CHAPTER VIII

A Day of Naughtiness

IT was only a few days after this that Freda and Daffy were playing in the garden, when Dreamikins suddenly appeared before them. She had no hat on; her curls were flying in the wind, her cheeks were hot, and her blue eyes dancing with mischief and excitement. Generally she was a dainty little person, and certainly kept her frocks much cleaner than Freda or Daffy. But now her white frock was splashed and stained with mud, and her white socks were torn and dirty.

"What's the matter?" asked Daffy.

Dreamikins danced up and down before them.

"I'm tarred out with Cherubine. I slapped her and sent her back to heaven. I'm tarred of being good, and I'm having a real wicked day. I felt tied up too tight, and now I'm stretching myself, or I really think I shall burst!"

Freda's eyes gleamed.

"Do tell us what you've been doing."

Dreamikins proceeded to give an account of her day in rapid breathless tones.

"It was because I woked too early, and I couldn't stay still in bed, and Cherubine said I oughted to, and all of a sudden I felt I'd had enough of her, and I tolded her so; and of course she didn't like it, and I said she was no fun no longer, I was tarred of her; and then she wouldn't go, so I slapped her, and of course that sent her flying away like lightning!"

"But how could you slap her?" questioned Daffy.

"Why, of course, I slapped on my chest just where she snuggles down next my heart."

Then Dreamikins paused in her dancing, and her eyes grew big.

"It's a awfully wicked thing to slap a angel!"

"I should think it was," said Freda. "I don't believe you did it. Go on; what did you do next?"

"I runned downstairs, and out into the garden in my nightie. I turned on all the water-taps everywhere and let them run, and then I kicked off my shoes and paddled where there was pools. Then Carrie came out of doors and tried to catch me, and I threwed stones at her, but she didn't care; and then she catched me, and I kicked her, and she didn't care; and then he carried me upstairs, and Annette was there to scold me!"

"What else?"

"Oh, I just went on and on. I threwed the soap out of the window, and lots of things besides, and when I was dressed I went downstairs and shut Drab into the larder, and mixed up some jam and butter together when Mrs. Daw wasn't looking. And when I'd finished breakfus, I just ran all over the house, and did all the mischief I ever could. I untidied all the tidy places, and I emptied all the boxes and drawers out on the floors, and I upset the ink. And then Fibo sent from his room for me, and I wouldn't go, and then I crawled through the door into your park, and I've been climbing trees, and catching tadpoles in the ditches, and I chased the sheeps, and then I comed off here. And now, what shall we do? Something really wicked it must be. I'm never going to be good again!"

"Then you'll never go to see that old sick woman," said Daffy.

"No, never, never!"

Dreamikins shook her curls defiantly.

"I'm so joyful not to have Cherubine. She got so tarsome, and I feel quite light and empty without her. Have you got any chickens? I opened our gate and let them run all over the flowers before I came away. Let's go and do something!"

Freda and Daffy looked at each other. They hardly knew this Dreamikins. She seemed to have turned into a little imp.

"You forget we have Nurse," said Freda soberly.

"Let's put out our tongues at her," suggested Dreamikins.

But neither Freda nor Daffy would allow this, nor would they agree to go to the poultry yard and work havoc there. Then Dreamikins seized hold of Bertie, who was playing on the lawn by himself.

"I know what we'll do," she said; "we'll make Bertie into a Red Indian. Have you any paints?"

"Yes," said Freda delightedly, "in our paint-boxes. I'll go and get some."

Off she ran to the house; then Daffy and Dreamikins took Bertie off to a secluded corner of the flower-garden where there was an empty shed used by the gardener for his tools and flowerpots. Unfortunately, upon a shelf Dreamikins found some green paint. She seized upon it.

"Oh, we'll make him a green Indian. Let's undress him."

But Freda, coming back, wouldn't allow this.

"You can take off his jacket and knicks, but he would take cold if he hadn't something on."

