THE STORY OF THE TREASURE SEEKERS

by E. Nesbit

Being the adventures of the Bastable children in search of a fortune

TO OSWALD BARRON Without whom this book could never have been written

The Treasure Seekers is dedicated in memory of childhoods identical butfor the accidents of time and space

CONTENTS

 1. The Council of Ways and Means 2. Digging for Treasure 3. Being Detectives 4. Good Hunting 5. The Poet and the Editor 6. Noel's Princess 7. Being Bandits 8. Being Editors 9. The G. B. 10. Lord Tottenham 11. Castilian Amoroso 12. The Nobleness of Oswald 13. The Robber and the Burglar 14. The Divining-rod 15. 'Lo, the Poor Indian!' 16. The End of the Treasure-seeking

CHAPTER 1. THE COUNCIL OF WAYS AND MEANS

This is the story of the different ways we looked for treasure, and Ithink when you have read it you will see that we were not lazy about thelooking. 

There are some things I must tell before I begin to tell about thetreasure-seeking, because I have read books myself, and I know howbeastly it is when a story begins, "'Alas!" said Hildegarde with a deepsigh, "we must look our last on this ancestral home"'--and then some oneelse says something--and you don't know for pages and pages where thehome is, or who Hildegarde is, or anything about it. Our ancestral homeis in the Lewisham Road. It is semi-detached and has a garden, not alarge one. We are the Bastables. There are six of us besides Father. OurMother is dead, and if you think we don't care because I don't tell youmuch about her you only show that you do not understand people at all. Dora is the eldest. Then Oswald--and then Dicky. Oswald won the Latinprize at his preparatory school--and Dicky is good at sums. Aliceand Noel are twins: they are ten, and Horace Octavius is my youngestbrother. It is one of us that tells this story--but I shall not tell youwhich: only at the very end perhaps I will. While the story is goingon you may be trying to guess, only I bet you don't. It was Oswaldwho first thought of looking for treasure. Oswald often thinks of veryinteresting things. And directly he thought of it he did not keep itto himself, as some boys would have done, but he told the others, andsaid--

'I'll tell you what, we must go and seek for treasure: it is always whatyou do to restore the fallen fortunes of your House. '

Dora said it was all very well. She often says that. She was trying tomend a large hole in one of Noel's stockings. He tore it on a nail whenwe were playing shipwrecked mariners on top of the chicken-house the dayH. O. Fell off and cut his chin: he has the scar still. Dora is the onlyone of us who ever tries to mend anything. Alice tries to make thingssometimes. Once she knitted a red scarf for Noel because his chestis delicate, but it was much wider at one end than the other, and hewouldn't wear it. So we used it as a pennon, and it did very well, because most of our things are black or grey since Mother died; andscarlet was a nice change. Father does not like you to ask for newthings. That was one way we had of knowing that the fortunes of theancient House of Bastable were really fallen. Another way was that therewas no more pocket-money--except a penny now and then to the littleones, and people did not come to dinner any more, like they used to, with pretty dresses, driving up in cabs--and the carpets got holes inthem--and when the legs came off things they were not sent to be mended, and we gave _up_ having the gardener except for the front garden, andnot that very often. And the silver in the big oak plate-chest that islined with green baize all went away to the shop to have the dentsand scratches taken out of it, and it never came back. We think Fatherhadn't enough money to pay the silver man for taking out the dents andscratches. The new spoons and forks were yellowy-white, and not so heavyas the old ones, and they never shone after the first day or two. 

Father was very ill after Mother died; and while he was ill hisbusiness-partner went to Spain--and there was never much moneyafterwards. I don't know why. Then the servants left and there was onlyone, a General. A great deal of your comfort and happiness depends onhaving a good General. The last but one was nice: she used to make jollygood currant puddings for us, and let us have the dish on the floorand pretend it was a wild boar we were killing with our forks. But theGeneral we have now nearly always makes sago puddings, and they arethe watery kind, and you cannot pretend anything with them, not evenislands, like you do with porridge. 

Then we left off going to school, and Father said we should go to a goodschool as soon as he could manage it. He said a holiday would do us allgood. We thought he was right, but we wished he had told us he couldn'tafford it. For of course we knew. 

Then a great many people used to come to the door with envelopes withno stamps on them, and sometimes they got very angry, and said theywere calling for the last time before putting it in other hands. I askedEliza what that meant, and she kindly explained to me, and I was sosorry for Father. 

And once a long, blue paper came; a policeman brought it, and we wereso frightened. But Father said it was all right, only when he went upto kiss the girls after they were in bed they said he had been crying, though I'm sure that's not true. Because only cowards and snivellerscry, and my Father is the bravest man in the world. 

So you see it was time we looked for treasure and Oswald said so, andDora said it was all very well. But the others agreed with Oswald. So weheld a council. Dora was in the chair--the big dining-room chair, thatwe let the fireworks off from, the Fifth of November when we had themeasles and couldn't do it in the garden. The hole has never beenmended, so now we have that chair in the nursery, and I think it wascheap at the blowing-up we boys got when the hole was burnt. 

'We must do something, ' said Alice, 'because the exchequer is empty. 'She rattled the money-box as she spoke, and it really did rattle becausewe always keep the bad sixpence in it for luck. 

'Yes--but what shall we do?' said Dicky. 'It's so jolly easy to saylet's do _something_. ' Dicky always wants everything settled exactly. Father calls him the Definite Article. 

'Let's read all the books again. We shall get lots of ideas out ofthem. ' It was Noel who suggested this, but we made him shut up, becausewe knew well enough he only wanted to get back to his old books. Noelis a poet. He sold some of his poetry once--and it was printed, but thatdoes not come in this part of the story. 

Then Dicky said, 'Look here. We'll be quite quiet for ten minutes bythe clock--and each think of some way to find treasure. And when we'vethought we'll try all the ways one after the other, beginning with theeldest. '

'I shan't be able to think in ten minutes, make it half an hour, ' saidH. O. His real name is Horace Octavius, but we call him H. O. Because ofthe advertisement, and it's not so very long ago he was afraid to passthe hoarding where it says 'Eat H. O. ' in big letters. He says it waswhen he was a little boy, but I remember last Christmas but one, he wokein the middle of the night crying and howling, and they said it was thepudding. But he told me afterwards he had been dreaming that they really_had_ come to eat H. O. , and it couldn't have been the pudding, when youcome to think of it, because it was so very plain. 

Well, we made it half an hour--and we all sat quiet, and thought andthought. And I made up my mind before two minutes were over, and Isaw the others had, all but Dora, who is always an awful time overeverything. I got pins and needles in my leg from sitting still so long, and when it was seven minutes H. O. Cried out--'Oh, it must be more thanhalf an hour!'

H. O. Is eight years old, but he cannot tell the clock yet. Oswald couldtell the clock when he was six. 

We all stretched ourselves and began to speak at once, but Dora put upher hands to her ears and said--

'One at a time, please. We aren't playing Babel. ' (It is a very goodgame. Did you ever play it?)

So Dora made us all sit in a row on the floor, in ages, and then shepointed at us with the finger that had the brass thimble on. Her silverone got lost when the last General but two went away. We think she musthave forgotten it was Dora's and put it in her box by mistake. She was avery forgetful girl. She used to forget what she had spent money on, sothat the change was never quite right. 

Oswald spoke first. 'I think we might stop people on Blackheath--withcrape masks and horse-pistols--and say "Your money or your life!Resistance is useless, we are armed to the teeth"--like Dick Turpinand Claude Duval. It wouldn't matter about not having horses, becausecoaches have gone out too. '

Dora screwed up her nose the way she always does when she is going totalk like the good elder sister in books, and said, 'That would bevery wrong: it's like pickpocketing or taking pennies out of Father'sgreat-coat when it's hanging in the hall. '

I must say I don't think she need have said that, especially before thelittle ones--for it was when I was only four. 

But Oswald was not going to let her see he cared, so he said--

'Oh, very well. I can think of lots of other ways. We could rescue anold gentleman from deadly Highwaymen. '

'There aren't any, ' said Dora. 

'Oh, well, it's all the same--from deadly peril, then. There's plentyof that. Then he would turn out to be the Prince of Wales, and he wouldsay, "My noble, my cherished preserver! Here is a million pounds a year. Rise up, Sir Oswald Bastable. "'

But the others did not seem to think so, and it was Alice's turn to say. 

She said, 'I think we might try the divining-rod. I'm sure I could doit. I've often read about it. You hold a stick in your hands, and whenyou come to where there is gold underneath the stick kicks about. So youknow. And you dig. '

'Oh, ' said Dora suddenly, 'I have an idea. But I'll say last. I hope thedivining-rod isn't wrong. I believe it's wrong in the Bible. '

'So is eating pork and ducks, ' said Dicky. 'You can't go by that. '

'Anyhow, we'll try the other ways first, ' said Dora. 'Now, H. O. '

'Let's be Bandits, ' said H. O. 'I dare say it's wrong but it would befun pretending. '

'I'm sure it's wrong, ' said Dora. 

And Dicky said she thought everything wrong. She said she didn't, andDicky was very disagreeable. So Oswald had to make peace, and he said--

'Dora needn't play if she doesn't want to. Nobody asked her. And, Dicky, don't be an idiot: do dry up and let's hear what Noel's idea is. '

Dora and Dicky did not look pleased, but I kicked Noel under the tableto make him hurry up, and then he said he didn't think he wanted toplay any more. That's the worst of it. The others are so jolly ready toquarrel. I told Noel to be a man and not a snivelling pig, and at lasthe said he had not made up his mind whether he would print his poetry ina book and sell it, or find a princess and marry her. 

'Whichever it is, ' he added, 'none of you shall want for anything, though Oswald did kick me, and say I was a snivelling pig. '

'I didn't, ' said Oswald, 'I told you not to be. ' And Alice explained tohim that that was quite the opposite of what he thought. So he agreed todrop it. 

Then Dicky spoke. 

'You must all of you have noticed the advertisements in the papers, telling you that ladies and gentlemen can easily earn two pounds aweek in their spare time, and to send two shillings for sample andinstructions, carefully packed free from observation. Now that we don'tgo to school all our time is spare time. So I should think we couldeasily earn twenty pounds a week each. That would do us very well. We'lltry some of the other things first, and directly we have any money we'llsend for the sample and instructions. And I have another idea, but Imust think about it before I say. '

We all said, 'Out with it--what's the other idea?'

But Dicky said, 'No. ' That is Dicky all over. He never will show youanything he's making till it's quite finished, and the same with hisinmost thoughts. But he is pleased if you seem to want to know, soOswald said--

'Keep your silly old secret, then. Now, Dora, drive ahead. We've allsaid except you. '

Then Dora jumped up and dropped the stocking and the thimble (it rolledaway, and we did not find it for days), and said--

'Let's try my way _now_. Besides, I'm the eldest, so it's only fair. Let's dig for treasure. Not any tiresome divining-rod--but just plaindigging. People who dig for treasure always find it. And then we shallbe rich and we needn't try your ways at all. Some of them are ratherdifficult: and I'm certain some of them are wrong--and we must alwaysremember that wrong things--'

But we told her to shut up and come on, and she did. 

I couldn't help wondering as we went down to the garden, why Fatherhad never thought of digging there for treasure instead of going to hisbeastly office every day. 

CHAPTER 2. DIGGING FOR TREASURE

I am afraid the last chapter was rather dull. It is always dull in bookswhen people talk and talk, and don't do anything, but I was obliged toput it in, or else you wouldn't have understood all the rest. The bestpart of books is when things are happening. That is the best part ofreal things too. This is why I shall not tell you in this story aboutall the days when nothing happened. You will not catch me saying, 'thusthe sad days passed slowly by'--or 'the years rolled on their wearycourse'--or 'time went on'--because it is silly; of course time goeson--whether you say so or not. So I shall just tell you the nice, interesting parts--and in between you will understand that we had ourmeals and got up and went to bed, and dull things like that. It would besickening to write all that down, though of course it happens. I saidso to Albert-next-door's uncle, who writes books, and he said, 'Quiteright, that's what we call selection, a necessity of true art. ' And heis very clever indeed. So you see. 

I have often thought that if the people who write books for childrenknew a little more it would be better. I shall not tell you anythingabout us except what I should like to know about if I was reading thestory and you were writing it. Albert's uncle says I ought to have putthis in the preface, but I never read prefaces, and it is not much goodwriting things just for people to skip. I wonder other authors havenever thought of this. 

Well, when we had agreed to dig for treasure we all went down into thecellar and lighted the gas. Oswald would have liked to dig there, butit is stone flags. We looked among the old boxes and broken chairs andfenders and empty bottles and things, and at last we found the spades wehad to dig in the sand with when we went to the seaside three years ago. They are not silly, babyish, wooden spades, that split if you look atthem, but good iron, with a blue mark across the top of the iron part, and yellow wooden handles. We wasted a little time getting them dusted, because the girls wouldn't dig with spades that had cobwebs on them. Girls would never do for African explorers or anything like that, theyare too beastly particular. 

It was no use doing the thing by halves. We marked out a sort of squarein the mouldy part of the garden, about three yards across, and beganto dig. But we found nothing except worms and stones--and the ground wasvery hard. 

So we thought we'd try another part of the garden, and we found aplace in the big round flower bed, where the ground was much softer. Wethought we'd make a smaller hole to begin with, and it was much better. We dug and dug and dug, and it was jolly hard work! We got very hotdigging, but we found nothing. 

Presently Albert-next-door looked over the wall. We do not like him verymuch, but we let him play with us sometimes, because his father is dead, and you must not be unkind to orphans, even if their mothers arealive. Albert is always very tidy. He wears frilly collars and velvetknickerbockers. I can't think how he can bear to. 

So we said, 'Hallo!'

And he said, 'What are you up to?'

'We're digging for treasure, ' said Alice; 'an ancient parchment revealedto us the place of concealment. Come over and help us. When we havedug deep enough we shall find a great pot of red clay, full of gold andprecious jewels. '

Albert-next-door only sniggered and said, 'What silly nonsense!' Hecannot play properly at all. It is very strange, because he has a verynice uncle. You see, Albert-next-door doesn't care for reading, and hehas not read nearly so many books as we have, so he is very foolish andignorant, but it cannot be helped, and you just have to put up with itwhen you want him to do anything. Besides, it is wrong to be angry withpeople for not being so clever as you are yourself. It is not alwaystheir faults. 

So Oswald said, 'Come and dig! Then you shall share the treasure whenwe've found it. '

But he said, 'I shan't--I don't like digging--and I'm just going in tomy tea. '

'Come along and dig, there's a good boy, ' Alice said. 'You can use myspade. It's much the best--'

So he came along and dug, and when once he was over the wall we kept himat it, and we worked as well, of course, and the hole got deep. Pincherworked too--he is our dog and he is very good at digging. He digs forrats in the dustbin sometimes, and gets very dirty. But we love our dog, even when his face wants washing. 

'I expect we shall have to make a tunnel, ' Oswald said, 'to reach therich treasure. ' So he jumped into the hole and began to dig at one side. After that we took it in turns to dig at the tunnel, and Pincher wasmost useful in scraping the earth out of the tunnel--he does it withhis back feet when you say 'Rats!' and he digs with his front ones, andburrows with his nose as well. 

At last the tunnel was nearly a yard long, and big enough to creepalong to find the treasure, if only it had been a bit longer. Now it wasAlbert's turn to go in and dig, but he funked it. 

'Take your turn like a man, ' said Oswald--nobody can say that Oswalddoesn't take his turn like a man. But Albert wouldn't. So we had to makehim, because it was only fair. 

'It's quite easy, ' Alice said. 'You just crawl in and dig with yourhands. Then when you come out we can scrape out what you've done, withthe spades. Come--be a man. You won't notice it being dark in the tunnelif you shut your eyes tight. We've all been in except Dora--and shedoesn't like worms. '

'I don't like worms neither. ' Albert-next-door said this; but weremembered how he had picked a fat red and black worm up in his fingersand thrown it at Dora only the day before. So we put him in. 

But he would not go in head first, the proper way, and dig with hishands as we had done, and though Oswald was angry at the time, for hehates snivellers, yet afterwards he owned that perhaps it was justas well. You should never be afraid to own that perhaps you weremistaken--but it is cowardly to do it unless you are quite sure you arein the wrong. 

'Let me go in feet first, ' said Albert-next-door. 'I'll dig with myboots--I will truly, honour bright. '

So we let him get in feet first--and he did it very slowly and at lasthe was in, and only his head sticking out into the hole; and all therest of him in the tunnel. 

'Now dig with your boots, ' said Oswald; 'and, Alice, do catch hold ofPincher, he'll be digging again in another minute, and perhaps it wouldbe uncomfortable for Albert if Pincher threw the mould into his eyes. '

You should always try to think of these little things. Thinking of otherpeople's comfort makes them like you. Alice held Pincher, and we allshouted, 'Kick! dig with your feet, for all you're worth!'

So Albert-next-door began to dig with his feet, and we stood on theground over him, waiting--and all in a minute the ground gave way, andwe tumbled together in a heap: and when we got up there was a littleshallow hollow where we had been standing, and Albert-next-door wasunderneath, stuck quite fast, because the roof of the tunnel had tumbledin on him. He is a horribly unlucky boy to have anything to do with. 

It was dreadful the way he cried and screamed, though he had to own itdidn't hurt, only it was rather heavy and he couldn't move his legs. Wewould have dug him out all right enough, in time, but he screamed so wewere afraid the police would come, so Dicky climbed over the wall, totell the cook there to tell Albert-next-door's uncle he had been buriedby mistake, and to come and help dig him out. 

Dicky was a long time gone. We wondered what had become of him, and allthe while the screaming went on and on, for we had taken the loose earthoff Albert's face so that he could scream quite easily and comfortably. 

Presently Dicky came back and Albert-next-door's uncle came with him. Hehas very long legs, and his hair is light and his face is brown. He hasbeen to sea, but now he writes books. I like him. 

He told his nephew to stow it, so Albert did, and then he asked him ifhe was hurt--and Albert had to say he wasn't, for though he is a coward, and very unlucky, he is not a liar like some boys are. 

'This promises to be a protracted if agreeable task, ' saidAlbert-next-door's uncle, rubbing his hands and looking at the hole withAlbert's head in it. 'I will get another spade, ' so he fetched the bigspade out of the next-door garden tool-shed, and began to dig his nephewout. 

'Mind you keep very still, ' he said, 'or I might chunk a bit out of youwith the spade. ' Then after a while he said--

'I confess that I am not absolutely insensible to the dramatic interestof the situation. My curiosity is excited. I own that I should like toknow how my nephew happened to be buried. But don't tell me if you'drather not. I suppose no force was used?'

'Only moral force, ' said Alice. They used to talk a lot about moralforce at the High School where she went, and in case you don't know whatit means I'll tell you that it is making people do what they don't wantto, just by slanging them, or laughing at them, or promising them thingsif they're good. 

'Only moral force, eh?' said Albert-next-door's uncle. 'Well?'

'Well, ' Dora said, 'I'm very sorry it happened to Albert--I'd rather ithad been one of us. It would have been my turn to go into the tunnel, only I don't like worms, so they let me off. You see we were digging fortreasure. '

'Yes, ' said Alice, 'and I think we were just coming to the undergroundpassage that leads to the secret hoard, when the tunnel fell in onAlbert. He _is_ so unlucky, ' and she sighed. 

Then Albert-next-door began to scream again, and his uncle wiped hisface--his own face, not Albert's--with his silk handkerchief, and thenhe put it in his trousers pocket. It seems a strange place to put ahandkerchief, but he had his coat and waistcoat off and I suppose hewanted the handkerchief handy. Digging is warm work. 

He told Albert-next-door to drop it, or he wouldn't proceed furtherin the matter, so Albert stopped screaming, and presently his unclefinished digging him out. Albert did look so funny, with his hair alldusty and his velvet suit covered with mould and his face muddy withearth and crying. 

We all said how sorry we were, but he wouldn't say a word back to us. Hewas most awfully sick to think he'd been the one buried, when it mightjust as well have been one of us. I felt myself that it was hard lines. 

'So you were digging for treasure, ' said Albert-next-door's uncle, wiping his face again with his handkerchief. 'Well, I fear that yourchances of success are small. I have made a careful study of the wholesubject. What I don't know about buried treasure is not worth knowing. And I never knew more than one coin buried in any one garden--and thatis generally--Hullo--what's that?'

He pointed to something shining in the hole he had just dragged Albertout of. Oswald picked it up. It was a half-crown. We looked at eachother, speechless with surprise and delight, like in books. 

'Well, that's lucky, at all events, ' said Albert-next-door's uncle. 

'Let's see, that's fivepence each for you. '

'It's fourpence--something; I can't do fractions, ' said Dicky; 'thereare seven of us, you see. '

'Oh, you count Albert as one of yourselves on this occasion, eh?'

'Of course, ' said Alice; 'and I say, he was buried after all. Whyshouldn't we let him have the odd somethings, and we'll have fourpenceeach. '

We all agreed to do this, and told Albert-next-door we would bring hisshare as soon as we could get the half-crown changed. He cheered up alittle at that, and his uncle wiped his face again--he did look hot--andbegan to put on his coat and waistcoat. 

When he had done it he stooped and picked up something. He held it up, and you will hardly believe it, but it is quite true--it was anotherhalf-crown!

'To think that there should be two!' he said; 'in all my experience ofburied treasure I never heard of such a thing!'

I wish Albert-next-door's uncle would come treasure-seeking with usregularly; he must have very sharp eyes: for Dora says she was lookingjust the minute before at the very place where the second half-crown waspicked up from, and _she_ never saw it. 

CHAPTER 3. BEING DETECTIVES

The next thing that happened to us was very interesting. It was as realas the half-crowns--not just pretending. I shall try to write it as likea real book as I can. Of course we have read Mr Sherlock Holmes, aswell as the yellow-covered books with pictures outside that are so badlyprinted; and you get them for fourpence-halfpenny at the bookstall whenthe corners of them are beginning to curl up and get dirty, with peoplelooking to see how the story ends when they are waiting for trains. Ithink this is most unfair to the boy at the bookstall. The books arewritten by a gentleman named Gaboriau, and Albert's uncle says they arethe worst translations in the world--and written in vile English. Ofcourse they're not like Kipling, but they're jolly good stories. And wehad just been reading a book by Dick Diddlington--that's not his rightname, but I know all about libel actions, so I shall not say what hisname is really, because his books are rot. Only they put it into ourheads to do what I am going to narrate. 

It was in September, and we were not to go to the seaside because it isso expensive, even if you go to Sheerness, where it is all tin cans andold boots and no sand at all. But every one else went, even the peoplenext door--not Albert's side, but the other. Their servant told Elizathey were all going to Scarborough, and next day sure enough all theblinds were down and the shutters up, and the milk was not left anymore. There is a big horse-chestnut tree between their garden and ours, very useful for getting conkers out of and for making stuff to rub onyour chilblains. This prevented our seeing whether the blinds weredown at the back as well, but Dicky climbed to the top of the tree andlooked, and they were. 

It was jolly hot weather, and very stuffy indoors--we used to play agood deal in the garden. We made a tent out of the kitchen clothes-horseand some blankets off our beds, and though it was quite as hot in thetent as in the house it was a very different sort of hotness. Albert'suncle called it the Turkish Bath. It is not nice to be kept from theseaside, but we know that we have much to be thankful for. We might bepoor little children living in a crowded alley where even at summernoon hardly a ray of sunlight penetrates; clothed in rags and with barefeet--though I do not mind holes in my clothes myself, and barefeet would not be at all bad in this sort of weather. Indeed we do, sometimes, when we are playing at things which require it. It wasshipwrecked mariners that day, I remember, and we were all in theblanket tent. We had just finished eating the things we had saved, atthe peril of our lives, from the st-sinking vessel. They were rathernice things. Two-pennyworth of coconut candy--it was got in Greenwich, where it is four ounces a penny--three apples, some macaroni--thestraight sort that is so useful to suck things through--some raw rice, and a large piece of cold suet pudding that Alice nicked from the larderwhen she went to get the rice and macaroni. And when we had finishedsome one said--

'I should like to be a detective. '

I wish to be quite fair, but I cannot remember exactly who said it. Oswald thinks he said it, and Dora says it was Dicky, but Oswald is toomuch of a man to quarrel about a little thing like that. 

'I should like to be a detective, ' said--perhaps it was Dicky, but Ithink not--'and find out strange and hidden crimes. '

'You have to be much cleverer than you are, ' said H. O. 

'Not so very, ' Alice said, 'because when you've read the books you knowwhat the things mean: the red hair on the handle of the knife, or thegrains of white powder on the velvet collar of the villain's overcoat. Ibelieve we could do it. '

'I shouldn't like to have anything to do with murders, ' said Dora;'somehow it doesn't seem safe--'

'And it always ends in the poor murderer being hanged, ' said Alice. 

We explained to her why murderers have to be hanged, but she only said, 'I don't care. I'm sure no one would ever do murdering _twice_. Thinkof the blood and things, and what you would see when you woke up in thenight! I shouldn't mind being a detective to lie in wait for a gangof coiners, now, and spring upon them unawares, and securethem--single-handed, you know, or with only my faithful bloodhound. '

She stroked Pincher's ears, but he had gone to sleep because he knewwell enough that all the suet pudding was finished. He is a verysensible dog. 'You always get hold of the wrong end of the stick, 'Oswald said. 'You can't choose what crimes you'll be a detective about. You just have to get a suspicious circumstance, and then you look for aclue and follow it up. Whether it turns out a murder or a missing willis just a fluke. '

'That's one way, ' Dicky said. 'Another is to get a paper and findtwo advertisements or bits of news that fit. Like this: "Young LadyMissing, " and then it tells about all the clothes she had on, and thegold locket she wore, and the colour of her hair, and all that; and thenin another piece of the paper you see, "Gold locket found, " and then itall comes out. '

We sent H. O. For the paper at once, but we could not make any of thethings fit in. The two best were about how some burglars broke intoa place in Holloway where they made preserved tongues and invaliddelicacies, and carried off a lot of them. And on another page therewas, 'Mysterious deaths in Holloway. '

Oswald thought there was something in it, and so did Albert's uncle whenwe asked him, but the others thought not, so Oswald agreed to drop it. Besides, Holloway is a long way off. All the time we were talking aboutthe paper Alice seemed to be thinking about something else, and when wehad done she said--

'I believe we might be detectives ourselves, but I should not like toget anybody into trouble. '

'Not murderers or robbers?' Dicky asked. 

'It wouldn't be murderers, ' she said; 'but I _have_ noticed somethingstrange. Only I feel a little frightened. Let's ask Albert's unclefirst. '

Alice is a jolly sight too fond of asking grown-up people things. And weall said it was tommyrot, and she was to tell us. 

'Well, promise you won't do anything without me, ' Alice said, and wepromised. Then she said--

'This is a dark secret, and any one who thinks it is better not to beinvolved in a career of crime-discovery had better go away ere yet it betoo late. '

So Dora said she had had enough of tents, and she was going to look atthe shops. H. O. Went with her because he had twopence to spend. Theythought it was only a game of Alice's but Oswald knew by the way shespoke. He can nearly always tell. And when people are not telling thetruth Oswald generally knows by the way they look with their eyes. Oswald is not proud of being able to do this. He knows it is through nomerit of his own that he is much cleverer than some people. 

When they had gone, the rest of us got closer together and said--

'Now then. '

'Well, ' Alice said, 'you know the house next door? The people have goneto Scarborough. And the house is shut up. But last night _I saw a lightin the windows_. '

We asked her how and when, because her room is in the front, and shecouldn't possibly have seen. And then she said--

'I'll tell you if you boys will promise not ever to go fishing againwithout me. '

So we had to promise. 

Then she said--

'It was last night. I had forgotten to feed my rabbits and I woke up andremembered it. And I was afraid I should find them dead in the morning, like Oswald did. '

'It wasn't my fault, ' Oswald said; 'there was something the matter withthe beasts. I fed them right enough. '

Alice said she didn't mean that, and she went on--

'I came down into the garden, and I saw a light in the house, and darkfigures moving about. I thought perhaps it was burglars, but Fatherhadn't come home, and Eliza had gone to bed, so I couldn't do anything. Only I thought perhaps I would tell the rest of you. '

'Why didn't you tell us this morning?' Noel asked. And Alice explainedthat she did not want to get any one into trouble, even burglars. 'Butwe might watch to-night, ' she said, 'and see if we see the light again. '

'They might have been burglars, ' Noel said. He was sucking the last bitof his macaroni. 'You know the people next door are very grand. Theywon't know us--and they go out in a real private carriage sometimes. Andthey have an "At Home" day, and people come in cabs. I daresay they havepiles of plate and jewellery and rich brocades, and furs of price andthings like that. Let us keep watch to-night. '

'It's no use watching to-night, ' Dicky said; 'if it's only burglars theywon't come again. But there are other things besides burglars that arediscovered in empty houses where lights are seen moving. '

'You mean coiners, ' said Oswald at once. 'I wonder what the reward isfor setting the police on their track?'

Dicky thought it ought to be something fat, because coiners are alwaysa desperate gang; and the machinery they make the coins with is so heavyand handy for knocking down detectives. 

Then it was tea-time, and we went in; and Dora and H. O. Had clubbedtheir money together and bought a melon; quite a big one, and only alittle bit squashy at one end. It was very good, and then we washed theseeds and made things with them and with pins and cotton. And nobodysaid any more about watching the house next door. 

