Five Minutes' Stories

"I can swim! I can swim!" were the magic words with which he was able at once to push off the friendly hands that would have drawn him back, whose owners now stood watching him with flushed faces and tearful eyes, murmuring many a fervent prayer for his success, or saying aloud with clasped hands, "The brave boy, the splendid little fellow! It is her only chance!"

It was her only chance. Long before poor Lilian, for all her headlong drive, was back with a sailor she had met just outside the village, Alice would have sunk to rise no more. She had been caught by the current and carried out far beyond her depth, and when Harry, panting, labouring, but swimming valiantly still, got near enough to catch the long plait of hair, and so draw her gently after him to shore, she had all but lost consciousness. Better so, perhaps, for had she struggled or clung to him, both would have been lost.

As it was, there were plenty of hands to carry them to land, once they were within a safe distance; but Harry was the hero, Harry, alone and unaided, had saved a human life, for of all the score or so of watchers on the beach, not one knew how to swim.

Was not this worthy to be called his "Reward?" even if the thanks of the two pretty sisters and their parents had been less fervent and heartfelt.

Harry and Dora go often to Seacliff now, even without the rest of the family; for there is a house near there where they are always most welcome visitors, and where the only fear is that if Harry were not a very sensible boy, the attentions of Alice and Lilian might spoil him.

BROTHERS AND MUSHROOMS

MAMMA was very fond of mushrooms. I don't mean to say that she was a greedy person or fond of eating, but if she had a weakness, it was for mushrooms. When she was a little girl, she had lived in a country place where they grew in abundance, and she had often told the children how delightful it was to go mushroom gathering, how pretty the creamy-white heads looked, sometimes almost hidden in the grass, like eggs in a mossy nest, and what shrieks of fun and eagerness used to be heard when some specially fine one was suddenly caught sight of.

But Mamma's own children, Lancey and Dick – Mamma was not very rich in children, she had only these two little sturdy boys, Lancey was nine and Dick was seven – had never had the good fortune to live in a mushroom country. All they knew of mushrooms was when they sometimes happened to catch sight of them in the kitchen, when cook had bought a little basket of them, paying very dear for it, no doubt, because "Missis was so partial to them." And there was great rejoicing, as you can fancy, when one autumn Mamma told her little boys that they were going down into the country to spend September with an old aunt, who lived not far from where Mamma herself had lived when she "was a little girl."

"And is there those funny things – mush – mush – I forget the name – there?" asked Dick.

"Mushrooms?" said Mamma. "Oh, yes, in September there will be plenty, no doubt," she replied.

"And your birthday's in September," said Lancey. "Oh, Mamma, oh, Dick!" he went on, giving a great spring in his delight, "just think – we can gather mushrooms for it – nice, wild mushrooms, that taste ever so much better than the ones you buy in the shops, don't they, Mamma, darling?"

"Than forced mushrooms, you mean, Lancey," she replied. "Yes, forced mushrooms, that means mushrooms grown in hot-houses, or hot-beds;" for she saw on the boys' lips the question, "what are forced mushrooms, please?" "never have the same flavour, I am sure. Besides, one hasn't the fun of hunting for them, and gathering them one's self. I am sure you will enjoy that part of it."

"I am sure we shall. I am sure we shall like Fernimoor much better than the seaside," said both boys – "even though we have liked it very much," added tender-hearted Dick. He was so afraid of Mamma being at all hurt, if she fancied he meant that they had not enjoyed the seaside after all the trouble and expense she and papa had been at to take them there. For, as he told Lancey afterwards, he was sure he had seen Papa pay three gold pounds for their railway tickets at the station the day they came.

"I hope you will enjoy it very much," said Mamma kindly, "and I am sure you will, and so shall I. It will be so nice to show my little boys some of the places I loved when I was as little as they are."

"And to teach us how to find musherrooms," said Dick, quite satisfied he had got the hard word right this time.

Fernimoor turned out to be very nice, quite as nice as the boys' pleasantest fancies had pictured it. The old-fashioned house was the funniest and prettiest in the world, so was the garden, and the uncle and aunt were the kindest and nicest of old uncles and aunts. There was only one disappointment – and that was the mushrooms!

There had been a good crop of them, said Auntie, a week or two ago, but since then it had been so dry – the whole season had been unusually dry – that there were none at all. Possibly in another ten days or so, if it rained, there might be another crop, but then one scarcely dared wish for rain, it would be so bad for the harvest.

So Mamma and her two little squires wandered about the fields in vain, seeking for the pretty creamy egg-like balls among the grass, which Mamma had so often described.

