 CHAPTER XII. THE OTHER BOOK. They found the second book. It was not so heavy as the other, but in it, too, there were only three or four pages of ladies in crinolines and gentlemen in whiskers and chokers, leaning against marble pillars with velvet curtains loosely draped in the background. Be careful, Charlotte urged. Be quite ready to fly before you start it. But when they pressed the little catch and sprang towards the door ready to fly, no silvery sound met the ear. In an awestruck silence they went slowly back to the table. And now, looking more closely, they saw that the catch was not made to press down, but to slide along. Charlotte pushed it. A lid flew up, and there was a space that had perhaps once held a musical box, but now held a reel of silk, an old velvet needle-book with a view of the Isle of Wight painted on it outside and inside needles red with many a year's rust, a box of beads with a glass top, a boned silk-winder, a netting needle, and a sheet of paper with some finely penciled writing on it. Bother, said Charles, let's start the other. But Charlotte was looking at the beads, and Caroline was looking at the writing. What jolly little different beads, not a bit like now, said Charlotte, and Caroline said, it's a list of books, that's all. I say, she added in quite another voice, that Thessalonian book is underlined hard. I wonder why? She unfolded the paper and turned it over. There's another underlined. Pope's ill something, she said. Iliad, said Charles, looking over her shoulder. Always know that, in words, the minute I see them, even if I don't know what they mean. Let's start the other musical box. No, said Caroline quickly. Let's find Pope's what's its name. There's only those two underlined. It's a clue, that's what it is. Come on, and don't make a row. I feel we're on the brink of the very brink, punctuality and dispatch. All the books in the dining-room's names are in a book at the end of the bottom shelf, said Charles. I know, because I thought it was the book that covers something like the one in the picture. It was easy to find Pope's Iliad in the catalogue. One vol, top shelf, case six, number 39, it said. Then there was a rush for case six and a dragging of chairs to the spot. Caroline, being the tallest, reached the volume and got it down. The cover feels loose in my hand, she said. Oh, I do believe it is. It was. From the loose boards whose back pretended that they were covering Mr Alexander Pope's translation of the Greek epic, another and quite different book came forth. A thin brown book, the second book of the picture. Charlotte climbed on a chair expressly to compare the two. There was no doubt of it, the two were the same. Inside was yellowy paper with a queer sort of waviness about it and large print of that curious old-fashioned kind, where the S's are all like F's except at the ends of words. We can read this, said Charles, hopefully. I mean, even you can. It's not that in this time. Let's take it to Uncle and tell him we found it. Won't he be delighted with us? We promised not to bother for a week, Charlotte reminded him. Let's keep it for a week and then we'll give him the two together. He won't be able to believe his eyes. It is an eyesore, isn't it? I think what you mean's a sight for sore eyes, Caroline suggested. Let's have a look. Is it spells? It looks like all about being ill, said Charlotte doubtfully. But it's very hard with these S's pretending to be F's, and the spelling is rum, isn't it? All spellings rum, I think, said Charles, especially IE's and EI's. IE except after C, said Charlotte absently. It says government and virtues. It is under the moon. What is? I don't know. It goes on. It is a good, woundy herby, and the juice taken in wine helpeth the jaundice, and is fothering for the plague, if Foby the Fuffer had been not too far gone in it. What does? What is? The flowers, Charlotte read on, be large and yellow in form, and in others paler and smaller. The dork is two feet high, and divided him felf into many spreading branches. What does? Rugged word. It's all about plants, I think, and what they're good for. How glorious! Caroline cried and clapped her hands. Now we've got all three. The spells and the medicine and the language of. And what one won't do the other will. Hist, not a word. She had only just time to throw the book into a chair and sit down on it, as the door opened and Harriet entered with the tea tray. The uncle did not come in to tea. Only Mrs. Wilmington looked in for a moment to say that Rupert's cold was worse, and that they had better not see him again that day. These don't be up and down stairs all the time in your heavy boots, she added. He don't seem to please her today somehow, whatever we put them in, said Charlotte. I wish we could give her something to make her like us. We might just as well be black beetles. What we've got to do, said Caroline, pouring out milk, is to get Rupert better. I felt all the time in the drawing-room how hateful it is for him to be out of things like this. If we could work something out of the three books, I'm sure he would get all right in no time. A three-fold spell, that's what we want. We can't have it then, said Charlotte. I should think two books would be ample. It's only a cold he's got. It might want the three if it was plague, wounds, or jauntry, jaundice, or whatever it is. They spread out the book on the table as soon as tea was cleared away and put their heads together over the yellow pages. But it was some time before they could find anything that seemed as though it could possibly do Rupert any good. What a beastly lot of herbs there are in the world, Charlotte remarked, and Charles reminded her that they called any old flower an herb in books. What I can't understand, he added, is how people can possibly have so many disgusting things that matter with them. Paulsy, and leprosy, and Quincy, and all the other things as well. I don't suppose people have them now, said Caroline consolingly. Aunt Emilyne says hygiene has got on so nicely, people don't have nearly such awful things that matter with them as they used. Look at the Black Death in 1400 something, you never hear of Black Deaths now. I wonder why the funerals are black because of that, said Charles. I think there's something in Latin about Black Death knocking the back of the horseman with an even foot. I always did think Latin was nonsense, said Charlotte. Their eyes were quite tired of the yellow paper and the long esses before the great idea occurred to them. It was Caroline who had it. Let's look up roses, she said. I'm sure the roses rupert's lucky flower. Perhaps if we made a concert for a decoction or a tincture or something. We'd promised not to give anyone anything for their insides, I've just remembered, said Charles. How rotten! Never mind, let's look. We'll make it a spell as well, out of the language of. I expected work all right. Find rose. They found rose, pages and pages of it. The author of the herbal had plenty to say. As he himself put it, if I should set down here all uses of the rose, my book would be already too long. But after diligent search, they found out that the rose is under the dominion of Venus. That's all right, said Charles. She had a little boy of her own, so she'd know. Also that the decoction of roses is proper to cool the heat of fevers. Only we don't know what fever rupert's got, Charles said. It might be their scarlet kind or their swine kind, if humans have that. They also found that the rose was a considerable restorative. The bitterness of the roses, when they be fresh, is of good use to cure collar and watery humours. I suppose watery humours means when you're in the humour to cry. He isn't that, said Charlotte. Farther down the page they found, the moist conserve of roses mixed with mithridate and taken together is good for those that are troubled with distillations of room from the brain to the eyes and the nose. That's it, cried Caroline. I knew the rose would do the trick. I know a cold in the head is room. That's French. I guess it's Latin, too, she added hastily. But I never knew before that colds come from your brain. I expect that's what makes you feel so duffing when you've got a cold. If a doubt was still left in any breast, it was set at rest when they learned that red roses procure rest and sleep, and that a strong tincture of the rose maketh a pleasant julep, karmeth delirium, and helpeth the action of the bark. Rest's what he wants, the will-cat, said Sir. Caroline shut the book with a bang. And if roses help the action of the bark, that's the very thing. She said the cough wanted easing. Does bark mean cough? Charles asked doubtfully. You may depend it did in those old times, Caroline assured him. Aunt Emily and told me lots of the words they called slang now were book words once. Swank wasn't slang in Shakespeare's time, she said. And it stopped raining. Let's get the roses, and we can think about how we'll give them afterwards. Perhaps if he just smelt them. There was an old Roman Johnny, said Charles instructively. He asked all his friends to a party and let down tons of rose leaves on them till they died. Couldn't we do that to Rupert? Not till he died, of course, but till he got better. We might cover him with rose leaves, said Caroline, delighted with the romantic idea. Like babes in the wood. Let's get pillowcases for—I know where the linen room is—and hide them till everyone's in bed, and then put them over him. We ought to put something out of the language of, as well. Iceland moss means health, I believe. Only there isn't any. A hasty search in the language of flowers informed them that nemophila meant success everywhere, and there's nothing more suitable could be found. It was decided to mix a few nemophila flowers with the rose leaves. There was a secret society once called the Rosicureans. Aunt Emilyen told me, said Caroline, we shall be that if the roses cure Rupert. I like being long ago things, don't you? The garden was very wet indeed. Even in Macintoshes it was difficult to avoid getting wet through. Every tree dripped on the children's heads, and the water from the soaked rose leaves ran up their sleeves and down their necks. There were so many fully blown roses that it was easy enough to fill the three frilled linen pillowcases, though of course it isn't the sort of thing that is done all in a minute. It was nearly bedtime when the three dripping children, each carrying a dripping sack of rose leaves, stood outside the arbor which led to the secret passage. They had gone out that way. I know we were told not to, Charlotte had said. But it was only the wheel-cat who told us, and it was only because the uncle doesn't like other people to use the passage. And of course we'll tell him afterwards, and he'll say it was all right. When we've cured Rupert, everyone will say how clever. Yet now at the last they