Only when we went to bed Dicky took off his coat and waistcoat, but hestopped at his braces, and said--

'What about the coiners?'

Oswald had taken off his collar and tie, and he was just going to saythe same, so he said, 'Of course I meant to watch, only my collar'srather tight, so I thought I'd take it off first. '

Dicky said he did not think the girls ought to be in it, because theremight be danger, but Oswald reminded him that they had promised Alice, and that a promise is a sacred thing, even when you'd much rathernot. So Oswald got Alice alone under pretence of showing her acaterpillar--Dora does not like them, and she screamed and ran away whenOswald offered to show it her. Then Oswald explained, and Alice agreedto come and watch if she could. This made us later than we ought to havebeen, because Alice had to wait till Dora was quiet and then creep outvery slowly, for fear of the boards creaking. The girls sleep with theirroom-door open for fear of burglars. Alice had kept on her clothesunder her nightgown when Dora wasn't looking, and presently we got down, creeping past Father's study, and out at the glass door that leads onto the veranda and the iron steps into the garden. And we went down veryquietly, and got into the chestnut-tree; and then I felt that we hadonly been playing what Albert's uncle calls our favourite instrument--Imean the Fool. For the house next door was as dark as dark. Thensuddenly we heard a sound--it came from the gate at the end of thegarden. All the gardens have gates; they lead into a kind of lane thatruns behind them. It is a sort of back way, very convenient when youdon't want to say exactly where you are going. We heard the gate at theend of the next garden click, and Dicky nudged Alice so that shewould have fallen out of the tree if it had not been for Oswald'sextraordinary presence of mind. Oswald squeezed Alice's arm tight, andwe all looked; and the others were rather frightened because really wehad not exactly expected anything to happen except perhaps a light. Butnow a muffled figure, shrouded in a dark cloak, came swiftly up thepath of the next-door garden. And we could see that under its cloak thefigure carried a mysterious burden. The figure was dressed to look likea woman in a sailor hat. 

We held our breath as it passed under the tree where we were, and thenit tapped very gently on the back door and was let in, and then a lightappeared in the window of the downstairs back breakfast-room. But theshutters were up. 

Dicky said, 'My eye!' and wouldn't the others be sick to think theyhadn't been in this! But Alice didn't half like it--and as she is a girlI do not blame her. Indeed, I thought myself at first that perhapsit would be better to retire for the present, and return later with astrongly armed force. 

'It's not burglars, ' Alice whispered; 'the mysterious stranger wasbringing things in, not taking them out. They must be coiners--and oh, Oswald!--don't let's! The things they coin with must hurt very much. Dolet's go to bed!'

But Dicky said he was going to see; if there was a reward for findingout things like this he would like to have the reward. 

'They locked the back door, ' he whispered, 'I heard it go. And I couldlook in quite well through the holes in the shutters and be back overthe wall long before they'd got the door open, even if they started todo it at once. '

There were holes at the top of the shutters the shape of hearts, and theyellow light came out through them as well as through the chinks of theshutters. 

Oswald said if Dicky went he should, because he was the eldest; andAlice said, 'If any one goes it ought to be me, because I thought ofit. '

So Oswald said, 'Well, go then'; and she said, 'Not for anything!' Andshe begged us not to, and we talked about it in the tree till we wereall quite hoarse with whispering. 

At last we decided on a plan of action. 

Alice was to stay in the tree, and scream 'Murder!' if anythinghappened. Dicky and I were to get down into the next garden and take itin turns to peep. 

So we got down as quietly as we could, but the tree made much more noisethan it does in the day, and several times we paused, fearing that allwas discovered. But nothing happened. 

There was a pile of red flower-pots under the window and one very largeone was on the window-ledge. It seemed as if it was the hand of Destinyhad placed it there, and the geranium in it was dead, and there wasnothing to stop your standing on it--so Oswald did. He went firstbecause he is the eldest, and though Dicky tried to stop him because hethought of it first it could not be, on account of not being able to sayanything. 

So Oswald stood on the flower-pot and tried to look through one of theholes. He did not really expect to see the coiners at their fell work, though he had pretended to when we were talking in the tree. But if hehad seen them pouring the base molten metal into tin moulds the shape ofhalf-crowns he would not have been half so astonished as he was at thespectacle now revealed. 

At first he could see little, because the hole had unfortunately beenmade a little too high, so that the eye of the detective could only seethe Prodigal Son in a shiny frame on the opposite wall. But Oswald heldon to the window-frame and stood on tiptoe and then he _saw_. 

There was no furnace, and no base metal, no bearded men in leathernaprons with tongs and things, but just a table with a table-cloth on itfor supper, and a tin of salmon and a lettuce and some bottled beer. Andthere on a chair was the cloak and the hat of the mysterious stranger, and the two people sitting at the table were the two youngest grown-updaughters of the lady next door, and one of them was saying--

'So I got the salmon three-halfpence cheaper, and the lettuces are onlysix a penny in the Broadway, just fancy! We must save as much as ever wecan on our housekeeping money if we want to go away decent next year. '

And the other said, 'I wish we could _all_ go _every_ year, orelse--Really, I almost wish--'

And all the time Oswald was looking Dicky was pulling at his jacket tomake him get down and let Dicky have a squint. And just as she said 'Ialmost, ' Dicky pulled too hard and Oswald felt himself toppling on thegiddy verge of the big flower-pots. Putting forth all his strength ourhero strove to recover his equi-what's-its-name, but it was now lostbeyond recall. 

'You've done it this time!' he said, then he fell heavily among theflower-pots piled below. He heard them crash and rattle and crack, andthen his head struck against an iron pillar used for holding up thenext-door veranda. His eyes closed and he knew no more. 

Now you will perhaps expect that at this moment Alice would have cried'Murder!' If you think so you little know what girls are. Directly shewas left alone in that tree she made a bolt to tell Albert's uncle allabout it and bring him to our rescue in case the coiner's gang was avery desperate one. And just when I fell, Albert's uncle was gettingover the wall. Alice never screamed at all when Oswald fell, but Dickythinks he heard Albert's uncle say, 'Confound those kids!' which wouldnot have been kind or polite, so I hope he did not say it. 

The people next door did not come out to see what the row was. Albert'suncle did not wait for them to come out. He picked up Oswald and carriedthe insensible body of the gallant young detective to the wall, laid iton the top, and then climbed over and bore his lifeless burden into ourhouse and put it on the sofa in Father's study. Father was out, sowe needn't have _crept_ so when we were getting into the garden. ThenOswald was restored to consciousness, and his head tied up, and sentto bed, and next day there was a lump on his young brow as big as aturkey's egg, and very uncomfortable. 

Albert's uncle came in next day and talked to each of us separately. To Oswald he said many unpleasant things about ungentlemanly to spy onladies, and about minding your own business; and when I began to tellhim what I had heard he told me to shut up, and altogether he made memore uncomfortable than the bump did. 

Oswald did not say anything to any one, but next day, as the shadows ofeve were falling, he crept away, and wrote on a piece of paper, 'I wantto speak to you, ' and shoved it through the hole like a heart in the topof the next-door shutters. And the youngest young lady put an eye tothe heart-shaped hole, and then opened the shutter and said 'Well?' verycrossly. Then Oswald said--

'I am very sorry, and I beg your pardon. We wanted to be detectives, andwe thought a gang of coiners infested your house, so we looked throughyour window last night. I saw the lettuce, and I heard what you saidabout the salmon being three-halfpence cheaper, and I know it is verydishonourable to pry into other people's secrets, especially ladies', and I never will again if you will forgive me this once. '

Then the lady frowned and then she laughed, and then she said--

'So it was you tumbling into the flower-pots last night? We thought itwas burglars. It frightened us horribly. Why, what a bump on your poorhead!'

And then she talked to me a bit, and presently she said she and hersister had not wished people to know they were at home, because--Andthen she stopped short and grew very red, and I said, 'I thought youwere all at Scarborough; your servant told Eliza so. Why didn't you wantpeople to know you were at home?'

The lady got redder still, and then she laughed and said--

'Never mind the reason why. I hope your head doesn't hurt much. Thankyou for your nice, manly little speech. _You've_ nothing to be ashamedof, at any rate. ' Then she kissed me, and I did not mind. And then shesaid, 'Run away now, dear. I'm going to--I'm going to pull up the blindsand open the shutters, and I want to do it at _once_, before it getsdark, so that every one can see we're at home, and not at Scarborough. '

CHAPTER 4. GOOD HUNTING

When we had got that four shillings by digging for treasure we ought, byrights, to have tried Dicky's idea of answering the advertisement aboutladies and gentlemen and spare time and two pounds a week, but therewere several things we rather wanted. 

Dora wanted a new pair of scissors, and she said she was going to getthem with her eight-pence. But Alice said--

'You ought to get her those, Oswald, because you know you broke thepoints off hers getting the marble out of the brass thimble. '

It was quite true, though I had almost forgotten it, but then it was H. O. Who jammed the marble into the thimble first of all. So I said--

'It's H. O. 's fault as much as mine, anyhow. Why shouldn't he pay?'

Oswald didn't so much mind paying for the beastly scissors, but he hatesinjustice of every kind. 

'He's such a little kid, ' said Dicky, and of course H. O. Said he wasn'ta little kid, and it very nearly came to being a row between them. ButOswald knows when to be generous; so he said--

'Look here! I'll pay sixpence of the scissors, and H. O. Shall pay therest, to teach him to be careful. '

H. O. Agreed: he is not at all a mean kid, but I found out afterwardsthat Alice paid his share out of her own money. 

Then we wanted some new paints, and Noel wanted a pencil and a halfpennyaccount-book to write poetry with, and it does seem hard never to haveany apples. So, somehow or other nearly all the money got spent, and weagreed that we must let the advertisement run loose a little longer. 

'I only hope, ' Alice said, 'that they won't have got all the ladies andgentlemen they want before we have got the money to write for the sampleand instructions. '

And I was a little afraid myself, because it seemed such a splendidchance; but we looked in the paper every day, and the advertisement wasalways there, so we thought it was all right. 

Then we had the detective try-on--and it proved no go; and then, whenall the money was gone, except a halfpenny of mine and twopence ofNoel's and three-pence of Dicky's and a few pennies that the girls hadleft, we held another council. 

Dora was sewing the buttons on H. O. 's Sunday things. He got himself aknife with his money, and he cut every single one of his best buttonsoff. You've no idea how many buttons there are on a suit. Dora countedthem. There are twenty-four, counting the little ones on the sleevesthat don't undo. 

Alice was trying to teach Pincher to beg; but he has too much sensewhen he knows you've got nothing in your hands, and the rest of us wereroasting potatoes under the fire. We had made a fire on purpose, though it was rather warm. They are very good if you cut away the burntparts--but you ought to wash them first, or you are a dirty boy. 

'Well, what can we do?' said Dicky. 'You are so fond of saying "Let's dosomething!" and never saying what. '

'We can't try the advertisement yet. Shall we try rescuing some one?'said Oswald. It was his own idea, but he didn't insist on doing it, though he is next to the eldest, for he knows it is bad manners to makepeople do what you want, when they would rather not. 

'What was Noel's plan?' Alice asked. 

'A Princess or a poetry book, ' said Noel sleepily. He was lying on hisback on the sofa, kicking his legs. 'Only I shall look for the Princessall by myself. But I'll let you see her when we're married. '

'Have you got enough poetry to make a book?' Dicky asked that, and itwas rather sensible of him, because when Noel came to look there wereonly seven of his poems that any of us could understand. There was the'Wreck of the Malabar', and the poem he wrote when Eliza took us to hearthe Reviving Preacher, and everybody cried, and Father said it must havebeen the Preacher's Eloquence. So Noel wrote:

 O Eloquence and what art thou? Ay what art thou? because we cried And everybody cried inside When they came out their eyes were red-- And it was your doing Father said. 

But Noel told Alice he got the first line and a half from a book a boyat school was going to write when he had time. Besides this there werethe 'Lines on a Dead Black Beetle that was poisoned'--

 O Beetle how I weep to see Thee lying on thy poor back! It is so very sad indeed. You were so shiny and black. I wish you were alive again But Eliza says wishing it is nonsense and a shame. 

It was very good beetle poison, and there were hundreds of them lyingdead--but Noel only wrote a piece of poetry for one of them. He said hehadn't time to do them all, and the worst of it was he didn't know whichone he'd written it to--so Alice couldn't bury the beetle and put thelines on its grave, though she wanted to very much. 

Well, it was quite plain that there wasn't enough poetry for a book. 

'We might wait a year or two, ' said Noel. 'I shall be sure to make somemore some time. I thought of a piece about a fly this morning that knewcondensed milk was sticky. '

'But we want the money _now_, ' said Dicky, 'and you can go on writingjust the same. It will come in some time or other. '

'There's poetry in newspapers, ' said Alice. 'Down, Pincher! you'll neverbe a clever dog, so it's no good trying. '

'Do they pay for it?' Dicky thought of that; he often thinks of thingsthat are really important, even if they are a little dull. 

'I don't know. But I shouldn't think any one would let them print theirpoetry without. I wouldn't I know. ' That was Dora; but Noel said hewouldn't mind if he didn't get paid, so long as he saw his poetryprinted and his name at the end. 

'We might try, anyway, ' said Oswald. He is always willing to give otherpeople's ideas a fair trial. 

So we copied out 'The Wreck of the Malabar' and the other six poems ondrawing-paper--Dora did it, she writes best--and Oswald drew a pictureof the Malabar going down with all hands. It was a full-rigged schooner, and all the ropes and sails were correct; because my cousin is in theNavy, and he showed me. 

We thought a long time whether we'd write a letter and send it by postwith the poetry--and Dora thought it would be best. But Noel said hecouldn't bear not to know at once if the paper would print the poetry, So we decided to take it. 

I went with Noel, because I am the eldest, and he is not old enough togo to London by himself. Dicky said poetry was rot--and he was glad hehadn't got to make a fool of himself. That was because there was notenough money for him to go with us. H. O. Couldn't come either, buthe came to the station to see us off, and waved his cap and called out'Good hunting!' as the train started. 

There was a lady in spectacles in the corner. She was writing with apencil on the edges of long strips of paper that had print all downthem. When the train started she asked--

'What was that he said?'

So Oswald answered--

'It was "Good hunting"--it's out of the Jungle Book!' 'That's verypleasant to hear, ' the lady said; 'I am very pleased to meet people whoknow their Jungle Book. And where are you off to--the Zoological Gardensto look for Bagheera?'

We were pleased, too, to meet some one who knew the Jungle Book. 

So Oswald said--

'We are going to restore the fallen fortunes of the House ofBastable--and we have all thought of different ways--and we're going totry them all. Noel's way is poetry. I suppose great poets get paid?'

The lady laughed--she was awfully jolly--and said she was a sort ofpoet, too, and the long strips of paper were the proofs of her new bookof stories. Because before a book is made into a real book with pagesand a cover, they sometimes print it all on strips of paper, and thewriter make marks on it with a pencil to show the printers what idiotsthey are not to understand what a writer means to have printed. 

We told her all about digging for treasure, and what we meant to do. Then she asked to see Noel's poetry--and he said he didn't like--so shesaid, 'Look here--if you'll show me yours I'll show you some of mine. 'So he agreed. 

The jolly lady read Noel's poetry, and she said she liked it very much. And she thought a great deal of the picture of the Malabar. And then shesaid, 'I write serious poetry like yours myself; too, but I have a piecehere that I think you will like because it's about a boy. ' She gave itto us--and so I can copy it down, and I will, for it shows that somegrown-up ladies are not so silly as others. I like it better than Noel'spoetry, though I told him I did not, because he looked as if he wasgoing to cry. This was very wrong, for you should always speak thetruth, however unhappy it makes people. And I generally do. But I didnot want him crying in the railway carriage. The lady's piece of poetry:

 Oh when I wake up in my bed And see the sun all fat and red, I'm glad to have another day For all my different kinds of play. 

 There are so many things to do-- The things that make a man of you, If grown-ups did not get so vexed And wonder what you will do next. 

 I often wonder whether they Ever made up our kinds of play-- If they were always good as gold And only did what they were told. 

 They like you best to play with tops And toys in boxes, bought in shops; They do not even know the names Of really interesting games. 

 They will not let you play with fire Or trip your sister up with wire, They grudge the tea-tray for a drum, Or booby-traps when callers come. 

 They don't like fishing, and it's true You sometimes soak a suit or two: They look on fireworks, though they're dry, With quite a disapproving eye. 

 They do not understand the way To get the most out of your day: They do not know how hunger feels Nor what you need between your meals. 

 And when you're sent to bed at night, They're happy, but they're not polite. For through the door you hear them say: '_He's_ done _his_ mischief for the day!'

She told us a lot of other pieces but I cannot remember them, and shetalked to us all the way up, and when we got nearly to Cannon Street shesaid--

'I've got two new shillings here! Do you think they would help to smooththe path to Fame?'

Noel said, 'Thank you, ' and was going to take the shilling. But Oswald, who always remembers what he is told, said--

'Thank you very much, but Father told us we ought never to take anythingfrom strangers. '

'That's a nasty one, ' said the lady--she didn't talk a bit like a reallady, but more like a jolly sort of grown-up boy in a dress and hat--'avery nasty one! But don't you think as Noel and I are both poets I mightbe considered a sort of relation? You've heard of brother poets, haven'tyou? Don't you think Noel and I are aunt and nephew poets, or somerelationship of that kind?'

I didn't know what to say, and she went on--

'It's awfully straight of you to stick to what your Father tells you, but look here, you take the shillings, and here's my card. When youget home tell your Father all about it, and if he says No, you can justbring the shillings back to me. '

So we took the shillings, and she shook hands with us and said, 'Good-bye, and good hunting!'

We did tell Father about it, and he said it was all right, and whenhe looked at the card he told us we were highly honoured, for the ladywrote better poetry than any other lady alive now. We had never heard ofher, and she seemed much too jolly for a poet. Good old Kipling! We owehim those two shillings, as well as the Jungle books!

CHAPTER 5. THE POET AND THE EDITOR

It was not bad sport--being in London entirely on our own hook. We askedthe way to Fleet Street, where Father says all the newspaper officesare. They said straight on down Ludgate Hill--but it turned out to bequite another way. At least _we_ didn't go straight on. 

We got to St Paul's. Noel _would_ go in, and we saw where Gordon wasburied--at least the monument. It is very flat, considering what a manhe was. 

When we came out we walked a long way, and when we asked a policeman hesaid we'd better go back through Smithfield. So we did. They don't burnpeople any more there now, so it was rather dull, besides being a longway, and Noel got very tired. He's a peaky little chap; it comes ofbeing a poet, I think. We had a bun or two at different shops--out ofthe shillings--and it was quite late in the afternoon when we got toFleet Street. The gas was lighted and the electric lights. There is ajolly Bovril sign that comes off and on in different coloured lamps. Wewent to the Daily Recorder office, and asked to see the Editor. It is abig office, very bright, with brass and mahogany and electric lights. 

They told us the Editor wasn't there, but at another office. So we wentdown a dirty street, to a very dull-looking place. There was a man thereinside, in a glass case, as if he was a museum, and he told us to writedown our names and our business. So Oswald wrote--

 OSWALD BASTABLE NOEL BASTABLE BUSINESS VERY PRIVATE INDEED

Then we waited on the stone stairs; it was very draughty. And the man inthe glass case looked at us as if we were the museum instead of him. Wewaited a long time, and then a boy came down and said--

'The Editor can't see you. Will you please write your business?' And helaughed. I wanted to punch his head. 

But Noel said, 'Yes, I'll write it if you'll give me a pen and ink, anda sheet of paper and an envelope. '

The boy said he'd better write by post. But Noel is a bit pig-headed;it's his worst fault. So he said--'No, I'll write it _now_. ' So I backedhim up by saying--

'Look at the price penny stamps are since the coal strike!'

So the boy grinned, and the man in the glass case gave us pen and paper, and Noel wrote. Oswald writes better than he does; but Noel would do it;and it took a very long time, and then it was inky. 

 DEAR MR EDITOR, I want you to print my poetry and pay for it, and I am a friend of Mrs Leslie's; she is a poet too. 

 Your affectionate friend, NOEL BASTABLE. 

He licked the envelope a good deal, so that that boy shouldn't read itgoing upstairs; and he wrote 'Very private' outside, and gave the letterto the boy. I thought it wasn't any good; but in a minute the grinningboy came back, and he was quite respectful, and said--'The Editor says, please will you step up?'

We stepped up. There were a lot of stairs and passages, and a queer sortof humming, hammering sound and a very funny smell. The boy was now verypolite, and said it was the ink we smelt, and the noise was the printingmachines. 

After going through a lot of cold passages we came to a door; the boyopened it, and let us go in. There was a large room, with a big, soft, blue-and-red carpet, and a roaring fire, though it was only October; anda large table with drawers, and littered with papers, just like the onein Father's study. A gentleman was sitting at one side of the table; hehad a light moustache and light eyes, and he looked very young to be aneditor--not nearly so old as Father. He looked very tired and sleepy, as if he had got up very early in the morning; but he was kind, and weliked him. Oswald thought he looked clever. Oswald is considered a judgeof faces. 

'Well, ' said he, 'so you are Mrs Leslie's friends?'

'I think so, ' said Noel; 'at least she gave us each a shilling, and shewished us "good hunting!"'

'Good hunting, eh? Well, what about this poetry of yours? Which is thepoet?'

I can't think how he could have asked! Oswald is said to be a verymanly-looking boy for his age. However, I thought it would look duffingto be offended, so I said--

'This is my brother Noel. He is the poet. ' Noel had turned quite pale. He is disgustingly like a girl in some ways. The Editor told us to sitdown, and he took the poems from Noel, and began to read them. Noel gotpaler and paler; I really thought he was going to faint, like he didwhen I held his hand under the cold-water tap, after I had accidentallycut him with my chisel. When the Editor had read the first poem--it wasthe one about the beetle--he got up and stood with his back to us. Itwas not manners; but Noel thinks he did it 'to conceal his emotion, ' asthey do in books. He read all the poems, and then he said--

'I like your poetry very much, young man. I'll give you--let me see; howmuch shall I give you for it?'

'As much as ever you can, ' said Noel. 'You see I want a good deal ofmoney to restore the fallen fortunes of the house of Bastable. '

The gentleman put on some eye-glasses and looked hard at us. Then he satdown. 

'That's a good idea, ' said he. 'Tell me how you came to think of it. And, I say, have you had any tea? They've just sent out for mine. '

He rang a tingly bell, and the boy brought in a tray with a teapot anda thick cup and saucer and things, and he had to fetch another tray forus, when he was told to; and we had tea with the Editor of the DailyRecorder. I suppose it was a very proud moment for Noel, though Idid not think of that till afterwards. The Editor asked us a lot ofquestions, and we told him a good deal, though of course I did not tella stranger all our reasons for thinking that the family fortunes wantedrestoring. We stayed about half an hour, and when we were going away hesaid again--

'I shall print all your poems, my poet; and now what do you thinkthey're worth?'

'I don't know, ' Noel said. 'You see I didn't write them to sell. '

'Why did you write them then?' he asked. 

Noel said he didn't know; he supposed because he wanted to. 

'Art for Art's sake, eh?' said the Editor, and he seemed quitedelighted, as though Noel had said something clever. 

'Well, would a guinea meet your views?' he asked. 

I have read of people being at a loss for words, and dumb with emotion, and I've read of people being turned to stone with astonishment, orjoy, or something, but I never knew how silly it looked till I saw Noelstanding staring at the Editor with his mouth open. He went red and hewent white, and then he got crimson, as if you were rubbing more andmore crimson lake on a palette. But he didn't say a word, so Oswald hadto say--

'I should jolly well think so. '

So the Editor gave Noel a sovereign and a shilling, and he shook handswith us both, but he thumped Noel on the back and said--

'Buck up, old man! It's your first guinea, but it won't be your last. Now go along home, and in about ten years you can bring me some morepoetry. Not before--see? I'm just taking this poetry of yours because Ilike it very much; but we don't put poetry in this paper at all. I shallhave to put it in another paper I know of. '

'What _do_ you put in your paper?' I asked, for Father always takes theDaily Chronicle, and I didn't know what the Recorder was like. We choseit because it has such a glorious office, and a clock outside lightedup. 

'Oh, news, ' said he, 'and dull articles, and things about Celebrities. If you know any Celebrities, now?'

Noel asked him what Celebrities were. 

'Oh, the Queen and the Princes, and people with titles, and people whowrite, or sing, or act--or do something clever or wicked. '

'I don't know anybody wicked, ' said Oswald, wishing he had known DickTurpin, or Claude Duval, so as to be able to tell the Editor thingsabout them. 'But I know some one with a title--Lord Tottenham. '

'The mad old Protectionist, eh? How did you come to know him?'

'We don't know him to speak to. But he goes over the Heath every day atthree, and he strides along like a giant--with a black cloak like LordTennyson's flying behind him, and he talks to himself like one o'clock. '

'What does he say?' The Editor had sat down again, and he was fiddlingwith a blue pencil. 

'We only heard him once, close enough to understand, and then he said, "The curse of the country, sir--ruin and desolation!" And then he wentstriding along again, hitting at the furze-bushes as if they were theheads of his enemies. '

'Excellent descriptive touch, ' said the Editor. 'Well, go on. '

'That's all I know about him, except that he stops in the middle of theHeath every day, and he looks all round to see if there's any one about, and if there isn't, he takes his collar off. '

The Editor interrupted--which is considered rude--and said--

'You're not romancing?'

'I beg your pardon?' said Oswald. 'Drawing the long bow, I mean, ' saidthe Editor. 

Oswald drew himself up, and said he wasn't a liar. 

The Editor only laughed, and said romancing and lying were not at allthe same; only it was important to know what you were playing at. SoOswald accepted his apology, and went on. 

'We were hiding among the furze-bushes one day, and we saw him do it. Hetook off his collar, and he put on a clean one, and he threw the otheramong the furze-bushes. We picked it up afterwards, and it was a beastlypaper one!'

'Thank you, ' said the Editor, and he got up and put his hand in hispocket. 'That's well worth five shillings, and there they are. Would youlike to see round the printing offices before you go home?'

I pocketed my five bob, and thanked him, and I said we should like itvery much. He called another gentleman and said something we couldn'thear. Then he said good-bye again; and all this time Noel hadn't said aword. But now he said, 'I've made a poem about you. It is called "Linesto a Noble Editor. " Shall I write it down?'

The Editor gave him the blue pencil, and he sat down at the Editor'stable and wrote. It was this, he told me afterwards as well as he couldremember--

 May Life's choicest blessings be your lot I think you ought to be very blest For you are going to print my poems-- And you may have this one as well as the rest. 

'Thank you, ' said the Editor. 'I don't think I ever had a poem addressedto me before. I shall treasure it, I assure you. '

Then the other gentleman said something about Maecenas, and we went offto see the printing office with at least one pound seven in our pockets. 

It _was_ good hunting, and no mistake!

But he never put Noel's poetry in the Daily Recorder. It was quite along time afterwards we saw a sort of story thing in a magazine, on thestation bookstall, and that kind, sleepy-looking Editor had written it, I suppose. It was not at all amusing. It said a lot about Noel and me, describing us all wrong, and saying how we had tea with the Editor;and all Noel's poems were in the story thing. I think myself the Editorseemed to make game of them, but Noel was quite pleased to see themprinted--so that's all right. It wasn't my poetry anyhow, I am glad tosay. 

CHAPTER 6. NOEL'S PRINCESS

She happened quite accidentally. We were not looking for a Princess atall just then; but Noel had said he was going to find a Princess all byhimself; and marry her--and he really did. Which was rather odd, becausewhen people say things are going to befall, very often they don't. Itwas different, of course, with the prophets of old. 

We did not get any treasure by it, except twelve chocolate drops; but wemight have done, and it was an adventure, anyhow. 

Greenwich Park is a jolly good place to play in, especially the partsthat aren't near Greenwich. The parts near the Heath are first-rate. I often wish the Park was nearer our house; but I suppose a Park is adifficult thing to move. 

Sometimes we get Eliza to put lunch in a basket, and we go up to thePark. She likes that--it saves cooking dinner for us; and sometimes shesays of her own accord, 'I've made some pasties for you, and you mightas well go into the Park as not. It's a lovely day. '

She always tells us to rinse out the cup at the drinking-fountain, andthe girls do; but I always put my head under the tap and drink. Then youare an intrepid hunter at a mountain stream--and besides, you're sureit's clean. Dicky does the same, and so does H. O. But Noel alwaysdrinks out of the cup. He says it is a golden goblet wrought byenchanted gnomes. 

The day the Princess happened was a fine, hot day, last October, and wewere quite tired with the walk up to the Park. 

We always go in by the little gate at the top of Croom's Hill. It isthe postern gate that things always happen at in stories. It was dustywalking, but when we got in the Park it was ripping, so we rested a bit, and lay on our backs, and looked up at the trees, and wished we couldplay monkeys. I have done it before now, but the Park-keeper makes a rowif he catches you. 

When we'd rested a little, Alice said--

'It was a long way to the enchanted wood, but it is very nice now we arethere. I wonder what we shall find in it?'

'We shall find deer, ' said Dicky, 'if we go to look; but they go on theother side of the Park because of the people with buns. '

Saying buns made us think of lunch, so we had it; and when we had donewe scratched a hole under a tree and buried the papers, because we knowit spoils pretty places to leave beastly, greasy papers lying about. Iremember Mother teaching me and Dora that, when we were quite little. I wish everybody's parents would teach them this useful lesson, and thesame about orange peel. 

