Esther's Charge: A Story for Girls

"I don't think I want to go," answered Esther, putting it as mildly as possible; "I don't like underground places."

But she wanted the boys to enjoy themselves; and after breakfast she asked leave to take them as far as the fishing village that nestled under the crags upon which Mr. Trelawny's house stood. Of course there was another way to it along the road, which, though longer, was easier walking than climbing the hill and scrambling down the crags on the other side. The boys were willing to go the less adventurous way, as they had explored the cliff already, and Esther felt more light of heart, thinking that along the road they could not come to any harm.

But she was soon to realize that some boys find facilities for mischief and pranks wherever they are. The mercurial spirits of her charges kept her in a constant flutter of anxiety. They would get under horses' feet, climb up into strange carts to chat with the carters, jump over brooks, heedless of wet feet, chase the beasts at pasture as fearlessly as they chased butterflies, and make the acquaintance of every dog they met, whether amiable or the reverse. They even insisted upon taking an impromptu ride upon a pony out at grass, and enjoyed a gallop round the field on its bare back.

Esther, whose life until recently had been passed mainly in garrison towns, and who had not acquired the fearlessness of the country child, looked on in wondering amaze at these pranks, and listened with a sense of wonder and awe as the boys described their exploits at their own home, the things they did, and the things they meant to do.

Down by the shore there was no holding the pair. They tore about the little quay and landing place in the greatest excitement. They got into the boats lying beneath, and scrambled from one to the other, rocking them in a fashion that sent Esther's heart into her mouth. She felt like a hen with ducklings to rear. She had not courage to follow the boys into the swaying boats, and could only stand watching them with anxious eyes, begging them to be careful, and not to fall into the water.

"Bless your heart, missie!" said an old fisherman whom Esther knew, because he often brought them fish and lobsters in his basket fresh from the sea, "they won't come to no harm. Bless you! boys allers will be boys, and 'tisn't no good fur to try and hold them back. Them's not the kind that hurts. You sit here and watch them comfortable like. They're as happy as kings, they are."

The old man spoke in the soft, broad way which Esther was getting to understand now, but which puzzled her at first, as it would puzzle little people if I were to write it down the way the old man spoke it. She rather liked the funny words and turns of expression now, and she enjoyed sitting by old Master Pollard, as she called him, watching the boys and listening to his tales, which he was always ready to tell when he had a listener.

The boys had a glorious morning, paddling and shrimping with some of the fisher lads of the place. They only returned to Esther when they were growing ravenous for their dinner.

She was glad to get them home quickly, driven by the pangs of hunger; and she told them that Master Pollard had said he would take them out fishing one of these days, and show them how the lobster-pots were set, and various other mysteries.

Esther knew something about lobster-pots, having been with the old man to visit his sometimes; so she rose in the estimation of her cousins, especially as some of the lads had told them that "old Pollard were once a smuggler himself, longago, when he was a lad," though this Esther was disposed indignantly to deny.

"Well, I hope he was, anyhow," said Puck; "I shall ask him to tell us all about it. I wonder if he knows all about the cave, and whether they pickled corpses up there in his time."

The boys would have gone down to the shore again after their early dinner, but their aunt had another suggestion to make.

"Mrs. Polperran has been in, and wants you all to go to the rectory for the afternoon, and have tea in the garden. I said I would send you all, so that you can make friends with your little playfellows."

"Who is Mrs. Poll-parrot?" asked Pickles, with a sly look in his eyes.

"Polperran, dear. Mr. Polperran is our clergyman, and his children are Esther's little friends, and will be your friends too."

"The Rev. Poll-parrot," said Puck under his breath; and then both boys went off into fits of laughter.

"I don't think you ought to speak like that, Puck," said Mrs. St. Aiden, with mild reproof. "You must remember he is a clergyman, and you must be respectful."

Puck's blue eyes twinkled. It did not seem as though he had very much respectfulness in his composition; but he did not reply. Both the boys treated the gentle invalid with more consideration than they seemed disposed to bestow upon anybody else. They did nothing more free and easy than to dub her "Aunt Saint," and though Mrs. St. Aiden suggested that Aunt Alicia would be better, she did not stand out against the other appellation.

"You look like a saint on a church window," Pickle remarked judicially, "so it seems to fit you better;" and Mrs. St. Aiden smiled indulgently, for it was less trouble to give way than to insist.

It was with some trepidation that Esther conducted her young charges to the rectory that day. The little Polperrans had been so very well brought up, and were so "proper behaved" – as Genefer called it – themselves, that she was fearful of the effect that might be produced upon them by the words and ways of the newly-imported pair.

