CHAPTER III

"THEY SAY I'M CODDLING YOU!"

"WE will have a walk this afternoon," said Nurse; "the sun is coming out."

"Shall I see father and mother again to-day, do you think?"

"I can't tell you," said Nurse a little shortly.

But as Christina went out on to the terrace an hour afterwards she came upon her father and mother just starting for a ride. Two beautiful horses were being held by the grooms in readiness, and their restless antics caused Christina to eye them nervously.

Mrs. Maclahan was making her husband fasten her glove for her, but directly she noticed Christina, she turned towards her.

"Now, Herbert, look at this child. Isn't she like a little old woman in all those wraps? Come here, Christina—it is a mouthful of a name! I shall call you Tina. Have you ever been on horseback? Never? Then the sooner you learn to ride the better. Hold Damon steady, Barker! There! Up you go! Now, how do you feel?"

Before Christina knew where she was, she found herself on the big chestnut. Her stepmother's strong arm had tossed her up as easily as if she had been a doll.

The little girl's heart beat hard and fast, and every vestige of colour left her cheeks. But catching sight of her father's pleased smile, she sat erect, and with determined lips murmured to herself Miss Bertha's verse.

Nurse began to expostulate, but Mrs. Maclahan cut her short.

"Afraid? Nonsense, she must learn to ride! Now, Barker, lead her down to the lodge; I will mount there. Take hold of the reins, Tina; that's right! Herbert, ride with her; I will walk."

Poor Christina in agony clutched hold of the reins. Her head swam, there was a buzzing noise in her ears. No one had any idea how the nervous child suffered, but not a word did she utter.

Once her father laid his hand on her as she swayed from side to side.

"Hold yourself up, little woman, or you will fall. I must get you a small pony, then there will be no fear. Are you enjoying it?"

Christina was absolutely mute. Every step was torture, but how could she confess that she was afraid? She was a Maclahan she kept assuring herself. It seemed years before the lodge was reached, and then Barker gently lifted her down.

For a moment Christina looked up at her father pitifully.

"I didn't fall," she said; and she fainted dead away.

There was confusion then. Her father carried her into the lodge, and Nurse rushed forward forgetting her respectful manner in the excitement of the moment.

"My poor child! Oh, 'tis a cruel shame, when she's afraid of as much as a fly—and as to horses—the very looks of them are a terror to her! I've known children made imbeciles for life for less than this, and her heart not strong! 'Tis enough to kill her; likely enough we shall never get her round!"

"Go back to the house, you fussy old woman, unless you can control yourself!"

Mrs. Maclahan spoke sharply, for she was vexed at the result of her thoughtless, good-natured act. She pushed Nurse away, and was the first to speak to her little stepdaughter when the colour returned to her face and she opened her eyes.

"There! Now you're all right, aren't you? Are you given to this kind of thing?"

Christina struggled to her feet, and looked vaguely round.

"Let her go to her nurse," said her father quickly; "I fear she's very delicate."

Mrs. Maclahan shrugged her shoulders.

"She is being made so. The sooner a change is made in the nursery the better. She'll be all right now. Come along, Herbert; we shall never get off. You won't be such a little goose again, will you, Tina?"

She mounted the chestnut and rode away; and Christina walked back to the house with Nurse, feeling shaky and still confused.

Nurse petted and comforted her, and when she saw that she was quite herself again, left her on the nursery sofa whilst she went to Mrs. Hallam's room to talk over the "new mistress."

That day seemed a long one to Christina. She felt as if she were in disgrace. Neither her father or mother came near her, but after the nursery tea was over, Nurse had a message brought to her that she was to go to Mrs. Maclahan. She came back with tears in her eyes, and informed the child that she was going to leave her.

Christina could not and would not believe it.

"I couldn't live, Nurse, without you!" she assured her passionately.

"They say I'm coddling you, and you must be made hardy and strong. They think every child is cut out in the same pattern. Your stepmother is one for fresh air and sport, so she says, and she's going to take you in hand herself. Me, who has nursed you through your teething and vaccination and that terrible attack of whooping-cough, and been a mother and nurse rolled in one for eight years! Me to be turned away with a month's notice, like the kitchen-maid!"