When we'd eaten everything there was, Alice whispered--

'I see the white witch bear yonder among the trees! Let's track it andslay it in its lair. '

'I am the bear, ' said Noel; so he crept away, and we followed him amongthe trees. Often the witch bear was out of sight, and then you didn'tknow where it would jump out from; but sometimes we saw it, and justfollowed. 

'When we catch it there'll be a great fight, ' said Oswald; 'and I shallbe Count Folko of Mont Faucon. '

'I'll be Gabrielle, ' said Dora. She is the only one of us who likesdoing girl's parts. 

'I'll be Sintram, ' said Alice; 'and H. O. Can be the Little Master. '

'What about Dicky?'

'Oh, I can be the Pilgrim with the bones. '

'Hist!' whispered Alice. 'See his white fairy fur gleaming amid yondercovert!'

And I saw a bit of white too. It was Noel's collar, and it had comeundone at the back. 

We hunted the bear in and out of the trees, and then we lost himaltogether; and suddenly we found the wall of the Park--in a place whereI'm sure there wasn't a wall before. Noel wasn't anywhere about, andthere was a door in the wall. And it was open; so we went through. 

'The bear has hidden himself in these mountain fastnesses, ' Oswald said. 'I will draw my good sword and after him. '

So I drew the umbrella, which Dora always will bring in case it rains, because Noel gets a cold on the chest at the least thing--and we wenton. 

The other side of the wall it was a stable yard, all cobble-stones. 

There was nobody about--but we could hear a man rubbing down a horseand hissing in the stable; so we crept very quietly past, and Alicewhispered--

''Tis the lair of the Monster Serpent; I hear his deadly hiss! Beware!Courage and despatch!'

We went over the stones on tiptoe, and we found another wall withanother door in it on the other side. We went through that too, ontiptoe. It really was an adventure. And there we were in a shrubbery, and we saw something white through the trees. Dora said it was the whitebear. That is so like Dora. She always begins to take part in a playjust when the rest of us are getting tired of it. I don't mean thisunkindly, because I am very fond of Dora. I cannot forget how kind shewas when I had bronchitis; and ingratitude is a dreadful vice. But it isquite true. 

'It is not a bear, ' said Oswald; and we all went on, still on tiptoe, round a twisty path and on to a lawn, and there was Noel. His collar hadcome undone, as I said, and he had an inky mark on his face that he madejust before we left the house, and he wouldn't let Dora wash it off, and one of his bootlaces was coming down. He was standing looking at alittle girl; she was the funniest little girl you ever saw. 

She was like a china doll--the sixpenny kind; she had a white face, andlong yellow hair, done up very tight in two pigtails; her forehead wasvery big and lumpy, and her cheeks came high up, like little shelvesunder her eyes. Her eyes were small and blue. She had on a funny blackfrock, with curly braid on it, and button boots that went almost up toher knees. Her legs were very thin. She was sitting in a hammock chairnursing a blue kitten--not a sky-blue one, of course, but the colourof a new slate pencil. As we came up we heard her say to Noel--'Who areyou?'

Noel had forgotten about the bear, and he was taking his favourite part, so he said--'I'm Prince Camaralzaman. '

The funny little girl looked pleased--

'I thought at first you were a common boy, ' she said. Then she saw therest of us and said--

'Are you all Princesses and Princes too?'

Of course we said 'Yes, ' and she said--

'I am a Princess also. ' She said it very well too, exactly as if it weretrue. We were very glad, because it is so seldom you meet any childrenwho can begin to play right off without having everything explained tothem. And even then they will say they are going to 'pretend to be' alion, or a witch, or a king. Now this little girl just said 'I _am_ aPrincess. ' Then she looked at Oswald and said, 'I fancy I've seen you atBaden. '

Of course Oswald said, 'Very likely. '

The little girl had a funny voice, and all her words were quite plain, each word by itself; she didn't talk at all like we do. 

H. O. Asked her what the cat's name was, and she said 'Katinka. ' ThenDicky said--

'Let's get away from the windows; if you play near windows some oneinside generally knocks at them and says "Don't". '

The Princess put down the cat very carefully and said--

'I am forbidden to walk off the grass. '

'That's a pity, ' said Dora. 

'But I will if you like, ' said the Princess. 

'You mustn't do things you are forbidden to do, ' Dora said; but Dickyshowed us that there was some more grass beyond the shrubs with only agravel path between. So I lifted the Princess over the gravel, so thatshe should be able to say she hadn't walked off the grass. When we gotto the other grass we all sat down, and the Princess asked us ifwe liked 'dragees' (I know that's how you spell it, for I askedAlbert-next-door's uncle). 

We said we thought not, but she pulled a real silver box out of herpocket and showed us; they were just flat, round chocolates. We had twoeach. Then we asked her her name, and she began, and when she began shewent on, and on, and on, till I thought she was never going to stop. H. O. Said she had fifty names, but Dicky is very good at figures, and hesays there were only eighteen. The first were Pauline, Alexandra, Alice, and Mary was one, and Victoria, for we all heard that, and it endedup with Hildegarde Cunigonde something or other, Princess of somethingelse. 

When she'd done, H. O. Said, 'That's jolly good! Say it again!' and shedid, but even then we couldn't remember it. We told her our names, butshe thought they were too short, so when it was Noel's turn he said hewas Prince Noel Camaralzaman Ivan Constantine Charlemagne James JohnEdward Biggs Maximilian Bastable Prince of Lewisham, but when she askedhim to say it again of course he could only get the first two namesright, because he'd made it up as he went on. 

So the Princess said, 'You are quite old enough to know your own name. 'She was very grave and serious. 

She told us that she was the fifth cousin of Queen Victoria. We askedwho the other cousins were, but she did not seem to understand. She wenton and said she was seven times removed. She couldn't tell us what thatmeant either, but Oswald thinks it means that the Queen's cousins areso fond of her that they will keep coming bothering, so the Queen'sservants have orders to remove them. This little girl must have beenvery fond of the Queen to try so often to see her, and to have beenseven times removed. We could see that it is considered something tobe proud of; but we thought it was hard on the Queen that her cousinswouldn't let her alone. 

Presently the little girl asked us where our maids and governesses were. 

We told her we hadn't any just now. And she said--

'How pleasant! And did you come here alone?'

'Yes, ' said Dora; 'we came across the Heath. '

'You are very fortunate, ' said the little girl. She sat very upright onthe grass, with her fat little hands in her lap. 'I should like to go onthe Heath. There are donkeys there, with white saddle covers. I shouldlike to ride them, but my governess will not permit. '

'I'm glad we haven't a governess, ' H. O. Said. 'We ride the donkeyswhenever we have any pennies, and once I gave the man another penny tomake it gallop. '

'You are indeed fortunate!' said the Princess again, and when she lookedsad the shelves on her cheeks showed more than ever. You could have laida sixpence on them quite safely if you had had one. 

'Never mind, ' said Noel; 'I've got a lot of money. Come out and have aride now. ' But the little girl shook her head and said she was afraid itwould not be correct. 

Dora said she was quite right; then all of a sudden came one of thoseuncomfortable times when nobody can think of anything to say, so we satand looked at each other. But at last Alice said we ought to be going. 

'Do not go yet, ' the little girl said. 'At what time did they order yourcarriage?'

'Our carriage is a fairy one, drawn by griffins, and it comes when wewish for it, ' said Noel. 

The little girl looked at him very queerly, and said, 'That is out of apicture-book. '

Then Noel said he thought it was about time he was married if we were tobe home in time for tea. The little girl was rather stupid over it, but she did what we told her, and we married them with Dora'spocket-handkerchief for a veil, and the ring off the back of one of thebuttons on H. O. 's blouse just went on her little finger. 

Then we showed her how to play cross-touch, and puss in the corner, and tag. It was funny, she didn't know any games but battledore andshuttlecock and les graces. But she really began to laugh at last andnot to look quite so like a doll. 

She was Puss and was running after Dicky when suddenly she stopped shortand looked as if she was going to cry. And we looked too, and there weretwo prim ladies with little mouths and tight hair. One of them said inquite an awful voice, 'Pauline, who are these children?' and her voicewas gruff; with very curly R's. 

The little girl said we were Princes and Princesses--which was silly, toa grown-up person that is not a great friend of yours. 

The gruff lady gave a short, horrid laugh, like a husky bark, and said--

'Princes, indeed! They're only common children!'

Dora turned very red and began to speak, but the little girl cried out'Common children! Oh, I am so glad! When I am grown up I'll always playwith common children. '

And she ran at us, and began to kiss us one by one, beginningwith Alice; she had got to H. O. When the horrid lady said--'YourHighness--go indoors at once!'

The little girl answered, 'I won't!'

Then the prim lady said--'Wilson, carry her Highness indoors. '

And the little girl was carried away screaming, and kicking with herlittle thin legs and her buttoned boots, and between her screams sheshrieked:

'Common children! I am glad, glad, glad! Common children! Commonchildren!'

The nasty lady then remarked--'Go at once, or I will send for thepolice!'

So we went. H. O. Made a face at her and so did Alice, but Oswald tookoff his cap and said he was sorry if she was annoyed about anything;for Oswald has always been taught to be polite to ladies, however nasty. Dicky took his off, too, when he saw me do it; he says he did it first, but that is a mistake. If I were really a common boy I should say it wasa lie. 

Then we all came away, and when we got outside Dora said, 'So she wasreally a Princess. Fancy a Princess living _there_!'

'Even Princesses have to live somewhere, ' said Dicky. 

'And I thought it was play. And it was real. I wish I'd known! I shouldhave liked to ask her lots of things, ' said Alice. 

H. O. Said he would have liked to ask her what she had for dinner andwhether she had a crown. 

I felt, myself, we had lost a chance of finding out a great deal aboutkings and queens. I might have known such a stupid-looking little girlwould never have been able to pretend, as well as that. 

So we all went home across the Heath, and made dripping toast for tea. 

When we were eating it Noel said, 'I wish I could give _her_ some! It isvery good. '

He sighed as he said it, and his mouth was very full, so we knew he wasthinking of his Princess. He says now that she was as beautiful as theday, but we remember her quite well, and she was nothing of the kind. 

CHAPTER 7. BEING BANDITS

Noel was quite tiresome for ever so long after we found the Princess. Hewould keep on wanting to go to the Park when the rest of us didn't, andthough we went several times to please him, we never found that dooropen again, and all of us except him knew from the first that it wouldbe no go. 

So now we thought it was time to do something to rouse him from thestupor of despair, which is always done to heroes when anything bafflinghas occurred. Besides, we were getting very short of money again--thefortunes of your house cannot be restored (not so that they will last, that is), even by the one pound eight we got when we had the 'goodhunting. ' We spent a good deal of that on presents for Father'sbirthday. We got him a paper-weight, like a glass bun, with a pictureof Lewisham Church at the bottom; and a blotting-pad, and a box ofpreserved fruits, and an ivory penholder with a view of GreenwichPark in the little hole where you look through at the top. He was mostawfully pleased and surprised, and when he heard how Noel and Oswald hadearned the money to buy the things he was more surprised still. Nearlyall the rest of our money went to get fireworks for the Fifth ofNovember. We got six Catherine wheels and four rockets; two hand-lights, one red and one green; a sixpenny maroon; two Roman-candles--they costa shilling; some Italian streamers, a fairy fountain, and a tourbillonthat cost eighteen-pence and was very nearly worth it. 

But I think crackers and squibs are a mistake. It's true you get a lotof them for the money, and they are not bad fun for the first two orthree dozen, but you get jolly sick of them before you've let off yoursixpenn'orth. And the only amusing way is not allowed: it is puttingthem in the fire. 

It always seems a long time till the evening when you have got fireworksin the house, and I think as it was a rather foggy day we should havedecided to let them off directly after breakfast, only Father had saidhe would help us to let them off at eight o'clock after he had had hisdinner, and you ought never to disappoint your father if you can helpit. 

You see we had three good reasons for trying H. O. 's idea of restoringthe fallen fortunes of our house by becoming bandits on the Fifth ofNovember. We had a fourth reason as well, and that was the best reasonof the lot. You remember Dora thought it would be wrong to be bandits. And the Fifth of November came while Dora was away at Stroud stayingwith her godmother. Stroud is in Gloucestershire. We were determined todo it while she was out of the way, because we did not think it wrong, and besides we meant to do it anyhow. 

We held a Council, of course, and laid our plans very carefully. We letH. O. Be Captain, because it was his idea. Oswald was Lieutenant. Oswaldwas quite fair, because he let H. O. Call himself Captain; but Oswald isthe eldest next to Dora, after all. 

Our plan was this. We were all to go up on to the Heath. Our house is inthe Lewisham Road, but it's quite close to the Heath if you cut up theshort way opposite the confectioner's, past the nursery gardens andthe cottage hospital, and turn to the left again and afterwards to theright. You come out then at the top of the hill, where the big guns arewith the iron fence round them, and where the bands play on Thursdayevenings in the summer. 

We were to lurk in ambush there, and waylay an unwary traveller. We wereto call upon him to surrender his arms, and then bring him home and puthim in the deepest dungeon below the castle moat; then we were to loadhim with chains and send to his friends for ransom. 

You may think we had no chains, but you are wrong, because we usedto keep two other dogs once, besides Pincher, before the fall of thefortunes of the ancient House of Bastable. And they were quite big dogs. 

It was latish in the afternoon before we started. We thought we couldlurk better if it was nearly dark. It was rather foggy, and we waiteda good while beside the railings, but all the belated travellers wereeither grown up or else they were Board School children. We weren'tgoing to get into a row with grown-up people--especially strangers--andno true bandit would ever stoop to ask a ransom from the relations ofthe poor and needy. So we thought it better to wait. 

As I said, it was Guy Fawkes Day, and if it had not been we should neverhave been able to be bandits at all, for the unwary traveller we didcatch had been forbidden to go out because he had a cold in his head. But he would run out to follow a guy, without even putting on a coat ora comforter, and it was a very damp, foggy afternoon and nearly dark, soyou see it was his own fault entirely, and served him jolly well right. 

We saw him coming over the Heath just as we were deciding to go hometo tea. He had followed that guy right across to the village (we callBlackheath the village; I don't know why), and he was coming backdragging his feet and sniffing. 

'Hist, an unwary traveller approaches!' whispered Oswald. 

'Muffle your horses' heads and see to the priming of your pistols, 'muttered Alice. She always will play boys' parts, and she makes Elliscut her hair short on purpose. Ellis is a very obliging hairdresser. 

'Steal softly upon him, ' said Noel; 'for lo! 'tis dusk, and no humaneyes can mark our deeds. '

So we ran out and surrounded the unwary traveller. It turned out to beAlbert-next-door, and he was very frightened indeed until he saw who wewere. 

'Surrender!' hissed Oswald, in a desperate-sounding voice, as he caughtthe arm of the Unwary. And Albert-next-door said, 'All right! I'msurrendering as hard as I can. You needn't pull my arm off. '

We explained to him that resistance was useless, and I think he saw thatfrom the first. We held him tight by both arms, and we marched him homedown the hill in a hollow square of five. 

He wanted to tell us about the guy, but we made him see that it was notproper for prisoners to talk to the guard, especially about guys thatthe prisoner had been told not to go after because of his cold. 

When we got to where we live he said, 'All right, I don't want to tellyou. You'll wish I had afterwards. You never saw such a guy. '

'I can see _you_!' said H. O. It was very rude, and Oswald told him soat once, because it is his duty as an elder brother. But H. O. Is veryyoung and does not know better yet, and besides it wasn't bad for H. O. 

Albert-next-door said, 'You haven't any manners, and I want to go in tomy tea. Let go of me!'

But Alice told him, quite kindly, that he was not going in to his tea, but coming with us. 

'I'm not, ' said Albert-next-door; 'I'm going home. Leave go! I've gota bad cold. You're making it worse. ' Then he tried to cough, which wasvery silly, because we'd seen him in the morning, and he'd told us wherethe cold was that he wasn't to go out with. When he had tried to cough, he said, 'Leave go of me! You see my cold's getting worse. '

'You should have thought of that before, ' said Dicky; 'you're coming inwith us. '

'Don't be a silly, ' said Noel; 'you know we told you at the verybeginning that resistance was useless. There is no disgrace in yielding. We are five to your one. '

By this time Eliza had opened the door, and we thought it best to takehim in without any more parlaying. To parley with a prisoner is not doneby bandits. 

Directly we got him safe into the nursery, H. O. Began to jump about andsay, 'Now you're a prisoner really and truly!'

And Albert-next-door began to cry. He always does. I wonder he didn'tbegin long before--but Alice fetched him one of the dried fruits wegave Father for his birthday. It was a green walnut. I have noticedthe walnuts and the plums always get left till the last in the box; theapricots go first, and then the figs and pears; and the cherries, ifthere are any. 

So he ate it and shut up. Then we explained his position to him, so thatthere should be no mistake, and he couldn't say afterwards that he hadnot understood. 

'There will be no violence, ' said Oswald--he was now Captain of theBandits, because we all know H. O. Likes to be Chaplain when weplay prisoners--'no violence. But you will be confined in a dark, subterranean dungeon where toads and snakes crawl, and but little of thelight of day filters through the heavily mullioned windows. You will beloaded with chains. Now don't begin again, Baby, there's nothing tocry about; straw will be your pallet; beside you the gaoler will set aewer--a ewer is only a jug, stupid; it won't eat you--a ewer with water;and a mouldering crust will be your food. '

But Albert-next-door never enters into the spirit of a thing. He mumbledsomething about tea-time. 

Now Oswald, though stern, is always just, and besides we were all ratherhungry, and tea was ready. So we had it at once, Albert-next-door andall--and we gave him what was left of the four-pound jar of apricot jamwe got with the money Noel got for his poetry. And we saved our crustsfor the prisoner. 

Albert-next-door was very tiresome. Nobody could have had a nicer prisonthan he had. We fenced him into a corner with the old wire nurseryfender and all the chairs, instead of putting him in the coal-cellaras we had first intended. And when he said the dog-chains were cold thegirls were kind enough to warm his fetters thoroughly at the fire beforewe put them on him. 

We got the straw cases of some bottles of wine someone sent Fatherone Christmas--it is some years ago, but the cases are quite good. Weunpacked them very carefully and pulled them to pieces and scatteredthe straw about. It made a lovely straw pallet, and took ever so long tomake--but Albert-next-door has yet to learn what gratitude really is. We got the bread trencher for the wooden platter where the prisoner'scrusts were put--they were not mouldy, but we could not wait till theygot so, and for the ewer we got the toilet jug out of the spare-roomwhere nobody ever sleeps. And even then Albert-next-door couldn't behappy like the rest of us. He howled and cried and tried to get out, andhe knocked the ewer over and stamped on the mouldering crusts. Luckilythere was no water in the ewer because we had forgotten it, only dustand spiders. So we tied him up with the clothes-line from the backkitchen, and we had to hurry up, which was a pity for him. We might havehad him rescued by a devoted page if he hadn't been so tiresome. In factNoel was actually dressing up for the page when Albert-next-door kickedover the prison ewer. 

We got a sheet of paper out of an old exercise-book, and we made H. O. Prick his own thumb, because he is our little brother and it is our dutyto teach him to be brave. We none of us mind pricking ourselves; we'vedone it heaps of times. H. O. Didn't like it, but he agreed to do it, and I helped him a little because he was so slow, and when he saw thered bead of blood getting fatter and bigger as I squeezed his thumb hewas very pleased, just as I had told him he would be. 

This is what we wrote with H. O. 's blood, only the blood gave out whenwe got to 'Restored', and we had to write the rest with crimson lake, which is not the same colour, though I always use it, myself, forpainting wounds. 

While Oswald was writing it he heard Alice whispering to the prisonerthat it would soon be over, and it was only play. The prisoner left offhowling, so I pretended not to hear what she said. A Bandit Captain hasto overlook things sometimes. This was the letter--

 'Albert Morrison is held a prisoner by Bandits. On payment of three thousand pounds he will be restored to his sorrowing relatives, and all will be forgotten and forgiven. '

I was not sure about the last part, but Dicky was certain he had seen itin the paper, so I suppose it must have been all right. 

We let H. O. Take the letter; it was only fair, as it was his blood itwas written with, and told him to leave it next door for Mrs Morrison. 

H. O. Came back quite quickly, and Albert-next-door's uncle came withhim. 

'What is all this, Albert?' he cried. 'Alas, alas, my nephew! Do I findyou the prisoner of a desperate band of brigands?'

'Bandits, ' said H. O; 'you know it says bandits. '

'I beg your pardon, gentlemen, ' said Albert-next-door's uncle, 'banditsit is, of course. This, Albert, is the direct result of the pursuit ofthe guy on an occasion when your doting mother had expressly warned youto forgo the pleasures of the chase. '

Albert said it wasn't his fault, and he hadn't wanted to play. 

'So ho!' said his uncle, 'impenitent too! Where's the dungeon?'

We explained the dungeon, and showed him the straw pallet and the ewerand the mouldering crusts and other things. 

'Very pretty and complete, ' he said. 'Albert, you are more highlyprivileged than ever I was. No one ever made me a nice dungeon when Iwas your age. I think I had better leave you where you are. '

Albert began to cry again and said he was sorry, and he would be a goodboy. 

'And on this old familiar basis you expect me to ransom you, do you?Honestly, my nephew, I doubt whether you are worth it. Besides, the summentioned in this document strikes me as excessive: Albert really is_not_ worth three thousand pounds. Also by a strange and unfortunatechance I haven't the money about me. Couldn't you take less?'

We said perhaps we could. 

'Say eightpence, ' suggested Albert-next-door's uncle, 'which is all thesmall change I happen to have on my person. '

'Thank you very much, ' said Alice as he held it out; 'but are you sureyou can spare it? Because really it was only play. '

'Quite sure. Now, Albert, the game is over. You had better run home toyour mother and tell her how much you've enjoyed yourself. '

When Albert-next-door had gone his uncle sat in the Guy Fawkes armchairand took Alice on his knee, and we sat round the fire waiting till itwould be time to let off our fireworks. We roasted the chestnuts hesent Dicky out for, and he told us stories till it was nearly seven. Hisstories are first-rate--he does all the parts in different voices. Atlast he said--

'Look here, young-uns. I like to see you play and enjoy yourselves, andI don't think it hurts Albert to enjoy himself too. '

'I don't think he did much, ' said H. O. But I knew whatAlbert-next-door's uncle meant because I am much older than H. O. Hewent on--

'But what about Albert's mother? Didn't you think how anxious she wouldbe at his not coming home? As it happens I saw him come in with you, sowe knew it was all right. But if I hadn't, eh?'

He only talks like that when he is very serious, or even angry. Othertimes he talks like people in books--to us, I mean. 

We none of us said anything. But I was thinking. Then Alice spoke. 

Girls seem not to mind saying things that we don't say. She put her armsround Albert-next-door's uncle's neck and said--

'We're very, very sorry. We didn't think about his mother. You see wetry very hard not to think about other people's mothers because--'

Just then we heard Father's key in the door and Albert-next-door's unclekissed Alice and put her down, and we all went down to meet Father. Aswe went I thought I heard Albert-next-door's uncle say something thatsounded like 'Poor little beggars!'

He couldn't have meant us, when we'd been having such a jolly time, andchestnuts, and fireworks to look forward to after dinner and everything!

CHAPTER 8. BEING EDITORS

It was Albert's uncle who thought of our trying a newspaper. He said hethought we should not find the bandit business a paying industry, as apermanency, and that journalism might be. 

We had sold Noel's poetry and that piece of information about LordTottenham to the good editor, so we thought it would not be a bad ideato have a newspaper of our own. We saw plainly that editors must be veryrich and powerful, because of the grand office and the man in the glasscase, like a museum, and the soft carpets and big writing-table. Besidesour having seen a whole handful of money that the editor pulled outquite carelessly from his trousers pocket when he gave me my five bob. 

Dora wanted to be editor and so did Oswald, but he gave way to herbecause she is a girl, and afterwards he knew that it is true what itsays in the copy-books about Virtue being its own Reward. Because you'veno idea what a bother it is. Everybody wanted to put in everything justas they liked, no matter how much room there was on the page. It wassimply awful! Dora put up with it as long as she could and then she saidif she wasn't let alone she wouldn't go on being editor; they could bethe paper's editors themselves, so there. 

Then Oswald said, like a good brother: 'I will help you if you like, Dora, ' and she said, 'You're more trouble than all the rest of them!Come and be editor and see how you like it. I give it up to you. 'But she didn't, and we did it together. We let Albert-next-door besub-editor, because he had hurt his foot with a nail in his boot thatgathered. 

When it was done Albert-next-door's uncle had it copied for us intypewriting, and we sent copies to all our friends, and then of coursethere was no one left that we could ask to buy it. We did not think ofthat until too late. We called the paper the Lewisham Recorder; Lewishambecause we live there, and Recorder in memory of the good editor. Icould write a better paper on my head, but an editor is not allowed towrite all the paper. It is very hard, but he is not. You just have tofill up with what you can get from other writers. If I ever have time Iwill write a paper all by myself. It won't be patchy. We had no time tomake it an illustrated paper, but I drew the ship going down with allhands for the first copy. But the typewriter can't draw ships, so it wasleft out in the other copies. The time the first paper took to write outno one would believe! This was the Newspaper:

 THE LEWISHAM RECORDER

 EDITORS: DORA AND OSWALD BASTABLE

 ------------ EDITORIAL NOTE

Every paper is written for some reason. Ours is because we want to sellit and get money. If what we have written brings happiness to any sadheart we shall not have laboured in vain. But we want the money too. Many papers are content with the sad heart and the happiness, but we arenot like that, and it is best not to be deceitful. EDITORS. 

There will be two serial stories; One by Dicky and one by all of us. Ina serial story you only put in one chapter at a time. But we shall putall our serial story at once, if Dora has time to copy it. Dicky's willcome later on. 

 SERIAL STORY BY US ALL

 CHAPTER I--by Dora

The sun was setting behind a romantic-looking tower when two strangersmight have been observed descending the crest of the hill. The eldest, a man in the prime of life; the other a handsome youth who remindedeverybody of Quentin Durward. They approached the Castle, in which thefair Lady Alicia awaited her deliverers. She leaned from the castellatedwindow and waved her lily hand as they approached. They returned hersignal, and retired to seek rest and refreshment at a neighbouringhostelry. 

 ------------ CHAPTER II--by Alice

The Princess was very uncomfortable in the tower, because her fairygodmother had told her all sorts of horrid things would happen if shedidn't catch a mouse every day, and she had caught so many mice that nowthere were hardly any left to catch. So she sent her carrier pigeon toask the noble Strangers if they could send her a few mice--because shewould be of age in a few days and then it wouldn't matter. So the fairygodmother--- (I'm very sorry, but there's no room to make the chaptersany longer. -ED. )

 ------------ CHAPTER III--by the Sub-Editor

(I can't--I'd much rather not--I don't know how. )

 ------------ CHAPTER IV--by Dicky

I must now retrace my steps and tell you something about our hero. Youmust know he had been to an awfully jolly school, where they had turkeyand goose every day for dinner, and never any mutton, and as many helpsof pudding as a fellow cared to send up his plate for--so of course theyhad all grown up very strong, and before he left school he challengedthe Head to have it out man to man, and he gave it him, I tell you. Thatwas the education that made him able to fight Red Indians, and to be thestranger who might have been observed in the first chapter. 

 ------------ CHAPTER V--by Noel

I think it's time something happened in this story. So then the dragonhe came out, blowing fire out of his nose, and he said--

'Come on, you valiant man and true, I'd like to have a set-to along ofyou!'

(That's bad English. --ED. I don't care; it's what the dragon said. Whotold you dragons didn't talk bad English?--Noel. )

So the hero, whose name was Noeloninuris, replied--

 'My blade is sharp, my axe is keen, You're not nearly as big As a good many dragons I've seen. '

(Don't put in so much poetry, Noel. It's not fair, because none of theothers can do it. --ED. )

And then they went at it, and he beat the dragon, just as he did theHead in Dicky's part of the Story, and so he married the Princess, andthey lived--- (No they didn't--not till the last chapter. --ED. )

 ------------ CHAPTER VI--by H. O. 

I think it's a very nice Story--but what about the mice? I don't want tosay any more. Dora can have what's left of my chapter. 

 ------------ CHAPTER VII--by the Editors

And so when the dragon was dead there were lots of mice, because he usedto kill them for his tea but now they rapidly multiplied and ravaged thecountry, so the fair lady Alicia, sometimes called the Princess, hadto say she would not marry any one unless they could rid the country ofthis plague of mice. Then the Prince, whose real name didn't beginwith N, but was Osrawalddo, waved his magic sword, and the dragon stoodbefore them, bowing gracefully. They made him promise to be good, andthen they forgave him; and when the wedding breakfast came, all thebones were saved for him. And so they were married and lived happy everafter. 

(What became of the other stranger?--NOEL. The dragon ate him because heasked too many questions. --EDITORS. )

This is the end of the story. 

 INSTRUCTIVE

It only takes four hours and a quarter now to get from London toManchester; but I should not think any one would if they could help it. 

A DREADFUL WARNING. A wicked boy told me a very instructive thing aboutginger. They had opened one of the large jars, and he happened to takeout quite a lot, and he made it all right by dropping marbles in, tillthere was as much ginger as before. But he told me that on the Sunday, when it was coming near the part where there is only juice generally, Ihad no idea what his feelings were. I don't see what he could have saidwhen they asked him. I should be sorry to act like it. 

