Part 4

“Indeed it was,” said she; “that was Miss Jane, and I am her doll. I am very unhappy, for she is dreadfully cruel to me. Sometimes she bangs me on the floor and puts me in the corner for hours. And look at my clothes! The others are lucky—they belong to Josephine and Julia. They have each got a new dress, but this ragged one is all I have, and only one shoe.”

The tears ran down her face, poor little thing!

“Show me Miss Jane, and I will go and kill her!” cried Master Bogey, in a rage.

“Oh no, no!” begged the doll. “If you did that, I might be thrown away. No one would care to keep a shabby thing like me. I might be flung into the ashpit.”

“I would soon go and fetch you if you were,” said Master Bogey gallantly. “But show me Jane; if I could even shake my fist at her I should be happier.”

“Will you promise not to do any harm if I take you to the night-nursery?” said she.

He promised, and they went, hand in hand, down the long passage to the room where Josephine, Julia and Jane slept.

They went in on tiptoe. The sisters were sleeping in a row in their little white beds with frilled curtains; they really looked very pretty with their hair lying spread upon the pillows.

“That is Josephine,” said the doll, pointing to the eldest, “and the next is Julia, and the one nearest the door is Jane, my mistress.”

Josephine and Julia were smiling in their sleep, but as they looked, Jane turned over and tossed, grinding her teeth.

“I am afraid she is having a bad dream,” explained the doll.

“Serve her right! I wish she could have two at once!” said Master Bogey.

At last he thought it was time for him to be getting home, and the doll said she would go down with him to the hall. He was very sad, for he did not know when he should see her again; and she was sad, too.

“The very first time they leave the door open I will come back,” said he.

“Oh, I hope it will be soon!” she said. “Whenever Jane is bad to me I will think about you, and every night I will look out and try to see you.”

“And I will look for you,” replied Master Bogey, as he slipped out of the front door.

Next morning he told Madam Bogey all that he had done, and, though she read him a long lecture on curiosity, she could not help being interested.

“A good whipping is what Jane wants,” she remarked, “and if I were her nurse she should get it.”

Every night the doll and Master Bogey looked across the snowy space to try and get a glimpse of each other, but, though he could see her against the firelight through the windows, she could not see him where he sat in the dim tangle of branches. Madam Bogey watched too, but she was short-sighted and soon gave it up, though her good heart ached to think of the poor little creature and all she had to endure. She and Master Bogey talked about it a great deal.

One night, as he looked from his tree towards the nursery, he saw Miss Jane, with one of her sisters, standing by the window-sill. He knew it was Jane, because she was the only one of the little girls who had a pigtail; he could see its outline as it hung behind her head, with a bow sticking out, like a fat insect, at the end of it.

Each had put her doll to stand on the window-sill, inside the pane. He couldn’t tell whether it was the blue or the pink lady who was there, but he saw the shadow of a smart hat. He hoped very much that his friend was looking out for him, and he waved his hand. All at once she slipped on the sill and fell out of sight! He saw Jane stoop down, her pigtail sticking out farther than ever as she did so, and drag her up by the arm, shaking her—oh, so cruelly! She began to slap her, first on this side, then on that; he almost fancied he could hear her crying. Again and again she struck her, and Master Bogey shouted and threw up his arms in despair. Oh, how hard it was that he could not reach her!

“Mother!” he cried. “Oh, mother! Look! look!”

Up came Madam Bogey, hurrying to see what was the matter with her son. When she saw how dreadfully the poor doll was being treated, she was almost as angry as he was; and after Jane and her sister had disappeared from the window with their dolls, she still sat talking to him. It was quite late when he went to bed at last, and she stayed beside him and held his hand. He cried himself to sleep with rage and pity.

Now, Father Bogey had been away for some time on business, and when he returned next day his wife and he had such a long consultation that Master Bogey thought it would never be done. They sent him to a different tree while it was going on. He sat there rather crossly, looking at them as they nodded and shook their heads and nodded again. He knew it was all about something very interesting. When they called him back he was quite pettish.