hesitated. I do wish I could remember, said Caroline, frowning, whether we did promise not to go through the passage, or whether it was only that we were told not to. It really does make all the difference, doesn't it? It often happens that grown-up people think children are disobedient, because really and truly the children can't remember whether they promised or not, and naturally they give themselves the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes the grown-ups do not in their turn give the children this benefit. Neither Charles nor Charlotte could remember having promised. Then here goes, said Caroline, pushing open the door. The candle they had put there in readiness gave them enough light to fasten the boats by, and also to find the recess in the vault of the passage which they had decided to use to hide the rose-leaves in. They listened at the other door, got safely into the passage and up to their rooms. Caroline pulled off her wet things, put on her bath slippers and crept down with her bath-tire to rub away the water they had dripped on the floor by the door of the room where the secret staircase was. They feared so wet a patch might prove a clue to Mrs. Wilmington. But Mrs. Wilmington was with Rupert, putting cold bandages on a very hot head, and before she left him for the night the stones were dry. Perhaps you would not like to go down a secret staircase in the middle of the night and into an underground passage, even to fetch rose-leaves to cure a sick friend. But the three seas were not afraid of the darkness. Their mother had always accustomed them to go about in the dark. It was a sort of game to them to feel their way about the house without a light, and to fetch sweets which their mother would put ready for them. She used to tell them exactly where to find the little packets, and so the dark was always mixed up in their minds with sweets and expectation and pleasant things. And they only had to go down the house stairs in the dark. Directly they got to the secret stair, of course, they lighted the candle. And now you see them in their quilted red dressing-guns, carrying up the wet sacks of rose-leaves. They felt their way to Rupert's room. In it a nightlight was burning dimly. They lighted the dressing-table candles. Hello, said Rupert. Who's that? It's only us, whispered Caroline. Is the fever very hot? It is now, said Rupert. It was cold just now. I wish I could go to sleep. I can't, though. I feel all hot and then all cold. It is beastly. We've brought you something nice and cool, said Charlotte. You get out of bed and you'll see. Rupert, his eyes very shining, and his cheeks a bright scarlet, tumbled out of bed in a very long night-shirt, and rolled into the armchair by the bed-head. Caroline threw a blanket over him. I must, she said when he protested. They always do when you're ill and they're making your bed. The children turned back the bed-clothes and emptied three sacks of dripping rose-leaves onto the bed. Now, said Charles, shivering a little himself, get in. I should think that's enough to cool the hottest fever. Rupert rolled into bed. He was really very feverish. If he had not been, he would never have rolled into that couch of wet red rose-leaves. Oh, how ripping! he said. It's lovely, so cold, so cold. You are bricks to bring them. And how sweet they are. No, don't cover me up. That's what Mrs. Wilmington does. Let me get cool. They always cover you up, said Caroline, severely. Lie still or the spell won't work. Oh, is it a spell? said Rupert. I thought it was rose-leaves. Sacks of them. Sacks and sacks and sacks and sacks. Each sack had a cat. Each cat had a kit, you know. I say, if I talk nonsense, it's because I want to. You're not to think I don't know it's nonsense. You're not to talk at all, even if you could talk sense, said Charlotte, tucking the bed-clothes very tightly round his neck. Lie still and say, I am much better. I am quite well. I have an aunt called Emily, and she never has a doctor, and she always says that. I am much better. I am quite well, said Rupert obediently. I am much better. I am quite well. I am much better. I am a bell. I shall ring presently for Mrs. Wilmington. I have a clapper inside my head. I am much better. I am a bell. And so on for a very long time. This is the delirium it talked about, said Caroline in a satisfied tone, and held the blankets down more firmly. Presently Rupert began to shiver, and Charlotte fetched the idardans from the beds of the three, while the others held the blankets tightly round Rupert, who now no longer seemed to know at all what he was saying, nor who he was saying it to. He talked about India, and seemed to fancy that Charles was his ire and Caroline his size. Charlotte, he mistook for the mud-stone man, which was very painful for her. But they held the blankets tightly round him, even when he said it was too hot out there in the sun, and begged to have the punkers set going. Then, quite suddenly, he went to sleep. They waited a little, and when they were quite sure that he was asleep, they took up the fur hearthrug and put that on his bed for fear he should take cold, and then, very cold indeed, themselves, but quite certain that their spell had cured Rupert, they crept back to their own beds, rather chilly places without their idardans. I know the spell will work, were Caroline's last words. You'll see, Rupert will be all right in the morning. At five o'clock Mrs. Wilmington crept into Rupert's room to see if he needed anything. The floor was strewn with wet, cold, crushed rose-leaves, and on it laid two wet sheets. Rupert, rolled in a tangle of blankets, idardans and hearthrug, was sleeping as a healthy baby sleeps. She laid her hand very gently on his forehead. It was cool and soft. By breakfast time Rupert was much better. The fever had gone. So you see the spell did work, said Caroline. Rupert is much better. I sometimes think we are much cleverer than grown-up people think we are. Rupert is much better. But all the three seas had dreadful colds in their heads. Rupert, with the dewy, crushed rose-leaves, she had the sense not to disturb him, but to put two more blankets over him and to let him go on sleeping, while she wrapped herself in a shawl and spent what was left of the night on the blue sofa at the end of the forepost bed. Uncle Charles, coming down neat and early to his study, was met by a very pale housekeeper with prim lips tightly set, who said, If you please, sir, them children leave this house or else I do. I mean those children. What have they been doing now? asked the uncle wearily. He had thought of a new idea about Coptic magic while he was shaving, and he wanted to be alone with his idea and his breakfast. Doing their very best to murder that poor young gentleman in his very bed, said the housekeeper, looking like a thin portrait of Mrs. Sitton's. Did they put flowers and things into the boy's food or drink? The uncle asked, frowning. Worse, sir, far worse. They put him into flowers and things, and I've taken the liberty of sending for the doctor. And please, nint, I pack their boxes. No one's lives, it saves. Ah, I'm eaten. Mrs. Wilmington sniffed and got out her handkerchief. Please, control yourself, said the uncle. I will inquire into what you have told me, and I will see the doctor when he has seen the boy. In the meantime, kindly refrain from further fuss. And please, tell the cook to serve another omelette and some fresh tea. These are no longer warm enough for human food. Mrs. Wilmington put her handkerchief in her pocket and went back to Rupert, who was now wriggling among the blankets and asking what he could have to eat. Rupert was much better. There was not a doubt of it. Harriet had told the children as much in confidence when she brought their breakfast. But Mrs. W. Shee is in a paddy in no error, Harriet assured them. A regular fan-tique, she's in. I wouldn't be you for something. However you come to think of such things beats me. And she was on at the master before he was up almost about it, going on something chronic. How do you know? Charlotte asked. Oh, I know more than you think, Miss, said Harriet, tossing her head. I've ways of my own finding out what I want to know. I know a sure spell to find out the gentleman's name you're going to marry, she added rather in a hurry. I'll show you some time if this blows over and you don't have to leave on account of it. Father marrying, said Charlotte briefly, I don't mean to marry anyone. I shall be an arctic explorer and sail in the cold waters of the north. It's hot water you'll be in first, said Harriet. Don't answer her back, my advice. Then perhaps it'll blow over. Least said soonest mended's what I say. They can't go on at you forever if you don't answer them back. If you don't answer, they say you're salky, said Charles, who sometimes noticed things. No, they don't, Master Charles. Not if you keep on saying yes'em and no'em every time they start for breath. That's the way to egg-saws'em, trust me it is. The three Cs did not quite see their way to exhaust Mrs. Wilmington by saying yes'em and no'em in answer to her approaches, and they felt that she would not understand if they tried to explain why they had done what they did do. So they had rather a poor time with Mrs. Wilmington, who said a good deal about the rose-leaves, and told them they might have been the death of Rupert. When really, as Caroline said afterwards, they had been the life and soul of his getting better. Mrs. Wilmington also told them that they were not to think of going out and getting into any more of their dangerous mischief, because their uncle was going to give them a right down good talking to as soon as the doctor had been. But we may go out tomorrow, won't we? Charles asked, hopefully, and Mrs. Wilmington replied, Perhaps you won't be here tomorrow. A very disquieting remark. The children remained in the dining-room waiting for that right down good talking to, and you know what a hateful thing that is to wait for. They sat there miserably, wondering whether Mrs. Wilmington could possibly happen by any extraordinary accident to be right for once, and whether they had done Rupert any harm. They tried to console themselves by saying every half minute or so, but Rupert is better all the same, and whatever she says, Rupert is better, and things like that. One thing all felt, that they must see the doctor and know if they really had done any harm. Thoughts of concealing themselves in the wardrobe in Rupert's room and listening to the doctor's wise words at the bedside were dismissed, partly owing to an honourable feeling about listening, and partly because Mrs. Wilmington didn't give them any opportunities for that sort of concealment. Listening at the uncle's door when the doctor had come down and been shown into the study was also impossible for the same reasons. The only thing they could do was to