 ------------ SCIENTIFIC

Experiments should always be made out of doors. And don't usebenzoline. --DICKY. (That was when he burnt his eyebrows off. --ED. )

The earth is 2, 400 miles round, and 800 through--at least I think so, but perhaps it's the other way. --DICKY. (You ought to have been surebefore you began. --ED. )

 ------------ SCIENTIFIC COLUMN

In this so-called Nineteenth Century Science is but too littleconsidered in the nurseries of the rich and proud. But we are not likethat. 

It is not generally known that if you put bits of camphor in luke-warmwater it will move about. If you drop sweet oil in, the camphor willdart away and then stop moving. But don't drop any till you are tiredof it, because the camphor won't any more afterwards. Much amusement andinstruction is lost by not knowing things like this. 

If you put a sixpence under a shilling in a wine-glass, and blow harddown the side of the glass, the sixpence will jump up and sit on the topof the shilling. At least I can't do it myself, but my cousin can. He isin the Navy. 

 ------------ ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS

Noel. You are very poetical, but I am sorry to say it will not do. 

Alice. Nothing will ever make your hair curl, so it's no use. Somepeople say it's more important to tidy up as you go along. I don't meanyou in particular, but every one. 

H. O. We never said you were tubby, but the Editor does not know anycure. 

Noel. If there is any of the paper over when this newspaper is finished, I will exchange it for your shut-up inkstand, or the knife that has theuseful thing in it for taking stones out of horses' feet, but you can'thave it without. 

H. O. There are many ways how your steam engine might stop working. You might ask Dicky. He knows one of them. I think it is the way yoursstopped. 

Noel. If you think that by filling the garden with sand you can makecrabs build their nests there you are not at all sensible. 

You have altered your poem about the battle of Waterloo so often, thatwe cannot read it except where the Duke waves his sword and says something we can't read either. Why did you write it on blotting-paper withpurple chalk?--ED. (Because YOU KNOW WHO sneaked my pencil. --NOEL. )

 ------------ POETRY

 The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, And the way he came down was awful, I'm told; But it's nothing to the way one of the Editors comes down on me, If I crumble my bread-and-butter or spill my tea. NOEL. ------------ CURIOUS FACTS

If you hold a guinea-pig up by his tail his eyes drop out. 

You can't do half the things yourself that children in books do, makingmodels or soon. I wonder why?--ALICE. 

If you take a date's stone out and put in an almond and eat themtogether, it is prime. I found this out. --SUB-EDITOR. 

If you put your wet hand into boiling lead it will not hurt you if youdraw it out quickly enough. I have never tried this. --DORA. 

 ------------ THE PURRING CLASS

 (Instructive Article)

If I ever keep a school everything shall be quite different. Nobodyshall learn anything they don't want to. And sometimes instead of havingmasters and mistresses we will have cats, and we will dress up in catskins and learn purring. 'Now, my dears, ' the old cat will say, 'one, two, three all purr together, ' and we shall purr like anything. 

She won't teach us to mew, but we shall know how without teaching. Children do know some things without being taught. --ALICE. 

 ------------ POETRY (Translated into French by Dora)

 Quand j'etais jeune et j'etais fou J'achetai un violon pour dix-huit sous Et tous les airs que je jouai Etait over the hills and far away. 

 Another piece of it

 Mercie jolie vache qui fait Bon lait pour mon dejeuner Tous les matins tous les soirs Mon pain je mange, ton lait je boire. 

 ------------ RECREATIONS

It is a mistake to think that cats are playful. I often try to get a catto play with me, and she never seems to care about the game, no matterhow little it hurts. --H. O. 

Making pots and pans with clay is fun, but do not tell the grown-ups. Itis better to surprise them; and then you must say at once how easily itwashes off--much easier than ink. --DICKY. 

 ------------ SAM REDFERN, OR THE BUSH RANGER'S BURIAL

 By Dicky

'Well, Annie, I have bad news for you, ' said Mr Ridgway, as he enteredthe comfortable dining-room of his cabin in the Bush. 'Sam Redfern theBushranger is about this part of the Bush just now. I hope he will notattack us with his gang. '

'I hope not, ' responded Annie, a gentle maiden of some sixteen summers. 

Just then came a knock at the door of the hut, and a gruff voice askedthem to open the door. 

'It is Sam Redfern the Bushranger, father, ' said the girl. 

'The same, ' responded the voice, and the next moment the hall door wassmashed in, and Sam Redfern sprang in, followed by his gang. 

 ------------ CHAPTER II

Annie's Father was at once overpowered, and Annie herself lay bound withcords on the drawing-room sofa. Sam Redfern set a guard round the lonelyhut, and all human aid was despaired of. But you never know. Far away inthe Bush a different scene was being enacted. 

'Must be Injuns, ' said a tall man to himself as he pushed his waythrough the brushwood. It was Jim Carlton, the celebrated detective. 'Iknow them, ' he added; 'they are Apaches. ' just then ten Indians in fullwar-paint appeared. Carlton raised his rifle and fired, and slingingtheir scalps on his arm he hastened towards the humble log hut whereresided his affianced bride, Annie Ridgway, sometimes known as theFlower of the Bush. 

 ------------ CHAPTER III

The moon was low on the horizon, and Sam Redfern was seated at adrinking bout with some of his boon companions. 

They had rifled the cellars of the hut, and the rich wines flowed likewater in the golden goblets of Mr Ridgway. 

But Annie had made friends with one of the gang, a noble, good-heartedman who had joined Sam Redfern by mistake, and she had told him to goand get the police as quickly as possible. 

'Ha! ha!' cried Redfern, 'now I am enjoying myself!' He little knew thathis doom was near upon him. 

Just then Annie gave a piercing scream, and Sam Redfern got up, seizinghis revolver. 'Who are you?' he cried, as a man entered. 

'I am Jim Carlton, the celebrated detective, ' said the new arrival. 

Sam Redfern's revolver dropped from his nerveless fingers, but the nextmoment he had sprung upon the detective with the well-known activity ofthe mountain sheep, and Annie shrieked, for she had grown to love therough Bushranger. 

(To be continued at the end of the paper if there is room. )

 ------------ SCHOLASTIC

A new slate is horrid till it is washed in milk. I like the green spotson them to draw patterns round. I know a good way to make a slate-pencilsqueak, but I won't put it in because I don't want to make itcommon. --SUB-EDITOR. 

Peppermint is a great help with arithmetic. The boy who was second inthe Oxford Local always did it. He gave me two. The examiner said tohim, 'Are you eating peppermints?' And he said, 'No, Sir. '

He told me afterwards it was quite true, because he was only suckingone. I'm glad I wasn't asked. I should never have thought of that, and Icould have had to say 'Yes. '--OSWALD. 

 ------------ THE WRECK OF THE 'MALABAR'

 By Noel

(Author of 'A Dream of Ancient Ancestors. ') He isn't really--but he putit in to make it seem more real. 

 Hark! what is that noise of rolling Waves and thunder in the air? 'Tis the death-knell of the sailors And officers and passengers of the good ship Malabar. 

 It was a fair and lovely noon When the good ship put out of port And people said 'ah little we think How soon she will be the elements' sport. '

 She was indeed a lovely sight Upon the billows with sails spread. But the captain folded his gloomy arms, Ah--if she had been a life-boat instead!

 See the captain stern yet gloomy Flings his son upon a rock, Hoping that there his darling boy May escape the wreck. 

 Alas in vain the loud winds roared And nobody was saved. That was the wreck of the Malabar, Then let us toll for the brave. NOEL. 

 ------------ GARDENING NOTES

It is useless to plant cherry-stones in the hope of eating the fruit, because they don't!

Alice won't lend her gardening tools again, because the last time Noelleft them out in the rain, and I don't like it. He said he didn't. 

 ------------ SEEDS AND BULBS

These are useful to play at shop with, until you are ready. Not atdinner-parties, for they will not grow unless uncooked. Potatoes arenot grown with seed, but with chopped-up potatoes. Apple trees are grownfrom twigs, which is less wasteful. 

Oak trees come from acorns. Every one knows this. When Noel says hecould grow one from a peach stone wrapped up in oak leaves, he showsthat he knows nothing about gardening but marigolds, and when I passedby his garden I thought they seemed just like weeds now the flowers havebeen picked. 

A boy once dared me to eat a bulb. 

Dogs are very industrious and fond of gardening. Pincher is alwaysplanting bones, but they never grow up. There couldn't be a bone tree. I think this is what makes him bark so unhappily at night. He has nevertried planting dog-biscuit, but he is fonder of bones, and perhaps hewants to be quite sure about them first. 

 ------------ SAM REDFERN, OR THE BUSHRANGER'S BURIAL

 By Dicky

 ------------ CHAPTER IV AND LAST

This would have been a jolly good story if they had let me finish it atthe beginning of the paper as I wanted to. But now I have forgotten howI meant it to end, and I have lost my book about Red Indians, and all myBoys of England have been sneaked. The girls say 'Good riddance!' so Iexpect they did it. They want me just to put in which Annie married, butI shan't, so they will never know. 

We have now put everything we can think of into the paper. It takes alot of thinking about. I don't know how grown-ups manage to write allthey do. It must make their heads ache, especially lesson books. 

Albert-next-door only wrote one chapter of the serial story, but hecould have done some more if he had wanted to. He could not write outany of the things because he cannot spell. He says he can, but it takeshim such a long time he might just as well not be able. There are one ortwo things more. I am sick of it, but Dora says she will write them in. 

LEGAL ANSWER WANTED. A quantity of excellent string is offered if youknow whether there really is a law passed about not buying gunpowderunder thirteen. --DICKY. 

The price of this paper is one shilling each, and sixpence extra for thepicture of the Malabar going down with all hands. If we sell one hundredcopies we will write another paper. 

 * * *

And so we would have done, but we never did. Albert-next-door's unclegave us two shillings, that was all. You can't restore fallen fortuneswith two shillings!

CHAPTER 9. THE G. B. 

Being editors is not the best way to wealth. We all feel this now, andhighwaymen are not respected any more like they used to be. 

I am sure we had tried our best to restore our fallen fortunes. We felttheir fall very much, because we knew the Bastables had been rich once. Dora and Oswald can remember when Father was always bringing nice thingshome from London, and there used to be turkeys and geese and wine andcigars come by the carrier at Christmas-time, and boxes of candied fruitand French plums in ornamental boxes with silk and velvet and gildingon them. They were called prunes, but the prunes you buy at the grocer'sare quite different. But now there is seldom anything nice brought fromLondon, and the turkey and the prune people have forgotten Father'saddress. 

'How _can_ we restore those beastly fallen fortunes?' said Oswald. 'We've tried digging and writing and princesses and being editors. '

'And being bandits, ' said H. O. 

'When did you try that?' asked Dora quickly. 'You know I told you it waswrong. '

'It wasn't wrong the way we did it, ' said Alice, quicker still, beforeOswald could say, 'Who asked you to tell us anything about it?'which would have been rude, and he is glad he didn't. 'We only caughtAlbert-next-door. '

'Oh, Albert-next-door!' said Dora contemptuously, and I felt morecomfortable; for even after I didn't say, 'Who asked you, and cetera, 'I was afraid Dora was going to come the good elder sister over us. Shedoes that a jolly sight too often. 

Dicky looked up from the paper he was reading and said, 'This soundslikely, ' and he read out--

 'L100 secures partnership in lucrative business for sale of useful patent. L10 weekly. No personal attendance necessary. Jobbins, 300, Old Street Road. '

'I wish we could secure that partnership, ' said Oswald. He is twelve, and a very thoughtful boy for his age. 

Alice looked up from her painting. She was trying to paint a fairyqueen's frock with green bice, and it wouldn't rub. There is somethingfunny about green bice. It never will rub off; no matter how expensiveyour paintbox is--and even boiling water is very little use. 

She said, 'Bother the bice! And, Oswald, it's no use thinking aboutthat. Where are we to get a hundred pounds?'

'Ten pounds a week is five pounds to us, ' Oswald went on--he had donethe sum in his head while Alice was talking--'because partnership meanshalves. It would be A1. '

Noel sat sucking his pencil--he had been writing poetry as usual. I sawthe first two lines--

 I wonder why Green Bice Is never very nice. 

Suddenly he said, 'I wish a fairy would come down the chimney and drop ajewel on the table--a jewel worth just a hundred pounds. '

'She might as well give you the hundred pounds while she was about it, 'said Dora. 

'Or while she was about it she might as well give us five pounds aweek, ' said Alice. 

'Or fifty, ' said I. 

'Or five hundred, ' said Dicky. 

I saw H. O. Open his mouth, and I knew he was going to say, 'Or fivethousand, ' so I said--

'Well, she won't give us fivepence, but if you'd only do as I am alwayssaying, and rescue a wealthy old gentleman from deadly peril he wouldgive us a pot of money, and we could have the partnership and fivepounds a week. Five pounds a week would buy a great many things. '

Then Dicky said, 'Why shouldn't we borrow it?' So we said, 'Who from?'and then he read this out of the paper--

 MONEY PRIVATELY WITHOUT FEES THE BOND STREET BANK Manager, Z. Rosenbaum. 

 Advances cash from L20 to L10, 000 on ladies' or gentlemen's note of hand alone, without security. No fees. No inquiries. Absolute privacy guaranteed. 

'What does it all mean?' asked H. O. 

'It means that there is a kind gentleman who has a lot of money, and hedoesn't know enough poor people to help, so he puts it in the paperthat he will help them, by lending them his money--that's it, isn't it, Dicky?'

Dora explained this and Dicky said, 'Yes. ' And H. O. Said he was aGenerous Benefactor, like in Miss Edgeworth. Then Noel wanted to knowwhat a note of hand was, and Dicky knew that, because he had read it ina book, and it was just a letter saying you will pay the money when youcan, and signed with your name. 

'No inquiries!' said Alice. 'Oh--Dicky--do you think he would?'

'Yes, I think so, ' said Dicky. 'I wonder Father doesn't go to this kindgentleman. I've seen his name before on a circular in Father's study. '

'Perhaps he has. ' said Dora. 

But the rest of us were sure he hadn't, because, of course, if he had, there would have been more money to buy nice things. Just then Pincherjumped up and knocked over the painting-water. He is a very carelessdog. I wonder why painting-water is always such an ugly colour? Dora ranfor a duster to wipe it up, and H. O. Dropped drops of the water on hishands and said he had got the plague. So we played at the plague for abit, and I was an Arab physician with a bath-towel turban, and curedthe plague with magic acid-drops. After that it was time for dinner, andafter dinner we talked it all over and settled that we would go and seethe Generous Benefactor the very next day. But we thought perhaps the G. B. --it is short for Generous Benefactor--would not like it if there wereso many of us. I have often noticed that it is the worst of our beingsix--people think six a great many, when it's children. That sentencelooks wrong somehow. I mean they don't mind six pairs of boots, or sixpounds of apples, or six oranges, especially in equations, but theyseem to think you ought not to have five brothers and sisters. Of courseDicky was to go, because it was his idea. Dora had to go to Blackheathto see an old lady, a friend of Father's, so she couldn't go. Alicesaid _she_ ought to go, because it said, 'Ladies _and_ gentlemen, ' andperhaps the G. B. Wouldn't let us have the money unless there were bothkinds of us. 

H. O. Said Alice wasn't a lady; and she said _he_ wasn't going, anyway. Then he called her a disagreeable cat, and she began to cry. 

But Oswald always tries to make up quarrels, so he said--

'You're little sillies, both of you!'

And Dora said, 'Don't cry, Alice; he only meant you weren't a grown-uplady. '

Then H. O. Said, 'What else did you think I meant, Disagreeable?'

So Dicky said, 'Don't be disagreeable yourself, H. O. Let her alone andsay you're sorry, or I'll jolly well make you!'

So H. O. Said he was sorry. Then Alice kissed him and said she was sorrytoo; and after that H. O. Gave her a hug, and said, 'Now I'm _really andtruly_ sorry, ' So it was all right. 

Noel went the last time any of us went to London, so he was out of it, and Dora said she would take him to Blackheath if we'd take H. O. So asthere'd been a little disagreeableness we thought it was better to takehim, and we did. At first we thought we'd tear our oldest things a bitmore, and put some patches of different colours on them, to show theG. B. How much we wanted money. But Dora said that would be a sortof cheating, pretending we were poorer than we are. And Dora is rightsometimes, though she is our elder sister. Then we thought we'd betterwear our best things, so that the G. B. Might see we weren't so verypoor that he couldn't trust us to pay his money back when we had it. ButDora said that would be wrong too. So it came to our being quite honest, as Dora said, and going just as we were, without even washing our facesand hands; but when I looked at H. O. In the train I wished we had notbeen quite so particularly honest. 

Every one who reads this knows what it is like to go in the train, so Ishall not tell about it--though it was rather fun, especially the partwhere the guard came for the tickets at Waterloo, and H. O. Was underthe seat and pretended to be a dog without a ticket. We went to CharingCross, and we just went round to Whitehall to see the soldiers and thenby St James's for the same reason--and when we'd looked in the shops abit we got to Brook Street, Bond Street. It was a brass plate on adoor next to a shop--a very grand place, where they sold bonnets andhats--all very bright and smart, and no tickets on them to tell youthe price. We rang a bell and a boy opened the door and we asked for MrRosenbaum. The boy was not polite; he did not ask us in. So then Dickygave him his visiting card; it was one of Father's really, but thename is the same, Mr Richard Bastable, and we others wrote our namesunderneath. I happened to have a piece of pink chalk in my pocket and wewrote them with that. 

Then the boy shut the door in our faces and we waited on the step. Butpresently he came down and asked our business. So Dicky said--

'Money advanced, young shaver! and don't be all day about it!'

And then he made us wait again, till I was quite stiff in my legs, butAlice liked it because of looking at the hats and bonnets, and at lastthe door opened, and the boy said--

'Mr Rosenbaum will see you, ' so we wiped our feet on the mat, which saidso, and we went up stairs with soft carpets and into a room. It was abeautiful room. I wished then we had put on our best things, or at leastwashed a little. But it was too late now. 

The room had velvet curtains and a soft, soft carpet, and it was fullof the most splendid things. Black and gold cabinets, and china, andstatues, and pictures. There was a picture of a cabbage and a pheasantand a dead hare that was just like life, and I would have given worldsto have it for my own. The fur was so natural I should never have beentired of looking at it; but Alice liked the one of the girl withthe broken jug best. Then besides the pictures there were clocks andcandlesticks and vases, and gilt looking-glasses, and boxes of cigarsand scent and things littered all over the chairs and tables. It was awonderful place, and in the middle of all the splendour was a little oldgentleman with a very long black coat and a very long white beard and ahookey nose--like a falcon. And he put on a pair of gold spectacles andlooked at us as if he knew exactly how much our clothes were worth. 

And then, while we elder ones were thinking how to begin, for we hadall said 'Good morning' as we came in, of course, H. O. Began before wecould stop him. He said:

'Are you the G. B. ?'

'The _what_?' said the little old gentleman. 

'The G. B. , ' said H. O. , and I winked at him to shut up, but he didn'tsee me, and the G. B. Did. He waved his hand at _me_ to shut up, so Ihad to, and H. O. Went on--'It stands for Generous Benefactor. '

The old gentleman frowned. Then he said, 'Your Father sent you here, Isuppose?'

'No he didn't, ' said Dicky. 'Why did you think so?'

The old gentleman held out the card, and I explained that we took thatbecause Father's name happens to be the same as Dicky's. 

'Doesn't he know you've come?'

'No, ' said Alice, 'we shan't tell him till we've got the partnership, because his own business worries him a good deal and we don't want tobother him with ours till it's settled, and then we shall give him halfour share. '

The old gentleman took off his spectacles and rumpled his hair with hishands, then he said, 'Then what _did_ you come for?'

'We saw your advertisement, ' Dicky said, 'and we want a hundred poundson our note of hand, and my sister came so that there should be bothkinds of us; and we want it to buy a partnership with in the lucrativebusiness for sale of useful patent. No personal attendance necessary. '

'I don't think I quite follow you, ' said the G. B. 'But one thing Ishould like settled before entering more fully into the matter: why didyou call me Generous Benefactor?'

'Well, you see, ' said Alice, smiling at him to show she wasn'tfrightened, though I know really she was, awfully, 'we thought it was so_very_ kind of you to try to find out the poor people who want money andto help them and lend them your money. '

'Hum!' said the G. B. 'Sit down. '

He cleared the clocks and vases and candlesticks off some of the chairs, and we sat down. The chairs were velvety, with gilt legs. It was like aking's palace. 

'Now, ' he said, 'you ought to be at school, instead of thinking aboutmoney. Why aren't you?'

We told him that we should go to school again when Father could manageit, but meantime we wanted to do something to restore the fallenfortunes of the House of Bastable. And we said we thought the lucrativepatent would be a very good thing. He asked a lot of questions, and wetold him everything we didn't think Father would mind our telling, andat last he said--

'You wish to borrow money. When will you repay it?'

'As soon as we've got it, of course, ' Dicky said. 

Then the G. B. Said to Oswald, 'You seem the eldest, ' but I explained tohim that it was Dicky's idea, so my being eldest didn't matter. Then hesaid to Dicky--'You are a minor, I presume?'

Dicky said he wasn't yet, but he had thought of being a mining engineersome day, and going to Klondike. 

'Minor, not miner, ' said the G. B. 'I mean you're not of age?'

'I shall be in ten years, though, ' said Dicky. 'Then you might repudiatethe loan, ' said the G. B. , and Dicky said 'What?'

Of course he ought to have said 'I beg your pardon. I didn't quite catchwhat you said'--that is what Oswald would have said. It is more politethan 'What. '

'Repudiate the loan, ' the G. B repeated. 'I mean you might say you wouldnot pay me back the money, and the law could not compel you to do so. '

'Oh, well, if you think we're such sneaks, ' said Dicky, and he gotup off his chair. But the G. B. Said, 'Sit down, sit down; I was onlyjoking. '

Then he talked some more, and at last he said--'I don't advise you toenter into that partnership. It's a swindle. Many advertisements are. And I have not a hundred pounds by me to-day to lend you. But I willlend you a pound, and you can spend it as you like. And when you aretwenty-one you shall pay me back. '

'I shall pay you back long before that, ' said Dicky. 'Thanks, awfully!And what about the note of hand?'

'Oh, ' said the G. B. , 'I'll trust to your honour. Between gentlemen, youknow--and ladies'--he made a beautiful bow to Alice--'a word is as goodas a bond. '

Then he took out a sovereign, and held it in his hand while he talkedto us. He gave us a lot of good advice about not going into businesstoo young, and about doing our lessons--just swatting a bit, on our ownhook, so as not to be put in a low form when we went back to school. Andall the time he was stroking the sovereign and looking at it as if hethought it very beautiful. And so it was, for it was a new one. Then atlast he held it out to Dicky, and when Dicky put out his hand for it theG. B. Suddenly put the sovereign back in his pocket. 

'No, ' he said, 'I won't give you the sovereign. I'll give you fifteenshillings, and this nice bottle of scent. It's worth far more than thefive shillings I'm charging you for it. And, when you can, you shall payme back the pound, and sixty per cent interest--sixty per cent, sixtyper cent. '

'What's that?' said H. O. 

The G. B. Said he'd tell us that when we paid back the sovereign, butsixty per cent was nothing to be afraid of. He gave Dicky the money. Andthe boy was made to call a cab, and the G. B. Put us in and shook handswith us all, and asked Alice to give him a kiss, so she did, and H. O. Would do it too, though his face was dirtier than ever. The G. B. Paidthe cabman and told him what station to go to, and so we went home. 

That evening Father had a letter by the seven-o'clock post. And whenhe had read it he came up into the nursery. He did not look quite sounhappy as usual, but he looked grave. 

'You've been to Mr Rosenbaum's, ' he said. 

So we told him all about it. It took a long time, and Father sat in thearmchair. It was jolly. He doesn't often come and talk to us now. He hasto spend all his time thinking about his business. And when we'd toldhim all about it he said--

'You haven't done any harm this time, children; rather good than harm, indeed. Mr Rosenbaum has written me a very kind letter. '

'Is he a friend of yours, Father?' Oswald asked. 'He is anacquaintance, ' said my father, frowning a little, 'we have done somebusiness together. And this letter--' he stopped and then said: 'No;you didn't do any harm to-day; but I want you for the future not to doanything so serious as to try to buy a partnership without consultingme, that's all. I don't want to interfere with your plays and pleasures;but you will consult me about business matters, won't you?'

Of course we said we should be delighted, but then Alice, who wassitting on his knee, said, 'We didn't like to bother you. '

Father said, 'I haven't much time to be with you, for my business takesmost of my time. It is an anxious business--but I can't bear to think ofyour being left all alone like this. '

He looked so sad we all said we liked being alone. And then he lookedsadder than ever. 

Then Alice said, 'We don't mean that exactly, Father. It is ratherlonely sometimes, since Mother died. '

Then we were all quiet a little while. Father stayed with us till wewent to bed, and when he said good night he looked quite cheerful. So wetold him so, and he said--

'Well, the fact is, that letter took a weight off my mind. ' I can'tthink what he meant--but I am sure the G. B. Would be pleased if hecould know he had taken a weight off somebody's mind. He is that sort ofman, I think. 

We gave the scent to Dora. It is not quite such good scent as we thoughtit would be, but we had fifteen shillings--and they were all good, so isthe G. B. 

And until those fifteen shillings were spent we felt almost as jolly asthough our fortunes had been properly restored. You do not notice yourgeneral fortune so much, as long as you have money in your pocket. Thisis why so many children with regular pocket-money have never feltit their duty to seek for treasure. So, perhaps, our not havingpocket-money was a blessing in disguise. But the disguise was quiteimpenetrable, like the villains' in the books; and it seemed still moreso when the fifteen shillings were all spent. Then at last the othersagreed to let Oswald try his way of seeking for treasure, but they werenot at all keen about it, and many a boy less firm than Oswald wouldhave chucked the whole thing. But Oswald knew that a hero must rely onhimself alone. So he stuck to it, and presently the others saw theirduty, and backed him up. 

CHAPTER 10. LORD TOTTENHAM

Oswald is a boy of firm and unswerving character, and he had neverwavered from his first idea. He felt quite certain that the books wereright, and that the best way to restore fallen fortunes was to rescue anold gentleman in distress. Then he brings you up as his own son: butif you preferred to go on being your own father's son I expect the oldgentleman would make it up to you some other way. In the books the leastthing does it--you put up the railway carriage window--or you pick uphis purse when he drops it--or you say a hymn when he suddenly asks youto, and then your fortune is made. 

The others, as I said, were very slack about it, and did not seem tocare much about trying the rescue. They said there wasn't any deadlyperil, and we should have to make one before we could rescue the oldgentleman from it, but Oswald didn't see that that mattered. However, hethought he would try some of the easier ways first, by himself. 

So he waited about the station, pulling up railway carriage windows forold gentlemen who looked likely--but nothing happened, and at last theporters said he was a nuisance. So that was no go. No one ever asked himto say a hymn, though he had learned a nice short one, beginning 'Newevery morning'--and when an old gentleman did drop a two-shilling piecejust by Ellis's the hairdresser's, and Oswald picked it up, and wasjust thinking what he should say when he returned it, the old gentlemancaught him by the collar and called him a young thief. It would havebeen very unpleasant for Oswald if he hadn't happened to be a verybrave boy, and knew the policeman on that beat very well indeed. So thepoliceman backed him up, and the old gentleman said he was sorry, andoffered Oswald sixpence. Oswald refused it with polite disdain, andnothing more happened at all. 

When Oswald had tried by himself and it had not come off, he said to theothers, 'We're wasting our time, not trying to rescue the old gentlemanin deadly peril. Come--buck up! Do let's do something!'

It was dinner-time, and Pincher was going round getting the bits offthe plates. There were plenty because it was cold-mutton day. And Alicesaid--

'It's only fair to try Oswald's way--he has tried all the things theothers thought of. Why couldn't we rescue Lord Tottenham?'

Lord Tottenham is the old gentleman who walks over the Heath every dayin a paper collar at three o'clock--and when he gets halfway, if thereis no one about, he changes his collar and throws the dirty one into thefurze-bushes. 

Dicky said, 'Lord Tottenham's all right--but where's the deadly peril?'

And we couldn't think of any. There are no highwaymen on Blackheath now, I am sorry to say. And though Oswald said half of us could be highwaymenand the other half rescue party, Dora kept on saying it would be wrongto be a highwayman--and so we had to give that up. 

Then Alice said, 'What about Pincher?'

And we all saw at once that it could be done. 

Pincher is very well bred, and he does know one or two things, though wenever could teach him to beg. But if you tell him to hold on--he will doit, even if you only say 'Seize him!' in a whisper. 

So we arranged it all. Dora said she wouldn't play; she said she thoughtit was wrong, and she knew it was silly--so we left her out, and shewent and sat in the dining-room with a goody-book, so as to be able tosay she didn't have anything to do with it, if we got into a row overit. 

Alice and H. O. Were to hide in the furze-bushes just by where LordTottenham changes his collar, and they were to whisper, 'Seize him!' toPincher; and then when Pincher had seized Lord Tottenham we were togo and rescue him from his deadly peril. And he would say, 'How can Ireward you, my noble young preservers?' and it would be all right. 

