CHAPTER II

FIRST ADVENTURES

THE next day came, and Aunt Alice gave her small nieces permission to go off for the morning anywhere they liked.

"I don't think you can get into any mischief," she said. "Charity has a wise little head of her own, and if you like to go to the wood, and bring back some sticks for the fire, I shall be very glad."

"Aunt Alice seems to guess what we should like to do best," said Hope, skipping over the field as joyfully as the lambs had skipped the evening before.

They crossed the orchard, and found a footpath going through some fields. I do not think any little girls in the whole world could have been so happy as these three were on this bright sunny morning. And then just as they reached the wood, something happened to dim their joy. They heard the pitiful shrieks and cries of an animal in pain.

"Oh, what is it?" asked Faith with big eyes. "Is it a wild beast, do you think? It may be a wolf or a fox!"

"We must go and see," said Charity bravely.

They entered the wood by a narrow footpath, and trod one behind the other. Charity hurried along in front, and very soon found a beautiful brown dog writhing on the ground, with one of its legs fast caught in a gin.

They stood and looked at it with pitying eyes; but not one of them knew how to release it. Faith began to sob as if her heart would break. She never could bear to see the smallest creature in pain, and had often cried over a dead mouse in London.

"Let's call somebody," she cried, "he'll be dead, he's bleeding. Oh call somebody quick!"

"But there's nobody to come in the country, Mrs. Cox says so!" said Charity.

Hope and Faith raised their voices.

"Help! Help! Murder!" they cried, for Mrs. Cox had often told them how cries like that brought the policeman to help.

And then Charity joined them, and suddenly they heard a crackling of branches, and an old man appeared. He had a grey beard and a big shady felt hat over his eyes. A great knotted stick was in his hand, and he had leather gaiters up to his knees.

"Hullo! Hullo! What's doin' here?" he said, in a gruff voice.

Faith seized hold of his hands, and her tears dropped fast.

"It's a poor darling dog got caught in an iron thing. Come and get him out quick! Oh, it's cruel, cruel!"

The old man quickened his pace.

"'Tisn't my Sandy! Eh, sure enough it be, an' I be huntin' for him high and low. Still, my boy! So!"

He put his foot on the gin, and with a wriggle and a cry, the dog was free. He stopped whining and stood before his master trembling from head to foot. The old man knelt down and with his handkerchief began to bind up the poor torn leg. Charity and Hope watched the proceeding with the greatest interest, Faith shut her eyes tight. She was as white as a sheet, and, like Sandy, trembled from head to foot.

But Charity began to talk, she asked the old man his name.

"'Tis just Timothy Bendall, shepherd to Farmer Cratton, an' I be livin' at that small cottage three fields off. An' who be ye little ladies? Strangers in these parts, I reckon."

Charity told him all about themselves, how they had just come from London and had come over to the wood, in the hopes of finding some adventures.

He smiled at her, only half understanding what she said. And then when poor Sandy's leg was bound up, he took him up in his arms, and bade the children "Good morning."

Charity and Hope began to run on through the wood, but Faith stood still, and Timothy looked at her. He was fond of children, and he saw how white and shaken she was.

"You poor little maid, what be the matter then?"

"Oh, will he get well? Is he going to die? Does his leg still hurt him?"

"Bless yer little heart, he will be right as rain in a day or two. Would ye like to come on to my cottage and sit there for a bit?"

"Oh, yes."

Faith stretched out her little hand and took hold of his.

"I don't want to go through the wood, we might get our feet in a horrid trap. Who puts them there? Isn't it very wicked?"

"No, no, 'tis just the boys who will trap rabbits, but they oughter open them by day, an' I'll have a word to say to 'em on that score. Come along, and your sisters will find us when they get through the copse."

"What's a copse?"

"What you call a wood."

"But the boys don't catch dear little rabbits?" Faith's face was so distressed and horror-stricken that the old man tried to soothe her.

Charity, seeing her walk off with the old man, came running back, but Timothy told her he was taking Faith to his cottage to rest.

She looked up into his face very earnestly:

"You aren't a wicked robber or ogre in disguise?" she asked. "For we've read lots of stories about children being carried off in woods."

He shook his head.

"Old Timothy wouldn't harm a hair of your heads," he exclaimed; "and 'tis grateful I be, for you callin' help for my poor Sandy!"

"It's all right," said Charity gravely. "I see you've a good face, and if Faith likes to go with you she can; but we want to pick up firewood for Aunt Alice, and find some more adventures!"

She and Hope spent an exquisite hour in the wood. It was as the old man had said, only a small copse; beyond, were big stretches of coverts, but to the two little girls this wood held all their desires. They caught sight of a couple of rabbits scudding away in the undergrowth to their holes; they picked a bunch of the delicate white wood anemones and primroses; they rooted up some moss, and beautiful bits of young ivy; they collected some fir cones, and then began to gather wood. The fresh smell of the moss and earth around them, and the pure spring air filled their little souls with delight. And then they hushed their breaths to listen to the singing of the birds, and the cooing of a wood pigeon in the distance.

"Oh, Faith is missing a lot!" Hope said. "She was stupid to go off with that old man, instead of coming on with us."

"She looked white and sick," said Charity; "I think that trap frightened her, and the sight of Sandy's bleeding leg!"

They were busy picking up some wood, and tying it into small bundles with string, which their aunt had given them, when they heard a man's heavy step amongst the bushes, then a whistle, and Hope caught hold of Charity with frightened eyes:

"Let us hide, it may be a robber!"