She and Daffy eagerly watched Dreamikins as she dabbed Bertie with spots of green paint all over his body. He was quite willing to be painted. His hair, his cheeks, his fat chubby arms and legs, were liberally sprinkled with the paint. His little vest was striped with it. The children shrieked with laughter when they saw how funny he looked. And then Bertie grew excited, and danced up and down, and in the middle of it Nurse swept down upon them. She had heard their laughter and screams, and Freda and Daffy shrank into a corner of the shed, thoroughly ashamed of themselves. Not so Dreamikins. She waved her paint brush in front of Nurse, and besprinkled her white cotton dress with paint.

"He's a green Indian, and I'll make you one too," she cried, and then, as Nurse furiously laid hands upon her, Dreamikins fled out of her reach, and raced across the lawn, singing as she went:

"There was a Haughty Dragon, Her name was Mrs. Nurse! She was a horrid woman, She couldn't well be worse."

By this time Dreamikins was feeling rather tired, so she crept into her uncle's garden again by the little door, and half an hour after, Annette found her fast asleep in a wheelbarrow which had some freshly mown grass in it.

Annette carried her up to bed and let her sleep there till two o'clock, when she woke her up and gave her some dinner.

Dreamikins ate her dinner silently. Her cheeks were flushed with sleep, and Annette sat by the window sewing, and wisely said nothing to her.

After she had finished her meal, she washed and dressed her in a fresh white frock.

"Now we'll go out for a walk," said Annette..

"Oh no, we won't," said Dreamikins. "I'm not going to do anything good to-day. I'm being wicked."

Annette looked helplessly at her charge.

"Your good uncle be very grieved, and he have a bad head to-day, and he lying down now. Will you go for to wake him and give him more pain?"

"I aren't going near Fibo, not yet I aren't. I'll take a walk by myself, Annette, and if you follow me I'll throw stones at you."

Dreamikins put on her hat, but would not look at her gloves; she threw those into a basin of water, and laughed at Annette's shocked face when she did so.

Then she sallied forth; but Annette secretly followed her. She said to Mrs. Daw as she was leaving the house:

"Miss Emmeline have not been like this for long long time. It is sad how evil she can behave, but her good uncle be the one to cure her, only she will not go to him."

Dreamikins marched on without looking behind her, till she came to the village. Then she turned her head, and saw Annette in the distance. She dashed round the corner of the street, and, seeing a cart and horse standing outside a house, in an instant sprang up into it, and hid herself under the seat, pulling an old rug entirely over her. No one saw her do it, and presently the carter came out and drove off. Annette was wildly hunting about for her little charge, and, after a fruitless search, went home, hoping that she would have arrived there before her.

Dreamikins lay still for a long time.

"I'm going a journey," she asserted to herself, "and I'll get away from everybody; and a good thing too!"

But she soon began to fidget, and at last, in sheer mischief, she put out her hand and sharply pinched the carter in the leg. He did not feel it at first; then he put down his great hand and came in contact with hers. In another minute he had dragged away the rug, and was staring at his passenger with astonished eyes.

"Well, I'm blest!" was all he could say.

And Dreamikins crept out, and laughed and clapped her hands.

"You didn't know I was there, did you, now? I'm having a nice drive."

"But where do 'ee come from, little Missy?"

The good man had pulled up his horse, and was staring at her in a puzzled fashion; but Dreamikins seized hold of his whip and whipped the horse so smartly that he trotted on.

[Illustration: "YOU DIDN'T KNOW I WAS THERE; DID YOU?"]

"Let me have the reins," she said; "now, do let me. I want to drive hunderds of miles away, and lose myself the other side of the world."

"What be your name, and where do you come from?" asked the carter.

"I've runned away, and I shan't tell you nothing about me."

He rubbed his head, looked back along the road, which seemed empty for a long way behind them, then seized his reins, which were already in Dreamikins' hands, and drove rapidly on.

"I'd best take her to the Missus. Her 'll know what to do with her."

Then Dreamikins began to chatter in her gay, inconsequent fashion, and the man listened to her in great bewilderment, and was very relieved when at last they arrived at a big farmhouse. He drove into the yard, and in a moment or two there was quite a little crowd round them—his wife, two farm-hands, the farmer and his wife, and two maid-servants. Dreamikins was taken possession of by Mrs. Dufty, the farmer's wife.

"Come along, my pretty! Wherever did you come from? Hid in the cart, did you? Oh, fie! And what will your daddy and mummy say?"