“Sit down, boy,” his father began, very solemnly, “and try to look more intelligent. When I was your age I was setting up house. As you are an only child I have tried not to spoil you, and I may say that, on the whole, you have been a good son; but now it is time you were settled. I hear from your mother that you have made the acquaintance of a young lady in the house opposite. From what you have told your mother of her manners, she must be of a good disposition and naturally refined. If you have any mind to marry her she shall have a hearty and fatherly welcome, and your mother and I will give up the whole of the top branches to you. You had better think it over.”

Master Bogey did not take long to do that. He clapped his hands with joy when he thought that he might see his dear doll again, and never part from her any more, for he knew that she would be thankful to escape from cruel Jane and the rude ladies in blue and pink. The only difficulty was, how was he to get at her?

Evidently the servants had been blamed for their carelessness. Since his adventure the front door had been locked and the windows bolted as soon as it grew dark. He ran round the house every night, looking eagerly for some chink or crack large enough for him to squeeze himself in through; but there was nothing big enough, for he was a well-grown lad, and as tall as his father.

At last a bold plan came into his mind. He decided to get in in broad daylight, hiding in some empty room till everyone had gone to bed and then making his way to the nursery. As soon as he could persuade his love to elope with him, they would steal downstairs, unlock the front door, and let themselves out. When he told Madam Bogey of this plan she was in a dreadful state, and said it was much too dangerous; but he was determined. It is terrible to think what love will do!

So one afternoon he began to make his way to the house by short stages. From tree to tree he dodged, and just before dusk he had reached a small yew growing in a shrubbery near the front-door steps without being seen by anyone. He heard the great bell clang which called servants and stablemen to tea; and when he thought they were all safe in the servants’ hall, he flew up the steps like a lamplighter, and in at the door. Opposite to it was a large drawing-room, which the doll had told him was never used in winter, and in he went. There was a sofa there, with a long chintz cover touching the floor; and he crawled under this, and lay down as still as a mouse. How his heart beat when a maid came to draw the curtains! How he longed to catch her by the ankle and make her scream! But he did nothing so silly; he only lay and longed for the night, when he might get upstairs.

It was so still that his own footsteps made him jump. It was quite dark, too, as the lamps were out, and he could only feel his way; but he got safely to the top of the nursery stair, and began tiptoeing up the passage. A chink of light under the day-nursery door showed him the fire was still in.

One thing is certain, and that is that luck favours brave people. Master Bogey went in, and the first thing he saw was his dear doll at the window, looking out, no doubt, for a glimpse of himself in the tree. The pink lady and the blue lady were asleep in their chairs by the hearth, their eyes shut, their muffs in their laps and their hats tied firmly under their chins.

The poor doll ran to him and put her arms round his neck. She looked very woebegone and her clothes were more tattered than ever. She had no shoes at all now.

“I’ve come to take you away,” said Master Bogey. “You must come back to my tree and we will be married at once, and then I can see you every day for the rest of my life.”

“Do you _really_ mean it?” asked the doll.

“Yes, yes!” cried he. “Come at once, this very moment, before anyone catches us. My father and mother are waiting for you, and we are to have the top branches to live in.”

The poor little thing could hardly believe her ears. She liked Master Bogey better than anyone she had ever seen, and now she was going away from cruel Jane, and the blue and pink ladies, who sneered at everything. She held his hand tight and they went stealing out. She was so happy she did not know what to do.

They felt their way along safely till they got almost to the hall, and then, alas! alas! Master Bogey missed his footing on the last flight of stairs and rolled from the top to the bottom. Bump, bump, he went, and landed in a heap on the mat. He had just time to pick himself up before a door opened and the mother of Josephine, Julia and Jane came out of her bedroom with a candle in her hand. She could not see into the hall, but she began to come downstairs.

Master Bogey and the doll went straight to a corner where rows of coats hung from pegs, and got behind the thickest fur cloak they could find. He took her up in his arms, so that her little white feet should not show underneath it; his own black ones he kept quite still. In the light of the candle they only seemed like dark shadows.

The lady held up her light and looked round. She was much prettier than any of her daughters, and though her hair was now in a pigtail like Jane’s, it really suited her. She peeped under tables and behind chests, and then she came to the row of cloaks and began prodding them to see if anyone was hidden behind them. It was an awful moment.