Nurse put her head down into her apron and sobbed bitterly.

Christina gazed at her in horrified wonder. Her little soul rose in protest against such a sentence. Without a thought of fear, with hot cheeks and flashing eyes, she dashed down the stairs into the room that she knew had been prepared for her stepmother. She found her there writing letters, and her father was dictating to her as she wrote.

"Nurse is not to be sent away!" Christina exclaimed.

Had a thunderbolt fallen out of a mild spring shower of rain, Mrs. Maclahan could not have been more astonished; but Christina was too excited to note anything.

"I can't have Nurse leave me! I would rather you left me," she passionately went on. "I will do anything if you let Nurse stop! She doesn't coddle me and make me afraid! I will ride that big horse every day, I will do sport if you teach me, I will do everything you want; but I love her, I love her, and she mustn't leave me!"

She stood there with crimson cheeks and heaving breast, then catching her father's eye, she flung herself upon him with a passion of tears:

"I will be a Maclahan! I'll never, never, never be afraid any more, father, if you let Nurse stay with me!"

"I have seen no signs of fear in you yet," said her father, laughing. "Why, Ena, did you think this white-cheeked, demure-faced baby carried such a tempestuous little heart within her? I think we must come to some arrangement with poor Nurse."

"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Maclahan with a short little laugh, as she went on writing her letters, and did not glance at Christina—"I am afraid that the child has expressed the case quite clearly. It is a question of Nurse's departure or mine! I am quite convinced that both of us will not be able to live in the same house."

"Come along with me to the library, Christina; I found a book to-day that I think you would like."

And before she could say another word, Christina found herself carried off by her father to her favourite room.

"Now," he said, placing before her an old red leather volume, "these are some old Norse legends, translated more than three hundred years ago, and the pictures are very quaint."

Christina was entranced at once. Sad to say, she forgot poor Nurse, and when her father saw her thoroughly engrossed in her book, he left her, and went back to discuss her nursery education with his wife.

When Christina met Nurse again that evening that good woman was calm and collected, and said with as much dignity as she ever showed towards her little charge:

"I was upset, dearie, but we'll say no more at present about my going. I shan't be off next week, nor the week after."

Christina said no more, but when she was in bed her troubles, that always seemed very heavy then, returned to her.

A new nurse was far more to be dreaded than a new father and mother.

"Oh," she sighed, "I wish I could see Miss Bertha! She would comfort me, I know she would." Then the remembrance of Miss Bertha's text came to her:

"'What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.'"

The very saying it over seemed to soothe her. She fell asleep with the words upon her lips.

The next day her mother came into the nursery at eleven o'clock, and told Nurse to get her little stepdaughter ready to go out with her.

Christina's eyes were big with fear, until she looked across to her paper over the mantelpiece.

"Do you think I shall be put on the horse again Nurse?" she asked timidly.

"No," said Nurse shortly; "I don't think you will."

The little girl heaved a sigh of relief. She met her mother in the hall, who laughed when she saw her.

"Take off that veil, child! This fresh, bright morning air won't get a chance of getting near those white cheeks! Now come along; we are going for a brisk walk."

They started down the avenue at a quick pace, and Christina had to trot to keep up with her stepmother's swinging strides. It did her good, for it prevented her from feeling the cold, and the colour slowly crept into her cheeks.

"Now tell me," said Mrs. Maclahan in that quick, imperious tone of hers, "Have you been shut up in this way all your life? Have you had no children to play with, no outdoor games or exercises?"

"There is Dawn!" said Christina eagerly. "Oh, I should like to play more with Dawn. He hardly ever comes to me, and it's too long a walk for Nurse to go to him."

"Dawn! What a queer name! Who is he? What is he?"

"He's a boy; he's always called that because his father painted a picture of him and called it Dawn. He painted three pictures, and called them Dawn and Day and Dusk. Dawn's real name is Avril, but he hates being called that, and his father calls him by ever so many names: Will-o'-the-wisp and Jack-in-the-box, and lots of others."

