Miss Mouse and Her Boys

'He woke early the next morning, earlier than usual, tired though he was, and the moon was shining so brightly in at the little window that at first he thought it was daylight. And when he looked round the kitchen, for he slept in a corner of it, he could scarce believe it wasn't, for it was all tidied up, the fire burning beautiful, and everything spick and span as his mother loved to have it. "Poor mother," thought Robin, "why has she got up so early? and how sound I must have been sleeping not to hear her!"

'He called out to her, but there was no answer, and when he got up and peeped into the inner room, why! there they were all fast asleep, and as he turned back again, he saw something still stranger, for there was the table all spread ready for breakfast – better than that indeed, for the breakfast itself was ready. There was a beautiful, big, wheaten loaf, and a roll of butter, a treat they seldom tasted, and a great bowl full of milk, and on the hob by the fire stood the coffee-pot, and it was many a day since that had been used, with the steam coming out at its spout, and the nice smell of fresh ground berries fit to make your mouth water.

'There was no thought of going to bed again for Robin when he had seen all this, though he'd been half wishing he could, he was that tired from the night before, and by the clock he now saw that it was half-past six. He gave a cry of joy which awoke his mother, and brought her and the children in to see what had happened.'

CHAPTER VIII

NANCE'S STORY (continued)

'At the first glance,' continued Nance, 'the poor woman thought that it was all Robin's doing, but in another moment she saw that was impossible. The boy was only half-dressed and had plainly not been outside, and he was looking quite as surprised as the rest.

'"Mother, mother," cried Robin, "where has it all come from? Did you get up in the night? Has any one been here?"

'His mother was too surprised herself to know what to say. She glanced round at the children.

'"Let us get dressed quick and have some of this beautiful breakfast," said the little girls, "we are so hungry;" and the baby held out its arms and crowed, and then the mother bethought herself of the little visitor of the night before. She was the only one who had not been awakened by Robin's cry of joy – there she was still sleeping soundly, with a smile on her little fair face.

'"She has brought us good luck," said Robin and his mother, "whoever she is, and wherever she came from."

'But wonderful as it was they were too hungry to keep on thinking about it, and soon they were all seated round the table, enjoying themselves as they hadn't done for many a day.

'And that wasn't the end of it either. When the good woman carried the remains of the breakfast into the lean-to where their food was kept, when they had any, what did she find but a beautiful cut of bacon and a bowl full of eggs.

'"Why, Robin," she said, "there'd be no fear of our starving now, even if we couldn't cross the moor," and she looked out as she spoke, but the weather had taken a turn for the better, and Robin was able to go to his work with a light heart, feeling strong and fresh after his good night's rest and his good meal.

'"And you'll ask all about," said his mother, "if any one has lost their child. There must be sore hearts somewhere, I'm afraid," and she lifted the tiny waif for Robin to kiss her before he set off.

'But ask as he might there was nothing to be heard of a strayed child, and as the day went on the boy felt more and more puzzled. He had plenty to think of that day, for, to his great surprise, the farmer for whom he worked told him that he was so pleased with his industry and good-nature that, be the weather what it would that winter through, he might count on regular work and better wages.

'Robin was so eager to carry this news to his mother that he could scarce wait till the time came for him to go home, and once he set off 'twas more like dancing across the moor than walking, so happy did he feel.

'"And even if we can't find the baby's friends," he thought to himself, "mother'll be able to keep her, and glad to do it too, seeing the good luck she's brought us."

'As this passed through his mind he stopped short and looked about him. 'Twas just about the place where he had heard the cry the night before, but the evening was mild and clear, and though the sun had set it was not cloudy, and as the moon came sailing up he could see a long way round him, and what breeze there was, was soft and gentle compared to the storm wind of yesterday. And just then a sudden sound reached him. No cry of trouble this time, but a burst of pretty laughter, ringing and joyous as if it came from some little child bubbling over with fun – and mischief too! It seemed to be just in front of him, then just behind, then just at one side, then at the other. Wherever he turned it came from a different point, till he felt half-provoked to be so tricked. So he ran on at last all the faster, thinking he was bewitched, till he got within sight of his home, and there, coming to meet him, was his mother, with a look on her face half-pleased, half-vexed.

"She's gone, Robin," she called out, "the pretty baby's gone. But there's no call to be afraid for her. She ran off when she was playing with your little sisters in front of the house, and chase her as we might, we couldn't catch her. She danced away like a will-o'-the-wisp, laughing as I've never heard a child laugh, so fine and pretty and mischievous it was. And I've bethought me what it means. 'Twas the day for the moor-fairies to show themselves, it comes but once in seven years, and we've been in luck indeed."

