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Read books online » Fiction » Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World by L. T. Meade (the two towers ebook .TXT) 📖

Book online «Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World by L. T. Meade (the two towers ebook .TXT) 📖». Author L. T. Meade



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but she was very near defeat then. The next moment she would have found herself ignominiously outside the baize door if other steps had not approached, and Hester, looking cool and sweet, Annie, all radiant and laughing, and Mrs. Lorrimer, with her usual gentle motherly expression, had not appeared on the scene.

"Jane," said the mother, smiling round with her blue eyes at each of the children, "Hester wants us to get up a hasty picnic to Friar's Wood. The day is perfect, and this is the first of Nan's holidays, so I hope you will not object, particularly if the children promise to work extra well to-morrow."

Jane began to close up all the books hastily. Nan's petition was not to be listened to for a moment. Mrs. Lorrimer's was law, and must be cheerfully obeyed.

"Certainly," she said, in a pleasant tone, dropping her frozen manner as if by magic. "It is a perfect day for a picnic. Leave the schoolroom tidy, my loves, and then go and get ready. You'd like me to see the cook, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lorrimer? I can help her to cut sandwiches and to pack plates and dishes."

"Jane, you're an angel," said Mrs. Lorrimer.

Jane Macalister kissed Hester, was introduced to Annie, and then rushed down the spiral stairs, intent on housekeeping cares.

The Lorrimer boys and girls surrounded Hester and Annie. Nan flitted in and out of the group, and was here, there, and everywhere. All was excitement and laughter. Presently the children left the schoolroom in a body.

No, there was one exception. Boris stayed [Pg 38]behind. He looked wistfully after the others as they streamed away. Miss Macalister had not said a word about remitting his punishment, and he must be true to his colours. He found it very difficult to keep back his tears, but he would indeed think badly of himself if even one bright drop fell from his round blue eyes.

It would have comforted him if Kitty had noticed him. Kitty might have stayed if only to bestow a kiss of sympathy on him, but she was whirled on with the others. No one gave him a thought. He was only Boris, one of the younger children. He was alone in the schoolroom.

He looked at the clock; it pointed to half past eleven; he would not be free until half past twelve. Picnics at the Towers were hastily improvised affairs. Long before his hour of punishment was over the others would all be off and away. It was scarcely likely that any of them would even miss him. Kitty would be in such a frantic state of excitement at having Nan Thornton to talk to, that she would not have room in her heart to bestow a thought on him. He could not walk all the way to Friar's Wood, the day was too hot. How delicious it would be there in the shade. How interesting to watch the squirrels in the trees, and the rabbits as they darted in and out of their holes. Well, well, there was no use fretting. His heart felt sore, of course, but he wouldn't be half a boy in his own opinion if he didn't take his punishment without a murmur.

He drew his chair up to the table, pushed his ink-stained fingers through his curly brown locks, and looked around him.

Miss Macalister had forgotten to set him any [Pg 39]task, but he supposed he could set himself something.

He was just wondering what would be the least irksome form of punishment he could devise, when a small head was pushed in at the door, and a voice, in accents of extreme surprise, shouted his name.

"Why, Boris, what are you doing? They'll be off if you don't look sharp."

"I'm not going, Nell," said Boris; "but please don't fuss over it, it's nothing."

"Nothing!" said Nell, coming into the room and seating herself by the side of her little brother. "Don't you love picnics?"

"I adore them," said Boris.

He shut up his lips as he spoke and winked his eyes.

"Don't make a fuss," he said again after a pause. "Do you think I might learn a bit of the 'Ancient Mariner' for my punishment task? I like that old chap, he's so grisly."

"It's a splendid poem," said Nell with enthusiasm, "particularly that part about—

'Water, water everywhere,
And not a drop to drink.'

Can't you picture it all, Boris? The sea like a great pond, and the thirsty old mariner looking at it, and longing, and longing, and longing to drink it, and the dead people lying round. Sometimes at night I think of it, and then afterwards I have a good, big, startling dream. A dream that's not too frightful is almost as good as a story-book. Don't you think so?"

"No, I don't," said Boris. "I hate dreams. [Pg 40]Perhaps I'd better learn the first six verses of the 'Ancient Mariner,' and perhaps I'd better begin at once. Jane Macalister is very stern, isn't she, Nell?"

"Awful in lesson times," said Nell.

"Well, the only way I can bear it," said Boris, "is this—I think of her as the general of an army. I don't mind obeying her when I think of her in that way. Soldiers have to promise obedience before anything else, and I'm going to be a soldier some day. I'd better not talk now, Nell, for I must get the first six verses of the 'Ancient' into me in an hour, and I can't if you keep chattering. The general was rather sharp with me this morning, I must say, for all my conduct marks are gone, too, and I won't get sixpence on Saturday, and I'll have nothing to subscribe to mother's birthday present; still, of course, 'tis 'diculous to fuss. You'd best go, Nell. Why aren't you ready for the picnic?"

"I'm not going," said Nell. "I have a headache, and a drive in the sun would make it worse. Besides, Nan Thornton does chatter so awfully."

"Chatter," repeated Boris; "you don't mean to say you mind her chattering?"

"Yes, I do, when I have a headache."

"Well, I think she's sweet," said Boris.

"You had better learn your 'Mariner,' Boris, and I'll sit in the window and look out."

The schoolroom was so high up in the tower that people who sat in one of its windows had really only a bird's-eye view of what went on below.