Mrs. Polperran herself came out to welcome them upon their approach, and Pickle, when introduced, went boldly up to her with outstretched hand.

"How do you do, Mrs. Poll-parrot? Is this the cage you live in?"

Now Mrs. Polperran was just a little hard of hearing, so that she only caught the drift of the speech, and not the exact words, and she smiled and nodded her head.

"Yes, dear; this is my house, and that is the garden where you will often come and play, I hope; and there is an orchard beyond with a swing in it; and here are your little friends all ready to make your acquaintance," and she indicated her three children, who had been close beside her all the time.

Prissy's face was rather red, and Bertie had his handkerchief tucked into his mouth in a very odd way, whilst Milly was looking divided between the desire to laugh and the fear of Prissy; however, Mrs. Polperran did not observe these small signs, but told her children to take care of their little guests, and sailed back to the house herself, where there was always work to be done.

"Pretty poll! pretty poll! Scratch a poll, polly!" cried Puck softly, capering on the grass-plot as the lady disappeared.

"You are a very rude little boy," said Prissy with an air of displeasure and a glance at Esther, as much as to ask her why she did not reprove such impertinence; but Bertie made a dash at Puck, seized him by the hand, and cried out, —

"Come along! come along! Oh, won't we have some fun now!"

Immediately the three boys dashed off together full tilt, and Milly, after a wavering glance in the direction of her sister and Esther, rushed headlong after them. The elder pair were left for the moment alone, and Prissy looked inquiringly into Esther's flushed face.

"I don't think your cousins are very nice boys," she remarked with some severity; "I should think they have been very badly brought up."

Esther felt a little tingle of vexation at hearing her cousins thus criticised, though after all she was not quite sure that she could deny Prissy's charge.

"They have no mother, you see," she said.

"Ah, well, perhaps that does make a difference. Fathers often spoil their children, when there is no mother; I've heard mama say so herself," she said. "You will have to be a little mother to them, Esther, and teach them better. I'm not going to hear my mother called names, and I shall tell them so."

Prissy proceeded to do this with great firmness when the children met a little later. Pickle listened to her speech with most decorous gravity, while Puck's pretty face dimpled all over with laughter.

"Pretty polly! pretty polly! – doesn't she talk well!" he exclaimed; and to Prissy's infinite astonishment and dismay, Milly and Bertie rolled to and fro in helpless mirth, whilst Pickle looked up in her flushed face and said, —

"You know little poll-parrots are called lovebirds. It isn't pretty-behaved at all to get so angry about it. – Scratch her poll, Tousle; perhaps that'll put her in a better temper. Why, she's sticking her feathers up all over; she'll peck somebody next!" and Pickle made a show of drawing back in fear, whilst his admirers became perfectly limp with laughter.

It was the first time the younger pair had ever tasted of the sweets of liberty. Without exactly knowing it, they had been under Prissy's rule from their babyhood upwards. It had been as natural to them to obey her as to obey their mother, and they had come to regard her almost in the light of a grown-up person whose word must, as a matter of course, be law. And yet the germs of rebellion must surely have been in their hearts, or they would hardly have sprung up so quickly.

"We never have any fun at home," said Bertie, in a subdued whisper, when the boys and Milly had had their tea and had taken themselves off to the farthest corner of the orchard; "whenever we think of anything nice to do, Prissy always says we mustn't."

"Why do you tell her?" asked Puck, and at that Bertie and Milly exchanged glances. It had never occurred to them as possible to keep anything from Prissy.

"We mean to have some fun here, Puck and I," said Pickle, "and we shan't go and tell everything beforehand. We tell when it's done. It's a much better way."

Milly and Bertie sat open-mouthed in admiration at such audacity and invention.

"I never thought of that!" said Milly softly.

"We thought of it a long time ago," said Puck, with a touch of pride and patronage in his voice.

"Well," said Pickle suddenly, "you don't seem such a bad pair of youngsters; so suppose we let you know when we've got our next plan on hand, and you come too."

"Oh!" cried Milly, and "Oh!" cried Bertie. A look of slow rapture dawned upon their faces. They realized that a time of glorious emancipation was at hand, when they might be able to get into mischief like other happy little boys and girls.

CHAPTER IV

THE SWEETS OF FREEDOM

"You can do as you like, Milly; but I shall go!"

Small Herbert set his foot to the ground with a gesture of immovable firmness. Milly watched him with admiring eyes, still halting between two opinions.

"Oh, but, Bertie, isn't it naughty?"