Milly and Olly by Mrs. Humphry Ward (most life changing books txt) 📖

Only we don't want you here, Mr. Rain."

But what an obstinate disagreeable Mr. Rain it was! All that night it went on pouring, till the little beck in the garden was so full it was almost choked, and could only get along by sputtering and foaming as if some wicked water-fairies were driving it along and tormenting it. And all the little pools on the mountain, the "tarns," as Becky and Tiza called them, filled up, and the rain made the mountain itself so wet that it was like one big bog all over.

When the children woke up the flood on the lawn was growing bigger, and it seemed to them as if the house and garden were all wrapped up in a wet white cloud-blanket. They could not see the mountain at all from the window, it was all covered with a thick white mist, and the dark fir trees in the garden looked sad and drooping, as if the weight of raindrops was too much for them to carry.

The children had made up their minds so completely the night before that it _couldn't_ rain more than two days running, that they felt as if they could hardly be expected to bear this third wet morning cheerfully. Nurse found them cross and out of spirits at breakfast. Even a prospect of asking Becky and Tiza to tea did not bring any smiles to their forlorn little faces. It would be no fun having anybody to tea. They couldn't go out, and there was nothing amusing indoors.

After breakfast, Olly set to work to get into mischief, as he generally did when he felt dull. Nurse discovered him smearing Katie's cheeks with raspberry jam "to make them get red kricker" as he said, and alas! some of the jam had stuck to the new silk frock, and spoilt all its smart fresh look.

When Milly found it out she began to cry, and when Mrs. Norton came in she saw a heap on the floor, which was Milly, sobbing, while Olly sat beside her with his mouth wide open, as if he was a good deal astonished at the result of his first attempt at doctoring.

"Pick up the pieces, old woman," said Mrs. Norton, taking hold of the heap and lifting it up. "What's the matter with you both?"

"Olly's spoilt my doll," sobbed Milly, "and it _will_ go on raining--and I feel so--so--dull."

"I didn't spoil her doll, mother," cried Olly, eagerly. "I only rubbed some jam on its cheeks to make them a nicey pink--only some of it _would_ sticky her dress--I didn't mean to."

"How would you like some jam rubbed on your cheeks, sir?" said Mrs. Norton, who could scarcely help laughing at poor Katie's appearance when nurse handed the doll to her. "Suppose you leave Milly's dolls alone for the future; but cheer up, Milly! I think I can make Katie very nearly right again. Come upstairs to my room and we'll try."

After a good deal of sponging and rubbing, and careful drying by the kitchen fire, Katie came very nearly right again, and then Mrs. Norton tried whether some lessons would drive the rain out of the children's heads. But the lessons did not go well. It was all Milly could do to help crying every time she got a figure wrong in her sum, and Olly took about ten minutes to read two lines of his reading-book. Olly had just begun his sums, and Milly was standing up to say some poetry to her mother, looking a woebegone little figure, with pale cheeks and heavy eyes, when suddenly there was a noise of wheels outside, and both the children turned to look out of the window.

"A carriage! a carriage!" shouted Olly, jumping down, and running to the window.

There, indeed, was one of the shut-up "cars," as the Westmoreland people call them, coming up the Ravensnest drive.

"It's Aunt Emma," said Mrs. Norton, starting up, "how good of her to come over on such a day. Run, children, and open the front door."

Down flew Milly and Olly, tumbling over one another in their hurry; but father had already thrown the door open, and who should they see stepping down the carriage-steps but Aunt Emma herself, with her soft gray hair shining under her veil, and her dear kind face as gentle and cheery as ever.

"Aunt Emma! Aunt Emma!" shouted Olly, dancing up to her, and throwing his arms round her, "_are_ you come to tell us about old Mother Quiverquake?"

"You gipsy, don't strangle me! Well, Lucy dear, here I am. Will you have me to dinner? I thought we'd all be company for each other this bad day. Why, Milly, what have you been doing to your cheeks?"

"She's been crying," said Olly, in spite of Milly's pulling him by the sleeve to be quiet, "because I stickened her doll."

"Well, and quite right too. Dolls weren't made to be stickied. But now, who's going to carry my bag upstairs? Take it gently, Milly, it's got my cap inside, and if you crumple my cap I shall have to sit with my head in a bandbox at dinner. Old ladies are _never_ seen without their caps you know. The most dreadful things would happen if they were! Olly, you may put my umbrella away. There now, I'll go to mother's room and take off my things."


