CHAPTER XI

ANDY AND ME

THIS is our week for taking it in turns to drive Andy. We have decided that we needn't always go out alone on our day, but we can invite the others to come with us if we like, only we must drive.

I put up my notice on the signpost on Monday. I did it before breakfast. The boys didn't know anything about it till the afternoon, and then they saw some people gazing up at it, and they came home and laughed at me.

"Are you going to carry the people or the parcels on your back, old Gristle? Both, I suppose. I'm sure they think you are, for there's no mention of Andy."

"That's my look-out," I said. "If they have any wits, they can guess."

I didn't mind them laughing at me a bit, for I was quite excited at the thought of being a carrier.

Father read my notice too—I didn't think he would see it—and he said to me:

"That is right, Grisel; you take after your mother. I want you all to share your pleasures with those who are less fortunate than you are."

Denys spent the whole of his day out with Aylwin and the donkey. They seem to have gone all over the country. They took their lunch with them and didn't come back till late.

Aylwin seemed to have had so much of it that he wasn't keen to take the donkey out himself the next day. But in the afternoon he drove off with Lynette, and I saw from their faces that they were up to something. Poor Andy must have had a dreadful time. It was a windy day, and Aylwin got hold of two big kites that he and Denys had made last winter. He and Lynette unrolled them and let them fly, and then tied the end of their cords to each side of the cart. They went down the village with the kites flying in splendid style, but directly they turned the corner, the kites pulled one way and Andy another.

Lynette told me she hoped the kites were going to pull them up in the air. Andy did his best to pull against them, and then he stopped short and wouldn't move at all. And for half an hour they tried to get him on, and then Aylwin turned him round, and he tore off home like lightning. And one kite broke its string and got clean away, and the other caught in a tree and stayed there, and Aylwin had to climb up and get it. They came home quite early in the afternoon. Denis asked Aylwin why he was such a fool. He said he thought the kites would act like a sail, and take Andy along in double-quick time.

Aylwin is very cross with Andy.

"I begin to think he isn't much fun!" he said.

"Well," I said to him, "I thought you would ride him more. You and Denys said you would like a donkey to take you to school, but you have never used him once."

Aylwin grinned at me.

"Do you know why? That was the beginning of old Denys's fight with 'the Sausage.' 'The Sausage' heard we had a donkey, and he danced round us and sang:

"'Pass! Parson, pass! Riding on an ass! Teach your boys to bray! 'Tis the Parson's way!'

"So Denys walked up to him, and then he said a lot more, and then he got a licking—and I would have done it if Denys hadn't!"

"I wish you had!" I said. "Denys had to give up his class because of it!"

"Oh, he wouldn't have kept that up long!" said Aylwin. "It's all very well for girls, that kind of thing!"

I faced round on him.

"It wasn't girls that Jesus Christ told to go and tell others about Him—it was men. You're always wanting to do what men do!"

"Don't be a preaching prig!"

"I hate it when you speak as if it isn't manly to be good," I went on with red cheeks. "That's how 'the Sausage' might talk, not the boys of a gentleman like father!"

Aylwin put his hands to his ears and ran away from me. There's one thing, he doesn't mean what he says. Now I know why the boys won't ride on Andy to school, they think they'll get laughed at. I believe boys are much more frightened of a laugh than girls are.

Lynette's day with the donkey did not end very well. She didn't take it out till the afternoon, because we were busy picking some plums for jam and helping Aunt C. to stir it in the kitchen. She always likes to make the jam herself. We were very interested in helping her first, and then we got tired. And Lynette was cross because she couldn't take Andy out before dinner.

"I'm going to drive Puff," she said. "I've promised him, he shall come."

"Shall I come too?" I asked.

"No, thank you; you'd be trying to manage me. Oh, do let us leave this old jam. Why doesn't cook do it? Now father has called Aunt C.; she won't be back for ever so long."

"You needn't wait—I'll go on stirring it," I said. "Cook is busy clearing her larders out this morning."

"But it's too late to take Andy out now—it is a shame!"

She ran out of the kitchen. When Aunt C. came back, it was just dinner-time.

"I hope there won't be any more jam to make," I said. "I do hate doing it; it's so hot!"

"It's very good for children to do what they don't like sometimes," said Aunt C. rather sternly. "Life isn't given you, Grisel, to live entirely for yourself!"

I felt rather ashamed of myself, because we have a good deal of holiday-time, and just this first week or two of the boys' holidays, Lynette and I are doing no lessons.

"I don't like making jam in a hot kitchen any better than you do, Grisel," Aunt C. went on, "but I do it because it has to be done."

"I thought grown-up people liked everything," I said. "They needn't do it if they don't. There's no one to make them."