"They don't know nothing about me," said Dreamikins. "I'm just having a holiday to-day, with nobody to say 'No' to me."

"But where do you live, my lovie?"

Dreamikins turned up her blue eyes to Mrs. Dufty reflectively.

"Well, I lives at Brighton, but I stays with Fibo, and I wouldn't ask where he lives if I were you, because I aren't going to tell you."

Then she added with guile:

"I do feel very thirsty; do you think you'd like to give me some milk?"

"Bless your little heart, come along in, and after you've had some tea you'll tell us pretty where you've come from!"

Dreamikins shook her curls from side to side, but followed the farmer's wife into a comfortable kitchen. She was soon sitting up at the table with them, for their tea was already waiting. And Dreamikins thoroughly enjoyed a slice of bread and cream with jam, and a cup of strong tea with three lumps of sugar in it.

"Fibo doesn't like me to drink tea," she said, with a satisfied sigh, as she emptied her first cup and asked for another; "but as I'm being wicked to-day it doesn't matter."

"Oh, fie!" said good-natured Mrs. Dufty, who had no children herself, though she loved them. "Little ladies like you aren't wicked, I'm sure."

"But I are," said Dreamikins, whose grammar got very bad when she was excited. "I've runned away, and if you'll keep me a few days I'll be very much obliged. Why—"

Here she stopped, gazed gravely at the farmer and his wife, then, planting her elbows on the table, rested her chin in her hands and smiled sweetly upon them.

"Do you know what you'll be doing if you take me and give me a bed to-night? You'll be doing what Jesus said we must do if we love Him; you'll be feeding a stranger—that's me—instead of Him, but He counts it just the same, and He'll make you into His sheep and put you on His Right Hand in heaven. So you see I'd better stop, hadn't I?"

"Well, of all the darlings, you are the prize one!" said Mrs. Dufty, beaming upon her. "And dearly should I love to keep you, but think of your people, what a state o' mind they'll be in."

Dreamikins' eyes twinkled.

"Annette will be running all over the place, and shaking her hands; she always shakes her hands when she's fussing; and Fibo—well, I won't think about him, because I'm going to go on being wicked!"

She shut her lips firmly together, and gave a nod at Mrs. Dufty. There was a little defiance in the nod. And then the door opened and the carter's wife appeared.

"Please, mum, Annie says the young lady comes from the Dower House. Captain Arnold be her uncle. Annie's home is in the village, she says."

Dreamikins jumped down from her chair and stamped her foot on the floor.

"I don't care what Annie says, I aren't going back to-day."

"The poleece will put us in prison if we keeps you," said the farmer gravely, winking at his wife as he spoke.

"That will be lovely!" said Dreamikins, clapping her hands. "Then I'll come and see you. I want to see people in prison."

"Did you ever see such sperrit, John! Bless her little heart, I'd dearly like to keep her, but you'd best get the horse and trap round and drive her back at once. It's six miles; she could never walk it."

It was no good protesting; the farmer bestirred himself, but when the trap was at the door, and he came in to carry Dreamikins out, she threw her arms round Mrs. Dufty's neck, and clung to her convulsively with a bitter cry.

"I don't want to go home. I'll be good instead of wicked if you keep me just one night. I'm sure God wants you to. He's written it in the Bible."

"Look here, lovie, you shall come another day and see us, and p'raps stay the night if your uncle will let you. You go with John like a little lady now."

It was a tearful Dreamikins that sat perched on the farmer's knee in the trap. She really dreaded seeing her uncle, for she knew how naughty she had been. When home was reached, she was lifted down at the front door; but panic seized her, and the spirit of wickedness too. It was her last effort at defiance.

"I aren't going indoors! I'll run away again!"

She pushed open the gate that led out upon the lawn behind the house. Nobody was in the garden, and she raced down the path. She heard Annette's flying feet behind her, and then she tumbled—a garden roller was on the path. She fell over, clutched the handle of it, and brought the handle down with an awful crack on her leg. She screamed in agony, and poor little Dreamikins' wicked day was over; her leg lay twisted under her; and when she was picked up and carried into the house it was found that it was broken.