CHAPTER III

Dreamikins Arrives

FIBO let his newspaper drop on the grass with a little sigh. It was hard to read of the big War raging in Flanders, and to know the need of every man in England to be taking his part in it, and yet to feel himself out of it all. "Might as well be dead," he muttered, and then he shook his head at his discontented self.

It was a very hot afternoon, and he had a headache. Grinder lay on his side panting, with his tongue well out; he was half-asleep. Suddenly every hair bristled on his back, and he darted off to the house.

"Hears the advent of his enemy, the butcher boy," Fibo said to himself languidly.

Was it the pattering of leaves from the tree above that he heard behind him? Suddenly two soft little velvet arms were round his neck. A warm rose-bud of a mouth was kissing his ear.

"Here I are, Fibo!"

Such a light and gladness came into Fibo's face. In another moment he had dragged his small niece round where he could see her.

Dreamikins was always a pretty sight. To-day her golden curls, her fair dainty face with its big blue eyes and long-curled black lashes, her graceful little figure in its dainty white muslin hat and frock, and her white socks and shoes, seemed in his eyes to shine with extra glory.

"You're just in time," Fibo said gravely, "to save your Uncle Fibo from turning into a growling grizzly bear."

"I'm never just too late, are I?" said Dreamikins, dancing up and down before him in ecstasy.

Dreamikins' grammar was shocking; her uncle never tried to improve it.

"Any news?" asked Fibo carelessly.

That was the question Dreamikins always liked to be asked when she had been away from him.

Her eyes looked big and solemn. She clasped her two tiny hands, pressing her finger-tips together, as she did when in terrible earnest about anything.

"The news this time is good, Fibo. You'll be surprised to hear that Blacky left me, 'bout two weeks ago. I felt quite alone and mis'able, and then God gave me a darling little angel Cherubine. She plays with me all day long, and whispers all night, unless I'm asleep, you know. And she helps me to be good, you know. I told her how Blacky helped me to be wicked. I reely got quite tarred of fighting, fighting him all day long; and Cherubine doesn't put anything wicked into my head at all."

"Then my naughty scamp is no more, and I have an angel niece," said Fibo, looking at her reflectively. "I should think Annette doesn't know herself."

"Well, I aren't exackly an angel yet—not like Cherubine. Would you like to speak to her, Fibo? She's rather shy, and she gene'lly gets behind me."

Fibo had made acquaintance with a good many personalities who accompanied Dreamikins upon her visits to him. The first one was Old Man Sol. When Dreamikins was three she talked about him. He seemed rather a harmless old soul, but a great comfort to Dreamikins. She sometimes called her nurse after she had been put into her cot at night, because Old Man Sol wanted to be kissed, or tucked up tighter. She always talked hard to him, and he always helped her in her games. By and by he faded away, and a shadowy, indescribable Pollybill took his place. Dreamikins was absolutely happy with this creation of hers.

"Is it a she or a he?" Fibo asked one day.

"It isn't neither," said Dreamikins triumphantly.

"Oh, an 'it,' is it?"

But Dreamikins shook her head. "Pollybill is only Pollybill, and nuffin else at all. I call Pollybill 'you.'"

"What does 'you' look like?"

"Pollybill has a kitty's eyes, big and round, no cloves, only soft hair, and can be very little and very big, just what I want. And Pollybill always says 'Yes' to me, never 'No.'"

Dreamikins could describe this individual no better, and Fibo was rather glad when Pollybill departed. Then came two or three fairies and sprites, but none of them ever stayed with her long. Blacky was a Pixie. He had a long innings, and Dreamikins found him a lovely scapegoat for all her mischievous propensities.

"I 'sure you it was Blacky made me do it. He pushed me into it, and I foughted him till I was tarred out."

She had brought Blacky with her to Fibo on her last visit, and he was glad to think that he had gone for good.

"I'm very glad to welcome you to my house, Cherubine," said Fibo quite gravely, "and I hope you're going to make a long stay with us."

Dreamikins put her head on one side as if listening to somebody.

"She says she likes me so much, Fibo, that she's going to stay with me till she takes me to heaven."

"I hope that you and she will grow old together, then," said Fibo.

Dreamikins looked quite shocked.