"He sounds interesting. Tell me about the pictures. I love them. If he was Dawn, who was Day and Dusk? Did you ever see the pictures? Were they in the Academy?"

"Oh, yes. Dawn is always telling me they were. Day was the blacksmith; he is a young man and wants to marry Connie, only she says his face is too dirty. And Dusk was old Mr. Green, who used to be a cobbler, but he's nearly blind now, and Miss Bertha goes to read to him every Saturday."

"Take me to see Dawn now. It is a dear little name, and if he is a nice boy, he shall come to play with you every day. I have a small brother who is coming here for his holidays. In fact, I meant to have brought him here yesterday, for there is an outbreak of fever at his school, but he is staying in London for a few days with one of my sisters. He will soon shake you up and keep you lively!"

Christina was too shy to assure her stepmother that she did not want to be shaken up, but she quickened her steps joyfully in the direction of Dawn's home, and then suddenly, down the road in front of them, he came tearing along, his curly hair flying in the wind.

He took off his hat and waved it frantically when he caught sight of Christina.

"I'm running away!" he cried out. "Running for my life. Dad has gone to London, and Aunt Rachael has a headache, and I've eaten all cook's mince pies for Sunday, and she's after me with a broom!"

"Ah," said Mrs. Maclahan, "this is a boy after my own heart! Come for a walk with us, and then you shall come back to tea with Tina!"

Dawn looked up at her with laughing assurance.

"You're Tina's new mother, aren't you? I like you awfully. If you will talk to that old Nurse and tell her Tina won't get into mischief, I'll come and spend every day with her. I don't go to school when we live in the country. Dad and I vegetate, and rest our brains, and then we go back to London, and I'm at lessons all day long. I'm awfully glad dad is doing a country picture that makes him come here. I'd like to stay here always!"

The walk that Christina dreaded turned out a very happy one. Dawn chattered on as freely to Mrs. Maclahan as he did to Christina alone. They went up as far as the breezy common, and here Christina shivered and caught her breath, and tried to shield herself behind her mother, for the wind was bitter, and seemed to be trying to get into her bones.

Mrs. Maclahan noticed her reluctance to face the wind, but made her do it.

"I've been brought up hardily, and I shall bring you up so too! I should think cold water baths would be a good thing for you!"

Tears came into poor Christina's eyes. She felt tired and cold, and longed for Nurse's arms and the nursery fire. The thought of a cold bath seemed the last straw. Dawn looked at her comically. Then he turned his cheeky little face up to Mrs. Maclahan.

"You're a Spartan mother," he remarked. "Tina and me have played at being Spartans. We killed a doll of hers; we beat her and then we drowned her and then we burnt her; and Tina cried the whole time, but she had to do it, for the doll had told a lie and was a coward, and we wanted to teach her that she was to fear nothing!"

"You did it all," said Christina in a trembling voice. "You made out she was a coward, I didn't say so. And it was no good teaching her not to be a coward when she was dead!"

"Christina is always afraid that she's a coward herself," observed Dawn cheerfully; "but I don't know that she is. She's frightened, but she doesn't funk! As long as you don't funk, it doesn't matter about being frightened, does it?"

Christina's cheeks got crimson. Her stepmother glanced at her.

"I dare say we have walked far enough," she said. "I must profit by your experience, Dawn. I must remember that Tina won't funk, but I hope I shall cure her of being frightened."

They turned back, and when they reached the gates of Christina's home, Dawn held out his hand.

"I won't come in, after all, to-night," he said rather grandly. "I funk some persons sometimes. Christina's nurse and our cook are not quite my friends."

"I should never run away from women," said Mrs. Maclahan.

Dawn's eyes twinkled.

"Yes you would, if you were panting for a run! Any excuse would make you. And Aunt Rachael's head will be better and she'll be looking for me: and I promised dad I would be a good boy to her!"

He danced off down the road, singing as he went.

Christina climbed the stairs to the nursery, feeling as if her legs would hardly move any more.