"The sense of right principle makes them," said Aunt C. "When you grow up you'll find your whole life sometimes consists in doing things that you don't like, but which you must do."

This was quite a new idea to me. I thought grown-ups never did anything they did not like. I dare say Aunt C. doesn't like looking after us. Perhaps she would rather be at home. It makes me feel I ought to help her do things more. I'm always running off to play with the boys whenever I can. I expect it would be one of the "do's" if I helped her more. I really will try.

I was busy all the afternoon playing cricket with the boys. About four o'clock Lynette appeared. Her hair was flying, and she was looking most excited.

She called out to Denys:

"Do come; Andy is a perfect brute, and I expect Puff will be drowned."

So we all raced across the grass to her, and she explained breathlessly:

"I wanted to cross the river with him—just by the ford, you stupids, don't look so scared! I got him in, and then instead of going straight across, he went crooked, and the cart got wedged against a stone, and he wouldn't move; and at last, after trying for hours, I climbed out and waded through the water. I took off my shoes and stockings, and told Puff to sit quite still till I came back. And you must come at once, and help me get him out!"

"You've left Puff in the donkey-cart in the middle of the river!" I exclaimed in horror.

We were tearing out of the Rectory and down the road as we talked.

"Why on earth didn't you get the first man or boy that you met to help you?" said Denys.

"I didn't meet any one," said Lynette; "I was afraid of them telling father, that's why I came straight to you."

"If Puff is drowned, father will have to be told," Denys said shortly.

And then Lynette began to cry.

Happily it wasn't very far out of the village, but how Lynette could have thought of going through the river, I don't know! I shouldn't have liked to do it, and Denys said a carter was drowned in this very place last winter, when the river was high; some one told him so.

When we got down to the river there wasn't a sign of Puff or the donkey. Lynette burst out crying afresh.

"They're all drowned," she sobbed, "and I shall be hung for drowning them!"

We crossed the river by a plank bridge a little higher up, and then Denys said he believed that Andy must have gone through all right, and trotted on somewhere. So he and Aylwin lay flat on their chests and examined the grass close to the bank, like detectives or Red Indians do.

[Illustration: I CLIMBED OUT AND WADED THROUGH THE WATER.]

"The wheels would be wet, so they would leave the grass wet," said Aylwin, looking very clever. "And here's a wet mark along here; look at my hand!"

"Yes, and the blades of grass are bent over," said Denys. "Now we must begin to track them. I wish we had a blood-hound."

Lynette cheered up, and we felt as if we were playing a game. There was only a short bit of grass beyond the river, and then we came to a lane. So now we started to run our "lopetty" run, as we called it. The boys taught me and Lynette a long time ago how you ought to run in paper-chases or anywhere where you have to go on running a long while. The great thing is not to run too fast. We call it "loping"; it's a kind of running saunter, or perhaps sauntering run. You can keep on ever so long at it, because you don't get out of breath. We all loped along, hoping to see signs of the donkey-cart, but there were none.

Then we came out on the top high road, and now we did not know which way to take, up or down, but we saw a cottage in the distance. So we went off to that, and asked a woman if she had seen a little boy in a donkey-cart. She opened her door wide, and there was Puff sitting on a low stool eating an apple! We were so relieved. And Andy was in her back-yard. She said she had seen them tearing along, and Puff was calling out, "Stop! Stop!"

She rushed out and managed to stop them, and then she tied Andy up and comforted Puff, who was crying from fright. Of course, directly Lynette left them, Andy took it into his head to start. It was only one of his obstinate fits, I think, and he dashed out of the water and up the road. It was a mercy that Puff sat still.

We thanked the woman very much, and then we brought out Andy, and we all drove home together, but we didn't try to take him across the river. We went home another way, and father scolded Lynette well for attempting it. I don't think she will try anything of that sort again.

Puff, of course, pretended he liked it.

"I dwove Andy myself; we went fuwious!"

"Yes, and you cried furious," said Aylwin.

"I only cwied when I saw the wimon," said Puff, who will never be snubbed. "I knewed she would stop me, that was why I cwied!"

"You mustn't say what isn't true, Puff; it's not 'good form,'" I said, "besides being wicked."

"I only cwied a teacup!" said Puff. "I was so angwy with Andy, and I always cwies when I'm angwy!"

He will always have the last word, so I gave it up.

Well, I've had my day, and I really have enjoyed it. To begin with, I started from the house at ten o'clock. Just outside our gate I found a huge brown-paper bundle, with a piece of paper saying, "Please delevar with kare to Miss C. Londesburg. Hall. Cross Glen."

I saw the spelling was bad, so I really thought one of the villagers had sent it. It was very, very heavy, and I could hardly lift it into the cart. I was rather pleased that I was asked to go to the Hall, for I hadn't seen Clarice since the day of our chariot race. I got in at last and drove through the village very slowly. Mrs. Ribbon came down to the gate when she saw me.

