by L. T. Meade
ground, as he did not approve of MrEdgar being tired and shaken, and when they had once got stuck in a bogit was difficult to say whether master or boy felt the most in disgracefor such imprudence. But Wyn secretly thought that an occasional jolt--and really he was so careful that it very seldom happened--was not halfso bad for Mr Edgar as lying all alone on his sofa, with no one tospeak to but the grave father, who always looked at him as if hishelpless state was such a dreadful disappointment and trouble that hecould not bear to see more of him than could be helped. Mr Edgar'stastes opened a good deal of desultory information to Wyn, and thoughthe young gentleman was not of the sort to think much about teaching andeducating the boy, the study of botany and natural history seemed tocome naturally, books of travels interested them both, and Wyn got moreknowledge than he was aware of. Edgar was scrupulously careful not tointerfere with the boy's church-going and Sunday school, so that he didwell enough, and had a very happy life into the bargain. The garden inwhich he stood was arranged according to Mr Edgar's special fancies,and contained many more or less successful attempts to domesticate wildflowers, and Wyn was noticing the not very flourishing condition of apurple vetch when Mr Edgar came out from the open window of hissitting-room, and, leaning on his servant's arm, walked slowly to a longfolding-chair at the end of the terrace, on which he lay down, then,spying Wyn, called him up at once.
"Ha, Wyn, so you've got the puppy? Miss Geraldine will be out directly.What a jolly little chap he is! Put him down on my knee. No--no, sir,you don't eat the newspaper! Anything else new, Wyn?"
"Yes, sir, the wild duck's eggs are hatched, and there are seven of themon the lower pond. Should you like to go and see them, sir?"
"Yes, I should. Get the pony round in half an hour. It's a lovelyday."
As he spoke a tall girl of about fourteen, in a blue linen frock madesailor fashion and a sailor hat stuck on the back of her long dark hair,came running up the broad walk in the middle of the garden, sprang upthe shallow steps that led to the terrace with one bound, and pounced onthe puppy.
"Oh! what a little darling! What a perfect pet! Oh, how jolly of youto get him for me, Edgar! I'll teach him to walk on his hind legs andto die--and to bark when I ask him if he loves me--"
"Have you got Miss Hardman's leave to keep him?" said her brother.
"No, not yet. I thought I'd put him in the cupboard in my room, andintroduce him gradually."
"He'll howl continually, Miss Geraldine, if you shut him up," said Wyn.
"Nonsense," said Edgar; "go and ask her if you may have him as a presentfrom me."
"Oh, must I? It would be such fun to have him in a secret chamber, andvisit him at night and save the schoolroom tea for him as if he was aJacobite," said Geraldine.
"More fun for you than for the puppy, I should say," said Edgar.
"Well, I think a secret prisoner would be delightful--like the `PigeonPie.' Edgar, didn't you ever read the `Pigeon Pie'?"
"No," said Edgar, "I haven't had that pleasure."
"Please, ma'am," said Wyn with a smile, "I have. My sister Bessiebrought it me out of her school library."
"I'm sure," said Geraldine, "it's a very nice book for you to read, Wyn.But what shall I call the puppy?"
"Please, ma'am, we calls them Wriggle and Wruggle."
"Rigoletto?" suggested Edgar.
"No," said Geraldine, "it ought to be Star or Sunshine, or somethinglike that, for I'm sure he'll be a light in a dark place. I know--Apollo. I shall call him Apollo. Well, I'll take him and fall on myknees to Miss Hardman, and beg her and pray her. And oh, Edgar! it'sholidays--mayn't I come back and go with you to see the creatures?"
Edgar nodded, and Geraldine flew off, but was stopped in her career byher cousin James, who came out of the house as she passed, and detainedher to shake hands and look at the puppy. He came up to Edgar's chairas Wyn went off to fetch the pony.
"Good morning, Edgar," he said; "pretty well to-day? I see you areteaching Geraldine to be as fond of pets as you are yourself."