keep the dining-room door open. And pounce, said Caroline, if we pounce suddenly and well, we shall be able to say, how is Rupert? Is he really worse or better before anyone can stop us? And the doctor is a gentleman, he must answer a lady's question. You're not, ladies, you're only little girls, said Charles. But the others made allowances, it was a time of trial. Caroline answered with that soft answer, which is sometimes so hard to bear. Yes, dear Charles, we are. Aunt Emilyne says you cannot begin to be a lady too soon, and that is why you must wipe your mouth before drinking as well as after, and never interrupt, and put on your gloves before you go out, and things like that. And when I gave my penny to the crossing-sweeper, you know, that muddy Friday, he said I was a real little lady. You must remember that day, Charles, the day you upset the ink over my hairy-wood-the-wake. Here, I say, chuck it, said Charles, rather red. I never— Oh, packs, for goodness' sake, said Charlotte. If we begin ragging just when we ought to stand by each other, we're like deserters. United we stand, divided we fall a victim to the Wilmington. Hark! That's the uncle's door. They flung themselves into the hall, and the astonished doctor, just saying a few last words of politeness to Uncle Charles, was met by a charge of children, all firmly asking, How is Rupert? Is he worse? Is he better? Did we really do him any harm? He's much better, said the doctor, rubbing his hands cheerfully. Your rose-leaves were a variant of what is known as the Packing Treatment, who did him a world of good. But, he added hastily, as Uncle Charles behind him uttered the ghost of a grunt, and Mrs. Wilmington from the top of the stairs coughed loudly and expressively. It might have been very dangerous, very verdict, not guilty, but don't do it again. And with that he laughed in a jolly red-faced way, and went out of the front door and onto his horse, and rode away. And now, said the uncle, leading the way back into the dining-room, I will draw a veil over that scene, a right-down good talking to is never a pleasant thing to record. And I'm not sure whether the three Cs deserved this one or not. Was it chants or magic that made them do exactly the right thing for Rupert? Of course they explained fully to the uncle that as it was a three-fold spell it was bound to act exactly as it had acted. He shook his head, did not smile, and went on talking about responsibility and carefulness, and so on. He really did smile when Charlotte, very near to tears, explained that they had only been acting like the Rosy Curians in olden days. But he hid his smile in his handkerchief, and the children did not see it. And now, said the uncle once again, and paused. The three children knew those words well, and each wondered what their punishment was to be. I hope it won't be lines, Charles told himself. I'd rather anything than lines. I hope it won't be keeping us in, thought Caroline. I'd rather anything than be kept in, and such a fine day, too. And still the uncle paused till Charlotte could bear it no longer. She did not stop to think what she would rather the punishment was or wasn't. She said, Oh, uncle, we really didn't mean to be naughty. And it really hasn't hurt him. But we don't want to shirk. Only don't keep us suspended. Let us know the worst. Are we to be hanged for a sheep as a lamb? You'll know you'll hang twice if you're hanged quickly. We'll do whatever you say, and we don't mind being punished if you think we ought. Only don't do what the will. I mean, Mrs Wilmington said. What did she say? She said, Perhaps we shouldn't be here tomorrow. Oh, said Charlotte and began to cry. So did Caroline. Charles put his hands in his pockets and sniffed. Don't, said the uncle earnestly. Please don't. I have said what I felt it my duty to say, but it is all over. I certainly have no intention of punishing you for what was a mistake. What I blame you for is, well, briefly, interference and taking too much on yourselves. Shoving our all in, sobbed Charlotte. But we did so want Rupert to be better. He is better, said the uncle. Please don't cry. It is over now. But I must ask for a promise. We did keep the other promise, Charles reminded him. I know you did. This is more comprehensive, as well as more definite. I want you to promise me that you will not only refrain from administering your remedies internally, but that you will not make any external application of them to any of your friends or enemies, he added hastily. Not put them on to people's outsides, yes, murmured Caroline, without consulting me. If you wish to try any more experiments, the simple presentation of a symbolic bouquet should be enough. It was enough in my case, you remember. Of course we promise, said everyone. Oh, uncle, you are kind not to be crosser. We don't really mean to do wrong. But you can't do right without it turning out wrong sometimes. You can't just do nothing, said Caroline, though really it's the only safe way. Things do so turn out wrong that you didn't think would. They do, said the uncle. Now dry your eyes and run out and play. And if you see your way to letting Mrs. Wilmington know that you're sorry, it would perhaps be well. Of course we will, if you want us to. They said, and Charlotte added, It will be well. She always says it is. Always says what is what. She always says everything's all very well when we say we're sorry. Then they went round to the terraced garden and sat on the grass and talked it all over. Ever there was an angel, uncle, ours is it, said Charlotte. Yes, said Charles, and Rupert is better. I'm glad we did it, aren't you? I suppose so. Yes, no, yes. I don't know, said Caroline. You see, the spell worked. That's a great thing to be sure of, anyhow. It was the one thing, however, that they couldn't persuade Rupert to be sure of. He was certainly better, but as he pointed out he might have got better without the rose leaves. Of course it was jolly decent of you to get them and all that, he said. But the medicine the doctor gave me cured me, I expect. I don't want to be ungrateful, but what are doctors for, anyhow? I don't know, said Charles, but I know you jolly well tried fernseed when you pretended to be invisible. I feel much older than I did then, said Rupert, biting ends of grass as he lay on the dry, crisp turf. It was the first day of his being loosed from those bonds which hamper the movements of persons who have been ill. You know the sort of times when you feel perfectly well, and yet merely because you have a cold or measles or something, you are kept in when you want to go out and send out, in what is called the best of the day, when you want to stay in. And little driblets of medicine are brought to you when you feel least need of them, and glasses of hot milk and cups of beef tea occur just when you are thinking fondly of roast beef and suic pudding, and you are assured that what you need is not heavy food like pudding and beef, but something light and at the same time nourishing. Also you have to go to bed earlier than the others, and not to sit in draughts. However, all this was now over for Rupert, and he was one of the others on a natural meal footing. His parents, by the way, had telegraphed thanking Uncle Charles very much, and accepting his invitation for Rupert to spend the rest of the holidays at the Manahas. They had also telegraphed to the Mercedon master telling him that Rupert would not return to him, so that now there seemed to be no bar to complete enjoyment, except that one little fact that Rupert wouldn't believe in spells. But the fern seed acted, said Caroline, and the secret rose acted, and the rosy curian rose leaves acted. I don't see how you can say the fern seed acted. I wasn't invisible, because you all saw me through the window. Oh, but, said Charlotte, eagerly, don't you see? You wanted us to see you. You can't expect a spell to act if you don't want it to act. I wouldn't myself if I was a spell. It wasn't that at all, said Caroline. Don't you remember? We chewed the fern seed to make us see invisible things, and we saw you. And you were invisible, because you chewed fern seed too. It came out just perfectly. Only you won't see it. But let's try it again, if you like, the fern seed, I mean. But Rupert wouldn't. He preferred to read the dog Crusoe lying on his front upon the grass. The others also got books. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 If the Wonderful Garden by Ian Esvid This liprivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 14 The Mineral Woman Next day Rupert felt more alive, as he explained. Now look here, he said at breakfast. Suppose we go and discover the North Pole. That would be nice, said Caroline. The Attics. We've never explored them yet. No, Attics are for wet days, said Rupert. Not the real North Pole, you don't mean, said Charles, quite ready to believe that Rupert might mean anything, however wonderful and adventurous. No, said Rupert. What I thought of was a via medias race. Latin, explained Charles to the girls. It means a middle way. You ask your uncle to let us take our lunch out, bread and cheese and cake will do, and to not expect us till tea time, and perhaps not then. We'll just go where we think we will, and shut our eyes when we pass signposts and post offices. We might get lost, you know, but I'd take care of you. We mustn't disturb the uncle, Caroline reminded them. We promised, not for a week. Write him a letter, said Rupert. And this is the letter they wrote. At least Caroline wrote it, and they all signed their names. Dearest uncle, dearest is rot, said Charles, looking at Rupert to be sure that he thought so too. But dear, but dear is rot in a, answered Caroline going on. It's what you say to the butcher when you write about the ribs that ought to have been served something, I know. Please may we go out for the day and take our lunch, bread and cheese and cake would do. Rupert says he will take care of us, and not expect us home till tea, and perhaps not then, with love. Caroline, Charlotte, Charles. Rupert can't sign because he's he in the letter. Only the wheeze can sign, said Caroline. And Harriet took the letter to the uncle, and the uncle wrote back, By all means, I am sure you will remember not to administer spells, internally or externally, to any one you may meet. Be home by half past six. If anything should detain you, send a telegram. I enclosed two shillings and sixpence for incidental expenses. Your dearest uncle. How sweet of him, the girls agreed, and Charles wanted to know what sort of expenses he meant. Incidental. Oh, if you want an apple or some chocks in a hurry and don't happen to have any on you, Rupert explained, or change a beer, or raw eggs to suck as you go along, they're very sustaining when all other foods disbared of. The uncle must have given orders, for Harriet soon brought in four neat