"It can't be helped," she said. "It's better than if it had done nothing but rain. That would have spoilt our visit, even if we had had basketfuls of mushrooms."

But Lancey and Dick didn't seem quite sure that they agreed with her. They had got the idea of mushrooms so in their heads that I don't think they would have grumbled even if it had rained.

"If only there are some before Mamma's birthday, it won't matter so much," said hopeful little Dick.

Mamma's birthday was the thirteenth of September, and that year it fell on a Monday. All Friday and Saturday it had rained – really poured – and every one was surprised that Lancey and Dick did not grumble at it. By Sunday morning it cleared, and Lancey who was dressed first, ran out into the garden for a stroll before breakfast. Here he met a friend of his – an under-gardener, who had come to do some little piece of work about the hot-houses, which could not be neglected even on Sunday.

"Fine morning, Master Lancey," said the lad. "My, how it did pour yesterday!"

"Griffith," said Lancey, "will the rain have brought up any mushrooms, do you think?"

"Bless you, yes. See here, Master Lancey, just you go down the lane to the left of the lodge till you come to a cottage, then creep through the gate opposite – it's awkward to open, but you'll easily get through – and see if you don't find mushrooms. There'll be lots by to-morrow if we've some sun to-day."

"It's to-morrow I want to get them – to-morrow morning early," said Lancey. "Thank you, Griffith."

After breakfast, Dick in turn went out for a little fresh air —he strolled towards the stables, as he was very fond of one of the dogs there. On his way he came across a groom called Nicholls.

"Good morning, Nicholls," said Dick. "Should you think, Nicholls, there'd be any mushrooms by to-morrow morning?"

"Sure to be, Master Dick. If you're up early, I'll show you the best field in the place for them. Come out to the stable-yard as soon as you're dressed, and I'll show you the way."

"Thank you, Nicholls," said Dick. "Yes, I'll come. Don't tell anybody else, Nicholls."

"No, no, sir, we'll keep it a secret."

Lancey and Dick went to church together and were together as usual all day. But strange to tell, not one word was said by either boy to the other about their plans for the next morning. Some mischievous sprite had put it into their heads, for almost the first time in their lives, to have a secret, and not a kind secret either, each from the other.

"I'm the eldest," thought Lancey. "I think it's only fair I should get the mushrooms for Mamma's birthday."

"Lancey's bigger and stronger than I am," thought Dick. "If he went with me, he'd gather ever so many more, and Mamma wouldn't think it was me at all that had got them."

Monday morning came. The boys slept in separate rooms at Auntie's. Each had a tiny dressing-room with a sofa-bed, so it was easy to get up and dress without "brother" knowing. Lancey was first, but it took him some little time to find Griffith, and to ask him again where to go, which he had partly forgotten. Dick was luckier, for Nicholls was waiting for him, and took him by what he called a short cut, to the field he had described, and helped him over the hedge, telling him the mushrooms grew thickest "a bit up the field."

Up the field trotted Dick, but he had not gone far before he stopped short in surprise. Who was that coming towards him from the other end?

And "who can that be?" thought the new-comer, as a small, stout figure caught his eye – a round, brown-holland little person, not unlike a mushroom button on two legs. "I do believe," he said aloud, "I do believe it's Dick."

"I do believe," said Dick. "I do believe it's Lancey."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, not quite sure what to say or do. Then they thought better of it and burst out laughing.

"It's no good doing without each other," said both together.

The mushrooms were plentiful, and the gathering of them proved quite as nice as Mamma had told them. And it was two very happy little boys who carried up a splendid plateful with "many happy returns" to her door that morning.

But when Mamma had kissed and thanked them, each looked at the other.

"Mamma," said both together, "we weren't going to have been quite good about them," and then they told the whole. "But it was all right at the end," they said, "and oh, Mamma, how do you like the mushrooms cooked? Fried or with sauce? Auntie told us to ask."

"I don't mind," said Mamma, "they are sure to taste good any way, now that they are flavoured with Lancey's and Dick's brotherly love."

A REMARKABLE WATCH

MAY we bathe this morning, Mamma?" said the children, putting their heads in at the door of the drawing-room.

Mamma glanced at the time-piece.

"It is rather late," she said doubtfully. "You would have to be very quick. Which of the big ones are going with you?"

"None of them," answered Joan, the smallest of the small party. "They've all gone for a walk except Lilly, and she's drawing in the garden, but I'm sure she'd come if we asked her. Lilly's always so kind – if only you'd say we might."

"It is so fine and sunny, and the tide won't suit again for ever so many days," added two or three imploring voices.