"Poor little girl! she has a dull life," said Edgar. "I wish she hadmore companions."
"She is beginning to grow up."
"She is. She ought soon to be brought more forward, I suppose. But wenever see anyone, or do anything. I don't see much of Geraldine--often--and she is kept very tight at her lessons."
"It's dull for you, too," said his cousin compassionately.
"Oh, I don't care when I get out and about a bit."
"My uncle doesn't look well, I think?"
"Doesn't he?" said Edgar quickly. "Ah, I haven't much opportunity ofjudging."
There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, and a look that was notquite pleasant in the bright hazel eyes, that were usually wonderfullycheery, considering how much their owner had to suffer, and keen as ahawk's into the bargain.
"I say, Edgar," said James Cunningham, sitting down on the wall nearhim, and speaking low, "people do get into the way of going on andtaking things for granted. It's a long time since the subject wasmentioned, but do you really think my uncle doesn't know where poorAlwyn is?"
"I don't know," said Edgar, flushing. "I've no reason to think hedoes."
"It has always seemed to me," said James, with some hesitation, "that ifnot, some one ought to find out."
"Do you think I should rest without knowing if I could help it?" saidEdgar, starting up so suddenly, that the pain of the movement forced himto drop back again on his cushions and go on speaking with difficulty."I did ask my father once, and he forbade me to mention him again.Don't talk of him."
James Cunningham was silenced. The situation was an awkward one. Theestate had always gone in the male line, and he would have liked to knowwhat had become of the next heir, after whom only a life as fragile asEdgar's stood between himself and the great estates of Ashcroft. He didnot even know how deep in the eyes of father and brother was thedisgrace that rested on the exile. But Edgar did not look approachable,and any attempt at further conversation was checked by the appearance ofMr Cunningham himself, a tall, pale, grey-haired gentleman, with darkeyes and long features, like his son and daughter.
He spoke to Edgar, rather distantly, but with a careful inquiry afterhis health, and Edgar answered shortly, and with a manner that wasremarkably repellent of any sympathy his father might be inclined tooffer. Geraldine came rushing back with Apollo clasped tenderly in herarms, but she stopped and walked demurely down the terrace at sight ofher father.
"Miss Hardman says I may have him, Edgar," she said, "if I don't let himdistract my attention at lesson-time."
"That's all right then," said Edgar, "and here is Wyn with the pony, sowe had better come and see the wild duck."
The servant came out, Edgar was helped into the pony chair, on whichrather pitiful process Mr Cunningham turned his back and walked away,discussing the morning news with his nephew; and presently they startedoff, Wyn leading the pony along the broad walk with Geraldine and Apollofrisking beside it. They turned down a shrubbery, stopping at intervalsto admire the gold and silver pheasants, the doves and pigeons, and rarevarieties of foreign poultry, which all had their separateestablishments in what Geraldine called the Zoological Gardens. Wynhunted them into sight, fed them, and discussed their growth, plumage,and general well-being; while Geraldine smothered the puppy in thecarriage rug to keep him from frightening them with his barking andyapping.
Then they came out into an open space, where the pea-hens had theirnursery--several of the ordinary coloured sort, and one rarer white one,whose two little white chicks were watched with much anxiety; while, toGeraldine's delight, the great white peacock himself appeared with hiswide tail, with its faintly marked eyes like shadows in the whiteness,spread in the sun.
Then round towards the back of the farm-buildings, where, in a littlesquare court, lived a yellow French fox, tied up with a long chain--asavage and unhappy little beast, which "might as well have been back inFrance for all the pleasure he gave himself or anyone el
se," asGeraldine said.
"Who's to take him?" said Edgar. "He was funny when he was a littlecub. Being tied up isn't soothing to the temper."
A family of hedgehogs, fenced round into their own little domain, amusedGeraldine mightily, as she watched the smallest curl himself up into aball at the approach of Apollo, who thought him a delightful playthingtill the prickles touched his tender tan nose, and he fled howling.
There was no time to-day to visit all the varieties of poultry, and