brown paper parcels. Your lunches, she said. Hope you'll enjoy yourselves. You've got a nice day for your outing. Bring me a keepsake, won't you, from wherever it is you're going to? Of course we will, said Charlotte. What would you like? But Harriet laughed and said she was only talking. They put on their thinnest clothes, for it was a very hot day, and they got William to cut them ash sticks. In case we want to be pilgrims with staffs, said Charles. The girls were very anxious for Rupert to wear his school blazer, and so flattering were their opinions of it, and of him, and of it, on him, and of him in it, that he consented. Charles wore his school blazer, and the girls' frocks were of blue muslin, and they had their soft white muslin hats, so they looked very bright and yet very cool, as they started off down the drive, with their ash sticks over their shoulders, and their brown paper parcels in knotted handkerchiefs dangling from the ends of the six. Who shall we be? Charlotte asked, as they passed into the shadow of the woods, where the road runs through to the lodge gate. I'll be Nansen, said Charles. I wish we had some equismo dogs in the sledge. It's Eskimo, said Rupert. I know it is, said Charles. I don't believe you did, said Rupert, and Charles turned red, and the girls looked at each other uncomfortably. I didn't say I did, Charles answered. Not when I said it first. I meant I know now you've told me. It looked like it, Quizmo, in the books. This was disarming. Rupert could do no less than thump Charles on the back and say, Sorry, old man. And Caroline hastened to say, What will you be, Rupert? Why, Rupert, of course, Prince Rupert. He invented Prince Rupert drops that are glass and crumble to powder if you look at them too hard. And he fought at Naysby, Rupert of the Rhine, you know. For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine, he shouted. Oh, I say, Charles urged. Do let me be Charles if you're Rupert. It's only fair. You can't keep changing, said Rupert. Besides, Charles had his head chopped off afterwards. Well, Rupert died, too, if you come to that. You might, Rupert. And the girls said, Do let him. So Rupert said, All right, he didn't mind. Charlotte said she thought she would be Charles II, because he was a merry monarch. But it was decided that it might be confusing to have two Charleses, so she had to be content with being Joan of Arc, while Caroline was Bodicea. She was British, you see, Caroline explained. And Aunt Emilyne says you ought to support home industries. Now we all call each other by our play names all day, Charlotte said. And if you make a mistake, you lose a mark. Who keeps the marks? You keep your own, of course, counting on your fingers. And if you did it ten times, you'd tire not in your handkerchief. Aunt do it ten times if they play often. We don't. Here, Bodicea, Joan of Arc, Prince Rupert and King Charles turned out of the Lodgegate, and the exploring expedition began at 17 minutes past 10 precisely. The three Cs kept up the game, calling each other by the new names with frequency and accurateness. But Rupert grew more and more silent. And when Charlotte addressed him as Prince Rupert, the stainless knight, he told her not to be silly. At a quarter past 12, the four children, very dusty, very hot and rather tired, reached a level crossing. The gates were shut because a chain was coming, and already, as you looked along the line, you could see the front of the engine getting bigger and blacker, and the steam from it getting whiter and puffier, and you could feel the vibration of its coming in the shuddering of the gate as you leaned on it. The train stopped in a snorting, panting hurry at the little station just beside the gates. Let out a few passengers, shook itself impatiently, screamed, and went on. The big gates across the road swung slowly back till they stretched across the railway, and the people who had got out of the train came down the sloping end of the platform and through the small swing gates. And the four children who were crossing the line met the little crowd from the train halfway. There were two women with baskets, a man with a bandy-legged dog, and a girl with a large band box partly hidden by brown paper, and the four children were face to face with him before they knew that there was anyone coming from that train whom they had rather not be face to face with, the Murdstone man himself. He was not a yard from them. Rupert threw up his head and back to little as if he expected to be hit. The three seas breezed a deep, concerted, and trembled on the edge of what might be going to happen. No one knew what Mr. Murdstone's power might be. Could he seize on Rupert and take him away? Could he call the police? Anything seemed possible in that terrible instant when they were confronted suddenly and beyond hope of retreat with the hated master. And nothing happened at all. The Murdstone man passed by. He gave a cold, sour, unrecognising glance at the three seas, but he never looked at Rupert. He looked over his head as though Rupert had not been there and passed on. Rupert grew very rare and said nothing. The girls looked at each other. Let's walk along by the river, said Caroline, and then we'll tell you why he didn't look at you. He'll tell me now, said Rupert firmly, or I won't go another step. He didn't look at you, said Charlotte, because he didn't see you. And he didn't see you because you were invisible just when you wanted to be. I didn't want to be, said Rupert. At least, oh well, come on. When they had reached a green meadow that sloped pleasantly to the willow fringed edge of the River Medway, Charlotte said, you were invisible to him. That's the magic. Perhaps you'll believe in spells now. But there wasn't any spell, said Rupert impatiently. And the girls said with one voice, you take off your blazer and see. I hate hanky-panky, said Rupert, but he took off the coat. Look in there, said Caroline, turning back that loose fold which the buttonholes are made in. Fernseed! Charlotte and I secoutined it on while you and Charles were washing your hands. We meant to ask you to wish to be invisible when we went into a shop or something, just to prove about spells. But you did it without her asking. And now you will believe, won't you? I can't, said Rupert. Don't talk about it any more. Let's have the grub out. They opened the parcels and had the grub out, and it was sandwiches and jam tarts packed face to face and raspberries in a cardboard box that had once held chocolates. That was in Rupert's parcel. And biscuits and large wedges of that pleasant solid cake which you still get sometimes in old fashioned houses where baking powder and self-raising flour are unknown. This is the first picnic we've ever had by ourselves. Don't you like it, Prince Rupert? Rupert's mouth was full of sandwich. He was understood to say that it was all right. King Charles is gracefully pleased to like it, said Charles. Bodicea had better pour out the rind wine for it's a thirsty day. Oh! said Bodicea in stricken tones. There isn't any. And there wasn't. Not a drop of milk or water or ginger beer or anything drinkable. No nephew or niece of Aunt Emily's was likely to do anything so rash as drinking water from a strange river to which it had not been properly introduced. So there was nothing to be done but to eat the raspberries and pretend that raspberries quenched thirst. Which, as you probably know only too well, they don't. This was why, when they had eaten everything there was to eat and buried the bits of paper deeply in a hollowed tree, so as not to spoil the pretty picture of green willows and blue green water and grass green grass, they set out to find a cottage where ginger beer was sold. There was such a cottage and they had passed it on the way. It had a neat gay little garden and a yellow rose clambering over its porch. And on one of its red brick sides was a pear tree that went up the wall with level branches like a double ladder. And on the other a deep blue iron plate, which said in plain white words, baity's minerals. A stranger from Queen Victoria's early days might have supposed this to mean that the cottage had a small museum of geological specimens such as you find now and then in Derbyshire, but Rupert and the Three Seas knew that minerals was just short for ginger beer and other things that fizz. So after making sure that they had not lost their two shillings and their sixpence, they unlatched the white gate and went in. The front door, which was green and had no knocker, was open and one could see straight into the cottage's front parlor. It was very neat and oil-clothy with seashells on pink wool mats and curly glass vases and a loud green-faced clock on the mantelpiece. There was a horsehair sofa and more white crochet anti-macassas than you would have thought possible, even in the most respectable seaside lodgings. A black and white cat was asleep in the sun, edged in among the pots of geraniums that filled the window. In fact, it was a very clean example of the cottage homes of England, how beautiful they stand. The thirsty children waited politely as long as they could bear to wait, and then Caroline tipped her across the speckless brown and blue linoleum and tapped at the inner door. Nothing happened, so she pushed the door, which was a jar, a little more open and looked through it. Then she turned, shook her head, made a baffling sign to the others to stay where they were, and went through the door and shut it after her. The others waited. The sign Caroline had made was a secret one only used in really serious emergencies. I expect there's a bird in there and she wants to catch it, said Charles, but the others could not believe this, and they were right. Quite soon Caroline returned, bearing a wrinkled black tray with three bottles of lemonade, three glasses, and the little round wooden thing that you pressed the glass marble down within to the neck of the bottle. Here, she said in a hurry, you go round to the other side of the cottage, and there's a horn-beam arbor and a bench and table, and you're very welcome to sit there. I'll tell you all about it afterwards, she added, whispering, only do take it and go. But what is it? Rupert asked. She's crying dreadfully. I don't know what it is yet. Oh, do go! And she thrust the tray on him and went back through the door with an air of importance, which even the others found just a little trying. However, they were thirsty and loyal, so they did as they were asked to do, found the horn-beam arbor and settled down on the blue-painted benches to drink their lemonade and tell each other how thirsty they had been, drawing deep breaths between the draughts to say so with. Caroline in the meantime was in the back kitchen of the strange cottage, gently patting the shoulder of a perfect stranger who sat with her elbows on the mangle and her head in her