'Then Robin told her of the laughing he, too, had heard, and of the good news he was bringing, and together they went on to the cottage, thankful that they had not missed the chance which had come to them by fear or selfishness. And from that day for seven years to come anyhow it did seem as if they were specially befriended, everything went well with them, and so far as I remember what my grandmother said, this good turn helped Robin on through his life. He was a grandfather himself when he told the story, much respected through the country-side – a good, kind man, as he had been a good, kind boy.'

Nance stopped. Rosamond gave a sigh of satisfaction.

'What a pretty story,' she said, 'and how nicely you've told it – Mrs. Crag,' for she did not quite know what to call the old woman.

Nance smiled, well pleased. It was true; she had a real gift for story-telling, and though her accent sounded strange, her words were so correctly chosen, and her whole tone had so much charm about it, that it was almost difficult to believe that she had not at some time of her life been in a much better position than now.

'I'm right glad that you've liked my old story,' she said. 'But don't call me Mrs. Crag, missie dear; it doesn't suit me. Say "Nance," like the young gentlemen. I've plenty more stories packed away somewhere in my head that I can get out for you if you care to hear them.'

'I wonder,' said Pat, 'if the fairies were seen again ever? Do you think they kept coming back every seven years, Nance?'

The old woman shook her head.

'I can't say, Master Pat,' she replied, 'but I'm afraid those days are over now, the world's too changed, and all the new-fangled ways frighten the good people away.'

'Do you think there were ever fairies on this moor?' said Archie. 'It says in our story-books that there are ever so many different kinds, some in forests, some in brooks and rivers, but I never heard of moor ones before. Are you sure, Nance, that if we sat up all night, or got up very, very early in the morning some particular day, we mightn't see something queer, or hear something? Like the boy, Johnnie – Somebody? who climbed up the mountain on Midsummer's eve.'

'No, no, Master Archie,' said Nance. 'Times are changed, as I told you. You'd catch nothing but a bad cold. You mustn't try any of those tricks, my dear, or you'll be getting old Nance into trouble for filling your head with nonsense, and then you'd not be let come to see me, which would be sad for me,' and she gave a little sigh. 'Promise me, you'll never do anything your dear papa and mamma wouldn't like.'

Archie laughed.

'I was really half joking,' he said. 'I know there aren't really any fairies, nowadays anyway. Pat, don't you go and tell Justin what I was saying, or he'd make fun of me.'

'I'm not going to,' said Pat. 'Jus doesn't care about things like that.'

'I think they're lovely,' said Miss Mouse. 'Fancying about pretty things is almost as nice as having them really, don't you think?'

There was no time, however, for any more talk, for at that moment Justin, followed by Bob, made his appearance at the door.

'I say,' he called out, 'I'm going home, and you'd better all come with me.'

'It's not late,' objected Pat, who was feeling very comfortable and disinclined to move, 'and we had leave to stay out later.'

'I can't help it,' said Justin. 'I want to go back now. I've a reason for it. I'll tell you about it as we go.'

The others had to give in to him, as was generally the case. They all said good-bye to their old friend, Rosamond holding up her little face to be kissed as she thanked Nance again, for which she was rewarded by a hearty – 'Bless you, my sweet,' and then the whole party of children set off for Moor Edge, Bob making one of them.

'Why is he coming?' said Pat in a low voice to Justin, nodding his head backwards towards Bob, who was walking behind them.

'That's what I've got to tell you about,' said Justin in the same tone. 'It's about the ferrets. He's found a splendid pair after a lot of bother, but he must have the money. You've got yours ready, I suppose?'

'Bother,' said Pat. 'I don't care about the nasty little beasts. I did hope you'd give them up.'

'But you promised,' said Justin, ready to be angry. 'I've never spoken of giving them up, and you offered the money at the first. You seemed as if you wanted to have them as much as I did.'

'I'm not going back from my promise,' said Pat, half-sulkily, remembering his Aunt Mattie's advice to try to show more interest in the things Justin cared for. 'You can have the money whenever you like,' he went on in a brighter tone, as he remembered also that the ferrets, being kept at Bob's, would be a certain reason for frequent visits to the cottage, and more of Nance's stories; 'but do you mean,' he added, 'that we've got money enough to pay for them?'

Justin hesitated.

'No, of course not,' he said at last, 'your own sense might tell you that. We've not got much more than half.'

'Then they must be dearer than you thought at first,' said Pat sturdily. 'I remember quite well you counting that you'd have nearly enough.'

'But these are far better ones,' said Justin. 'You must expect to pay more for a better thing. They won't hurry about the rest of the money once they've got half, or rather more than half.'

'You'll have to pay up some time or other though,' said Pat. 'And I don't know where you'll get it from. I can't go on giving you all my pocket-money. There are other things I want to get.'

'Wait till you're asked,' said Justin sharply. 'I can manage my own affairs.'

Pat thought it better to say no more, though in his heart he did not think Justin's talk of independence was very well-timed. He did grudge the money now that the first feeling of generosity had had time to cool down. But he felt there was no help for it.