"Oh, Fibo dear, angels never grow! I'll tell you a little more about her. Mummy told me I had a guardian angel, so she said I didn't want any of my 'make ups.' Mummy doesn't unnerstand like you; she always calls them 'make ups.' So I thought about it a lot, and God told me He wanted me to be good. It makes Him so uncomfor'ble when I'm naughty. So I asked Him didn't He think He could send me a darling little angel to take care of me, instead of the grave grown-up one that always hangs over children in beds. I asked Him to try to do it, because I must have somebody to play with. And He said He'd lend me Cherubine. And she came down, and tucked her wings under my pillow, and kissed me, and we sleeps together, and when I wake she wakes. And now, please, may I show her Whiskers? And oh, Fibo dear, are you very glad to see us?"

"Yes, I truly am; and I have a surprise for you. I can keep secrets as well as you."

Dreamikins danced up and down on her toes.

"Tell us. We're simply dying to hear!"

"I have two real little girls for you to play with."

"Oh, Fibo!"

Dreamikins stopped dancing. She could hardly believe such good news.

"Where? Whose are they?"

"They're not in my pocket," said Fibo, laughing; "but one fine afternoon your little door opened, and in they crawled from the park."

"Real little girls?"

"Real. They're bigger than you; and they live in the old Hall."

"In the big shut up house? And what's their names?"

"I call them E.E. and B.B.—Elusive Elf and Busy Brain."

Dreamikins nodded approvingly. Then she promptly seated herself on her uncle's knees.

"Now," she said, with raised finger, "begin at the very first beginning, and tell me all about them."

Fibo meekly obeyed her. They were talking hard when Annette appeared to ask if Dreamikins would come in to tea.

"I'm going to have it with Fibo."

"But there's an egg for you," said Annette—"a little brown egg produced only this morning by Madame Daw from the fat white hen. She has eaten nothing—not a little morsel, Captain—since her early breakfast. Her tongue only loves to talk, never to eat."

Dreamikins knitted her brows, then she grandly waved Annette away.

"The egg can come here," she said; "I'm not going to the egg."

Fibo looked at Annette, then at Dreamikins.

"Cherubine," he said slowly, "will you take Dreamikins in to her tea? I'm not having mine till an hour later, and her body wants some food if her brain does not."

Dreamikins opened her lips, then shut them tightly. She slipped off her uncle's knee.

"Just this once," she said, "I'll go; but Cherubine lives without eating, and she needn't try to make me."

"But you always eat when you come here," said Fibo cheerfully. "And to-morrow we'll have tea in the garden together, and perhaps we'll have B.B. and E.E."

"You're a very C.O.," said Dreamikins, laughing, and then she danced away to the house. Fibo and she had many names they called each other, and C.O. meant Cunning Ogre.

So the next day Freda and Daffy received an invitation to tea. It came in a big envelope, and inside was a sketch of Dreamikins dancing up and down.

"The pleasure of Miss Freda's and Miss Daffy's company is requested at four o'clock upon the Dower House lawn.

"R.S.V.P.

"N.B.C."

"What does 'N.B.C.' mean?" questioned Nurse, looking at the note suspiciously through her spectacles.

Freda responded promptly:

"No best clothes! Fibo hates best clothes, and so do we. He's very fond of 'N.B.C.'"

"Dreamikins has come," said Daffy, with shining eyes. "The postman told me she came yesterday. Nurse, can we ask Dreamikins to tea one day? We must ask her back."

"'Tis to be hoped she's not so queer as her name," said Nurse grimly. "If she be proper behaved I won't go against it."

Freda and Daffy were punctual to the moment. They were obliged to go round the front way, for Nurse accompanied them to the door; but Dreamikins had been watching for them and came running to meet them. She did not seem afraid of Nurse's grimness, but held out her small hand.

"How do you do? Will you come to tea too? Are you the governess?"

"I'm the young ladies' nurse," said Nurse, in her grand tone. But she was rather pleased at being taken for a governess.

"No, I'll not come in, thank you; and, Miss Freda and Miss Daffy, you're to be good children, and I shall expect you back at seven. Jane will come for you."

She turned away and left them.

Dreamikins stood confronting them for a moment in silence. Then she smiled seraphically:

"Cherubine and me like you awfully much. Do you think you shall like us?"

"Fibo said we would," said Daffy cautiously; but Freda caught hold of Dreamikins' hand.

"If you can play pretence games we'll just love you," she said with enthusiasm.