So we went up to the Heath. We were afraid of being late. Oswald toldthe others what Procrastination was--so they got to the furze-bushes alittle after two o'clock, and it was rather cold. Alice and H. O. AndPincher hid, but Pincher did not like it any more than they did, and aswe three walked up and down we heard him whining. And Alice kept saying, 'I _am_ so cold! Isn't he coming yet?' And H. O. Wanted to come outand jump about to warm himself. But we told him he must learn to bea Spartan boy, and that he ought to be very thankful he hadn't got abeastly fox eating his inside all the time. H. O. Is our little brother, and we are not going to let it be our fault if he grows up a milksop. Besides, it was not really cold. It was his knees--he wears socks. Sothey stayed where they were. And at last, when even the other three whowere walking about were beginning to feel rather chilly, we saw LordTottenham's big black cloak coming along, flapping in the wind like agreat bird. So we said to Alice--

'Hist! he approaches. You'll know when to set Pincher on by hearing LordTottenham talking to himself--he always does while he is taking off hiscollar. '

Then we three walked slowly away whistling to show we were not thinkingof anything. Our lips were rather cold, but we managed to do it. 

Lord Tottenham came striding along, talking to himself. People call himthe mad Protectionist. I don't know what it means--but I don't thinkpeople ought to call a Lord such names. 

As he passed us he said, 'Ruin of the country, sir! Fatal error, fatalerror!' And then we looked back and saw he was getting quite near wherePincher was, and Alice and H. O. We walked on--so that he shouldn'tthink we were looking--and in a minute we heard Pincher's bark, and thennothing for a bit; and then we looked round, and sure enough good oldPincher had got Lord Tottenham by the trouser leg and was holding onlike billy-ho, so we started to run. 

Lord Tottenham had got his collar half off--it was sticking out sidewaysunder his ear--and he was shouting, 'Help, help, murder!' exactly as ifsome one had explained to him beforehand what he was to do. Pincher wasgrowling and snarling and holding on. When we got to him I stopped andsaid--

'Dicky, we must rescue this good old man. '

Lord Tottenham roared in his fury, 'Good old man be--' something orothered. 'Call the dog off. '

So Oswald said, 'It is a dangerous task--but who would hesitate to do anact of true bravery?'

And all the while Pincher was worrying and snarling, and Lord Tottenhamshouting to us to get the dog away. He was dancing about in the roadwith Pincher hanging on like grim death; and his collar flapping about, where it was undone. 

Then Noel said, 'Haste, ere yet it be too late. ' So I said to LordTottenham--

'Stand still, aged sir, and I will endeavour to alleviate yourdistress. '

He stood still, and I stooped down and caught hold of Pincher andwhispered, 'Drop it, sir; drop it!'

So then Pincher dropped it, and Lord Tottenham fastened his collaragain--he never does change it if there's any one looking--and he said--

'I'm much obliged, I'm sure. Nasty vicious brute! Here's something todrink my health. '

But Dicky explained that we are teetotallers, and do not drink people'shealths. So Lord Tottenham said, 'Well, I'm much obliged any way. Andnow I come to look at you--of course, you're not young ruffians, butgentlemen's sons, eh? Still, you won't be above taking a tip from an oldboy--I wasn't when I was your age, ' and he pulled out half a sovereign. 

It was very silly; but now we'd done it I felt it would be beastly meanto take the old boy's chink after putting him in such a funk. He didn'tsay anything about bringing us up as his own sons--so I didn't know whatto do. I let Pincher go, and was just going to say he was very welcome, and we'd rather not have the money, which seemed the best way out of it, when that beastly dog spoiled the whole show. Directly I let him go hebegan to jump about at us and bark for joy, and try to lick our faces. He was so proud of what he'd done. Lord Tottenham opened his eyes and hejust said, 'The dog seems to know you. '

And then Oswald saw it was all up, and he said, 'Good morning, ' andtried to get away. But Lord Tottenham said--

'Not so fast!' And he caught Noel by the collar. Noel gave a howl, andAlice ran out from the bushes. Noel is her favourite. I'm sure I don'tknow why. Lord Tottenham looked at her, and he said--

'So there are more of you!' And then H. O. Came out. 

'Do you complete the party?' Lord Tottenham asked him. And H. O. Saidthere were only five of us this time. 

Lord Tottenham turned sharp off and began to walk away, holding Noel bythe collar. We caught up with him, and asked him where he was going, andhe said, 'To the Police Station. ' So then I said quite politely, 'Well, don't take Noel; he's not strong, and he easily gets upset. Besides, itwasn't his doing. If you want to take any one take me--it was my veryown idea. '

Dicky behaved very well. He said, 'If you take Oswald I'll go too, butdon't take Noel; he's such a delicate little chap. '

Lord Tottenham stopped, and he said, 'You should have thought of thatbefore. ' Noel was howling all the time, and his face was very white, andAlice said--

'Oh, do let Noel go, dear, good, kind Lord Tottenham; he'll faint if youdon't, I know he will, he does sometimes. Oh, I wish we'd never done it!Dora said it was wrong. '

'Dora displayed considerable common sense, ' said Lord Tottenham, and helet Noel go. And Alice put her arm round Noel and tried to cheer him up, but he was all trembly, and as white as paper. 

Then Lord Tottenham said--

'Will you give me your word of honour not to try to escape?'

So we said we would. 

'Then follow me, ' he said, and led the way to a bench. We all followed, and Pincher too, with his tail between his legs--he knew something waswrong. Then Lord Tottenham sat down, and he made Oswald and Dicky andH. O. Stand in front of him, but he let Alice and Noel sit down. And hesaid--

'You set your dog on me, and you tried to make me believe you weresaving me from it. And you would have taken my half-sovereign. Suchconduct is most--No--you shall tell me what it is, sir, and speak thetruth. '

So I had to say it was most ungentlemanly, but I said I hadn't beengoing to take the half-sovereign. 

'Then what did you do it for?' he asked. 'The truth, mind. '

So I said, 'I see now it was very silly, and Dora said it was wrong, but it didn't seem so till we did it. We wanted to restore the fallenfortunes of our house, and in the books if you rescue an old gentlemanfrom deadly peril, he brings you up as his own son--or if you preferto be your father's son, he starts you in business, so that you end inwealthy affluence; and there wasn't any deadly peril, so we made Pincherinto one--and so--' I was so ashamed I couldn't go on, for it did seeman awfully mean thing. Lord Tottenham said--

'A very nice way to make your fortune--by deceit and trickery. I have ahorror of dogs. If I'd been a weak man the shock might have killed me. What do you think of yourselves, eh?'

We were all crying except Oswald, and the others say he was; and LordTottenham went on--'Well, well, I see you're sorry. Let this be a lessonto you; and we'll say no more about it. I'm an old man now, but I wasyoung once. '

Then Alice slid along the bench close to him, and put her hand on hisarm: her fingers were pink through the holes in her woolly gloves, andsaid, 'I think you're very good to forgive us, and we are really very, very sorry. But we wanted to be like the children in the books--onlywe never have the chances they have. Everything they do turns out allright. But we _are_ sorry, very, very. And I know Oswald wasn't going totake the half-sovereign. Directly you said that about a tip from an oldboy I began to feel bad inside, and I whispered to H. O. That I wishedwe hadn't. '

Then Lord Tottenham stood up, and he looked like the Death of Nelson, for he is clean shaved and it is a good face, and he said--

'Always remember never to do a dishonourable thing, for money or foranything else in the world. '

And we promised we would remember. Then he took off his hat, and we tookoff ours, and he went away, and we went home. I never felt so cheap inall my life! Dora said, 'I told you so, ' but we didn't mind even that somuch, though it was indeed hard to bear. It was what Lord Tottenham hadsaid about ungentlemanly. We didn't go on to the Heath for a week afterthat; but at last we all went, and we waited for him by the bench. Whenhe came along Alice said, 'Please, Lord Tottenham, we have not been onthe Heath for a week, to be a punishment because you let us off. And wehave brought you a present each if you will take them to show you arewilling to make it up. '

He sat down on the bench, and we gave him our presents. Oswald gave hima sixpenny compass--he bought it with my own money on purpose to givehim. Oswald always buys useful presents. The needle would not move afterI'd had it a day or two, but Lord Tottenham used to be an admiral, sohe will be able to make that go all right. Alice had made him ashaving-case, with a rose worked on it. And H. O. Gave him hisknife--the same one he once cut all the buttons off his best suit with. Dicky gave him his prize, Naval Heroes, because it was the best thing hehad, and Noel gave him a piece of poetry he had made himself--

 When sin and shame bow down the brow Then people feel just like we do now. We are so sorry with grief and pain We never will be so ungentlemanly again. 

Lord Tottenham seemed very pleased. He thanked us, and talked to us fora bit, and when he said good-bye he said--

'All's fair weather now, mates, ' and shook hands. 

And whenever we meet him he nods to us, and if the girls are with ushe takes off his hat, so he can't really be going on thinking usungentlemanly now. 

CHAPTER 11. CASTILIAN AMOROSO

One day when we suddenly found that we had half a crown we decided thatwe really ought to try Dicky's way of restoring our fallen fortuneswhile yet the deed was in our power. Because it might easily havehappened to us never to have half a crown again. So we decided to dallyno longer with being journalists and bandits and things like them, butto send for sample and instructions how to earn two pounds a week eachin our spare time. We had seen the advertisement in the paper, and wehad always wanted to do it, but we had never had the money to sparebefore, somehow. The advertisement says: 'Any lady or gentlemancan easily earn two pounds a week in their spare time. Sample andinstructions, two shillings. Packed free from observation. ' A good dealof the half-crown was Dora's. It came from her godmother; but she saidshe would not mind letting Dicky have it if he would pay her back beforeChristmas, and if we were sure it was right to try to make our fortunethat way. Of course that was quite easy, because out of two pounds aweek in your spare time you can easily pay all your debts, and havealmost as much left as you began with; and as to the right we told herto dry up. 

Dicky had always thought that this was really the best way to restoreour fallen fortunes, and we were glad that now he had a chance of tryingbecause of course we wanted the two pounds a week each, and besides, wewere rather tired of Dicky's always saying, when our ways didn't turnout well, 'Why don't you try the sample and instructions about our sparetime?'

When we found out about our half-crown we got the paper. Noel wasplaying admirals in it, but he had made the cocked hat without tearingthe paper, and we found the advertisement, and it said just the same asever. So we got a two-shilling postal order and a stamp, and what wasleft of the money it was agreed we would spend in ginger-beer to drinksuccess to trade. 

We got some nice paper out of Father's study, and Dicky wrote theletter, and we put in the money and put on the stamp, and made H. O. Post it. Then we drank the ginger-beer, and then we waited for thesample and instructions. It seemed a long time coming, and the postmangot quite tired of us running out and stopping him in the street to askif it had come. 

But on the third morning it came. It was quite a large parcel, andit was packed, as the advertisement said it would be, 'free fromobservation. ' That means it was in a box; and inside the box was somestiff browny cardboard, crinkled like the galvanized iron on the tops ofchicken-houses, and inside that was a lot of paper, some of it printedand some scrappy, and in the very middle of it all a bottle, notvery large, and black, and sealed on the top of the cork with yellowsealing-wax. 

We looked at it as it lay on the nursery table, and while all the othersgrabbed at the papers to see what the printing said, Oswald went to lookfor the corkscrew, so as to see what was inside the bottle. He foundthe corkscrew in the dresser drawer--it always gets there, though it issupposed to be in the sideboard drawer in the dining-room--and when hegot back the others had read most of the printed papers. 

'I don't think it's much good, and I don't think it's quite nice to sellwine, ' Dora said 'and besides, it's not easy to suddenly begin to sellthings when you aren't used to it. '

'I don't know, ' said Alice; 'I believe I could. ' They all looked ratherdown in the mouth, though, and Oswald asked how you were to make yourtwo pounds a week. 

'Why, you've got to get people to taste that stuff in the bottle. It'ssherry--Castilian Amoroso its name is--and then you get them to buy it, and then you write to the people and tell them the other people want thewine, and then for every dozen you sell you get two shillings from thewine people, so if you sell twenty dozen a week you get your two pounds. I don't think we shall sell as much as that, ' said Dicky. 

'We might not the first week, ' Alice said, 'but when people found outhow nice it was, they would want more and more. And if we only got tenshillings a week it would be something to begin with, wouldn't it?'

Oswald said he should jolly well think it would, and then Dicky took thecork out with the corkscrew. The cork broke a good deal, and some ofthe bits went into the bottle. Dora got the medicine glass that hasthe teaspoons and tablespoons marked on it, and we agreed to have ateaspoonful each, to see what it was like. 

'No one must have more than that, ' Dora said, 'however nice it is. '

Dora behaved rather as if it were her bottle. I suppose it was, becauseshe had lent the money for it. 

Then she measured out the teaspoonful, and she had first go, because ofbeing the eldest. We asked at once what it was like, but Dora could notspeak just then. 

Then she said, 'It's like the tonic Noel had in the spring; but perhapssherry ought to be like that. '

Then it was Oswald's turn. He thought it was very burny; but he saidnothing. He wanted to see first what the others would say. 

Dicky said his was simply beastly, and Alice said Noel could taste nextif he liked. 

Noel said it was the golden wine of the gods, but he had to put hishandkerchief up to his mouth all the same, and I saw the face he made. 

Then H. O. Had his, and he spat it out in the fire, which was very rudeand nasty, and we told him so. 

Then it was Alice's turn. She said, 'Only half a teaspoonful for me, Dora. We mustn't use it all up. ' And she tasted it and said nothing. 

Then Dicky said: 'Look here, I chuck this. I'm not going to hawk roundsuch beastly stuff. Any one who likes can have the bottle. Quis?'

And Alice got out 'Ego' before the rest of us. Then she said, 'I knowwhat's the matter with it. It wants sugar. '

And at once we all saw that that was all there was the matter with thestuff. So we got two lumps of sugar and crushed it on the floor with oneof the big wooden bricks till it was powdery, and mixed it with some ofthe wine up to the tablespoon mark, and it was quite different, and notnearly so nasty. 

'You see it's all right when you get used to it, ' Dicky said. I think hewas sorry he had said 'Quis?' in such a hurry. 

'Of course, ' Alice said, 'it's rather dusty. We must crush the sugarcarefully in clean paper before we put it in the bottle. '

Dora said she was afraid it would be cheating to make one bottle nicerthan what people would get when they ordered a dozen bottles, but Alicesaid Dora always made a fuss about everything, and really it would bequite honest. 

'You see, ' she said, 'I shall just tell them, quite truthfully, whatwe have done to it, and when their dozens come they can do it forthemselves. '

So then we crushed eight more lumps, very cleanly and carefully betweennewspapers, and shook it up well in the bottle, and corked it up with ascrew of paper, brown and not news, for fear of the poisonous printingink getting wet and dripping down into the wine and killing people. Wemade Pincher have a taste, and he sneezed for ever so long, and afterthat he used to go under the sofa whenever we showed him the bottle. 

Then we asked Alice who she would try and sell it to. She said: 'I shallask everybody who comes to the house. And while we are doing that, wecan be thinking of outside people to take it to. We must be careful:there's not much more than half of it left, even counting the sugar. '

We did not wish to tell Eliza--I don't know why. And she opened the doorvery quickly that day, so that the Taxes and a man who came to our houseby mistake for next door got away before Alice had a chance to try themwith the Castilian Amoroso. But about five Eliza slipped out for half anhour to see a friend who was making her a hat for Sunday, and whileshe was gone there was a knock. Alice went, and we looked over thebanisters. When she opened the door, she said at once, 'Will you walkin, please?' The person at the door said, 'I called to see your Pa, miss. Is he at home?'

Alice said again, 'Will you walk in, please?'

Then the person--it sounded like a man--said, 'He is in, then?'

But Alice only kept on saying, 'Will you walk in, please?' so at lastthe man did, rubbing his boots very loudly on the mat. 

Then Alice shut the front door, and we saw that it was the butcher, withan envelope in his hand. He was not dressed in blue, like when he iscutting up the sheep and things in the shop, and he wore knickerbockers. Alice says he came on a bicycle. She led the way into the dining-room, where the Castilian Amoroso bottle and the medicine glass were standingon the table all ready. 

The others stayed on the stairs, but Oswald crept down and lookedthrough the door-crack. 

'Please sit down, ' said Alice quite calmly, though she told meafterwards I had no idea how silly she felt. And the butcher sat down. Then Alice stood quite still and said nothing, but she fiddled withthe medicine glass and put the screw of brown paper straight in theCastilian bottle. 

'Will you tell your Pa I'd like a word with him?' the butcher said, whenhe got tired of saying nothing. 

'He'll be in very soon, I think, ' Alice said. 

And then she stood still again and said nothing. It was beginning tolook very idiotic of her, and H. O. Laughed. I went back and cuffed himfor it quite quietly, and I don't think the butcher heard. 

But Alice did, and it roused her from her stupor. She spoke suddenly, very fast indeed--so fast that I knew she had made up what she was goingto say before. She had got most of it out of the circular. 

She said, 'I want to call your attention to a sample of sherry wine Ihave here. It is called Castilian something or other, and at the priceit is unequalled for flavour and bouquet. '

The butcher said, 'Well--I never!'

And Alice went on, 'Would you like to taste it?'

'Thank you very much, I'm sure, miss, ' said the butcher. 

Alice poured some out. 

The butcher tasted a very little. He licked his lips, and we thoughthe was going to say how good it was. But he did not. He put down themedicine glass with nearly all the stuff left in it (we put it back inthe bottle afterwards to save waste) and said, 'Excuse me, miss, butisn't it a little sweet?--for sherry I mean?'

'The _Real_ isn't, ' said Alice. 'If you order a dozen it will come quitedifferent to that--we like it best with sugar. I wish you _would_ ordersome. ' The butcher asked why. 

Alice did not speak for a minute, and then she said--

'I don't mind telling _you_: you are in business yourself, aren'tyou? We are trying to get people to buy it, because we shall have twoshillings for every dozen we can make any one buy. It's called a purrsomething. '

'A percentage. Yes, I see, ' said the butcher, looking at the hole in thecarpet. 

'You see there are reasons, ' Alice went on, 'why we want to make ourfortunes as quickly as we can. '

'Quite so, ' said the butcher, and he looked at the place where the paperis coming off the wall. 

'And this seems a good way, ' Alice went on. 'We paid two shillings forthe sample and instructions, and it says you can make two pounds a weekeasily in your leisure time. '

'I'm sure I hope you may, miss, ' said the butcher. And Alice said againwould he buy some?

'Sherry is my favourite wine, ' he said. Alice asked him to have somemore to drink. 

'No, thank you, miss, ' he said; 'it's my favourite wine, but it doesn'tagree with me; not the least bit. But I've an uncle drinks it. Suppose Iordered him half a dozen for a Christmas present? Well, miss, here's theshilling commission, anyway, ' and he pulled out a handful of money andgave her the shilling. 

'But I thought the wine people paid that, ' Alice said. 

But the butcher said not on half-dozens they didn't. Then he said hedidn't think he'd wait any longer for Father--but would Alice ask Fatherto write him?

Alice offered him the sherry again, but he said something about 'Notfor worlds!'--and then she let him out and came back to us with theshilling, and said, 'How's that?'

And we said 'A1. '

And all the evening we talked of our fortune that we had begun to make. 

Nobody came next day, but the day after a lady came to ask for money tobuild an orphanage for the children of dead sailors. And we saw her. Iwent in with Alice. And when we had explained to her that we had onlya shilling and we wanted it for something else, Alice suddenly said, 'Would you like some wine?'

And the lady said, 'Thank you very much, ' but she looked surprised. 

She was not a young lady, and she had a mantle with beads, and the beadshad come off in places--leaving a browny braid showing, and she hadprinted papers about the dead sailors in a sealskin bag, and theseal had come off in places, leaving the skin bare. We gave her atablespoonful of the wine in a proper wine-glass out of the sideboard, because she was a lady. And when she had tasted it she got up in a verygreat hurry, and shook out her dress and snapped her bag shut, and said, 'You naughty, wicked children! What do you mean by playing a trick likethis? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! I shall write to your Mammaabout it. You dreadful little girl!--you might have poisoned me. Butyour Mamma. . . '

Then Alice said, 'I'm very sorry; the butcher liked it, only he said itwas sweet. And please don't write to Mother. It makes Father so unhappywhen letters come for her!'--and Alice was very near crying. 

'What do you mean, you silly child?' said the lady, looking quitebright and interested. 'Why doesn't your Father like your Mother to haveletters--eh?'

And Alice said, 'OH, you. . . !' and began to cry, and bolted out of theroom. 

Then I said, 'Our Mother is dead, and will you please go away now?'

The lady looked at me a minute, and then she looked quite different, andshe said, 'I'm very sorry. I didn't know. Never mind about the wine. Idaresay your little sister meant it kindly. ' And she looked round theroom just like the butcher had done. Then she said again, 'I didn'tknow--I'm very sorry. . . '

So I said, 'Don't mention it, ' and shook hands with her, and let herout. Of course we couldn't have asked her to buy the wine after whatshe'd said. But I think she was not a bad sort of person. I do likea person to say they're sorry when they ought to be--especially agrown-up. They do it so seldom. I suppose that's why we think so much ofit. 

But Alice and I didn't feel jolly for ever so long afterwards. And whenI went back into the dining-room I saw how different it was from whenMother was here, and we are different, and Father is different, andnothing is like it was. I am glad I am not made to think about it everyday. 

I went and found Alice, and told her what the lady had said, and whenshe had finished crying we put away the bottle and said we would not tryto sell any more to people who came. And we did not tell the others--weonly said the lady did not buy any--but we went up on the Heath, andsome soldiers went by and there was a Punch-and-judy show, and when wecame back we were better. 

The bottle got quite dusty where we had put it, and perhaps the dust ofages would have laid thick and heavy on it, only a clergyman called whenwe were all out. He was not our own clergyman--Mr Bristow is our ownclergyman, and we all love him, and we would not try to sell sherryto people we like, and make two pounds a week out of them in our sparetime. It was another clergyman, just a stray one; and he asked Eliza ifthe dear children would not like to come to his little Sunday school. Wealways spend Sunday afternoons with Father. But as he had left the nameof his vicarage with Eliza, and asked her to tell us to come, we thoughtwe would go and call on him, just to explain about Sunday afternoons, and we thought we might as well take the sherry with us. 

'I won't go unless you all go too, ' Alice said, 'and I won't do thetalking. '

Dora said she thought we had much better not go; but we said 'Rot!' andit ended in her coming with us, and I am glad she did. 

Oswald said he would do the talking if the others liked, and he learnedup what to say from the printed papers. 

We went to the Vicarage early on Saturday afternoon, and rang at thebell. It is a new red house with no trees in the garden, only veryyellow mould and gravel. It was all very neat and dry. Just before werang the bell we heard some one inside call 'Jane! Jane!' and we thoughtwe would not be Jane for anything. It was the sound of the voice thatcalled that made us sorry for her. 

The door was opened by a very neat servant in black, with a white apron;we saw her tying the strings as she came along the hall, through thedifferent-coloured glass in the door. Her face was red, and I think shewas Jane. 

We asked if we could see Mr Mallow. 

The servant said Mr Mallow was very busy with his sermon just then, butshe would see. 

But Oswald said, 'It's all right. He asked us to come. '

So she let us all in and shut the front door, and showed us into a verytidy room with a bookcase full of a lot of books covered in black cottonwith white labels, and some dull pictures, and a harmonium. And MrMallow was writing at a desk with drawers, copying something out of abook. He was stout and short, and wore spectacles. 

He covered his writing up when we went in--I didn't know why. He lookedrather cross, and we heard Jane or somebody being scolded outside by thevoice. I hope it wasn't for letting us in, but I have had doubts. 

'Well, ' said the clergyman, 'what is all this about?'

'You asked us to call, ' Dora said, 'about your little Sunday school. Weare the Bastables of Lewisham Road. '

'Oh--ah, yes, ' he said; 'and shall I expect you all to-morrow?'

He took up his pen and fiddled with it, and he did not ask us to sitdown. But some of us did. 

'We always spend Sunday afternoon with Father, ' said Dora; 'but wewished to thank you for being so kind as to ask us. '

'And we wished to ask you something else!' said Oswald; and he madea sign to Alice to get the sherry ready in the glass. She did--behindOswald's back while he was speaking. 

'My time is limited, ' said Mr Mallow, looking at his watch; 'butstill--' Then he muttered something about the fold, and went on: 'Tellme what is troubling you, my little man, and I will try to give you anyhelp in my power. What is it you want?'

Then Oswald quickly took the glass from Alice, and held it out to him, and said, 'I want your opinion on that. '

'On _that_, ' he said. 'What is it?'

'It is a shipment, ' Oswald said; 'but it's quite enough for you totaste. ' Alice had filled the glass half-full; I suppose she was tooexcited to measure properly. 

'A shipment?' said the clergyman, taking the glass in his hand. 

'Yes, ' Oswald went On; 'an exceptional opportunity. Full-bodied andnutty. '

'It really does taste rather like one kind of Brazil-nut. ' Alice put heroar in as usual. 

The Vicar looked from Alice to Oswald, and back again, and Oswald wenton with what he had learned from the printing. The clergyman held theglass at half-arm's-length, stiffly, as if he had caught cold. 

'It is of a quality never before offered at the price. Old DelicateAmoro--what's its name--'

'Amorolio, ' said H. O. 

'Amoroso, ' said Oswald. 'H. O. , you just shut up--CastilianAmoroso--it's a true after-dinner wine, stimulating and yet. . . '

'_Wine_?' said Mr Mallow, holding the glass further off. 'Do you_know_, ' he went on, making his voice very thick and strong (I expect hedoes it like that in church), 'have you never been _taught_ that it isthe drinking of _wine_ and _spirits_--yes, and _beer_, which makes halfthe homes in England full of _wretched_ little children, and _degraded_, _miserable_ parents?'

'Not if you put sugar in it, ' said Alice firmly; 'eight lumps and shakethe bottle. We have each had more than a teaspoonful of it, and we werenot ill at all. It was something else that upset H. O. Most likely allthose acorns he got out of the Park. '

The clergyman seemed to be speechless with conflicting emotions, andjust then the door opened and a lady came in. She had a white cap withlace, and an ugly violet flower in it, and she was tall, and lookedvery strong, though thin. And I do believe she had been listening at thedoor. 

'But why, ' the Vicar was saying, 'why did you bring this dreadful fluid, this curse of our country, to _me_ to taste?'

'Because we thought you might buy some, ' said Dora, who never sees whena game is up. 'In books the parson loves his bottle of old port; and newsherry is just as good--with sugar--for people who like sherry. And ifyou would order a dozen of the wine, then we should get two shillings. '

The lady said (and it _was_ the voice), 'Good gracious! Nasty, sordidlittle things! Haven't they any one to teach them better?'

And Dora got up and said, 'No, we are not those things you say; but weare sorry we came here to be called names. We want to make our fortunejust as much as Mr Mallow does--only no one would listen to us if wepreached, so it's no use our copying out sermons like him. '

And I think that was smart of Dora, even if it was rather rude. 

Then I said perhaps we had better go, and the lady said, 'I should thinkso!'

But when we were going to wrap up the bottle and glass the clergymansaid, 'No; you can leave that, ' and we were so upset we did, though itwasn't his after all. 

We walked home very fast and not saying much, and the girls went up totheir rooms. When I went to tell them tea was ready, and there wasa teacake, Dora was crying like anything and Alice hugging her. I amafraid there is a great deal of crying in this chapter, but I can't helpit. Girls will sometimes; I suppose it is their nature, and we ought tobe sorry for their affliction. 

'It's no good, ' Dora was saying, 'you all hate me, and you think I'ma prig and a busybody, but I do try to do right--oh, I do! Oswald, goaway; don't come here making fun of me!'

So I said, 'I'm not making fun, Sissy; don't cry, old girl. '

Mother taught me to call her Sissy when we were very little and beforethe others came, but I don't often somehow, now we are old. I patted heron the back, and she put her head against my sleeve, holding on to Aliceall the time, and she went on. She was in that laughy-cryey state whenpeople say things they wouldn't say at other times. 

'Oh dear, oh dear--I do try, I do. And when Mother died she said, "Dora, take care of the others, and teach them to be good, and keep them out oftrouble and make them happy. " She said, "Take care of them for me, Doradear. " And I have tried, and all of you hate me for it; and to-day I letyou do this, though I knew all the time it was silly. '

I hope you will not think I was a muff but I kissed Dora for some time. Because girls like it. And I will never say again that she comes thegood elder sister too much. And I have put all this in though I do hatetelling about it, because I own I have been hard on Dora, but I neverwill be again. She is a good old sort; of course we never knew beforeabout what Mother told her, or we wouldn't have ragged her as we did. Wedid not tell the little ones, but I got Alice to speak to Dicky, and wethree can sit on the others if requisite. 

This made us forget all about the sherry; but about eight o'clock therewas a knock, and Eliza went, and we saw it was poor Jane, if her namewas Jane, from the Vicarage. She handed in a brown-paper parcel and aletter. And three minutes later Father called us into his study. 

On the table was the brown-paper parcel, open, with our bottle and glasson it, and Father had a letter in his hand. He Pointed to the bottle andsighed, and said, 'What have you been doing now?' The letter in his handwas covered with little black writing, all over the four large pages. 