hands, crying, crying, crying. Don't! Oh, please, don't! said Caroline again and again, and again and again the woman who was crying said, go away! I can't attend to you, go away! She was a middle-aged woman and her dark hair streaked with grey was screwed up behind in a tight knob. Her sleeves were tucked up and all round her were piles of those square boxes with wooden divisions in which lemonade and ginger beer travel about. The boxes were dotted with greeny bottles, some full, some empty, and the boxes were everywhere, on the sink, under the sink, on the copper, on the bricks, and outside the open back door. Don't cry! said Caroline in a voice that would have soothed an angry bear. Do tell me what's the matter? I might be able to help you. Oh, go along, do! said the woman, trying to dry her eyes with a corner of a blue-checked apron. You seem a kind little girl, but it ain't no good. Run along, dearie. But, said Caroline, if you don't stop crying, how am I going to pay you for the lemonade I took when you said I might? Three bottles it was. Sixpence, said the woman, sniffing. You poor dear, said Caroline, and put her arms round the woman's neck. Now, she said comfortably, you just fancy I'm your own little girl, and tell me what's the matter? The woman turned her face and kissed Caroline. Bless you for a silly little duck, she said. My own little girl's in service over Tundridge Way. It's silly of me taking on like that, but it comes so sudden. What did, Caroline asked? Do tell me. Perhaps I can help. I've got an uncle, and I know he'd give me some money for you, if that's it. And besides, I can make nice things happen sometimes. I really can. It isn't money, said the woman drearily, and I don't know why I should tell you. It eases the heart, you know, said Caroline. My aunt says it does. Do tell me. I'm so sorry you're unhappy. You wouldn't understand, said the woman, drying her eyes. It's silly, I know. But I only heard this morning, and just now it all come over me when I was sorting out the bottles. I was born in the little house, you see, and lived here all my life, and now to leave, a week's notice too. Where am I to go to? How am I to manage? What am I to get my living by? You see, being right on the high road, I get all the thirsty customers as they come by. Where am I to go to? There's a cottage back by Wright's Farm, near a bit of garden to it, and nobody passes it one year's end to another. I'd never sell a single bottle if I lived there to be a hundred. But why must you leave here? Caroline asked. Gently, folks, said the woman bitterly, got a grand house of their own up in London. But they gone and took a fancy to my little bit, cos it looked so pretty with the flowers I planted, and the arbor my father made, and the roses has come from mother's brother in Cambridge. Such a sweet pretty cottage to stay in for weekends, they said, and I may go to the union and stay there week in, week out, and much they care. There's something like it in the Bible, only there ain't no prophets now like there was of all to go and rebuke the folks that takes away poor folks vineyards and lambs and things to make weekend cottages of, and of course they can pay for their fancy, and it comes a bit hard, my dear, and that's all, so now you know. But that's dreadful, said Caroline. The landlord must be a very wicked man. It ain't his doing, said the woman, sorting bottle swiftly. It's but a lad when all's said and done, comes of age in a week or two. Ain't never been his own master yet, so to say. It's his cousin as manages the property. He's got it into his head to screw another shilling or two out of a somehow. Here's there and everywhere as they say. To pay for the harches and the flags when my lord comes of age, I suppose. Now you say you can't do anything, so run along, lovey. You're a good little girl to trouble about it, and you're the only one that has. It'll come home to you all right, never fear. Kind words is never lost, nor acts neither. Good day to you, Missy. Good-bye, said Caroline. But I'm not so sure that I can't do anything. I'll ask my uncle. Perhaps he knows my lord whoever it is. Andor, said the woman, but nobody don't know him about here. He's been abroad for his education, being weak in the chest from a child. But he don't know good, dearie. I'll have to go, same as other folks has had to go for me. I shall think of something. You see if I don't, said Caroline. I've got an aunt as well as an uncle, and she says you can make things happen. You just keep on saying, everything's going to be all right. I'm not going to worry. And then everything will be all right. You'll see. And I'll come again tomorrow or next day. Goodbye, dear. She kissed the woman, paid the sixpence, and went out to the Hornbeam Arbor with the air of one who has a mission. Come on, she said. I'll tell you as we go along. No, I'm not thirsty now. Oh, well, if you've saved some for me, that was jolly decent of you. She drank. No, she said. There's not a moment to be lost. It's a matter of life and death to the mineral woman. Come on. And as they went back along the dusty road, she told them what had happened. I must ask the uncle at once if he knows Lord Andor, she said. And he can telegraph to him like he did to India, and then everything will be all right. But, said Charlotte, we promised we wouldn't disturb him for anything. Suppose he doesn't appear at tea. Then we must do something else, said Caroline. It's the realest thing I've ever had the chance of doing, except you, Rupert, she added politely. And if we can't get at the uncle, we'll try a spell. Every single spell we've tried has come right. First the fern seed, then the— Yes, I know, said Rupert hastily, and it's all right to play at. But this is a real thing. I've got a godfather that's a baronet. I'll write to him to go to the House of Lords and tell this Lord Andor. Appeal to Caesar himself, don't you know? How's that? Yes, do, said Charlotte. But we'll work the spell as well. We may as well have two strings to our harp, like that blind girl in the picture. What spell can we do? We'll look it up in the books, Caroline said, importantly. And Rupert, if we pull it off and she doesn't get turned out of her house, you will believe the spell, won't you? I'll try, said Rupert cautiously, and anyway I'll write to my godfather. Only he's in Norway. I'd better telegraph perhaps. It'll cost pounds, won't it? said Charles admiringly. Never mind, said Rupert carelessly. Mrs. Wilmington will lend me the chink till I get my lance. Let's do the thing properly while we're about it. You may as well be hanged for a sheep as— As a cow! Yes, indeed! said Charlotte with approval. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbitt This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15 Justice The great discovery was Charlotte. When they got home and found that the uncle had gone to Tumbridge for the day, everyone felt that something must be done, and Rupert began to write out the telegram to his godfather. It was quite a nice telegram, very long, and explaining everything perfectly, but Mrs. Wilmington unexpectedly refused to lend more than nine pence, so it could not be sent. Caroline sat rocking herself to and fro with her fingers in her ears to shut out Charles's comments and advice, and tried in vain to think of some way of using a spell to help the mineral woman. It's no use, you know, Charles said, looking up the spells in the books, until we know how we're going to use it. And Caroline had to agree that this was so so she rocked herself and wracked her brains, and felt herself growing slowly, more and more stupid, as you do when you are trying very hard to think of something that has made up its mind that it is not going to be thought about. You see, Charlotte went on, we mustn't give the wicked cousin anything to eat to make him good, and most likely we couldn't get at him to make him eat it, even if we were allowed. What a pity we can't get at the Lord with a foreign education, weak from a child. I daresay we could make him take things. When you're weak from a child, they give you just anything. That's true, said Rupert. I knew a chap with a flat chest that had cod liver oil given him with oranges, but he said even the oranges weren't worth it. But we aren't allowed to give people things to eat, Charlotte reminded him. Besides, Rupert reminded her, we don't know the weak Lord's address. I do, said Caroline, taking her fingers out of her ears, though really she could hear almost as well with them in. Then, said Charlotte, let's go and see him. Let's appeal to Caesar. But he's got two addresses, said Caroline, and we don't know which is at. I mean, the mineral woman didn't. Try both, suggested Rupert. But one's in London, said Caroline. The mineral woman said, he's all right. He's got the castle and he's got his mansion in Belgrave Square. I can't expect him to bother about me and my little house. Charlotte sprang up. Let's go to the castle, and if he's not there, we'll get another take-your-lunch-with-you-cheese-and-cake-will-do-day and go to London and see him there. The brilliant daring of this idea made the others gasp. Do you mean go now? said Caroline. Why not? There's lots of the day left, it's not half past three yet. You don't know where the castle is, Rupert objected. Yes, I do, said Caroline. So there! Williams said the day of the Rupert hunt. He said, I hope the boy'd got into the castle grounds. Millord's men had sent poed about his business pretty sharp if he'd gone trespassing there. So it can't be far off. Tell you what, said Charlotte. You know Uncle said the day after we'd been Rosy Curians would we like the carriage to go and see Mr. Penfield. Only we didn't because we knew he'd gone to Canterbury. Not if we could only persuade William that going to see Lord Andor is the same thing as going to see Mr. Penfield, and that today is the same as the other day. Well then, people think so much more of you if you go in the carriage. Servants, I mean, and people who don't know about sterling worth, and it's being better to be good than pretty, and all not being gold that glitters. And what will you do when you get there? Rupert asked doubtfully. Why give him a bunch of magic flowers, and tell him about the mineral woman? You'll look very silly, Rupert told her, driving up to a Lord's house with your tuppany-happany flowers when he's got acres of glass most likely. I don't care if he's got miles of glass and binaries and pinaries of every modern inconvenience. He hasn't got flowers that grow as true and straight as the ones in the wonderful garden. Thomas told me nobody had in all the countryside, and their magic flowers ours are. Oh, Rupert, I wish you wouldn't be so grown up. I'm not, said Rupert. It's you that's silly. You're always being different from what we'd made up our minds, you were, said Charlotte hotly. There, now