Dreamikins led them out into the garden, and for the next hour they played together. Fibo said he wanted to read, and he would talk to them later. When tea came out under the shady trees, the three little girls seemed quite tired and exhausted enough to enjoy the rest.

"We've been through the door into the Wilderness," said Dreamikins, "we've hunted boars and tigers, and rescued just a few Ogre's prisoners. And I can run the fastest, but Freda is the strongest, and Daffy can jump the highest."

They all chattered together as if they had been friends all their lives.

Once Dreamikins got grave.

"We didn't have any soldier fighting, Fibo. Mummy made me promise not to be playing that. And Cherubine cries when people hurt each other. She says they never hurt each other in heaven. They don't even scratch the skin on their knees when they tumble down."

"I suppose they don't have stones," said Daffy thoughtfully.

"The stones are quite soft and velvety," said Dreamikins quickly; "and sometimes you can eat them; they're sweets, you know."

"That's fairyland," objected Freda. "The Bible doesn't say anything about sweets."

"No; the streets are paved with gold," said Daffy.

"Nice to slide along on," said Dreamikins contentedly.

Her uncle laughed.

"Oh, you Babes!" he exclaimed.

Dreamikins admonished him with her small finger.

"Don't be a P.D., Fibo. We're not babes—not in the least!"

"What's a P.D.?" asked Daffy curiously.

"Proud Dog!" said Dreamikins. "He's always a P.D. when he calls me a 'Babe.'"

Then she said with a sudden change of tone:

"And now let's talk about the War, Fibo. Cherubine is just having a nice little nap, so we needn't mind her feelings."

"Anything but that, Dreamikins," said her uncle gravely. "I thank God daily you little ones are kept in peace and safety."

"We don't talk about it much," said Freda. "Nurse says horrors are not for nurseries. But Daffy and me want to know what will happen if everybody kills everybody. Who'll be the soldiers then?"

"God won't let all the peoples be killed," said Dreamikins. "It will crowd up heaven so all at once, and make it so stuffy!"

Freda and Daffy were not yet accustomed to Dreamikins' speeches. They stared at her in wonder. Then Daffy ventured to put her right.

"Do you think heaven is a little place? It stretches and stretches like elastic, and the more people go in the bigger it gets."

Dreamikins' blue eyes looked past Daffy as if she had not heard her.

"And of course if all the men did get killed, the women would go and finish the War, wouldn't they, Fibo? Mummy would—she wants to be there now, and I'd get a lovely gun and go with her."

"Oh, you modern child! Leave the War alone," said her uncle. "Let us talk of Whiskers, or Pixies, or anything but the Bad Bit of Life which is with us."

"Tell us one of your stories—not a arrygory, because I have to find the meaning, and it spoils it."

So the little girls settled down, and Fibo told them a wonderful, nonsensical story about a fat giant with a cough, who was afraid of his wife and tried to hide his wicked deeds from her, only his cough always betrayed him. And they listened breathlessly, and when he had finished, Freda gave a long sigh.

"You are a beautiful story-teller. I could listen all night."

"Yes," said Dreamikins proudly; "Fibo has got a big bump in his head, he says, which is bigger than other people's, and a little fairy lives inside it who whispers these stories to him. Sometimes she goes to sleep, and he can't wake her, and then he says he can't make up stories by himself, which is a pity."

"Dreamikins is exhausting in her demands," said Fibo. "The more she hears the more she wants to hear. My poor tongue aches with its constant wagging."

When seven o'clock came, and Jane appeared, Freda gave a groan.

"I could stay here for ever; couldn't you, Daffy?"

Daffy nodded.

"Yes, even if we had nothing to eat," she said.

And Fibo looked at her with his funny little smile.

"That's a great compliment to Dreamikins and me," he said.

Dreamikins was already arranging in a rapid whisper with Freda a time of meeting in the park the next day.

"I shall come through the little door," she said, "and we'll all go wild; shall we?"

Then she added impressively:

"I shall tell Cherubine she mustn't stop us before it's really time."

"What do you mean?" asked Freda.

"Well, before we're really wicked. You see, she has to keep me good. God sent her to do it."

"Oh!"

Freda looked doubtful. Then her brow cleared.

"She hasn't anything to do with Daffy and me. She can't stop us."

Dreamikins looked at her thoughtfully, but said no more. They kissed each other, and the sisters walked home feeling they had a new friend.