himself and his tea-tray to the scrimmage. Hughslid down to the knob of the banisters and sat there yelling. Theservants came rushing in.
But by that time the fire was out. And Sidney gasped out, 'It's allright. You aren't burned, Hilda, are you?'
Hilda was much too frightened to know whether she was burnt or not, butEliza looked her over, and it turned out that only her neck was a littlescorched, and a good deal of her hair frizzled off short.
Every one stood, rather breathless and pale, and every one's face wasmuch dirtier than customary, except Hugh's, which he had, as usual,dirtied thoroughly quite early in the afternoon. Rupert felt perfectlyawful, ashamed and proud and rather sick. 'You're a regular hero,Sidney,' he said--and it was not easy to say--'and yesterday I said youwere a related muff. And I'm jolly sorry I did. Shake hands, won't you?'
Sidney hesitated.
'Too proud?' Rupert's feelings were hurt, and I should not wonder if hespoke rather fiercely.
'It's--it's a little burnt, I think,' said Sidney, 'don't be angry,' andhe held out the left hand.
Rupert grasped it.
'I do beg your pardon,' he said, 'you _are_ a hero!'
* * * * *
Sidney's hand was bad for ever so long, but we were tremendous chumsafter that.
It was when they'd done the hand up with scraped potato and salad oil--agreat, big, fat, wet plaster of it--that I said to him:
'I don't care if you don't like games. Let's be pals.'
And he said, 'I do like games, but I couldn't care about anything withmother so ill. I know you'll think I'm a muff, but I'm not really, onlyI do love her so.'
And with that he began to cry, and I thumped him on the back, and toldhim exactly what a beast I knew I was, to comfort him.
When Aunt Ellie was well again we kept Christmas on the 6th of January,which used to be Christmas Day in middle-aged times.
Father came home before New Year, and he had a silver medal made, with aflame on one side, and on the other Sidney's name, and 'For Bravery.'
If I had not been tied up in fire-guards and tea-trays perhaps I shouldhave thought of the rug and got the medal. But I do not grudge it toSidney. He deserved it. And he is not a muff. I see now that a personmight very well be frightened at finding Indians in the hall of astrange house, especially if the person had just come from the kind ofIndia where the Indians are quite a different sort, and much milder,with no feathers and wigwams and war-dances, but only dusky features andUniversity Degrees.