Boris, in his rather tumbled sailor suit, sat with his back to Nell. He kicked the rungs of the chair very often with his sturdy legs. His inky fingers took fond clutches of his curls, his lips murmured the [Pg 41]rhyme of the "Ancient Mariner" in a monotonous sing-song. Nell pushed open the lattice window and looked out. There was a waggonette drawn by a rather bony old horse standing by the side entrance; behind the waggonette was a pony-cart, a good deal the worse for wear. The pony, whose name was Shag, stood very still and flicked his long tail backwards and forwards to keep the flies away. Nell saw Miss Macalister and two of the servants come out with those flat delicious picnic baskets which she knew so well, and which had so often made her lips water in fond anticipation; they were placed with solemnity in the waggonette. Then Molly and Nora, in their white sun-bonnets, took their places, and Hester and Annie sat opposite to them, and Mrs. Lorrimer took the seat of honour, and two or three of the smaller children were packed in heterogeneously, while Nan and Kitty and Miss Macalister bundled themselves into the pony-cart.

Nell's heart beat high as she watched. Was no one going to think of her and Boris? Was no one going to miss them?

Apparently no one was.

The gay cavalcade got under weigh and disappeared from view down the long and lovely beech avenue.

Nell did not wish to go to the picnic, not to-day with her heart so sore, but it made that heart feel all the sorer not to be missed.

[Pg 42]

CHAPTER VI. FRIAR'S WOOD.

As a matter of fact, the picnic party imagined that Boris and Nell intended to follow on later in the donkey-cart. The Lorrimer picnics were well known in the neighbourhood. They always passed through the village in the following order—first the waggonette, drawn by the bony horse and packed to overflowing with baskets and young people, who waved their arms and shouted in high glee as they went by; then the pony-trap, driven sometimes by Jane Macalister, sometimes, when Jane was in a very good humour, by Kitty or even Boris; and last, at an interval of about half an hour, the donkey-cart. The donkey-cart as a rule contained kettles and pots, for the Lorrimers would consider a picnic only half a picnic if they did not boil their own potatoes out of doors and make their own tea in the woods. Consequently, the coarser utensils which were required for the feast were usually reserved for the donkey-cart. The donkey, as a rule, was driven, or rather led, by Guy, the tall schoolboy, aged thirteen, who would be owner of the Towers, if it were not sold over his head, some day. Harry, the brother next in age, would also accompany the donkey-cart, and sometimes one or two of the younger children would prefer this rough mode of travelling to the more refined waggonette or the fleeter pony-carriage. The donkey-cart had of course to be late, as Guy and Harry would not [Pg 43]be home from school until quite an hour after the rest of the party had started.

"Where is Boris?" asked Hester, addressing herself to Molly when they had driven about half of the distance.

Molly had tranquil blue eyes, like her mother.

"Isn't he in the pony-carriage?" she asked.

"Who is Boris?" interrupted Annie Forest. "Is he the pretty little round-faced boy in the sailor suit?"

"Yes," said Nora, joining in the conversation.

"Then he's not in the pony-trap," replied Annie. "I don't think he left the schoolroom."

"Cute little beggar," laughed Nora. "He wants to come in the donkey-cart."

Annie raised her brows in inquiry; the mystery of the donkey-cart was explained to her, and no further questions were asked with regard to Boris.

Elinor had not yet been missed.

Friar's Wood was a perfect place for a picnic, and in due course of time the happy cavalcade arrived there. The younger children and Miss Macalister began to make preparations for the first meal. The Lorrimers always had two hearty ones whenever they went on a picnic. Kitty, Nora, and Annie Forest went off to explore the Fairies' Glen, a lovely spot about a quarter of a mile away. Mrs. Lorrimer took out her knitting and sat with her back against a great beech tree, and Molly and Hester found themselves thrown together.

"That's right," exclaimed Molly. "I wanted to have a talk with you, Hetty. Will you come to the top of the knoll with me? We can sit there and cool ourselves. There is not the faintest chance of dinner being ready for quite an hour."

[Pg 44]

The girls set off at once. Molly was not yet sixteen, Hester was past seventeen, nevertheless they had been intimate friends for a long time.

"Why have you got that little frown between your brows, Molly?" asked Hester.

It smoothed out the moment Hester spoke.

"I surely ought not to have a frown to-day," retorted Molly. "The weather is glorious, we are all in perfect health, we are out for a picnic, you are here, you have brought your friend, Annie, about whom we have always heard so much, and Nan is home from school. Yes, I certainly ought not to frown; but let me retort on you, Hester. Why have you those grave lines round your lips?"

"Because I'm a goose," answered Hester. "Sit down here, Molly. You have not got me up to the top of this knoll just to make me recount my grievances. Out with yours; you know you have one at least."

"Well, yes, I have one," said Molly. "A horrid little cankering jade—a sort of black imp. I thought I had tucked him up snug in bed until the evening, and there, you have loosened the sheets, and he has sprung up again to confront me."

Molly's honest face was undoubtedly troubled now, and there was a suspicion of tears in the blue eyes, which were nearly as frank and round as Boris's.

"I suppose I must confess," she said: "it's only that the colts, Joe and Robin, have been sold."

"I don't think I know them," said Hester.

"Well, you must imagine them. They are not broken-in yet. They were born at the Towers, and we used to feed them when they were foals. Then one day Robin got rather

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