So Dicky spoke up, and he told Father the whole thing, as far as he knewit, for Alice and I had not told about the dead sailors' lady. 

And when he had done, Alice said, 'Has Mr Mallow written to you to sayhe will buy a dozen of the sherry after all? It is really not half badwith sugar in it. '

Father said no, he didn't think clergymen could afford such expensivewine; and he said _he_ would like to taste it. So we gave him what therewas left, for we had decided coming home that we would give up tryingfor the two pounds a week in our spare time. 

Father tasted it, and then he acted just as H. O. Had done when he hadhis teaspoonful, but of course we did not say anything. Then he laughedtill I thought he would never stop. 

I think it was the sherry, because I am sure I have read somewhere about'wine that maketh glad the heart of man'. He had only a very little, which shows that it was a good after-dinner wine, stimulating, and yet. . . I forget the rest. 

But when he had done laughing he said, 'It's all right, kids. Only don'tdo it again. The wine trade is overcrowded; and besides, I thought youpromised to consult me before going into business?'

'Before buying one I thought you meant, ' said Dicky. 'This was only oncommission. ' And Father laughed again. I am glad we got the CastilianAmoroso, because it did really cheer Father up, and you cannot always dothat, however hard you try, even if you make jokes, or give him a comicpaper. 

CHAPTER 12. THE NOBLENESS OF OSWALD

The part about his nobleness only comes at the end, but you wouldnot understand it unless you knew how it began. It began, like nearlyeverything about that time, with treasure-seeking. 

Of course as soon as we had promised to consult my Father about businessmatters we all gave up wanting to go into business. I don't know how itis, but having to consult about a thing with grown-up people, eventhe bravest and the best, seems to make the thing not worth doingafterwards. 

We don't mind Albert's uncle chipping in sometimes when the thing'sgoing on, but we are glad he never asked us to promise to consult himabout anything. Yet Oswald saw that my Father was quite right; and Idaresay if we had had that hundred pounds we should have spent it on theshare in that lucrative business for the sale of useful patent, and thenfound out afterwards that we should have done better to spend the moneyin some other way. My Father says so, and he ought to know. We hadseveral ideas about that time, but having so little chink always stoodin the way. 

This was the case with H. O. 's idea of setting up a coconut-shy on thisside of the Heath, where there are none generally. We had no sticksor wooden balls, and the greengrocer said he could not book so many astwelve dozen coconuts without Mr Bastable's written order. And as we didnot wish to consult my Father it was decided to drop it. And when Alicedressed up Pincher in some of the dolls' clothes and we made up ourminds to take him round with an organ as soon as we had taught him todance, we were stopped at once by Dicky's remembering how he had onceheard that an organ cost seven hundred pounds. Of course this wasthe big church kind, but even the ones on three legs can't be got forone-and-sevenpence, which was all we had when we first thought of it. Sowe gave that up too. 

It was a wet day, I remember, and mutton hash for dinner--very toughwith pale gravy with lumps in it. I think the others would have left agood deal on the sides of their plates, although they know better, onlyOswald said it was a savoury stew made of the red deer that Edward shot. So then we were the Children of the New Forest, and the mutton tastedmuch better. No one in the New Forest minds venison being tough and thegravy pale. 

Then after dinner we let the girls have a dolls' tea-party, on conditionthey didn't expect us boys to wash up; and it was when we were drinkingthe last of the liquorice water out of the little cups that Dicky said--

'This reminds me. '

So we said, 'What of?'

Dicky answered us at once, though his mouth was full of bread withliquorice stuck in it to look like cake. You should not speak with yourmouth full, even to your own relations, and you shouldn't wipe yourmouth on the back of your hand, but on your handkerchief, if you haveone. Dicky did not do this. He said--

'Why, you remember when we first began about treasure-seeking, I saidI had thought of something, only I could not tell you because I hadn'tfinished thinking about it. '

We said 'Yes. '

'Well, this liquorice water--'

'Tea, ' said Alice softly. 

'Well, tea then--made me think. ' He was going on to say what it made himthink, but Noel interrupted and cried out, 'I say; let's finish off thisold tea-party and have a council of war. '

So we got out the flags and the wooden sword and the drum, and Oswaldbeat it while the girls washed up, till Eliza came up to say she had thejumping toothache, and the noise went through her like a knife. So ofcourse Oswald left off at once. When you are polite to Oswald he neverrefuses to grant your requests. 

When we were all dressed up we sat down round the camp fire, and Dickybegan again. 

'Every one in the world wants money. Some people get it. The people whoget it are the ones who see things. I have seen one thing. '

Dicky stopped and smoked the pipe of peace. It is the pipe we didbubbles with in the summer, and somehow it has not got broken yet. We put tea-leaves in it for the pipe of peace, but the girls are notallowed to have any. It is not right to let girls smoke. They get tothink too much of themselves if you let them do everything the same asmen. Oswald said, 'Out with it. '

'I see that glass bottles only cost a penny. H. O. , if you dare tosnigger I'll send you round selling old bottles, and you shan't have anysweets except out of the money you get for them. And the same with you, Noel. '

'Noel wasn't sniggering, ' said Alice in a hurry; 'it is only his takingso much interest in what you were saying makes him look like that. Bequiet, H. O. , and don't you make faces, either. Do go on, Dicky dear. '

So Dicky went on. 

'There must be hundreds of millions of bottles of medicines sold everyyear. Because all the different medicines say, "Thousands of curesdaily, " and if you only take that as two thousand, which it must be, atleast, it mounts up. And the people who sell them must make a great dealof money by them because they are nearly always two-and-ninepencethe bottle, and three-and-six for one nearly double the size. Now thebottles, as I was saying, don't cost anything like that. '

'It's the medicine costs the money, ' said Dora; 'look how expensivejujubes are at the chemist's, and peppermints too. '

'That's only because they're nice, ' Dicky explained; 'nasty things arenot so dear. Look what a lot of brimstone you get for a penny, and thesame with alum. We would not put the nice kinds of chemist's things inour medicine. '

Then he went on to tell us that when we had invented our medicine wewould write and tell the editor about it, and he would put it inthe paper, and then people would send their two-and-ninepence andthree-and-six for the bottle nearly double the size, and then when themedicine had cured them they would write to the paper and their letterswould be printed, saying how they had been suffering for years, andnever thought to get about again, but thanks to the blessing of ourointment--'

Dora interrupted and said, 'Not ointment--it's so messy. ' And Alicethought so too. And Dicky said he did not mean it, he was quite decidedto let it be in bottles. So now it was all settled, and we did notsee at the time that this would be a sort of going into business, butafterwards when Albert's uncle showed us we saw it, and we were sorry. We only had to invent the medicine. You might think that was easy, because of the number of them you see every day in the paper, but it ismuch harder than you think. First we had to decide what sort of illnesswe should like to cure, and a 'heated discussion ensued', like inParliament. 

Dora wanted it to be something to make the complexion of dazzlingfairness, but we remembered how her face came all red and rough whenshe used the Rosabella soap that was advertised to make the darkestcomplexion fair as the lily, and she agreed that perhaps it was betternot. Noel wanted to make the medicine first and then find out whatit would cure, but Dicky thought not, because there are so many moremedicines than there are things the matter with us, so it would beeasier to choose the disease first. Oswald would have liked wounds. I still think it was a good idea, but Dicky said, 'Who has wounds, especially now there aren't any wars? We shouldn't sell a bottle a day!'So Oswald gave in because he knows what manners are, and it was Dicky'sidea. H. O. Wanted a cure for the uncomfortable feeling that they giveyou powders for, but we explained to him that grown-up people do nothave this feeling, however much they eat, and he agreed. Dicky saidhe did not care a straw what the loathsome disease was, as long as wehurried up and settled on something. Then Alice said--

'It ought to be something very common, and only one thing. Not the painsin the back and all the hundreds of things the people have in somebody'ssyrup. What's the commonest thing of all?'

And at once we said, 'Colds. '

So that was settled. 

Then we wrote a label to go on the bottle. When it was written it wouldnot go on the vinegar bottle that we had got, but we knew it would gosmall when it was printed. It was like this:

 BASTABLE'S CERTAIN CURE FOR COLDSCoughs, Asthma, Shortness of Breath, and all infections of the Chest

 One dose gives immediate relief It will cure your cold in one bottle Especially the larger size at 3s. 6d. Order at once of the Makers To prevent disappointment

 Makers:

 D. , O. , R. , A. , N. , and H. O. BASTABLE 150, Lewisham Road, S. E. 

 (A halfpenny for all bottles returned)

 ------------

Of course the next thing was for one of us to catch a cold and try whatcured it; we all wanted to be the one, but it was Dicky's idea, and hesaid he was not going to be done out of it, so we let him. It was onlyfair. He left off his undershirt that very day, and next morning hestood in a draught in his nightgown for quite a long time. And we dampedhis day-shirt with the nail-brush before he put it on. But all was vain. They always tell you that these things will give you cold, but we foundit was not so. 

So then we all went over to the Park, and Dicky went right into thewater with his boots on, and stood there as long as he could bear it, for it was rather cold, and we stood and cheered him on. He walked homein his wet clothes, which they say is a sure thing, but it was no go, though his boots were quite spoiled. And three days after Noel began tocough and sneeze. 

So then Dicky said it was not fair. 

'I can't help it, ' Noel said. 'You should have caught it yourself, thenit wouldn't have come to me. '

And Alice said she had known all along Noel oughtn't to have stood abouton the bank cheering in the cold. 

Noel had to go to bed, and then we began to make the medicines; we weresorry he was out of it, but he had the fun of taking the things. 

We made a great many medicines. Alice made herb tea. She got sage andthyme and savory and marjoram and boiled them all up together with saltand water, but she _would_ put parsley in too. Oswald is sure parsley isnot a herb. It is only put on the cold meat and you are not supposed toeat it. It kills parrots to eat parsley, I believe. I expect it was theparsley that disagreed so with Noel. The medicine did not seem to do thecough any good. 

Oswald got a pennyworth of alum, because it is so cheap, and someturpentine which every one knows is good for colds, and a little sugarand an aniseed ball. These were mixed in a bottle with water, but Elizathrew it away and said it was nasty rubbish, and I hadn't any money toget more things with. 

Dora made him some gruel, and he said it did his chest good; but ofcourse that was no use, because you cannot put gruel in bottles and sayit is medicine. It would not be honest, and besides nobody would believeyou. 

Dick mixed up lemon-juice and sugar and a little of the juice of the redflannel that Noel's throat was done up in. It comes out beautifullyin hot water. Noel took this and he liked it. Noel's own idea wasliquorice-water, and we let him have it, but it is too plain and blackto sell in bottles at the proper price. 

Noel liked H. O. 's medicine the best, which was silly of him, because itwas only peppermints melted in hot water, and a little cobalt to makeit look blue. It was all right, because H. O. 's paint-box is the Frenchkind, with Couleurs non Veneneuses on it. This means you may suck yourbrushes if you want to, or even your paints if you are a very littleboy. 

It was rather jolly while Noel had that cold. He had a fire in hisbedroom which opens out of Dicky's and Oswald's, and the girls used toread aloud to Noel all day; they will not read aloud to you when you arewell. Father was away at Liverpool on business, and Albert's uncle wasat Hastings. We were rather glad of this, because we wished to giveall the medicines a fair trial, and grown-ups are but too fond ofinterfering. As if we should have given him anything poisonous!

His cold went on--it was bad in his head, but it was not one of the kindwhen he has to have poultices and can't sit up in bed. But when it hadbeen in his head nearly a week, Oswald happened to tumble over Alice onthe stairs. When we got up she was crying. 

'Don't cry silly!' said Oswald; 'you know I didn't hurt you. ' I was verysorry if I had hurt her, but you ought not to sit on the stairs in thedark and let other people tumble over you. You ought to remember howbeastly it is for them if they do hurt you. 

'Oh, it's not that, Oswald, ' Alice said. 'Don't be a pig! I am somiserable. Do be kind to me. '

So Oswald thumped her on the back and told her to shut up. 

'It's about Noel, ' she said. 'I'm sure he's very ill; and playing aboutwith medicines is all very well, but I know he's ill, and Eliza won'tsend for the doctor: she says it's only a cold. And I know the doctor'sbills are awful. I heard Father telling Aunt Emily so in the summer. Buthe _is_ ill, and perhaps he'll die or something. '

Then she began to cry again. Oswald thumped her again, because he knowshow a good brother ought to behave, and said, 'Cheer up. ' If we had beenin a book Oswald would have embraced his little sister tenderly, andmingled his tears with hers. 

Then Oswald said, 'Why not write to Father?'

And she cried more and said, 'I've lost the paper with the address. H. O. Had it to draw on the back of, and I can't find it now; I've lookedeverywhere. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. No I won't. But I'mgoing out. Don't tell the others. And I say, Oswald, do pretend I'm inif Eliza asks. Promise. '

'Tell me what you're going to do, ' I said. But she said 'No'; and therewas a good reason why not. So I said I wouldn't promise if it came tothat. Of course I meant to all right. But it did seem mean of her not totell me. 

So Alice went out by the side door while Eliza was setting tea, and shewas a long time gone; she was not in to tea. When Eliza asked Oswaldwhere she was he said he did not know, but perhaps she was tidyingher corner drawer. Girls often do this, and it takes a long time. Noelcoughed a good bit after tea, and asked for Alice. 

Oswald told him she was doing something and it was a secret. Oswald didnot tell any lies even to save his sister. When Alice came back she wasvery quiet, but she whispered to Oswald that it was all right. Whenit was rather late Eliza said she was going out to post a letter. Thisalways takes her an hour, because she _will_ go to the post-officeacross the Heath instead of the pillar-box, because once a boy droppedfusees in our pillar-box and burnt the letters. It was not any of us;Eliza told us about it. And when there was a knock at the door a longtime after we thought it was Eliza come back, and that she had forgottenthe back-door key. We made H. O. Go down to open the door, because itis his place to run about: his legs are younger than ours. And we heardboots on the stairs besides H. O. 's, and we listened spellbound till thedoor opened, and it was Albert's uncle. He looked very tired. 

'I am glad you've come, ' Oswald said. 'Alice began to think Noel--'

Alice stopped me, and her face was very red, her nose was shiny too, with having cried so much before tea. 

She said, 'I only said I thought Noel ought to have the doctor. Don'tyou think he ought?' She got hold of Albert's uncle and held on to him. 

'Let's have a look at you, young man, ' said Albert's uncle, and he satdown on the edge of the bed. It is a rather shaky bed, the bar thatkeeps it steady underneath got broken when we were playing burglars lastwinter. It was our crowbar. He began to feel Noel's pulse, and went ontalking. 

'It was revealed to the Arab physician as he made merry in his tents onthe wild plains of Hastings that the Presence had a cold in its head. Sohe immediately seated himself on the magic carpet, and bade it bear himhither, only pausing in the flight to purchase a few sweetmeats in thebazaar. '

He pulled out a jolly lot of chocolate and some butterscotch, and grapesfor Noel. When we had all said thank you, he went on. 

'The physician's are the words of wisdom: it's high time this kid wasasleep. I have spoken. Ye have my leave to depart. '

So we bunked, and Dora and Albert's uncle made Noel comfortable for thenight. 

Then they came to the nursery which we had gone down to, and he sat downin the Guy Fawkes chair and said, 'Now then. '

Alice said, 'You may tell them what I did. I daresay they'll all be in awax, but I don't care. '

'I think you were very wise, ' said Albert's uncle, pulling her close tohim to sit on his knee. 'I am very glad you telegraphed. '

So then Oswald understood what Alice's secret was. She had gone out andsent a telegram to Albert's uncle at Hastings. But Oswald thought shemight have told him. Afterwards she told me what she had put in thetelegram. It was, 'Come home. We have given Noel a cold, and I think weare killing him. ' With the address it came to tenpence-halfpenny. 

Then Albert's uncle began to ask questions, and it all came out, how Dicky had tried to catch the cold, but the cold had gone to Noelinstead, and about the medicines and all. Albert's uncle looked veryserious. 

'Look here, ' he said, 'You're old enough not to play the fool like this. Health is the best thing you've got; you ought to know better than torisk it. You might have killed your little brother with your preciousmedicines. You've had a lucky escape, certainly. But poor Noel!'

'Oh, do you think he's going to die?' Alice asked that, and she wascrying again. 

'No, no, ' said Albert's uncle; 'but look here. Do you see how sillyyou've been? And I thought you promised your Father--' And then he gaveus a long talking-to. He can make you feel most awfully small. At lasthe stopped, and we said we were very sorry, and he said, 'You know Ipromised to take you all to the pantomime?'

So we said, 'Yes, ' and knew but too well that now he wasn't going to. Then he went on--

'Well, I will take you if you like, or I will take Noel to the sea for aweek to cure his cold. Which is it to be?'

Of course he knew we should say, 'Take Noel' and we did; but Dicky toldme afterwards he thought it was hard on H. O. 

Albert's uncle stayed till Eliza came in, and then he said good night ina way that showed us that all was forgiven and forgotten. 

And we went to bed. It must have been the middle of the night whenOswald woke up suddenly, and there was Alice with her teeth chattering, shaking him to wake him. 

'Oh, Oswald!' she said, 'I am so unhappy. Suppose I should die in thenight!'

Oswald told her to go to bed and not gas. But she said, 'I must tellyou; I wish I'd told Albert's uncle. I'm a thief, and if I die to-nightI know where thieves go to. ' So Oswald saw it was no good and he satup in bed and said--'Go ahead. ' So Alice stood shivering and said--'Ihadn't enough money for the telegram, so I took the bad sixpence out ofthe exchequer. And I paid for it with that and the fivepence I had. AndI wouldn't tell you, because if you'd stopped me doing it I couldn'thave borne it; and if you'd helped me you'd have been a thief too. Oh, what shall I do?'

Oswald thought a minute, and then he said--

'You'd better have told me. But I think it will be all right if we payit back. Go to bed. Cross with you? No, stupid! Only another time you'dbetter not keep secrets. '

So she kissed Oswald, and he let her, and she went back to bed. 

The next day Albert's uncle took Noel away, before Oswald had time topersuade Alice that we ought to tell him about the sixpence. Alice wasvery unhappy, but not so much as in the night: you can be very miserablein the night if you have done anything wrong and you happen to be awake. I know this for a fact. 

None of us had any money except Eliza, and she wouldn't give us anyunless we said what for; and of course we could not do that because ofthe honour of the family. And Oswald was anxious to get the sixpence togive to the telegraph people because he feared that the badness of thatsixpence might have been found out, and that the police might come forAlice at any moment. I don't think I ever had such an unhappy day. Ofcourse we could have written to Albert's uncle, but it would have takena long time, and every moment of delay added to Alice's danger. Wethought and thought, but we couldn't think of any way to get thatsixpence. It seems a small sum, but you see Alice's liberty dependedon it. It was quite late in the afternoon when I met Mrs Leslie on theParade. She had a brown fur coat and a lot of yellow flowers in herhands. She stopped to speak to me, and asked me how the Poet was. I toldher he had a cold, and I wondered whether she would lend me sixpence ifI asked her, but I could not make up my mind how to begin to say it. Itis a hard thing to say--much harder than you would think. She talked tome for a bit, and then she suddenly got into a cab, and said--

'I'd no idea it was so late, ' and told the man where to go. And just asshe started she shoved the yellow flowers through the window and said, 'For the sick poet, with my love, ' and was driven off. 

Gentle reader, I will not conceal from you what Oswald did. He knew allabout not disgracing the family, and he did not like doing what I amgoing to say: and they were really Noel's flowers, only he could nothave sent them to Hastings, and Oswald knew he would say 'Yes' if Oswaldasked him. Oswald sacrificed his family pride because of his littlesister's danger. I do not say he was a noble boy--I just tell you whathe did, and you can decide for yourself about the nobleness. 

He put on his oldest clothes--they're much older than any you wouldthink he had if you saw him when he was tidy--and he took those yellowchrysanthemums and he walked with them to Greenwich Station and waitedfor the trains bringing people from London. He sold those flowers inpenny bunches and got tenpence. Then he went to the telegraph office atLewisham, and said to the lady there:

'A little girl gave you a bad sixpence yesterday. Here are six goodpennies. '

The lady said she had not noticed it, and never mind, but Oswald knewthat 'Honesty is the best Policy', and he refused to take back thepennies. So at last she said she should put them in the plate on Sunday. She is a very nice lady. I like the way she does her hair. 

Then Oswald went home to Alice and told her, and she hugged him, andsaid he was a dear, good, kind boy, and he said 'Oh, it's all right. '

We bought peppermint bullseyes with the fourpence I had over, and theothers wanted to know where we got the money, but we would not tell. 

Only afterwards when Noel came home we told him, because they were hisflowers, and he said it was quite right. He made some poetry about it. Ionly remember one bit of it. 

 The noble youth of high degree Consents to play a menial part, All for his sister Alice's sake, Who was so dear to his faithful heart. 

But Oswald himself has never bragged about it. We got no treasure out ofthis, unless you count the peppermint bullseyes. 

CHAPTER 13. THE ROBBER AND THE BURGLAR

A day or two after Noel came back from Hastings there was snow; it wasjolly. And we cleared it off the path. A man to do it is sixpence atleast, and you should always save when you can. A penny saved is a pennyearned. And then we thought it would be nice to clear it off the top ofthe portico, where it lies so thick, and the edges as if they had beencut with a knife. And just as we had got out of the landing-window onto the portico, the Water Rates came up the path with his book that hetears the thing out of that says how much you have got to pay, and thelittle ink-bottle hung on to his buttonhole in case you should pay him. Father says the Water Rates is a sensible man, and knows it is alwayswell to be prepared for whatever happens, however unlikely. Alice saidafterwards that she rather liked the Water Rates, really, and Noel saidhe had a face like a good vizier, or the man who rewards the honest boyfor restoring the purse, but we did not think about these things atthe time, and as the Water Rates came up the steps, we shovelled downa great square slab of snow like an avalanche--and it fell right onhis head. Two of us thought of it at the same moment, so it was quite alarge avalanche. And when the Water Rates had shaken himself he rang thebell. It was Saturday, and Father was at home. We know now that it isvery wrong and ungentlemanly to shovel snow off porticoes on to theWater Rates, or any other person, and we hope he did not catch a cold, and we are very sorry. We apologized to the Water Rates when Father toldus to. We were all sent to bed for it. 

We all deserved the punishment, because the others would have shovelleddown snow just as we did if they'd thought of it--only they are notso quick at thinking of things as we are. And even quite wrong thingssometimes lead to adventures; as every one knows who has ever read aboutpirates or highwaymen. 

Eliza hates us to be sent to bed early, because it means her having tobring meals up, and it means lighting the fire in Noel's room ever somuch earlier than usual. He had to have a fire because he still had abit of a cold. But this particular day we got Eliza into a good temperby giving her a horrid brooch with pretending amethysts in it, that anaunt once gave to Alice, so Eliza brought up an extra scuttle of coals, and when the greengrocer came with the potatoes (he is always late onSaturdays) she got some chestnuts from him. So that when we heard Fathergo out after his dinner, there was a jolly fire in Noel's room, andwe were able to go in and be Red Indians in blankets most comfortably. Eliza had gone out; she says she gets things cheaper on Saturdaynights. She has a great friend, who sells fish at a shop, and he isvery generous, and lets her have herrings for less than half the naturalprice. 

So we were all alone in the house; Pincher was out with Eliza, and wetalked about robbers. And Dora thought it would be a dreadful trade, butDicky said--

'I think it would be very interesting. And you would only rob richpeople, and be very generous to the poor and needy, like Claude Duval. 'Dora said, 'It is wrong to be a robber. '

'Yes, ' said Alice, 'you would never know a happy hour. Think of tryingto sleep with the stolen jewels under your bed, and remembering all thequantities of policemen and detectives that there are in the world!'

'There are ways of being robbers that are not wrong, ' said Noel; 'if youcan rob a robber it is a right act. '

'But you can't, ' said Dora; 'he is too clever, and besides, it's wronganyway. '

'Yes you can, and it isn't; and murdering him with boiling oil is aright act, too, so there!' said Noel. 'What about Ali Baba? Now then!'And we felt it was a score for Noel. 

'What would you do if there _was_ a robber?' said Alice. 

H. O. Said he would kill him with boiling oil; but Alice explained thatshe meant a real robber--now--this minute--in the house. 

Oswald and Dicky did not say; but Noel said he thought it would only befair to ask the robber quite politely and quietly to go away, and thenif he didn't you could deal with him. 

Now what I am going to tell you is a very strange and wonderful thing, and I hope you will be able to believe it. I should not, if a boy toldme, unless I knew him to be a man of honour, and perhaps not then unlesshe gave his sacred word. But it is true, all the same, and it only showsthat the days of romance and daring deeds are not yet at an end. 

Alice was just asking Noel _how_ he would deal with the robber whowouldn't go if he was asked politely and quietly, when we heard a noisedownstairs--quite a plain noise, not the kind of noise you fancy youhear. It was like somebody moving a chair. We held our breath andlistened and then came another noise, like some one poking a fire. Now, you remember there was no one _to_ poke a fire or move a chairdownstairs, because Eliza and Father were both out. They could not havecome in without our hearing them, because the front door is as hard toshut as the back one, and whichever you go in by you have to give a slamthat you can hear all down the street. 

H. O. And Alice and Dora caught hold of each other's blankets and lookedat Dicky and Oswald, and every one was quite pale. And Noel whispered--

'It's ghosts, I know it is'--and then we listened again, but there wasno more noise. Presently Dora said in a whisper--

'Whatever shall we do? Oh, whatever shall we do--what _shall_ we do?'And she kept on saying it till we had to tell her to shut up. 

O reader, have you ever been playing Red Indians in blankets round abedroom fire in a house where you thought there was no one but you--andthen suddenly heard a noise like a chair, and a fire being poked, downstairs? Unless you have you will not be able to imagine at all whatit feels like. It was not like in books; our hair did not stand on endat all, and we never said 'Hist!' once, but our feet got very cold, though we were in blankets by the fire, and the insides of Oswald'shands got warm and wet, and his nose was cold like a dog's, and his earswere burning hot. 

The girls said afterwards that they shivered with terror, and theirteeth chattered, but we did not see or hear this at the time. 

'Shall we open the window and call police?' said Dora; and then Oswaldsuddenly thought of something, and he breathed more freely and he said--

'I _know_ it's not ghosts, and I don't believe it's robbers. I expectit's a stray cat got in when the coals came this morning, and she'sbeen hiding in the cellar, and now she's moving about. Let's go down andsee. '

The girls wouldn't, of course; but I could see that they breathed morefreely too. But Dicky said, 'All right; I will if you will. '

H. O. Said, 'Do you think it's _really_ a cat?' So we said he had betterstay with the girls. And of course after that we had to let him andAlice both come. Dora said if we took Noel down with his cold, she wouldscream 'Fire!' and 'Murder!' and she didn't mind if the whole streetheard. 

So Noel agreed to be getting his clothes on, and the rest of us said wewould go down and look for the cat. 

Now Oswald _said_ that about the cat, and it made it easier to go down, but in his inside he did not feel at all sure that it might not berobbers after all. Of course, we had often talked about robbers before, but it is very different when you sit in a room and listen and listenand listen; and Oswald felt somehow that it would be easier to go downand see what it was, than to wait, and listen, and wait, and wait, andlisten, and wait, and then perhaps to hear _it_, whatever it was, comecreeping slowly up the stairs as softly as _it_ could with _its_ bootsoff, and the stairs creaking, towards the room where we were with thedoor open in case of Eliza coming back suddenly, and all dark on thelandings. And then it would have been just as bad, and it would havelasted longer, and you would have known you were a coward besides. Dickysays he felt all these same things. Many people would say we were youngheroes to go down as we did; so I have tried to explain, because noyoung hero wishes to have more credit than he deserves. 

The landing gas was turned down low--just a blue bead--and we four wentout very softly, wrapped in our blankets, and we stood on the top of thestairs a good long time before we began to go down. And we listened andlistened till our ears buzzed. 

And Oswald whispered to Dicky, and Dicky went into our room and fetchedthe large toy pistol that is a foot long, and that has the triggerbroken, and I took it because I am the eldest; and I don't think eitherof us thought it was the cat now. But Alice and H. O. Did. Dicky got thepoker out of Noel's room, and told Dora it was to settle the cat withwhen we caught her. 

Then Oswald whispered, 'Let's play at burglars; Dicky and I are armedto the teeth, we will go first. You keep a flight behind us, and bea reinforcement if we are attacked. Or you can retreat and defend thewomen and children in the fortress, if you'd rather. '

But they said they would be a reinforcement. 

Oswald's teeth chattered a little when he spoke. It was not withanything else except cold. 

So Dicky and Oswald crept down, and when we got to the bottom of thestairs, we saw Father's study door just ajar, and the crack of light. And Oswald was so pleased to see the light, knowing that burglars preferthe dark, or at any rate the dark lantern, that he felt really sure it_was_ the cat after all, and then he thought it would be fun to makethe others upstairs think it was really a robber. So he cocked thepistol--you can cock it, but it doesn't go off--and he said, 'Come on, Dick!' and he rushed at the study door and burst into the room, crying, 'Surrender! you are discovered! Surrender, or I fire! Throw up yourhands!'

And, as he finished saying it, he saw before him, standing on the studyhearthrug, a Real Robber. There was no mistake about it. Oswald wassure it was a robber, because it had a screwdriver in its hands, and wasstanding near the cupboard door that H. O. Broke the lock off; and therewere gimlets and screws and things on the floor. There is nothing inthat cupboard but old ledgers and magazines and the tool chest, but ofcourse, a robber could not know that beforehand. 