What saved them was the fact that Bogeys are seldom very tall; though young Master Bogey was such a fine-grown lad, he was scarcely three feet high. Jane’s mother prodded the cloak just above his head and passed on without feeling anything. Just then a man’s face looked over the banisters above.

“What are you doing there?” cried Josephine, Julia and Jane’s father.

“I thought I heard a noise,” said the lady, “so I came to look.”

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “you are always imagining burglars. Go back to bed, and don’t be such a goose.”

When she had gone, Master Bogey and his love came out of their hiding-place. It took but a moment to unlock the door and draw the bolts. They shut it softly after them and ran down the steps and out into the shadows, where Father Bogey and Madam were waiting to embrace their daughter-in-law.

Then they all went up into the tree, where, as I have heard, they lived happily together ever after.

THE TREE OF PRIDE

“To-day it’s the book’s turn,” said the miller to his friends as the light was fading one evening. “Last time we heard about Bogeys and people of that sort, but to-day we’ll have a Princess, and King’s Courts and fine company.”

“I like hearing about grand ladies,” observed Janet.

“Yes, I like them well enough, too,” replied he; “that is, if they’re as good and as beautiful as some lasses I have seen.”

He looked rather hard at Janet, and she blushed.

“Oh, never mind talking!” broke in little Peter, pulling the miller’s sleeve. “It’s the story I want. If you don’t begin quick the light will be gone; the rooks are coming home already, and soon we shall have to go in to supper.”

“You needn’t do that, for you shall come to supper with me in the mill,” said the miller. “How would you like that?”

“We daren’t,” said Janet.

“I’ll go and make it right with your grandmother myself,” he replied. “She’ll be glad enough, maybe, for there’ll be all the more left in the larder to-morrow. Sit still till I come back.”

And he jumped over the wall. They watched him pass the pool and disappear into the white cottage.

“Oh, how delightful!” shouted little Peter, turning head over heels.

In a few minutes the miller returned. The old woman had promised everything he wanted. It is a funny thing how often young men can manage witches. They all went into the mill.

“So now to business,” said he, as he sat down and took up his book.

In a kingdom far from this everyday earth a great city sat royally in its surrounding plain. It had domes and towers, temples and fortresses, and in it lived a Princess whose goodness and beauty were known for miles round. The plain was vast and fertile, but here and there patches of wilderness lay like islands among the crops; and a winding stream wandered, now through their richness, now through tangled briars and unfrequented tracks.

By one of these it made a loop, encircling a spot where the turf was cleared of undergrowth and a great tree thrust its gnarled roots through the grass. The few who passed this place looked upon it with no little awe, for the tree was inhabited, and even on a calm day its boughs might be seen rocking to and fro, as though moved by some unruly breeze. Its leaves were large and glossy, its limbs spreading like the limbs of an oak, and in spring it bore white, waxy flowers, heavily scented and shaped like open tulips; in the heart of each was a cluster of stiff golden stamens.

The upper branches were haunted by an old man whose long robe gave him the appearance of a wizard. Though he had lurked in the tree for generations, time had not robbed him of his activity, for he would swing himself to earth every morning to drink of the stream, and, in summer, to wash the dust from the leaves and blossoms, which he tended as carefully as a gardener might his plants. The dwellers in the city knew nothing of his existence; but the dwellers in the fields near the tree had sometimes seen him descend from it to the earth, and remembered having heard in their childhood that it was called the “Tree of Pride.”

One autumn day all the city was making holiday, for the Princess had been betrothed to a King from a far country and was starting with a great following to meet him ten leagues from its walls. Her father accompanied her, and she rode on a white horse shod with silver; she was so beautiful and charming that there was not a man in the whole retinue who did not envy the unknown King. Her brown hair, looped up behind her head, fell almost to the stirrup, and she wore a coif woven of burning gold. Her cloak was embroidered with rose and purple and patterns of stars, and its gold fringes swung as she rode. Her eyes were like the still, moon-haunted pools of a moorland.