"Oh, Nurse," she exclaimed, pushing open the nursery door, "can't I go to bed? I think I'm too tired to stay up!"

Nurse fussed over her at once, but wisely persuaded the tired child to stay where she was and have some dinner. And when it was over, Christina began to feel refreshed and rested. She did not see either of her parents again that day. They dined very late, and did not come in from their ride till just before dinner.

In a few days' time, the house seemed to settle down into its new routine. Christina was visited in her nursery by her mother, but these visits were dreaded both by the nurse and child, for they heralded the opening of windows, and much advice about the advantages of fresh air and light clothing, which Nurse especially resented. Mr. Maclahan occasionally came across his little daughter in the library. He allowed her to wander in and out as she had been in the habit of doing; otherwise she never went downstairs, and was never summoned to go into the drawing-room at any time.

It was a happy day for the child when she saw Miss Bertha again. She met her out of doors one day, and upon the old lady offering to take her home for half an hour, Nurse had willingly consented, as she had some errands to do in the village.

"I will walk up to the house with her, Nurse, so you need not call for her."

Miss Bertha had noticed the wistful longing in Christina's eyes, and when they were alone the little girl poured out such a flood of talk that the old lady felt quite bewildered.

"Take your time, Childie; tell me everything from the beginning; I can wait to hear it. I shan't run away."

So Christina told her everything from the beginning, and Miss Bertha listened with interest.

"And has my text helped you, Childie?"

"Oh yes, it has, Miss Bertha, ever so many times. I'm so glad it doesn't say I'm not to be frightened, because I am, and I can't help it, and when I was on mother's horse I was terribly frightened, but I said:

"'I will trust in Thee,'

"and I asked God to hold me tight on and keep me from falling off, and He did it. I never fell, and I know I should have if I hadn't asked God. And, Miss Bertha, isn't it a dreadful thing that our motto should be 'Fear dwells not here'? Oh, Miss Bertha, what shall I do to make myself a proper Maclahan? I ought to be as brave as a lion, and when father finds out about me, I don't know what he'll say! And Nurse is going to leave me, and mother startles me. She smiles and she's never said anything cross, but she makes me shiver when she comes into the room, and she's going to make me hard, she says. She says I want plenty of cold water and fresh air, and she's going to get me a governess who will teach me 'nasticks: do you know what they are? I'm frightened of it all. The only thing I like is that I can play with Dawn as much as I like, but he hasn't come near me, though mother said he could!"

Then Miss Bertha was able to get her word in.

"Dawn has been in bed two days—nothing much the matter with him: he ate too many mince pies, and drank a bottle of vinegar in mistake for currant wine. He has been well punished for his greediness, I am glad to say; but he will be round to see you as soon as his aunt lets him out. Why, my dear Childie, most of your fears are groundless! Your mother will never be unkind to you. Nurse has brought you up in an old-fashioned way, and your mother wants to bring you up in the new-fashioned way. I met your mother yesterday for the first time, and she talked to me about you. She wants to see you stronger, and perhaps you will be all the better for some of her alterations. I am sorry that Nurse is going, but you are getting old enough to do regular lessons now, and a governess will be most kind and nice I expect. You have nothing to make yourself unhappy about."

Christina was silent; then she took hold of Miss Bertha's hand, and laid her soft little cheek upon it.

"I know you love me," she said; "and if you think it is best for me, I won't be afraid!"

Miss Bertha stopped. They were in her garden now, and for one minute she raised her face in silence to the open sky above her, then she bent down and kissed the earnest child by her side:

"Christina, my darling child, say those very words you have uttered to God in your morning and evening prayers. Say them over and over again to Him when troubles and doubts and fears crowd round you. Say to Him softly and reverently:

"'I know You love me; and if You think it is best for me, I won't be afraid!'"

Christina was awed by the solemnity in Miss Bertha's tone, and when she looked up at her, she saw tears were in her eyes.

She did not speak, but she could not forget the lesson taught, and though she was long in learning it, she remembered it to the end of her life.