When Oswald saw that there really was a robber, and that he was soheavily armed with the screwdriver, he did not feel comfortable. But hekept the pistol pointed at the robber, and--you will hardly believe it, but it is true--the robber threw down the screwdriver clattering on theother tools, and he _did_ throw up his hands, and said--

'I surrender; don't shoot me! How many of you are there?'

So Dicky said, 'You are outnumbered. Are you armed?'

And the robber said, 'No, not in the least. '

And Oswald said, still pointing the pistol, and feeling very strong andbrave and as if he was in a book, 'Turn out your pockets. '

The robber did: and while he turned them out, we looked at him. He wasof the middle height, and clad in a black frock-coat and grey trousers. His boots were a little gone at the sides, and his shirt-cuffs werea bit frayed, but otherwise he was of gentlemanly demeanour. He had athin, wrinkled face, with big, light eyes that sparkled, and then lookedsoft very queerly, and a short beard. In his youth it must have been ofa fair golden colour, but now it was tinged with grey. Oswald was sorryfor him, especially when he saw that one of his pockets had a large holein it, and that he had nothing in his pockets but letters and string andthree boxes of matches, and a pipe and a handkerchief and a thin tobaccopouch and two pennies. We made him put all the things on the table, andthen he said--

'Well, you've caught me; what are you going to do with me? Police?'

Alice and H. O. Had come down to be reinforcements, when they heard ashout, and when Alice saw that it was a Real Robber, and that he hadsurrendered, she clapped her hands and said, 'Bravo, boys!' and so didH. O. And now she said, 'If he gives his word of honour not to escape, I shouldn't call the police: it seems a pity. Wait till Father comeshome. '

The robber agreed to this, and gave his word of honour, and asked if hemight put on a pipe, and we said 'Yes, ' and he sat in Father's armchairand warmed his boots, which steamed, and I sent H. O. And Alice toput on some clothes and tell the others, and bring down Dicky's and myknickerbockers, and the rest of the chestnuts. 

And they all came, and we sat round the fire, and it was jolly. Therobber was very friendly, and talked to us a great deal. 

'I wasn't always in this low way of business, ' he said, when Noel saidsomething about the things he had turned out of his pockets. 'It'sa great come-down to a man like me. But, if I must be caught, it'ssomething to be caught by brave young heroes like you. My stars! How youdid bolt into the room, --"Surrender, and up with your hands!" You mighthave been born and bred to the thief-catching. '

Oswald is sorry if it was mean, but he could not own up just then thathe did not think there was any one in the study when he did that braveif rash act. He has told since. 

'And what made you think there was any one in the house?' the robberasked, when he had thrown his head back, and laughed for quite half aminute. So we told him. And he applauded our valour, and Alice and H. O. Explained that they would have said 'Surrender, ' too, only they werereinforcements. The robber ate some of the chestnuts--and we sat andwondered when Father would come home, and what he would say to us forour intrepid conduct. And the robber told us of all the things he haddone before he began to break into houses. Dicky picked up the toolsfrom the floor, and suddenly he said--

'Why, this is Father's screwdriver and his gimlets, and all! Well, I docall it jolly cheek to pick a man's locks with his own tools!'

'True, true, ' said the robber. 'It is cheek, of the jolliest! But yousee I've come down in the world. I was a highway robber once, buthorses are so expensive to hire--five shillings an hour, you know--andI couldn't afford to keep them. The highwayman business isn't what itwas. '

'What about a bike?' said H. O. 

But the robber thought cycles were low--and besides you couldn't goacross country with them when occasion arose, as you could with a trustysteed. And he talked of highwaymen as if he knew just how we likedhearing it. 

Then he told us how he had been a pirate captain--and how he had sailedover waves mountains high, and gained rich prizes--and how he _did_begin to think that here he had found a profession to his mind. 

'I don't say there are no ups and downs in it, ' he said, 'especiallyin stormy weather. But what a trade! And a sword at your side, and theJolly Roger flying at the peak, and a prize in sight. And all the blackmouths of your guns pointed at the laden trader--and the wind in yourfavour, and your trusty crew ready to live and die for you! Oh--but it'sa grand life!'

I did feel so sorry for him. He used such nice words, and he had agentleman's voice. 

'I'm sure you weren't brought up to be a pirate, ' said Dora. She haddressed even to her collar--and made Noel do it too--but the rest of uswere in blankets with just a few odd things put on anyhow underneath. 

The robber frowned and sighed. 

'No, ' he said, 'I was brought up to the law. I was at Balliol, blessyour hearts, and that's true anyway. ' He sighed again, and looked hardat the fire. 

'That was my Father's college, ' H. O. Was beginning, but Dickysaid--'Why did you leave off being a pirate?'

'A pirate?' he said, as if he had not been thinking of such things. 

'Oh, yes; why I gave it up because--because I could not get over thedreadful sea-sickness. '

'Nelson was sea-sick, ' said Oswald. 

'Ah, ' said the robber; 'but I hadn't his luck or his pluck, orsomething. He stuck to it and won Trafalgar, didn't he? "Kiss me, Hardy"--and all that, eh? _I_ couldn't stick to it--I had to resign. Andnobody kissed _me_. '

I saw by his understanding about Nelson that he was really a man who hadbeen to a good school as well as to Balliol. 

Then we asked him, 'And what did you do then?'

And Alice asked if he was ever a coiner, and we told him how we hadthought we'd caught the desperate gang next door, and he was very muchinterested and said he was glad he had never taken to coining. 

'Besides, the coins are so ugly nowadays, ' he said, 'no one could reallyfind any pleasure in making them. And it's a hole-and-corner businessat the best, isn't it?--and it must be a very thirsty one--with the hotmetal and furnaces and things. '

And again he looked at the fire. 

Oswald forgot for a minute that the interesting stranger was a robber, and asked him if he wouldn't have a drink. Oswald has heard Father dothis to his friends, so he knows it is the right thing. The robber saidhe didn't mind if he did. And that is right, too. 

And Dora went and got a bottle of Father's ale--the Light SparklingFamily--and a glass, and we gave it to the robber. Dora said she wouldbe responsible. 

Then when he had had a drink he told us about bandits, but he said itwas so bad in wet weather. Bandits' caves were hardly ever properlyweathertight. And bush-ranging was the same. 

'As a matter of fact, ' he said, 'I was bush-ranging this afternoon, among the furze-bushes on the Heath, but I had no luck. I stopped theLord Mayor in his gilt coach, with all his footmen in plush and goldlace, smart as cockatoos. But it was no go. The Lord Mayor hadn't astiver in his pockets. One of the footmen had six new pennies: the LordMayor always pays his servants' wages in new pennies. I spent fourpenceof that in bread and cheese, that on the table's the tuppence. Ah, it'sa poor trade!' And then he filled his pipe again. 

We had turned out the gas, so that Father should have a jolly goodsurprise when he did come home, and we sat and talked as pleasant ascould be. I never liked a new man better than I liked that robber. And Ifelt so sorry for him. He told us he had been a war-correspondent andan editor, in happier days, as well as a horse-stealer and a colonel ofdragoons. 

And quite suddenly, just as we were telling him about Lord Tottenham andour being highwaymen ourselves, he put up his hand and said 'Shish!' andwe were quiet and listened. 

There was a scrape, scrape, scraping noise; it came from downstairs. 

'They're filing something, ' whispered the robber, 'here--shut up, giveme that pistol, and the poker. There is a burglar now, and no mistake. '

'It's only a toy one and it won't go off, ' I said, 'but you can cockit. '

Then we heard a snap. 'There goes the window bar, ' said the robbersoftly. 'Jove! what an adventure! You kids stay here, I'll tackle it. '

But Dicky and I said we should come. So he let us go as far as thebottom of the kitchen stairs, and we took the tongs and shovel with us. There was a light in the kitchen; a very little light. It is curious wenever thought, any of us, that this might be a plant of our robber's toget away. We never thought of doubting his word of honour. And we wereright. 

That noble robber dashed the kitchen door open, and rushed in with thebig toy pistol in one hand and the poker in the other, shouting out justlike Oswald had done--

'Surrender! You are discovered! Surrender, or I'll fire! Throw up yourhands!' And Dicky and I rattled the tongs and shovel so that he mightknow there were more of us, all bristling with weapons. 

And we heard a husky voice in the kitchen saying--

'All right, governor! Stow that scent sprinkler. I'll give in. Blowed ifI ain't pretty well sick of the job, anyway. '

Then we went in. Our robber was standing in the grandest manner with hislegs very wide apart, and the pistol pointing at the cowering burglar. The burglar was a large man who did not mean to have a beard, I think, but he had got some of one, and a red comforter, and a fur cap, and hisface was red and his voice was thick. How different from our own robber!The burglar had a dark lantern, and he was standing by the plate-basket. When we had lit the gas we all thought he was very like what a burglarought to be. 

He did not look as if he could ever have been a pirate or a highwayman, or anything really dashing or noble, and he scowled and shuffled hisfeet and said: 'Well, go on: why don't yer fetch the pleece?'

'Upon my word, I don't know, ' said our robber, rubbing his chin. 'Oswald, why don't we fetch the police?'

It is not every robber that I would stand Christian names from, I cantell you but just then I didn't think of that. I just said--'Do you meanI'm to fetch one?'

Our robber looked at the burglar and said nothing. 

Then the burglar began to speak very fast, and to look different wayswith his hard, shiny little eyes. 

'Lookee 'ere, governor, ' he said, 'I was stony broke, so help me, Iwas. And blessed if I've nicked a haporth of your little lot. You knowyourself there ain't much to tempt a bloke, ' he shook the plate-basketas if he was angry with it, and the yellowy spoons and forks rattled. 'Iwas just a-looking through this 'ere Bank-ollerday show, when you come. Let me off, sir. Come now, I've got kids of my own at home, strike meif I ain't--same as yours--I've got a nipper just about 'is size, andwhat'll come of them if I'm lagged? I ain't been in it long, sir, and Iain't 'andy at it. '

'No, ' said our robber; 'you certainly are not. ' Alice and the othershad come down by now to see what was happening. Alice told me afterwardsthey thought it really was the cat this time. 

'No, I ain't 'andy, as you say, sir, and if you let me off this onceI'll chuck the whole blooming bizz; rake my civvy, I will. Don't be hardon a cove, mister; think of the missis and the kids. I've got one justthe cut of little missy there bless 'er pretty 'eart. '

'Your family certainly fits your circumstances very nicely, ' said ourrobber. Then Alice said--

'Oh, do let him go! If he's got a little girl like me, whatever will shedo? Suppose it was Father!'

'I don't think he's got a little girl like you, my dear, ' said ourrobber, 'and I think he'll be safer under lock and key. '

'You ask yer Father to let me go, miss, ' said the burglar; ''e won't'ave the 'art to refuse you. '

'If I do, ' said Alice, 'will you promise never to come back?'

'Not me, miss, ' the burglar said very earnestly, and he looked at theplate-basket again, as if that alone would be enough to keep him away, our robber said afterwards. 

'And will you be good and not rob any more?' said Alice. 

'I'll turn over a noo leaf, miss, so help me. '

Then Alice said--'Oh, do let him go! I'm sure he'll be good. '

But our robber said no, it wouldn't be right; we must wait till Fathercame home. Then H. O. Said, very suddenly and plainly:

'I don't think it's at all fair, when you're a robber yourself. '

The minute he'd said it the burglar said, 'Kidded, by gum!'--and thenour robber made a step towards him to catch hold of him, and before youhad time to think 'Hullo!' the burglar knocked the pistol up with onehand and knocked our robber down with the other, and was off out ofthe window like a shot, though Oswald and Dicky did try to stop him byholding on to his legs. 

And that burglar had the cheek to put his head in at the window and say, 'I'll give yer love to the kids and the missis'--and he was off likewinking, and there were Alice and Dora trying to pick up our robber, andasking him whether he was hurt, and where. He wasn't hurt at all, excepta lump at the back of his head. And he got up, and we dusted the kitchenfloor off him. Eliza is a dirty girl. 

Then he said, 'Let's put up the shutters. It never rains but it pours. Now you've had two burglars I daresay you'll have twenty. ' So we put upthe shutters, which Eliza has strict orders to do before she goes out, only she never does, and we went back to Father's study, and the robbersaid, 'What a night we are having!' and put his boots back in the fenderto go on steaming, and then we all talked at once. It was the mostwonderful adventure we ever had, though it wasn't treasure-seeking--atleast not ours. I suppose it was the burglar's treasure-seeking, buthe didn't get much--and our robber said he didn't believe a word aboutthose kids that were so like Alice and me. 

And then there was the click of the gate, and we said, 'Here's Father, 'and the robber said, 'And now for the police. '

Then we all jumped up. We did like him so much, and it seemed so unfairthat he should be sent to prison, and the horrid, lumping big burglarnot. 

And Alice said, 'Oh, _no_--run! Dicky will let you out at the back door. Oh, do go, go _now_. '

And we all said, 'Yes, _go_, ' and pulled him towards the door, and gavehim his hat and stick and the things out of his pockets. 

But Father's latchkey was in the door, and it was too late. 

Father came in quickly, purring with the cold, and began to say, 'It'sall right, Foulkes, I've got--' And then he stopped short and staredat us. Then he said, in the voice we all hate, 'Children, what is themeaning of all this?' And for a minute nobody spoke. 

Then my Father said, 'Foulkes, I must really apologize for these verynaughty--' And then our robber rubbed his hands and laughed, and criedout:

'You're mistaken, my dear sir, I'm not Foulkes; I'm a robber, capturedby these young people in the most gallant manner. "Hands up, surrender, or I fire, " and all the rest of it. My word, Bastable, but you've gotsome kids worth having! I wish my Denny had their pluck. '

Then we began to understand, and it was like being knocked down, it wasso sudden. And our robber told us he wasn't a robber after all. He wasonly an old college friend of my Father's, and he had come after dinner, when Father was just trying to mend the lock H. O. Had broken, to askFather to get him a letter to a doctor about his little boy Denny, whowas ill. And Father had gone over the Heath to Vanbrugh Park to see somerich people he knows and get the letter. And he had left Mr Foulkes towait till he came back, because it was important to know at once whetherFather could get the letter, and if he couldn't Mr Foulkes would havehad to try some one else directly. 

We were dumb with amazement. 

Our robber told my Father about the other burglar, and said he wassorry he'd let him escape, but my Father said, 'Oh, it's all right: poorbeggar; if he really had kids at home: you never can tell--forgive usour debts, don't you know; but tell me about the first business. It musthave been moderately entertaining. '

Then our robber told my Father how I had rushed into the room with apistol, crying out. . . But you know all about that. And he laid it onso thick and fat about plucky young-uns, and chips of old blocks, andthings like that, that I felt I was purple with shame, even under theblanket. So I swallowed that thing that tries to prevent you speakingwhen you ought to, and I said, 'Look here, Father, I didn't really thinkthere was any one in the study. We thought it was a cat at first, andthen I thought there was no one there, and I was just larking. And whenI said surrender and all that, it was just the game, don't you know?'

Then our robber said, 'Yes, old chap; but when you found there really_was_ someone there, you dropped the pistol and bunked, didn't you, eh?'

And I said, 'No; I thought, "Hullo! here's a robber! Well, it's all up, I suppose, but I may as well hold on and see what happens. "'

And I was glad I'd owned up, for Father slapped me on the back, andsaid I was a young brick, and our robber said I was no funk anyway, andthough I got very hot under the blanket I liked it, and I explained thatthe others would have done the same if they had thought of it. 

Then Father got up some more beer, and laughed about Dora'sresponsibility, and he got out a box of figs he had bought for us, onlyhe hadn't given it to us because of the Water Rates, and Eliza came inand brought up the bread and cheese, and what there was left of theneck of mutton--cold wreck of mutton, Father called it--and we had afeast--like a picnic--all sitting anywhere, and eating with our fingers. It was prime. We sat up till past twelve o'clock, and I never felt sopleased to think I was not born a girl. It was hard on the others; theywould have done just the same if they'd thought of it. But it does makeyou feel jolly when your pater says you're a young brick!

When Mr Foulkes was going, he said to Alice, 'Good-bye, Hardy. '

And Alice understood, of course, and kissed him as hard as she could. 

And she said, 'I wanted to, when you said no one kissed you when youleft off being a pirate. ' And he said, 'I know you did, my dear. ' AndDora kissed him too, and said, 'I suppose none of these tales weretrue?'

And our robber just said, 'I tried to play the part properly, my dear. '

And he jolly well did play it, and no mistake. We have often seen himsince, and his boy Denny, and his girl Daisy, but that comes in anotherstory. 

And if any of you kids who read this ever had two such adventures in onenight you can just write and tell me. That's all. 

CHAPTER 14. THE DIVINING-ROD

You have no idea how uncomfortable the house was on the day when wesought for gold with the divining-rod. It was like a spring-cleaning inthe winter-time. All the carpets were up, because Father had told Elizato make the place decent as there was a gentleman coming to dinner thenext day. So she got in a charwoman, and they slopped water about, andleft brooms and brushes on the stairs for people to tumble over. H. O. Got a big bump on his head in that way, and when he said it was too bad, Eliza said he should keep in the nursery then, and not be where he'd nobusiness. We bandaged his head with a towel, and then he stopped cryingand played at being England's wounded hero dying in the cockpit, whileevery man was doing his duty, as the hero had told them to, and Alicewas Hardy, and I was the doctor, and the others were the crew. Playingat Hardy made us think of our own dear robber, and we wished he wasthere, and wondered if we should ever see him any more. 

We were rather astonished at Father's having anyone to dinner, becausenow he never seems to think of anything but business. Before Mother diedpeople often came to dinner, and Father's business did not take up somuch of his time and was not the bother it is now. And we used to seewho could go furthest down in our nightgowns and get nice things toeat, without being seen, out of the dishes as they came out of thedining-room. Eliza can't cook very nice things. She told Father she wasa good plain cook, but he says it was a fancy portrait. We stayed in thenursery till the charwoman came in and told us to be off--she was goingto make one job of it, and have our carpet up as well as all theothers, now the man was here to beat them. It came up, and it was verydusty--and under it we found my threepenny-bit that I lost ages ago, which shows what Eliza is. H. O. Had got tired of being the woundedhero, and Dicky was so tired of doing nothing that Dora said she knewhe'd begin to tease Noel in a minute; then of course Dicky said hewasn't going to tease anybody--he was going out to the Heath. He saidhe'd heard that nagging women drove a man from his home, and now hefound it was quite true. Oswald always tries to be a peacemaker, so hetold Dicky to shut up and not make an ass of himself. And Alice said, 'Well, Dora began'--And Dora tossed her chin up and said it wasn't anybusiness of Oswald's any way, and no one asked Alice's opinion. So weall felt very uncomfortable till Noel said, 'Don't let's quarrel aboutnothing. You know let dogs delight--and I made up another piece whileyou were talking--

 Quarrelling is an evil thing, It fills with gall life's cup; For when once you begin It takes such a long time to make it up. '

We all laughed then and stopped jawing at each other. Noel is very funnywith his poetry. But that piece happened to come out quite true. Youbegin to quarrel and then you can't stop; often, long before the othersare ready to cry and make it up, I see how silly it is, and I want tolaugh; but it doesn't do to say so--for it only makes the others crosserthan they were before. I wonder why that is?

Alice said Noel ought to be poet laureate, and she actually went outin the cold and got some laurel leaves--the spotted kind--out ofthe garden, and Dora made a crown and we put it on him. He was quitepleased; but the leaves made a mess, and Eliza said, 'Don't. ' I believethat's a word grown-ups use more than any other. Then suddenly Alicethought of that old idea of hers for finding treasure, and she said--'Dolet's try the divining-rod. '

So Oswald said, 'Fair priestess, we do greatly desire to find goldbeneath our land, therefore we pray thee practise with the divining-rod, and tell us where we can find it. '

'Do ye desire to fashion of it helms and hauberks?' said Alice. 

'Yes, ' said Noel; 'and chains and ouches. '

'I bet you don't know what an "ouch" is, ' said Dicky. 

'Yes I do, so there!' said Noel. 'It's a carcanet. I looked it out inthe dicker, now then!' We asked him what a carcanet was, but he wouldn'tsay. 

'And we want to make fair goblets of the gold, ' said Oswald. 

'Yes, to drink coconut milk out of, ' said H. O. 

'And we desire to build fair palaces of it, ' said Dicky. 

'And to buy things, ' said Dora; 'a great many things. New Sunday frocksand hats and kid gloves and--'

She would have gone on for ever so long only we reminded her that wehadn't found the gold yet. 

By this Alice had put on the nursery tablecloth, which is green, andtied the old blue and yellow antimacassar over her head, and she said--

'If your intentions are correct, fear nothing and follow me. '

And she went down into the hall. We all followed chanting 'Heroes. ' Itis a gloomy thing the girls learnt at the High School, and we always useit when we want a priestly chant. 

Alice stopped short by the hat-stand, and held up her hands as well asshe could for the tablecloth, and said--

'Now, great altar of the golden idol, yield me the divining-rod that Imay use it for the good of the suffering people. '

The umbrella-stand was the altar of the golden idol, and it yielded herthe old school umbrella. She carried it between her palms. 

'Now, ' she said, 'I shall sing the magic chant. You mustn't sayanything, but just follow wherever I go--like follow my leader, youknow--and when there is gold underneath the magic rod will twist in thehand of the priestess like a live thing that seeks to be free. Then youwill dig, and the golden treasure will be revealed. H. O. , if you makethat clatter with your boots they'll come and tell us not to. Now comeon all of you. '

So she went upstairs and down and into every room. We followed heron tiptoe, and Alice sang as she went. What she sang is not out of abook--Noel made it up while she was dressing up for the priestess. 

 Ashen rod cold That here I hold, Teach me where to find the gold. 

When we came to where Eliza was, she said, 'Get along with you'; butDora said it was only a game, and we wouldn't touch anything, and ourboots were quite clean, and Eliza might as well let us. So she did. 

It was all right for the priestess, but it was a little dull for therest of us, because she wouldn't let us sing, too; so we said we'd hadenough of it, and if she couldn't find the gold we'd leave off and playsomething else. The priestess said, 'All right, wait a minute, ' and wenton singing. Then we all followed her back into the nursery, where thecarpet was up and the boards smelt of soft soap. Then she said, 'Itmoves, it moves! Once more the choral hymn!' So we sang 'Heroes' again, and in the middle the umbrella dropped from her hands. 

'The magic rod has spoken, ' said Alice; 'dig here, and that with courageand despatch. ' We didn't quite see how to dig, but we all began toscratch on the floor with our hands, but the priestess said, 'Don'tbe so silly! It's the place where they come to do the gas. The board'sloose. Dig an you value your lives, for ere sundown the dragon whoguards this spoil will return in his fiery fury and make you hisunresisting prey. '

So we dug--that is, we got the loose board up. And Alice threw up herarms and cried--

'See the rich treasure--the gold in thick layers, with silver anddiamonds stuck in it!'

'Like currants in cake, ' said H. O. 

'It's a lovely treasure, ' said Dicky yawning. 'Let's come back and carryit away another day. '

But Alice was kneeling by the hole. 

'Let me feast my eyes on the golden splendour, ' she said, 'hidden theselong centuries from the human eye. Behold how the magic rod has ledus to treasures more--Oswald, don't push so!--more bright than evermonarch--I say, there _is_ something down there, really. I saw itshine!'

We thought she was kidding, but when she began to try to get into thehole, which was much too small, we saw she meant it, so I said, 'Let'shave a squint, ' and I looked, but I couldn't see anything, even when Ilay down on my stomach. The others lay down on their stomachs too andtried to see, all but Noel, who stood and looked at us and said we werethe great serpents come down to drink at the magic pool. He wanted to bethe knight and slay the great serpents with his good sword--he even drewthe umbrella ready--but Alice said, 'All right, we will in a minute. Butnow--I'm sure I saw it; do get a match, Noel, there's a dear. '

'What did you see?' asked Noel, beginning to go for the matches veryslowly. 

'Something bright, away in the corner under the board against the beam. '

'Perhaps it was a rat's eye, ' Noel said, 'or a snake's, ' and we didnot put our heads quite so close to the hole till he came back with thematches. 

Then I struck a match, and Alice cried, 'There it is!' And there it was, and it was a half-sovereign, partly dusty and partly bright. We thinkperhaps a mouse, disturbed by the carpets being taken up, may havebrushed the dust of years from part of the half-sovereign with his tail. We can't imagine how it came there, only Dora thinks she remembers oncewhen H. O. Was very little Mother gave him some money to hold, and hedropped it, and it rolled all over the floor. So we think perhaps thiswas part of it. We were very glad. H. O. Wanted to go out at once andbuy a mask he had seen for fourpence. It had been a shilling mask, butnow it was going very cheap because Guy Fawkes' Day was over, and it wasa little cracked at the top. But Dora said, 'I don't know that it's ourmoney. Let's wait and ask Father. '

But H. O. Did not care about waiting, and I felt for him. Dora is ratherlike grown-ups in that way; she does not seem to understand that whenyou want a thing you do want it, and that you don't wish to wait, even aminute. 

So we went and asked Albert-next-door's uncle. He was pegging away atone of the rotten novels he has to write to make his living, but he saidwe weren't interrupting him at all. 

'My hero's folly has involved him in a difficulty, ' he said. 'It is hisown fault. I will leave him to meditate on the incredible fatuity--thehare-brained recklessness--which have brought him to this pass. It willbe a lesson to him. I, meantime, will give myself unreservedly to thepleasures of your conversation. '

That's one thing I like Albert's uncle for. He always talks like a book, and yet you can always understand what he means. I think he is more likeus, inside of his mind, than most grown-up people are. He can pretendbeautifully. I never met anyone else so good at it, except our robber, and we began it, with him. But it was Albert's uncle who first taughtus how to make people talk like books when you're playing things, and hemade us learn to tell a story straight from the beginning, not startingin the middle like most people do. So now Oswald remembered what he hadbeen told, as he generally does, and began at the beginning, but when hecame to where Alice said she was the priestess, Albert's uncle said--

'Let the priestess herself set forth the tale in fitting speech. '

So Alice said, 'O high priest of the great idol, the humblest of thyslaves took the school umbrella for a divining-rod, and sang the song ofinver--what's-it's-name?'

'Invocation perhaps?' said Albert's uncle. 'Yes; and then I went aboutand about and the others got tired, so the divining-rod fell on acertain spot, and I said, "Dig", and we dug--it was where the looseboard is for the gas men--and then there really and truly was ahalf-sovereign lying under the boards, and here it is. '

Albert's uncle took it and looked at it. 

'The great high priest will bite it to see if it's good, ' he said, andhe did. 'I congratulate you, ' he went on; 'you are indeed among thosefavoured by the Immortals. First you find half-crowns in the garden, andnow this. The high priest advises you to tell your Father, and ask ifyou may keep it. My hero has become penitent, but impatient. I must pullhim out of this scrape. Ye have my leave to depart. '

Of course we know from Kipling that that means, 'You'd better bunk, andbe sharp about it, ' so we came away. I do like Albert's uncle. 

I shall be like that when I'm a man. He gave us our Jungle books, and heis awfully clever, though he does have to write grown-up tales. 

We told Father about it that night. He was very kind. He said wemight certainly have the half-sovereign, and he hoped we should enjoyourselves with our treasure-trove. 

Then he said, 'Your dear Mother's Indian Uncle is coming to dinner hereto-morrow night. So will you not drag the furniture about overhead, please, more than you're absolutely obliged; and H. O. Might wearslippers or something. I can always distinguish the note of H. O. 'sboots. '

We said we would be very quiet, and Father went on--

'This Indian Uncle is not used to children, and he is coming to talkbusiness with me. It is really important that he should be quiet. Do youthink, Dora, that perhaps bed at six for H. O. And Noel--'

But H. O. Said, 'Father, I really and truly won't make a noise. I'llstand on my head all the evening sooner than disturb the Indian Unclewith my boots. '

And Alice said Noel never made a row anyhow. So Father laughed andsaid, 'All right. ' And he said we might do as we liked with thehalf-sovereign. 'Only for goodness' sake don't try to go in for businesswith it, ' he said. 'It's always a mistake to go into business with aninsufficient capital. '

We talked it over all that evening, and we decided that as we were notto go into business with our half-sovereign it was no use not spendingit at once, and so we might as well have a right royal feast. The nextday we went out and bought the things. We got figs, and almonds andraisins, and a real raw rabbit, and Eliza promised to cook it for usif we would wait till tomorrow, because of the Indian Uncle coming todinner. She was very busy cooking nice things for him to eat. We got therabbit because we are so tired of beef and mutton, and Father hasn'ta bill at the poultry shop. And we got some flowers to go on thedinner-table for Father's party. And we got hardbake and raspberry noyauand peppermint rock and oranges and a coconut, with other nice things. We put it all in the top long drawer. It is H. O. 's play drawer, and wemade him turn his things out and put them in Father's old portmanteau. H. O. Is getting old enough now to learn to be unselfish, and besides, his drawer wanted tidying very badly. Then we all vowed by the honour ofthe ancient House of Bastable that we would not touch any of thefeast till Dora gave the word next day. And we gave H. O. Some of thehardbake, to make it easier for him to keep his vow. The next day wasthe most rememorable day in all our lives, but we didn't know that then. But that is another story. I think that is such a useful way to knowwhen you can't think how to end up a chapter. I learnt it from anotherwriter named Kipling. I've mentioned him before, I believe, but hedeserves it!