It chanced that the procession had been delayed in leaving the city, so that by sunset the place where it was to encamp was yet many miles off. The Princess was tired, and a man-at-arms was sent out to look for some spot where the tents might be pitched and water found for the horses. He soon came back to say that within a mile was a stretch of grass surrounding a large tree and watered by a stream. In a short time they reached it, and encamped for the night.

Next morning, when they had risen betimes to continue their way, the Princess caught sight of the tree, which was a dream of beauty; for autumn was at its full, and the fruit was heavy where the flowers had been. As she stood to admire it, a rustling was heard in the branches, and an old man descended, swinging himself from bough to bough and holding a piece of fruit, round and ripe; he leaned down and offered it to her.

When she had accepted the gift, the Princess mounted, and the whole company returned to the beaten track and went forward on their road. The sun grew hot, and as noonday came on she ate the fruit, thinking that she had never tasted anything so delicious.

They rode by brook and meadow, by hill and wood, and soon everyone began to wonder at the change which had come over the Princess. Those whom she had looked upon as friends all her life were now commanded to rein back, that they might not offend her dignity by their presence. She would scarce answer her father when he spoke, and, whereas in the early part of her journey she had taken pleasure in the beauty of the landscape, she now blamed the road as unfit for her horse’s feet to tread.

“Not content with dragging me out to meet this sorry fellow,” she said, “you must needs bring me by ways only fit for peasants.”

Her father and his people looked aghast. Never before had they heard her speak in such a manner.

[Illustration: “SHE WOULD SCARCE ANSWER HER FATHER WHEN HE SPOKE.”]

When the shadows were long they halted again, and soon they could distinguish a company of horsemen between them and the hills. The Princess withdrew to her tent, for she knew that the distant spearmen must be the unknown King’s following, and that in a short time she would be summoned to receive him. She called her maids, and when they had dressed her in her state robes, she took a knife and made a slit in the curtains that she might see the King’s arrival without being seen. As she stood watching the little band advancing, she was surprised to hear her father’s voice almost beside the tent. She ran towards the place, and, cutting another slit, looked through and saw him in conversation with a man-at-arms, who had just dismounted from the steaming horse he held.

He was dressed from head to heel in russet leather, and a steel helmet, with spreading steel wings, was on his head. He was tall and brown, and his white teeth gleamed as he smiled. “Sire,” he was saying, “I beg you to forgive this unceremonious coming. When I saw your tents on the plain and knew that the Princess was so near, I could contain myself no longer and galloped forward with all speed. I will not dare to enter her presence till my people have arrived, and I have cast off the dust of the road. But wait I could not. I hope your Majesty will forgive me.”

And so this rash, leather-clad soldier was the King—this careless, dusty fellow who was loosening his horse’s girths as any common groom might do! Did he think to thrust himself thus, without ceremony, into the following of a royal Princess?

Behind her curtains she turned away, biting her lips, and she was still frowning when her father entered.

“Daughter,” said he, “the King is here and I have spoken with him.”

“And what is he like?” inquired she, her voice cold with scorn.

“He is the most gallant-looking gentleman that ever I saw,” said the old man.

The Princess turned her back.

An hour later father and daughter waited to receive their guest in a long tent hung with fine stuffs and wreathed in garlands. The whole of their retinue stood around, and, at the far end, the Princess sat on a carved chair, her eyes on the ground and her face as pale as ivory, never looking at the opposite door, by which her suitor was to enter.

At last the hangings were drawn wide and he came in. He still wore his russet brown, but it was now of silver-studded velvet which clung to him like a glove, and as he went forward a murmur of admiration ran through the crowd; for he walked like some kingly animal, and his eyes sparkled under his dark brows. “Here is a King indeed,” whispered the bystanders.

The Princess scarcely glanced at him. She curtseyed low as he approached, but when he would have taken her hand, she drew back, her lip curling.

“Your Majesty does me an honour for which I have no desire,” she said; “and if I have brought you to the meeting-place only to refuse your hand, you will pardon it the more readily as you yourself like ceremony so little.”

So saying, she turned and left everyone standing speechless.