CHAPTER VII

A STORY-TELLING GAME

When Aunt Emma was safely settled, cap and all, in one of the drawing-room arm-chairs, it seemed to the children as if the rain and the gray sky did not matter nearly so much as they had done half an hour before. In the first place, her coming made something new and interesting to think about; and in the second place, they felt quite sure that Aunt Emma hadn't brought her little black bag into the drawing-room with her for nothing. If only her cap had been in it, why of course she would have left it in mother's bedroom. But here it was in her lap, with her two hands folded tight over it, as if it contained something precious! How very puzzling and interesting!

However, for a long time it seemed as if Aunt Emma had nothing at all to say about her bag. She began to tell them about her drive--how in two places the horse had to go splashing through the water, and how once, when they were crossing a little river that ran across the road, the water came so far up the wheels that "I put my head out of the window," said Aunt Emma, "and said to my old coachman, 'Now, John, if it's going to get any deeper than this, you'd better turn him round and go home, for I'm an old woman, not a fish, and I can't swim. Of course, if the horse can swim with the carriage behind him it's all right, but I have my doubts.' Now John, my dears, has been with me a great many years, and he knows very well that I'm rather a nervous old woman. It's very sad, but it is so. Don't you be nervous when you're old people. So all he said was 'All right, ma'am. Bless you, he can swim like a trout.' And crack went the whip, splash went the water! It seemed to me it was just going to come in under the door, when, lo and behold! there we were safe and sound on dry ground again. But whether my old horse swam through or walked through I can't tell you. I like to believe he swam, because I'm so fond of him, and one likes to believe the creatures one loves can do clever things."

"I'll ask John when he comes to take you away, Aunt Emma," said Olly. "I don't believe horses can swim when they're in a carriage."

"You're a matter-of-fact monkey," said Aunt Emma. "Dear me, what's that?"

For a loud squeak had suddenly startled the children, who were now looking about them everywhere in vain, to find out where it came from. Squeak! again. This time the voice certainly came from near Aunt Emma's chair, but there was nothing to be seen.

"What a strange house you live in," said Aunt Emma, with a perfectly grave face. "You must have caught a magician somehow. That's a magician's squeak."

Again came the noise!

"I know, I know!" shouted Olly. "It's Aunt Emma's bag! I'm sure it came out of the bag."

"My bag!"--holding it up and looking at it. "Now does it look like a bag that squeaks? It's a perfectly well-behaved bag, and never did such a thing in its life."

"I know, Aunt Emma," said Olly, dancing round her in great excitement. "You've got the parrot in there!"

"Well now," said Aunt Emma. "This is really serious. If you think I am such a cruel old woman as to shut up a poor poll-parrot in a bag, there's no help for it, we must open the bag. But it's a very curious bag--I wouldn't stand too near it if I were you."

Click! went the fastening of the bag, and out jumped--what do you think? Why, the very biggest frog that was ever seen, in this part of the world at any rate, a green speckled frog, that hopped on to Aunt Emma's knee, and then on to the floor, where it went hopping and squeaking along the carpet, till all of a sudden, when it got to the door, it turned over on its back, and lay there quite quiet with its legs in the air.

The children followed it with looks half of horror, half of amazement.

"What is it, Aunt Emma? Is it alive?" asked Milly, jumping on to a chair as the frog came near her, and drawing her little skirts tight round her legs, while Olly went cautiously after it, with his hands on his knees, one step at a time.

"You'd better ask it," said Aunt Emma, who had at last begun to laugh a little, as if it was impossible to keep grave any longer. "I'm sure it looks very peaceable just now, poor thing."

So the children crept up to it, and examined it closely. Yes, it was a green speckled frog, but what it was made of, and whether it was alive, and if it was not alive how it managed to hop and squeak--these were the puzzles.

"Take hold of it, Milly," said Mr. Norton, who had just come up from his work, and was standing laughing near the door. "Turn it over on its legs again."

"No, I'll turn it," cried Olly, making a dash, and turning it over in a great hurry, keeping his legs and feet well out of the way. Hop! squeak! there it was off again, right down the room with the children after it, till it suddenly came up against a table leg, and once more turned over on its back and lay quite still.

"Oh, Aunt Emma, is it a toy?" asked Milly, who now felt brave enough to take it up and look at it.

"Well, Milly, I believe so--a very lively one. Bring it here, and I'll tell you something about it."

So the children brought it very cautiously, as if they were not quite sure what it would do next, and then Aunt Emma explained to them that she had once paid a visit to a shop in London where Japanese toys--toys made in the country of Japan--far away on the other side of the world--were sold, and that there