it's out. We were sorry for you at first, and then we liked you. You were so adventurous and splendid, and then you catch a cold and go all flat. Why do you do it? Known Semper Vivents Arcus, said Rupert, and Charles hung on his words. You can't be always the same, it would be dull. Besides, I got such a beastly cold, and I'd had the adventure. You don't want to go on having one dinner after another all day. You want a change. I'm being sensible, that's all. I dare say I shall be silly again someday, he added consolingly. A chap has to be silly or not, Maurice Suisse. That means off his own bat, Charles. Yes, said Charles, I'll remember. Well, look here, I'll go and try it on with William if you like, said Charlotte. But he likes Caroline best, because of what she did on the Rupert hunt day. You do rub it in, don't you? said Rupert. I wish sometimes you hadn't helped me that day. There was a silence. Then, Charlotte said, you go, Caro. And Charles, whatever happens, you must wash your hands. Go on like a sensible man, do it now, so as not to waste time. Cui Bono, said Rupert, it'll be all the same in a hundred years, or even in five minutes, if it's Charles's hands. But Charles went when Charlotte assured him that if he didn't, they would go without him. The moment the door closed behind him, she turned to Rupert. Now look here, she said. I know what's the matter with you. You've got the black dog on your back. I don't know what dog it is, or why, but you have. You haven't been a bit nice today. You didn't play up when you were Rupert of the Rhine, not a bit you didn't. And you think we're silly kids. And you think you're letting yourself down by playing with us. You didn't think that the first day when we saved you. Something's got into you. Oh, I do believe you're bewitched. Rupert, do you think you're bewitched? Because if you are, we know how to underwitch you. You're a very silly little girl, was all Rupert found to say. Not a bit of it, said Charlotte brightly. You only say that because you haven't got any sisters of your own, so of course you don't know. We've been as nice to you as ever we could be, and you're getting nastier and nastier. If you like to be nice, be nice. If you don't, I shall know it's not your fault, but because you're bewitched. And I shall pity but not despise you. So now you know. Rupert was twisting and untwisting the fringe tassel of a sofa cushion and looking at the floor. So you hate me now, I suppose, he said. No, I don't, but I hate the black dog. I thought you were splendid at first, and even now I think you're splendid inside, really. Only something's happened. It is like bewitchment, I do think. Couldn't you do anything to stop it? I'd help you, really, I would. I say I'm sorry if I've scratched too hard. You don't understand, said Rupert with what was plainly an effort. Sometimes I'm like this. I feel as if I was someone else. I can't explain. Now you can laugh if you like. I only thought I'd tell you. Don't tell the others. It's perfectly beastly. I suppose I could help it if I knew the way. Only I don't. Suppose you had a bath, suggested Charlotte. Aunt Emilyne says when children feel naughty, you should always wash their faces, and if it's true of children it must be true of bigger people. She added hastily, answering Rupert's frown. Because your face is made of the same sort of stuff, however old you are. That was part of it, said Rupert, when I saw the river today. Can you swim? I can. And I'd promised my father I'd never go into the water to swim unless there was some man there. And my father's in India, you know, he said unnecessarily. It was he who taught me to swim. He walked to the window and looked out. I thought I was going back to India with him, and then the doctors said some rotten rigmarole, and my father went without me. And I was all right again three months after, and I might as well have gone with him, only then it was too late. And then things began to happen that I never thought could, and nothing will ever be right again. Look here, said Charlotte. I'm frightfully sorry I scratched you, and about your father and you're not going. Look here, don't come with us this afternoon. You go down to Mr Penfolds. He's the clergyman. He said the other day he'd teach Charles to swim, so I know he can. If you go directly, he'll take you down to the river, and you can drown dull care in the medway. Do you think he'd mind? Mind? He'd love it, said Charlotte. Just go and say the three seas said I could swim, and I can too. I can't like that, said Rupert. But if you sent me with something, a book or anything, then I could bring in swimming in a natural sort of way, and see what he said. Say we said was there any more of the translated Latin what we could have? Will that do? You know Latin, so that will be all right. I say I hope they haven't gone without us. They're a most awful time. Look here, cut off to Mr Penfolds before they come back if you like. I shall just say you're gone. You just go. You're not a bad sort, said Rupert, thumping her on the back as he went out, but keeping his face carefully turned away. I think I will. Charlotte and Charles met in the doorway, and the meeting was rather violent for both were in a hurry. Charlotte, to find out what William had said and Charles to tell her. I am sorry to say that he had not been washing his hands, as indeed their colour plainly confessed, but helping William in the toilet of the horse. For Caroline had succeeded in persuading William that today was, for all practical purposes, the same as the other day, all the more readily, perhaps, because Mrs Wilmington had come out and said that she didn't think it was at all. And Caro had said she thought perhaps they'd better all wash, and not just Charles. And William said that he would drive them to Lord Andor's lodge gates, because he had to go down to the station to meet the master anyhow, and it was on the way, or next door to, but they'd have to walk back. And we've forgotten to decide what flowers to get, and Caro says bring up the book, so that she can look at them while you're washing your hands, because William says he must start in a quarter of an hour. Thus Charles ended breathlessly, adding, Where's Rupert? He's not coming with us. Get down Pope 1v, and I'll get the language of. And carrying the books, she went up the wide shallow stairs three at once. There was but little time to make a careful selection of the flowers most likely to influence a youthful peer. Charlotte was all for repeating flower for flower, the bouquet designed for suitors, which had been so successfully used in the case of Rupert and the uncle. But Caroline argued that what suited uncles might very well be the worst possible thing for lords who were no relations, and that it would be much better to start afresh with an entirely new floral selection. Look in the language of, then, while I wash, she said. Look for duty and justice and being kind to the poor. Charlotte flattered the pages obediently. Jealousy, jest, joy, justice, gladiolus and sweet-scented tussilage. What's tussilage? I don't know, said Caroline, soaping fervently. Try the medicine book. The medicine book admitted that tussilage was another name for tussilago farfara, or coltsfoot. Coltsfoot comes in February, said Caroline, and we don't know it when it's grown up. There's Rudd Beckier, justice, said Charlotte, hopefully, but the medicine book, when consulted, pretended not to know anything at all about Rudd Beckier, and thus the children knew nothing about it either, it was ruled out. There's justice shall be done, cornflower, said Charlotte, and the medicine book, after saying, see blue bottle, informed them that cornflowers, being naturally cold and dry, are under the dominion of satin, also that, taken with water of plantain, or the greater comfrey, is a remedy against the poison of the scorpion. That's all right, said Charlotte Gailey. It must be sharper than a scorpion's teeth to have a wicked landlord. Now, I'll look now, said Caroline, you wash quick. Caroline chose red Columbine because it meant anxious and trembling, and I'm sure we shall be that soon enough, she said. The medicine book confirmed her choice by assuring her that Columbine was an herb of venous, commonly used with good success for sore mouths and throats. Ours will be before we've done, she said. We shall have to explain to him a lot. The liver-worked polyanthus, though signifying confidence, was rejected as being too difficult to find most likely, but the daily rose, thy smile I aspire to, seemed the very thing, and it was agreed that lemon verbena, unexpected meeting, would be both scented and appropriate. And I've got a little straw, too, said Caroline. I got it while William was harnessing. It did so well with Uncle. And wisteria means welcome, fair stranger, so we'll have that. There was no time to look these up in the medicine book, except liver-work, and of this they had only to read that it is true that Miss Aldous and others, ye almost all astrological physicians, hold this to be an herb of Jupiter, but the truth is it is an herb of Mercury and a singular good herb for all sadness of spirit. When Charles came to say, Hurry up, or William will be off without us. Together the flowers will be but the work of a moment, said Caroline. You two go in the carriage, and I'll tell William to drive out by the deserted lodge and pick me up at the garden gate. Unfortunately the flowers were not easy to find. The gardener had to be consulted, and thus the gathering of Lord Andor's presentation bouquet was the work of about a quarter of an hour, so that William was waiting and very crossed indeed when Caroline came running out of the garden with the flowers, a mere bundle and no bouquet, as Charles told her, in her held-up skirt. No time now to drop people at lodge gates, he said, I'll set you down at the turning, and even that I didn't ought to do by rights, being late as it is, and I shall have to fan the horse along something cruel to get to the station in time as it is. So the splendour of driving up to the castle in the carriage was denied them, they could not even drive to the lodge, and all they got, after all Caroline's careful diplomatic treatment of William was, as she said, just a bit of a lift. It saves time though, said she, and times everything when you've got to be home by half-bust six. I do hope Lord Andor's in, don't you? I don't know, said Charles. I think it would be more noble if we had to sacrifice ourselves and go to London to see him. We should have to break open our money boxes. I've always wanted to do that. I do wish Rupert had been here. He could have made up something to say in Latin, and then Lord Andor would have had to pay attention. He'll have to in English, said Caroline quietly, if he's there. Oh, I do hope he is. The mineral woman is most likely crying all this time. She only stopped for a minute, I'm certain, to sort the bottles because of the man coming for them with the cart at three. Won't it be glorious going and telling her that it's all right, and she needn't go? But suppose it all isn't, and she need, said Charles gloomily. The spells have never failed us yet, said Caroline. I believe it's something to do with the garden, and our being the ancestors of Dame Eleanor, said Charlotte. Of course it'll be all right, Charles. Rupert didn't think so. Rupert doesn't know as much as we do when it isn't Latin, said Charlotte. We're going to teach Rupert a lot by and by. You see if we don't. All right, William, we're getting out as fast as we can, aren't we? For the carriage had stopped, and a voice from the box was urging them to look slippy. The carriage rolled away, leaving them at the corner with the big bouquet which Caroline had hastily arranged as they drove along. If we see him, you'll let me tell him, won't you? She said, because the mineral woman told about it to me. And the others agreed, though Charles pointed out that the mineral woman only told her because she happened to be there. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbitt. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 16 The Appeal to Caesar So far all had gone well with the project of calling on Lord Andor to tell him about his unfortunate tenant and the weak-ending admirers of her cottage. But at Lord Andor's lodge gate a check occurred. As the long gate clicked itself into place after they had passed through it, an elderly person in a black cap with violet ribbons put her head out of the lodge window and said, No, you don't. Yes, we do. Said Charlotte unguardedly. No village children allowed in, said the blackened violet cap. We aren't, said Charles. And then the cap disappeared, only to reappear a moment later at the lodge door on the head of a very angry old lady with a very sharp long nose, who might have been Mrs. Wilmington's grandmother. Out you go the way you came, she said. That's the order. What do you want, anyhow? We've got a bouquet for Lord Andor, said Caroline, showing it. Keep it till the fifteenth, said the woman, a silly thing to say for no bouquet will keep a fortnight. No village people admitted till the goller and fate when his lordship comes of age. You can come then. Out you go. I've no patience, she added, and it was quite plain that she had not. They had to go back. I wish I could conceal from you that Charles put out his tongue at her as he passed. It is a dreadful thing to have to relate, and my only comfort is that Caroline and Charlotte did not do it. Charlotte made a face, but Caroline behaved beautifully. Only when they were out in the road again, it was Caroline who said almost between her set teeth, as heroes do in moments of crisis. You know that broken pailing we passed? The others instantly understood. They went back, found the broken pailing, and slipped through. It was Caroline's dress that was really badly torn. Charlotte's was only gathers, which you can tuck into your waistband, and it only makes a lump and the skirt rather uneven lengths, and it was not the fence but a nail that tore Charles's stocking so badly. The shrubbery in which they found themselves was very thorny and under-growthy, and nearer to the lodge than they would have chosen. They could see its white walls quite plainly every now and then, and they feared that it, or the managing director of it, might be able to see them. But it makes all the difference whether you are looking for a thing or not, doesn't it? And certainly the last thing the cap woman expected was that anyone should dare to defy her. So, undiscovered and unsuspected, the children crept through the undergrowth. The thorns and briars scratched at the blue muslins, no longer anyhow in their first freshness, and Charlotte's white hat was snatched from her head by a stout chestnut stump. The bouquet, never the handsomest of its kind, was not improved by its travels. But misfortunes such as these occur to all tropical explorers, and they pressed on. They were all very warm and rather dirty when they emerged from the undergrowth into the smooth, spacious park, and beyond a belt of quiet trees, saw the pale gray towers of the castle rise against the sky. They looked back. The lodge was not to be seen. So that's all right, said Caroline. Now we must walk fast and yet not look as if we were hurrying. I think it does that best if you take very long steps. I wish we knew where the front door was. It would be awful if we went to the back one by mistake and got turned back by Lord Andor's murmidance. I expect his back door is grander than our front, said Charlotte. So we shan't really know till the murmur what's its names have gone for us. If we'd had time to disguise ourselves like grown-ups, sure, for goodness sake, tear that strip off your hat. It looks like a petticoat's tape that's coming down, said Caroline. They'd have thought we'd come to call with cards, and then they'd have had to show us in unless he wasn't at home. He must be at home, said Charlotte, tearing along streamer from the wretched hat, which now looks less like a hat than a fading flower that has been sat on. It would be too much if he wasn't. They passed through the trees and onto a very yellow gravel drive, hot and gritty to the foot and distressing to the eye. Following this, they came suddenly round a corner on the castle. It was much bigger than they expected, and there seemed to be no doubt which was the front entrance. Two tall grey towers held a big arched gateway between them, and the drive led straight into this. There seemed to be no doorbell and no knocker, nor as far as they could see any door. I feel like Jack the Giant Killer, said Charles, only there isn't a trumpet to blow. His voice, though he spoke almost in a whisper, sounded loud and hollow under the echoing arch of the gateway. Beyond its cool depths was sunshine, with grass and pink geraniums overflowing from stone vases. A fountain in the middle leapt and sank and plashed in a stone basin. There was a door at the other side of the courtyard, an arched door with steps leading up to it. On the steps stood a footman. He's exactly like the one in Alice, said Caroline, courage and dispatch. The footman looked curiously at the three children, hot, dusty and untidy, who advanced through the trim parterre. His glance dwelt more especially on the battered bouquet, on Charlotte's unspeakable hat, and the riven stocking of Charles. If you please, said Caroline, her heart beating heavily, we want to see Lord Andor. S'lord ship's not at home, said the footman, looking down upon them. When will he be back? Charlotte asked, while Caroline suddenly wished that they had at least brought their gloves. Called so, I'm sure, said the footman, doing something to his teeth with a pin, and his tone was wondrous like Mrs. Wilmington's. We want very much to see him, said Charles. You see, we've brought him a bouquet. I see you have, have, said the footman, more like Mrs. Wilmington than ever. Would you like to leave it? It'll be a surprise for his lordship when he comes in. And the footman titted. He is here, then, said Caroline. I mean, he's not in London. His lordship is not in London, said the footman. Any other questions? Always happy to say me catechism, sure. The children turned to go. They felt the need of a private consultation. Any particular name? said the footman, and titted again. Lordship will be daying to know who it was called. And once more he titted. Charlotte turned suddenly and swiftly. You need not trouble about our names, she said. And I don't believe Lord Andor knows how you behave when he's not there. He doesn't know yet, that is. No offense, miss, said the footman, very quickly. We accept your apology, said Charlotte. And we shall wait till Lord Andor comes in. But I say, look here you know. The footman came down one step in his earnestness. You can't wait here, you know. Oh yes, we can, said Caroline, sitting down on the second step. The others also sat down. It was Charles who said, south there. And Caroline had to nudge him and say, hush. He never called before at a house where they didn't ask you in and give you a chair to sit on. But if this is that kind of house, said Charlotte grandly. It does not matter. It is a fine day, luckily. Look here, said the footman behind them, now thoroughly uneasy. This won't do, you know. There's company expected. I can't have a lot of ragged children sitting on the steps like the first of me. I'm sorry, said Charlotte, without turning her head. But if you haven't any rooms fit to ask us into, I'm afraid you'll have to have us sitting here. The three sat staring at the bright garden and the dancing fountain. Look here, said the footman, weakly blustering. This is cheek. That's what this is. But you go now. Do you hear? Or must I make you? We hear, said Caroline, speaking as calmly as one can speak, when one is almost choking with mingled rage, disappointment, fear, and uncertainty. Why, you, to lay a finger on your master's visitors, said Charlotte. How do you know who we are? We haven't given you our names. The footman must have felt a sudden doubt. He hesitated a moment, and then muttering something about seeing Mr. Chekels, he retired, leaving the children in possession of the field. And there they sat, in a row, on Lord Andor's steps, with the bouquet laid carefully on the step above them. It was very silent there in the grey-walled courtyard. I say, whispered Charles, let's go. We've got the better of him, anyhow. Let's do a bunk before he comes back with someone we can't get the better of. Thousands of stately butlers, perhaps. Never, said Charlotte, whose hands were cold and trembling with excitement. But Caroline said, I wish Mr. Chekels might turn out to be a gentleman, the everyday kind that we know. Lord Servants seem more common than other peoples, and I expect the Lord something like them. They say like master, like man. As if in answer to Caroline's wish, a door in the wall opened, showing a glimpse of more garden beyond, and a jolly-faced youth came towards them. He was a very big young man, and his clothes, which were of dust-coloured Harris Tweed, were very loose. He looked like a sixth-form boy, and Charles at once felt that here was a man and a brother. So he got up and went towards the newcomer with the simple greeting, Hello. Hello? said the sixth-form boy with a friendly and cheerful grin. I say, said Charles confidentially, as he and the big boy met on the grass. There isn't really any reason why we shouldn't wait here if we want to. None in the world, said the big boy, if you're sure that what you're waiting for is likely to come, and that this is the best place to wait for it in. We're waiting for Lord Andor, said Caroline, who had picked up the bouquet and advanced with it. I'm so glad you've