"Miss Grisel, my dear, do you mean's you reely will oblige? For I did promise to send old Susan Combe a sack o' coal. You gets it at the station, but my Tom, he has had to go off early into Lincoln by train, and she have no bit o' fire to cook her dinner, and I be that busy in the shop—"

"I'll do it," I said; "I'll go down to the station at once."

So I did, and I got the coal, and drove off to Mrs. Combe. She was so glad to see it, but neither of us could lift it out of the cart, it was so heavy, so she had to take the coal out of it gradually, and that took time.

And just as we were doing it Beatrice and Clarice came by in their pony-trap. They did stare when I told them what I was doing. "I'm a carrier for the day," I said, "and I've got a parcel for you."

They were very much excited.

"For us! Oh, do let us see it! What fun!"

They had to wait till Mrs. Combe got her coals.

And then Clarice insisted upon getting into our cart and looking at it. Then she and I began to undo the parcel together. We could not lift it out, for it was so heavy. There was a lot of paper to be undone, and then we suddenly came upon it—and it was only an old pail full of stones! Clarice was really angry. I knew at once it was the boys' joke. They wanted to make me carry that rubbish to the Hall. I was so glad I had not. I tried to explain it to Clarice, but she said:

"They're rude, horrid boys, and I shall tell mother of them!"

She jumped out of the cart, and went back to Beatrice and told her. She began to laugh—she can see a joke better than Clarice can; so then I told them they had better send a parcel back to the boys. They were quite delighted, and said they would send it by post, and then they would not guess who had sent it. We tipped out the bucket and the stones in the ditch, and I drove back to our village wondering if any one else had an errand for me.

And then I saw lame Hannah, who does dressmaking and sings in the choir. She was standing at her gate, and looked at me as if she wanted to speak, and didn't like to. So I stopped and said, "Can I do anything for you, Hannah?"

She got very red, and then she said in a hesitating kind of way:

"I've got to go over to Farmer Luscombe's, miss, and 'tis a long way for me this hot day; and mother thought as we seed you ride by, and having read your notice—"

"I know," I cried, "you'd like me to drive you there? Get in, Hannah; I shall love to do it. I'm looking out for jobs."

So she got in; she told me her leg hurt her so when she had to walk far, and yet she wanted to make a dress for Mrs. Luscombe, and was hoping that some one would give her a lift there. So I told her I hoped to have Andy one day in every week, when I could do any errands for anybody. And she thought it very nice indeed. After we had been talking some time I said, "I shall have to go back home after this, because it will be dinner-time. But I mean to come out in the afternoon again. Do you know anything that I could do, Hannah?"

She seemed to think for a minute, and then she said:

"I wonder, Miss Grisel, if you know little Annie Steel. She have come from London to live with her gran'mother, Mrs. Buxton, and she be a proper cripple—can't walk at all. Bein' lame myself, I calls in and gives her a cheerin' word. Mrs. Buxton and her old man be terrible strict and hard to her. They think her a great burden not bein' able to help them, and she sits in that back kitchen getting whiter and thinner in spite of our good country air. She never gets out, even so much as to sit on the doorstep; she's a little unformed, miss, with a hump on her back, and terrible sensitive she be, and her grandmother talks as if she be ashamed on her. 'Twould be heaven to the child if she was took a drive in this cart."

"Oh, I'll do it," I cried, "if she can get in. Won't it shake her?"

"Not a bit, miss, if you took a cushion or two, and let her sit in the bottom, and Mrs. Turner nex' door would lift her in, if her gran'mother can't."

"I'll go for her directly after dinner," I said joyfully.

When I got home, they all asked me what I had been doing. The boys didn't say anything about their parcel, and I didn't either. But Aunt C. thought it a very good plan to take Annie Steel out for a drive, and then father said:

"You mustn't work poor Andy off his legs, children, between you all."

I said I hadn't really been very far, and I drove very slowly, but Denys said to me after dinner was over, and he was helping me to harness Andy:

"Don't you overdo this Good Samaritan business, or it will be a perfect nuisance. It's rather setting yourself up as a virtuous story-book kind of person."

"Oh, Denys, you don't call Bob Tapson a story-book kind of person. I'm only a carrier."

"He does it for business, gets paid for it; you don't."

"Of course I don't, but I enjoy the driving."

He was silent for a minute, then he said:

"I believe you're getting goody."

"I wish I was," I said, laughing. "I'm simply doing it because I like doing it, but I think I'll go on for ever doing it if I can, because father said it was like mother."

He didn't say a word more, for Denys simply adored mother, and so did we all.