CHAPTER 15. 'LO, THE POOR INDIAN!'

It was all very well for Father to ask us not to make a row because theIndian Uncle was coming to talk business, but my young brother's bootsare not the only things that make a noise. We took his boots away andmade him wear Dora's bath slippers, which are soft and woolly, andhardly any soles to them; and of course we wanted to see the Uncle, so we looked over the banisters when he came, and we were as quietas mice--but when Eliza had let him in she went straight down to thekitchen and made the most awful row you ever heard, it sounded like theDay of judgement, or all the saucepans and crockery in the house beingkicked about the floor, but she told me afterwards it was only thetea-tray and one or two cups and saucers, that she had knocked over inher flurry. We heard the Uncle say, 'God bless my soul!' and thenhe went into Father's study and the door was shut--we didn't see himproperly at all that time. 

I don't believe the dinner was very nice. Something got burned I'msure--for we smelt it. It was an extra smell, besides the mutton. 

I know that got burned. Eliza wouldn't have any of us in the kitchenexcept Dora--till dinner was over. Then we got what was left of thedessert, and had it on the stairs--just round the corner where theycan't see you from the hall, unless the first landing gas is lighted. Suddenly the study door opened and the Uncle came out and went and feltin his greatcoat pocket. It was his cigar-case he wanted. We saw thatafterwards. We got a much better view of him then. He didn't look likean Indian but just like a kind of brown, big Englishman, and of coursehe didn't see us, but we heard him mutter to himself--

'Shocking bad dinner! Eh!--what?'

When he went back to the study he didn't shut the door properly. Thatdoor has always been a little tiresome since the day we took the lockoff to get out the pencil sharpener H. O. Had shoved into the keyhole. We didn't listen--really and truly--but the Indian Uncle has a very bigvoice, and Father was not going to be beaten by a poor Indian in talkingor anything else--so he spoke up too, like a man, and I heard him say itwas a very good business, and only wanted a little capital--and he saidit as if it was an imposition he had learned, and he hated having tosay it. The Uncle said, 'Pooh, pooh!' to that, and then he said hewas afraid that what that same business wanted was not capital butmanagement. Then I heard my Father say, 'It is not a pleasant subject:I am sorry I introduced it. Suppose we change it, sir. Let me fill yourglass. ' Then the poor Indian said something about vintage--and thata poor, broken-down man like he was couldn't be too careful. And thenFather said, 'Well, whisky then, ' and afterwards they talked aboutNative Races and Imperial something or other and it got very dull. 

So then Oswald remembered that you must not hear what people do notintend you to hear--even if you are not listening and he said, 'We oughtnot to stay here any longer. Perhaps they would not like us to hear--'

Alice said, 'Oh, do you think it could possibly matter?' and went andshut the study door softly but quite tight. So it was no use stayingthere any longer, and we went to the nursery. 

Then Noel said, 'Now I understand. Of course my Father is making abanquet for the Indian, because he is a poor, broken-down man. We mighthave known that from "Lo, the poor Indian!" you know. '

We all agreed with him, and we were glad to have the thing explained, because we had not understood before what Father wanted to have peopleto dinner for--and not let us come in. 

'Poor people are very proud, ' said Alice, 'and I expect Father thoughtthe Indian would be ashamed, if all of us children knew how poor hewas. '

Then Dora said, 'Poverty is no disgrace. We should honour honestPoverty. '

And we all agreed that that was so. 

'I wish his dinner had not been so nasty, ' Dora said, while Oswald putlumps of coal on the fire with his fingers, so as not to make a noise. He is a very thoughtful boy, and he did not wipe his fingers on histrouser leg as perhaps Noel or H. O. Would have done, but he just rubbedthem on Dora's handkerchief while she was talking. 

'I am afraid the dinner was horrid. ' Dora went on. 'The table lookedvery nice with the flowers we got. I set it myself, and Eliza made meborrow the silver spoons and forks from Albert-next-door's Mother. '

'I hope the poor Indian is honest, ' said Dicky gloomily, 'when you are apoor, broken-down man silver spoons must be a great temptation. '

Oswald told him not to talk such tommy-rot because the Indian was arelation, so of course he couldn't do anything dishonourable. And Dorasaid it was all right any way, because she had washed up the spoons andforks herself and counted them, and they were all there, and she hadput them into their wash-leather bag, and taken them back toAlbert-next-door's Mother. 

'And the brussels sprouts were all wet and swimmy, ' she went on, 'andthe potatoes looked grey--and there were bits of black in the gravy--andthe mutton was bluey-red and soft in the middle. I saw it when it cameout. The apple-pie looked very nice--but it wasn't quite done in theapply part. The other thing that was burnt--you must have smelt it, wasthe soup. '

'It is a pity, ' said Oswald; 'I don't suppose he gets a good dinnerevery day. '

'No more do we, ' said H. O. , 'but we shall to-morrow. '

I thought of all the things we had bought with our half-sovereign--therabbit and the sweets and the almonds and raisins and figs and thecoconut: and I thought of the nasty mutton and things, and while I wasthinking about it all Alice said--

'Let's ask the poor Indian to come to dinner with _us_ to-morrow. ' Ishould have said it myself if she had given me time. 

We got the little ones to go to bed by promising to put a note on theirdressing-table saying what had happened, so that they might know thefirst thing in the morning, or in the middle of the night if theyhappened to wake up, and then we elders arranged everything. 

I waited by the back door, and when the Uncle was beginning to go Dickywas to drop a marble down between the banisters for a signal, so that Icould run round and meet the Uncle as he came out. 

This seems like deceit, but if you are a thoughtful and considerate boyyou will understand that we could not go down and say to the Uncle inthe hall under Father's eye, 'Father has given you a beastly, nastydinner, but if you will come to dinner with us tomorrow, we will showyou our idea of good things to eat. ' You will see, if you think it over, that this would not have been at all polite to Father. 

So when the Uncle left, Father saw him to the door and let him out, andthen went back to the study, looking very sad, Dora says. 

As the poor Indian came down our steps he saw me there at the gate. 

I did not mind his being poor, and I said, 'Good evening, Uncle, ' justas politely as though he had been about to ascend into one of the gildedchariots of the rich and affluent, instead of having to walk to thestation a quarter of a mile in the mud, unless he had the money for atram fare. 

'Good evening, Uncle. ' I said it again, for he stood staring at me. I don't suppose he was used to politeness from boys--some boys areanything but--especially to the Aged Poor. 

So I said, 'Good evening, Uncle, ' yet once again. Then he said--

'Time you were in bed, young man. Eh!--what?'

Then I saw I must speak plainly with him, man to man. So I did. I said--

'You've been dining with my Father, and we couldn't help hearing yousay the dinner was shocking. So we thought as you're an Indian, perhapsyou're very poor'--I didn't like to tell him we had heard the dreadfultruth from his own lips, so I went on, 'because of "Lo, the poorIndian"--you know--and you can't get a good dinner every day. And we arevery sorry if you're poor; and won't you come and have dinner withus to-morrow--with us children, I mean? It's a very, very gooddinner--rabbit, and hardbake, and coconut--and you needn't mind usknowing you're poor, because we know honourable poverty is no disgrace, and--' I could have gone on much longer, but he interrupted me tosay--'Upon my word! And what's your name, eh?'

'Oswald Bastable, ' I said; and I do hope you people who are reading thisstory have not guessed before that I was Oswald all the time. 

'Oswald Bastable, eh? Bless my soul!' said the poor Indian. 'Yes, I'lldine with you, Mr Oswald Bastable, with all the pleasure in life. Verykind and cordial invitation, I'm sure. Good night, sir. At one o'clock, I presume?'

'Yes, at one, ' I said. 'Good night, sir. '

Then I went in and told the others, and we wrote a paper and put it onthe boy's dressing-table, and it said--

'The poor Indian is coming at one. He seemed very grateful to me for mykindness. '

We did not tell Father that the Uncle was coming to dinner with us, for the polite reason that I have explained before. But we had to tellEliza; so we said a friend was coming to dinner and we wanted everythingvery nice. I think she thought it was Albert-next-door, but she was ina good temper that day, and she agreed to cook the rabbit and to make apudding with currants in it. And when one o'clock came the Indian Unclecame too. I let him in and helped him off with his greatcoat, which wasall furry inside, and took him straight to the nursery. We were to havedinner there as usual, for we had decided from the first that he wouldenjoy himself more if he was not made a stranger of. We agreed to treathim as one of ourselves, because if we were too polite, he might thinkit was our pride because he was poor. 

He shook hands with us all and asked our ages, and what schools we wentto, and shook his head when we said we were having a holiday just now. Ifelt rather uncomfortable--I always do when they talk about schools--andI couldn't think of anything to say to show him we meant to treat himas one of ourselves. I did ask if he played cricket. He said he had notplayed lately. And then no one said anything till dinner came in. We hadall washed our faces and hands and brushed our hair before he came in, and we all looked very nice, especially Oswald, who had had his haircut that very morning. When Eliza had brought in the rabbit and goneout again, we looked at each other in silent despair, like in books. It seemed as if it were going to be just a dull dinner like the one thepoor Indian had had the night before; only, of course, the things toeat would be nicer. Dicky kicked Oswald under the table to make him saysomething--and he had his new boots on, too!--but Oswald did not kickback; then the Uncle asked--

'Do you carve, sir, or shall I?'

Suddenly Alice said--

'Would you like grown-up dinner, Uncle, or play-dinner?'

He did not hesitate a moment, but said, 'Play-dinner, by all means. Eh!--what?' and then we knew it was all right. 

So we at once showed the Uncle how to be a dauntless hunter. The rabbitwas the deer we had slain in the green forest with our trusty yew bows, and we toasted the joints of it, when the Uncle had carved it, on bitsof firewood sharpened to a point. The Uncle's piece got a little burnt, but he said it was delicious, and he said game was always nicer when youhad killed it yourself. When Eliza had taken away the rabbit bones andbrought in the pudding, we waited till she had gone out and shut thedoor, and then we put the dish down on the floor and slew the pudding inthe dish in the good old-fashioned way. It was a wild boar at bay, andvery hard indeed to kill, even with forks. The Uncle was very fierceindeed with the pudding, and jumped and howled when he speared it, butwhen it came to his turn to be helped, he said, 'No, thank you; think ofmy liver. Eh!--what?'

But he had some almonds and raisins--when we had climbed to the top ofthe chest of drawers to pluck them from the boughs of the great trees;and he had a fig from the cargo that the rich merchants brought in theirship--the long drawer was the ship--and the rest of us had the sweetsand the coconut. It was a very glorious and beautiful feast, and when itwas over we said we hoped it was better than the dinner last night. Andhe said:

'I never enjoyed a dinner more. ' He was too polite to say what he reallythought about Father's dinner. And we saw that though he might be poor, he was a true gentleman. 

He smoked a cigar while we finished up what there was left to eat, andtold us about tiger shooting and about elephants. We asked him aboutwigwams, and wampum, and mocassins, and beavers, but he did not seemto know, or else he was shy about talking of the wonders of his nativeland. 

We liked him very much indeed, and when he was going at last, Alicenudged me, and I said--'There's one and threepence farthing left outof our half-sovereign. Will you take it, please, because we do like youvery much indeed, and we don't want it, really; and we would rather youhad it. ' And I put the money into his hand. 

'I'll take the threepenny-bit, ' he said, turning the money over andlooking at it, 'but I couldn't rob you of the rest. By the way, wheredid you get the money for this most royal spread--half a sovereign yousaid--eh, what?'

We told him all about the different ways we had looked for treasure, andwhen we had been telling some time he sat down, to listen better and atlast we told him how Alice had played at divining-rod, and how it reallyhad found a half-sovereign. 

Then he said he would like to see her do it again. But we explained thatthe rod would only show gold and silver, and that we were quite surethere was no more gold in the house, because we happened to have lookedvery carefully. 

'Well, silver, then, ' said he; 'let's hide the plate-basket, and littleAlice shall make the divining-rod find it. Eh!--what?'

'There isn't any silver in the plate-basket now, ' Dora said. 'Elizaasked me to borrow the silver spoons and forks for your dinner lastnight from Albert-next-door's Mother. Father never notices, but shethought it would be nicer for you. Our own silver went to have the dentstaken out; and I don't think Father could afford to pay the man fordoing it, for the silver hasn't come back. '

'Bless my soul!' said the Uncle again, looking at the hole in the bigchair that we burnt when we had Guy Fawkes' Day indoors. 'And how muchpocket-money do you get? Eh!--what?'

'We don't have any now, ' said Alice; 'but indeed we don't want the othershilling. We'd much rather you had it, wouldn't we?'

And the rest of us said, 'Yes. ' The Uncle wouldn't take it, but he askeda lot of questions, and at last he went away. And when he went he said--

'Well, youngsters, I've enjoyed myself very much. I shan't forget yourkind hospitality. Perhaps the poor Indian may be in a position to askyou all to dinner some day. '

Oswald said if he ever could we should like to come very much, but hewas not to trouble to get such a nice dinner as ours, because we coulddo very well with cold mutton and rice pudding. We do not like thesethings, but Oswald knows how to behave. Then the poor Indian went away. 

We had not got any treasure by this party, but we had had a very goodtime, and I am sure the Uncle enjoyed himself. 

We were so sorry he was gone that we could none of us eat much tea;but we did not mind, because we had pleased the poor Indian and enjoyedourselves too. Besides, as Dora said, 'A contented mind is a continualfeast, ' so it did not matter about not wanting tea. 

Only H. O. Did not seem to think a continual feast was a contented mind, and Eliza gave him a powder in what was left of the red-currant jellyFather had for the nasty dinner. 

But the rest of us were quite well, and I think it must have been thecoconut with H. O. We hoped nothing had disagreed with the Uncle, but wenever knew. 

CHAPTER 16. THE END OF THE TREASURE-SEEKING

Now it is coming near the end of our treasure-seeking, and the end wasso wonderful that now nothing is like it used to be. It is like asif our fortunes had been in an earthquake, and after those, you know, everything comes out wrong-way up. 

The day after the Uncle speared the pudding with us opened in gloom andsadness. But you never know. It was destined to be a day when thingshappened. Yet no sign of this appeared in the early morning. Then allwas misery and upsetness. None of us felt quite well; I don't know why:and Father had one of his awful colds, so Dora persuaded him not to goto London, but to stay cosy and warm in the study, and she made him somegruel. She makes it better than Eliza does; Eliza's gruel is all littlelumps, and when you suck them it is dry oatmeal inside. 

We kept as quiet as we could, and I made H. O. Do some lessons, like theG. B. Had advised us to. But it was very dull. There are some dayswhen you seem to have got to the end of all the things that could everpossibly happen to you, and you feel you will spend all the rest of yourlife doing dull things just the same way. Days like this are generallywet days. But, as I said, you never know. 

Then Dicky said if things went on like this he should run away to sea, and Alice said she thought it would be rather nice to go into a convent. H. O. Was a little disagreeable because of the powder Eliza had givenhim, so he tried to read two books at once, one with each eye, justbecause Noel wanted one of the books, which was very selfish of him, soit only made his headache worse. H. O. Is getting old enough to learn byexperience that it is wrong to be selfish, and when he complained abouthis head Oswald told him whose fault it was, because I am older thanhe is, and it is my duty to show him where he is wrong. But he began tocry, and then Oswald had to cheer him up because of Father wanting to bequiet. So Oswald said--

'They'll eat H. O. If you don't look out!' And Dora said Oswald was toobad. 

Of course Oswald was not going to interfere again, so he went to lookout of the window and see the trams go by, and by and by H. O. Came andlooked out too, and Oswald, who knows when to be generous and forgiving, gave him a piece of blue pencil and two nibs, as good as new, to keep. 

As they were looking out at the rain splashing on the stones in thestreet they saw a four-wheeled cab come lumbering up from the way thestation is. Oswald called out--

'Here comes the coach of the Fairy Godmother. It'll stop here, you seeif it doesn't!'

So they all came to the window to look. Oswald had only said that aboutstopping and he was stricken with wonder and amaze when the cab reallydid stop. It had boxes on the top and knobby parcels sticking out ofthe window, and it was something like going away to the seaside andsomething like the gentleman who takes things about in a carriage withthe wooden shutters up, to sell to the drapers' shops. The cabman gotdown, and some one inside handed out ever so many parcels of differentshapes and sizes, and the cabman stood holding them in his arms andgrinning over them. 

Dora said, 'It is a pity some one doesn't tell him this isn't thehouse. ' And then from inside the cab some one put out a foot feeling forthe step, like a tortoise's foot coming out from under his shellwhen you are holding him off the ground, and then a leg came and moreparcels, and then Noel cried--

'It's the poor Indian!'

And it was. 

Eliza opened the door, and we were all leaning over the banisters. Father heard the noise of parcels and boxes in the hall, and he came outwithout remembering how bad his cold was. If you do that yourself whenyou have a cold they call you careless and naughty. Then we heard thepoor Indian say to Father--

'I say, Dick, I dined with your kids yesterday--as I daresay they'vetold you. Jolliest little cubs I ever saw! Why didn't you let me seethem the other night? The eldest is the image of poor Janey--and as toyoung Oswald, he's a man! If he's not a man, I'm a nigger! Eh!--what?And Dick, I say, I shouldn't wonder if I could find a friend to put abit into that business of yours--eh?'

Then he and Father went into the study and the door was shut--and wewent down and looked at the parcels. Some were done up in old, dirtynewspapers, and tied with bits of rag, and some were in brown paper andstring from the shops, and there were boxes. We wondered if the Unclehad come to stay and this was his luggage, or whether it was to sell. Some of it smelt of spices, like merchandise--and one bundle Alice feltcertain was a bale. We heard a hand on the knob of the study door aftera bit, and Alice said--

'Fly!' and we all got away but H. O. , and the Uncle caught him by theleg as he was trying to get upstairs after us. 

'Peeping at the baggage, eh?' said the Uncle, and the rest of us camedown because it would have been dishonourable to leave H. O. Alone in ascrape, and we wanted to see what was in the parcels. 

'I didn't touch, ' said H. O. 'Are you coming to stay? I hope you are. '

'No harm done if you did touch, ' said the good, kind, Indian man to allof us. 'For all these parcels are _for you_. '

I have several times told you about our being dumb with amazement andterror and joy, and things like that, but I never remember us beingdumber than we were when he said this. 

The Indian Uncle went on: 'I told an old friend of mine what apleasant dinner I had with you, and about the threepenny-bit, and thedivining-rod, and all that, and he sent all these odds and ends aspresents for you. Some of the things came from India. '

'Have you come from India, Uncle?' Noel asked; and when he said 'Yes'we were all very much surprised, for we never thought of his being thatsort of Indian. We thought he was the Red kind, and of course his notbeing accounted for his ignorance of beavers and things. 

He got Eliza to help, and we took all the parcels into the nursery andhe undid them and undid them and undid them, till the papers lay thickon the floor. Father came too and sat in the Guy Fawkes chair. I cannotbegin to tell you all the things that kind friend of Uncle's had sentus. He must be a very agreeable person. 

There were toys for the kids and model engines for Dick and me, and alot of books, and Japanese china tea-sets for the girls, red and whiteand gold--there were sweets by the pound and by the box--and long yardsand yards of soft silk from India, to make frocks for the girls--and areal Indian sword for Oswald and a book of Japanese pictures for Noel, and some ivory chess men for Dicky: the castles of the chessmen areelephant-and-castles. There is a railway station called that; I neverknew what it meant before. The brown paper and string parcels had boxesof games in them--and big cases of preserved fruits and things. And theshabby old newspaper parcels and the boxes had the Indian things in. Inever saw so many beautiful things before. There were carved fansand silver bangles and strings of amber beads, and necklaces of uncutgems--turquoises and garnets, the Uncle said they were--and shawls andscarves of silk, and cabinets of brown and gold, and ivory boxes andsilver trays, and brass things. The Uncle kept saying, 'This is for you, young man, ' or 'Little Alice will like this fan, 'or 'Miss Dora wouldlook well in this green silk, I think. Eh!--what?'

And Father looked on as if it was a dream, till the Uncle suddenly gavehim an ivory paper-knife and a box of cigars, and said, 'My old friendsent you these, Dick; he's an old friend of yours too, he says. ' And hewinked at my Father, for H. O. And I saw him. And my Father winked back, though he has always told us not to. 

That was a wonderful day. It was a treasure, and no mistake! I never sawsuch heaps and heaps of presents, like things out of a fairy-tale--andeven Eliza had a shawl. Perhaps she deserved it, for she did cook therabbit and the pudding; and Oswald says it is not her fault if her noseturns up and she does not brush her hair. I do not think Eliza likesbrushing things. It is the same with the carpets. But Oswald tries tomake allowances even for people who do not wash their ears. 

The Indian Uncle came to see us often after that, and his friend alwayssent us something. Once he tipped us a sovereign each--the Uncle broughtit; and once he sent us money to go to the Crystal Palace, and the Uncletook us; and another time to a circus; and when Christmas was near theUncle said--

'You remember when I dined with you, some time ago, you promised to dinewith me some day, if I could ever afford to give a dinner-party. Well, I'm going to have one--a Christmas party. Not on Christmas Day, becauseevery one goes home then--but on the day after. Cold mutton and ricepudding. You'll come? Eh!--what?'

We said we should be delighted, if Father had no objection, because thatis the proper thing to say, and the poor Indian, I mean the Uncle, said, 'No, your Father won't object--he's coming too, bless your soul!'

We all got Christmas presents for the Uncle. The girls made him ahandkerchief case and a comb bag, out of some of the pieces of silk hehad given them. I got him a knife with three blades; H. O. Got a sirenwhistle, a very strong one, and Dicky joined with me in the knife, andNoel would give the Indian ivory box that Uncle's friend had sent on thewonderful Fairy Cab day. He said it was the very nicest thing he had, and he was sure Uncle wouldn't mind his not having bought it with hisown money. 

I think Father's business must have got better--perhaps Uncle's friendput money in it and that did it good, like feeding the starving. Anywaywe all had new suits, and the girls had the green silk from India madeinto frocks, and on Boxing Day we went in two cabs--Father and the girlsin one, and us boys in the other. 

We wondered very much where the Indian Uncle lived, because we had notbeen told. And we thought when the cab began to go up the hill towardsthe Heath that perhaps the Uncle lived in one of the poky little housesup at the top of Greenwich. But the cab went right over the Heath and inat some big gates, and through a shrubbery all white with frost likea fairy forest, because it was Christmas time. And at last we stoppedbefore one of those jolly, big, ugly red houses with a lot of windows, that are so comfortable inside, and on the steps was the Indian Uncle, looking very big and grand, in a blue cloth coat and yellow sealskinwaistcoat, with a bunch of seals hanging from it. 

'I wonder whether he has taken a place as butler here?' said Dicky. 

'A poor, broken-down man--'

Noel thought it was very likely, because he knew that in these bighouses there were always thousands of stately butlers. 

The Uncle came down the steps and opened the cab door himself, which Idon't think butlers would expect to have to do. And he took us in. Itwas a lovely hall, with bear and tiger skins on the floor, and a bigclock with the faces of the sun and moon dodging out when it was day ornight, and Father Time with a scythe coming out at the hours, and thename on it was 'Flint. Ashford. 1776'; and there was a fox eating astuffed duck in a glass case, and horns of stags and other animals overthe doors. 

'We'll just come into my study first, ' said the Uncle, 'and wish eachother a Merry Christmas. ' So then we knew he wasn't the butler, but itmust be his own house, for only the master of the house has a study. 

His study was not much like Father's. It had hardly any books, butswords and guns and newspapers and a great many boots, and boxes halfunpacked, with more Indian things bulging out of them. 

We gave him our presents and he was awfully pleased. Then he gave us hisChristmas presents. You must be tired of hearing about presents, butI must remark that all the Uncle's presents were watches; there was awatch for each of us, with our names engraved inside, all silver exceptH. O. 's, and that was a Waterbury, 'To match his boots, ' the Uncle said. I don't know what he meant. 

Then the Uncle looked at Father, and Father said, 'You tell them, sir. '

So the Uncle coughed and stood up and made a speech. He said--

'Ladies and gentlemen, we are met together to discuss an importantsubject which has for some weeks engrossed the attention of thehonourable member opposite and myself. '

I said, 'Hear, hear, ' and Alice whispered, 'What happened to theguinea-pig?' Of course you know the answer to that. 

The Uncle went on--

'I am going to live in this house, and as it's rather big for me, yourFather has agreed that he and you shall come and live with me. And so, if you're agreeable, we're all going to live here together, and, pleaseGod, it'll be a happy home for us all. Eh!--what?'

He blew his nose and kissed us all round. As it was Christmas I didnot mind, though I am much too old for it on other dates. Then he said, 'Thank you all very much for your presents; but I've got a present hereI value more than anything else I have. '

I thought it was not quite polite of him to say so, till I saw thatwhat he valued so much was a threepenny-bit on his watch-chain, and, ofcourse, I saw it must be the one we had given him. 

He said, 'You children gave me that when you thought I was the poorIndian, and I'll keep it as long as I live. And I've asked some friendsto help us to be jolly, for this is our house-warming. Eh!--what?'

Then he shook Father by the hand, and they blew their noses; and thenFather said, 'Your Uncle has been most kind--most--'

But Uncle interrupted by saying, 'Now, Dick, no nonsense!' Then H. O. Said, 'Then you're not poor at all?' as if he were very disappointed. The Uncle replied, 'I have enough for my simple wants, thank you, H. O. ; and your Father's business will provide him with enough for yours. Eh!--what?'

Then we all went down and looked at the fox thoroughly, and made theUncle take the glass off so that we could see it all round and then theUncle took us all over the house, which is the most comfortable one Ihave ever been in. There is a beautiful portrait of Mother in Father'ssitting-room. The Uncle must be very rich indeed. This ending is likewhat happens in Dickens's books; but I think it was much jollier tohappen like a book, and it shows what a nice man the Uncle is, the wayhe did it all. 

Think how flat it would have been if the Uncle had said, when we firstoffered him the one and threepence farthing, 'Oh, I don't want yourdirty one and three-pence! I'm very rich indeed. ' Instead of which hesaved up the news of his wealth till Christmas, and then told us allin one glorious burst. Besides, I can't help it if it is like Dickens, because it happens this way. Real life is often something like books. 

Presently, when we had seen the house, we were taken into thedrawing-room, and there was Mrs Leslie, who gave us the shillings andwished us good hunting, and Lord Tottenham, and Albert-next-door'sUncle--and Albert-next-door, and his Mother (I'm not very fond of her), and best of all our own Robber and his two kids, and our Robber had anew suit on. The Uncle told us he had asked the people who had been kindto us, and Noel said, 'Where is my noble editor that I wrote the poetryto?'

The Uncle said he had not had the courage to ask a strange editor todinner; but Lord Tottenham was an old friend of Uncle's, and he hadintroduced Uncle to Mrs Leslie, and that was how he had the pride andpleasure of welcoming her to our house-warming. And he made her a bowlike you see on a Christmas card. 

Then Alice asked, 'What about Mr Rosenbaum? He was kind; it would havebeen a pleasant surprise for him. '

But everybody laughed, and Uncle said--

'Your father has paid him the sovereign he lent you. I don't think hecould have borne another pleasant surprise. '

And I said there was the butcher, and he was really kind; but they onlylaughed, and Father said you could not ask all your business friends toa private dinner. 

Then it was dinner-time, and we thought of Uncle's talk about coldmutton and rice. But it was a beautiful dinner, and I never saw such adessert! We had ours on plates to take away into another sitting-room, which was much jollier than sitting round the table with the grown-ups. But the Robber's kids stayed with their Father. They were very shy andfrightened, and said hardly anything, but looked all about with verybright eyes. H. O. Thought they were like white mice; but afterwards wegot to know them very well, and in the end they were not so mousy. Andthere is a good deal of interesting stuff to tell about them; but Ishall put all that in another book, for there is no room for it in thisone. We played desert islands all the afternoon and drank Uncle's healthin ginger wine. It was H. O. That upset his over Alice's green silkdress, and she never even rowed him. Brothers ought not to havefavourites, and Oswald would never be so mean as to have a favouritesister, or, if he had, wild horses should not make him tell who it was. 

And now we are to go on living in the big house on the Heath, and it isvery jolly. 

Mrs Leslie often comes to see us, and our own Robber andAlbert-next-door's uncle. The Indian Uncle likes him because he has beenin India too and is brown; but our Uncle does not like Albert-next-door. He says he is a muff. And I am to go to Rugby, and so are Noel and H. O. , and perhaps to Balliol afterwards. Balliol is my Father's college. It has two separate coats of arms, which many other colleges are notallowed. Noel is going to be a poet and Dicky wants to go into Father'sbusiness. 

The Uncle is a real good old sort; and just think, we should never havefound him if we hadn't made up our minds to be Treasure Seekers! Noelmade a poem about it--

 Lo! the poor Indian from lands afar, Comes where the treasure seekers are; We looked for treasure, but we find The best treasure of all is the Uncle good and kind. 

I thought it was rather rot, but Alice would show it to the Uncle, andhe liked it very much. He kissed Alice and he smacked Noel on the back, and he said, 'I don't think I've done so badly either, if you cometo that, though I was never a regular professional treasure seeker. Eh!--what?'