come, because we don't understand Englishmen Servants. In India they behave differently when you call. What of the Servants he had done? The youth asked, frowning with his hands in his pockets. Oh, nothing, said Charles in a hurry. At least, I mean, we accepted his apology, so we can't sneak. I wouldn't call it sneaking to tell you, said Caroline confidingly, because, of course, you'd promise on your honour not to tell Lord Andor. We don't want to get other people's servants into trouble when we've accepted their apologies, but the Footman was rather— At this moment the Footman himself appeared at the top of the steps, with an elderly, whiskered man in black, whom the children rightly judged to be the butler. The two had come hastily out of the door, but when they saw the children and their companion, the Footman stopped, as if, as Charles said later, he had been turned to stone, and only the butler advanced, when the youth in the Harris Tweed said rather shortly, Come here, Czechels. Czechels came quickly enough, and when he was quite close, he astonished the three seas much more than he will astonish you, by saying, Yes, my lord. Tea on the terrace at once, said the Harris Tweed-ed one, and tell them not to be all day about it. Czechels went, and the Footman too. Charlotte always believed that the last glance he cast at her was not one of defiance, but of petition. So you're him, Charles was saying, how jolly! But to Caroline it seemed that there was no time to waste in personalities, however flattering. Lord Andor's tea was imminent. He was most likely in a hurry for his tea. It was past most people's tea-time already, so she suddenly held out the flowers and said, Here's a bouquet. We made it for you. Will you please take it? That's awfully good of you now, said Lord Andor. Thanks, no end! He took the bouquet and smelt it, plunged his nose into the midst of the Columbine, roses, cornflowers, lemon-vibina, wisteria, gladiolus, and straw. It's not a very nice one, I'm afraid, said Caroline, but you can't choose the nicest flowers when you have to look them out in two books at once. It means welcome, fair stranger, an unexpected meeting. We are anxious and trembling, confidence. No, we left that out because we hadn't any, and agreement, because we hope you will. How awfully interesting! It was kind of you, said Lord Andor, and before he could say any more, Charlotte hastened to say, You see, it's not just an ordinary nose-gate, please, and don't thank us, please, because it wasn't to please you, but to serve our own ends, though, of course, if we'd know how nice you are, and if we'd thought you'd care about one we would have in a minute. I see, said Lord Andor, quite as if he really had seen. I'm sure you don't, said Caroline. Don't be polite, please, say if you don't understand. What we want is justice. It's one of your tenants that had the cottage in your father's time before you, and they're turning her out, because there are some weekendy people think the cottage is so pretty, with the flowers she planted and the arbor her father made, and the roses that came from her mother's brother in Cambridgeshire, and she said you didn't know, and we decided you ought to know. So we made you the nose-gate, and we came, and we ought to go. And here's her name and address on a bit of paper, and I'm sorry it's only pencil, and you will see justice done, won't you? It's very kind of you, said Lord Andor slowly, to take so much interest in my tenants. There, said Charlotte, of course we were afraid you'd say that, but we didn't mean to shove our oar in. We just went in the ginger beer and carried find her crying, and there's a hornbeam arbor ever so old, and the fuschialings that we can't make any difference to you with a lovely castle like this to live in, and the motto on the tombs of your ancestors is flat justice here, and it's only bad justice we want, and we saw the tomb on Sunday in church with the sons and daughters in roughs. Stop! said Lord Andor. I am only a poor wheat chap. I need my tea. Come and have some, too, and I'll try to make out what it's all about. Thanks awfully, said the three Cs, speaking altogether, and Caroline added. We mustn't belong over tea, please, because we've got to get home by half-bossed six, and it must be nearly that now. You shall get back at half-boss six all right, said Lord Andor, and led the way, a huge figure in the dust-coloured clothes, through the little door by which he had come, onto a pleasant stone terrace, with roses growing all over and in and out and round about its fat old balustrades. Here's tea, he said, and there it was, set on a fair-sized table with a white cloth. A tea worth waiting for, honey and jam and all sorts of cakes and peaches and strawberries. The footman was hovering about, but Charles was the only one who seemed to see him. It was bliss to Charles to see this proud enemy, humbly bearing an urn and lighting a spirit lamp, to make the tea of those whom he had tried to drive from even the lowly hospitality of Lord Andor's doorstep. Come on, said the big sixth-form-looking boy who was Lord Andor, you must be starved. Cake first, and bread and butter afterwards, if you insist upon it, is the rule here? Milk and sugar? They all drank tea much too strong for them, out of respect to their host, who had forgotten that when he was a little boy, milk was what one had at tea-time. And slowly, by careful questioning, and by making a sudden rule that no one was to say more than thirty-seven words without stopping, Lord Andor got at the whole story in a form which he could understand. I see, he would say, and I see, and then ask another question. And at last, when tea was really over to the last gladly-accepted peach, and the last sadly-unaccepted strawberry, he stood up and said, If you don't mind my saying so, I think you are regular little bricks to have taken all this trouble, and I am really and truly very much obliged, because I do mean to be just and right to my tenants, and yet it's very difficult to know about things if nobody tells you, and you've helped me a lot, and I thank you very much. Then you will, said Charlotte breathlessly. Not let her be turned out of her cottage, she means, Caroline explained. She means the mineral woman, said Charles. Of course I won't, said Lord Andor. I mean, of course I will. I mean, it's all right, and I'll drive you home, and if you're a minute or two late, I'll make it all right with Uncle. The motor was waiting outside the great arch that is held between the two great towers of Andor Castle. It was a dream of a car, and there was room for the three seeds in front beside the driver who was Lord Andor himself. The footman was there, and the proudest moment of the day for Charles was that in which Lord Andor gave the petition bouquet into that footman's care, and told him to see that it was put in water. Carefully mined, and tell them to put it on the dinner table tonight. The footman said, yes, my lord, as though he had never seen the bouquet before. Charlotte's proudest moment was when the woman at the lodge gate had to curtsy when the motor passed out. Rupert was waiting for them at their own lodge gate, and when he saw the motor, his eyes grew quite round like pennies. Oh, do stop, it's Rupert, said the three seas, and Rupert was bundled into the body of the car, where he travelled in lonely splendour. Yet even after that, and when the motor had gone away, and the three seas had told him all their adventures, and the splendid success of their magic nose-gay, Rupert only said, it's chance, I tell you. It's just accidental. Co, what's its name? Incidents. It would all have happened just the same if you hadn't taken that hideous old mixed assorted haystack with you. Still disagreeable, said Charlotte brightly. Oh, being all the same, would it, said Charles, that's all you know. It's not all I know, said Rupert, as it happens I know heaps of things that you don't, and I could find out more if I wanted to, so there. Oh, Rupert, don't be cross, said Caroline, just when we're all so happy. I do wish you'd been there, especially at tea time. I'm not cross, said Rupert, as it happens I was feeling extra jolly until you came home. Oh, don't, said Caroline, do let's call it packs. We haven't told you half the little interesting things that happened yet, and if you can't believe in the magic, it's your misfortune. We know you can't help it. We know you don't unbelieve on purpose. We know we're right, and you think you know you are. It's the other way round, said Rupert, still deep in gloom. I know it is when you think it, and when we think it, it's the other way, said Caroline. Oh, packs, packs, packs. All right, said Rupert, I had a good swim. You're Mr Penfold's not half a bad sort. He taught me a new side-stroke. But it was plain that Rupert's inside self still felt cloudy and far from comfortable. Next day the three seas and Rupert in the middle of Irish stew were surprised by the sudden rustling entrance of Mrs Wilmington. A person wishes to see you, she said to Caroline. Great, poor person. I asked her to wait till dinner was completed, but she says that she hopes you will see her now, as she ought to commence going home almost at once. Of course, said Caroline, it must be the mineral woman. She seemed to me, said Mrs Wilmington, to have an animal face. But Caroline was already in the hall, and the figure that rose politely from the oak chair was plainly, though disguised in her Sunday clothes, that of the mineral woman. Oh, Miss! she said. Oh, Miss! she took hold of both Caroline's hands and shook them, but that was not enough. Caroline found herself kissed on both cheeks, and then suddenly hugged, and— Oh, Miss! the mineral woman said. Oh, Miss! And then she felt for her handkerchief in a black bag she carried, and blew her nose loudly. Mrs Wilmington had gone through the hall very slowly indeed, but even she could not go slowly enough not to be gone by the time the mineral woman had, for the time being, finished with her nose. And as Mrs Wilmington went through the bay's door, she heard again, Oh, Miss! Mrs Wilmington came back five minutes later, and this time she heard, and it's all right, Miss, and two bright new five-pound notes to buy more rose-trees with, and a letter in his own right of hand thanking us for making the place so pretty, and I'm to be tenant for life, Miss, and it's all your doing, blessed your kind heart. So I came to tell you, I never thought I should feel like I do about any strange little girl. It was all your doing, Miss, my dear. Which was a very mysterious and exciting thing to be overheard by any housekeeper who was not in this secret, and a very heartwarming and pleasant thing to be listened to by a little girl who was. You see, said Caroline, when she had told the others of the mineral woman's happiness, the magic always works. End of chapter 16.