"It's too early in the morning," said Charity sceptically, but she pulled her sister round to the back of a big tree, and both peeped round the corner with anxious, expectant eyes.

A tall, broad-shouldered man came in sight, followed by a big black retriever. He was a gentleman, and Charity took courage, and stepped out of her hiding place.

"Hullo! Whose little girls are you?"

"We've just come here, and we're picking wood for Aunt Alice."

"Then you must be related to Mrs. Blair."

"She's our Granny."

He smiled upon them, and emboldened by his smile, Hope came out and confronted him.

"Is this your wood?"

"Yes. Do you know who I am?"

"The boy who always came for sweets to Granny's room," Charity said.

Sir George laughed delightedly.

"The very same; and I'm on my way to pay my respects to her. Do you think she has any sweets to give me now?"

"No, Granny is too poor, and since the war she says it's wicked to buy sweets; for they take the sugar."

He laughed again.

"You must come up and see my wife. She loves small girls. We've only two boys; and school takes them from us most of the year."

Charity's eyes sparkled.

"We came out to meet adventures," she said confidentially; "and you're the second one we've met. Faith has gone off with the first one."

Sir George was then told about the dog, and the old man.

"Mrs. Cox said we would see nobody at all in the country," said Hope; "but we knew she was wrong, for all the books say you meet people in a wood, and we have."

"So you're fond of books."

"Oh," cried Charity, "we love them! I wish we could buy hundreds of books, and have them in book cases up to the top of the ceiling. When I grow up, I shall keep a book shop, and I shall read them all, every one of them."

"Capital! I'm a book lover myself, and you shall come up one day soon, and spend an afternoon with me and my books."

Charity beamed.

"Thank you very much," she said, trying to speak quietly.

"And what does this little maid like?"

He put his hand on Hope's shoulder as he spoke; and she gave her golden hair a shake, as she looked up into his kind eyes.

"Oh," she said, with determined lips, "I shall be a doctor for animals, 'specially horses. I shall keep one to ride myself, and I shall go riding over the country and make all the sick animals well. I bandaged Dinah's paw the other day when she got her claw hurt, and Aunt Alice said I did it better than she did. And I would have loved to bind up Sandy's leg, but I wasn't asked."

"You're going to be a couple of useful women one day," said Sir George; "and they say in the next generation you're going to rule us all. Whilst your sister is reading my books, you can be visiting my stables. They're rather empty these days, but horses are easier to keep than oil, and I believe we have a rough pony who isn't required now to mow the lawn, and who might be ridden upon by a small girl."

Hope's eyes sparkled.

"Why, you've come along just like a fairy," she said, "only you're a man and not a woman."

"And can't a poor man be a fairy?"

"Yes," said Charity hastily, "of course you can, but I think men are generally magicians."

Sir George gave a nod.

"That's what I am, of course," he said. "Good-bye, I shall see you again soon."

He strode along the footpath, and the little girls watched him out of sight.

Charity drew a deep breath of delight.

"Think what Faith has missed. Oh, Hope, you think he really meant what he said?"

"I'm sure he did. His eyes looked so straight and firm, they didn't wobble at all!"

Then they went on picking up their sticks. And when they had got as much as they could carry, Charity said:

"Shall we go to the cottage to find Faith?"

"It's quite near," said Hope, "but we can't carry all this wood up there. Let her find her way home herself."

They retraced their steps, and when they had got outside the wood, they saw Faith running across the field to them.

She looked quite rosy and happy again. They were so full of their meeting with Sir George and had so much to tell her, that they did not ask her what she had been doing, but at last Faith said:

"Well, you've had a lovely time, but I wouldn't have missed my time for all the world."

"What have you been doing?"

"He took me to his cottage; it's smaller than ours, and he lives there all alone, only once a week his niece comes from the village to cook and clean for him. He has the darlingest kitchen with lovely china plates, and mugs and shells, and a stuffed owl, and pictures of hunting. He was a keeper when he was younger, to Sir George, not like a park-keeper; he used to shoot and take care of dear little pheasants. But now he looks after sheep and cattle. And he gave me a drink of milk, and then he sat and talked to me, and he told me of things I've never heard before!"

"And how is Sandy?" asked Hope.

"He is lying in a basket. Do you think Aunt Alice would let me go and see old Timothy again?"

Faith's eyes were shining. Her sisters laughed at her.

"We're going to Sir George's big house, it will be much more adventure than yours."

But Faith shook her head.

"I've had such a wonderful talk," she said.

Hope looked at her curiously, but said nothing. She and Faith were better friends when Charity was not present. Faith had many quaint fancies which Charity laughed at, but Hope never laughed at Faith when she was alone with her.

When they reached the Cottage, they found that Sir George had come and gone. Aunt Alice and Granny were still very busy unpacking and arranging the house according to their liking. But dinner was ready. Only boiled potatoes, and a piece of cold boiled bacon brought from town, but there was a rice pudding, and the children made a hearty meal, for the country air had made them hungry.

After it was over, Charity went upstairs with Granny to help her sort out some of their clothes and put them into the drawers and cupboards. Aunt Alice washed up the dinner things, and Hope and Faith helped her wipe them dry. Then she said they might go out into the orchard and play there till tea-time.

They went off delighted, and soon found a low apple tree which they climbed, and made themselves a comfortable seat amongst its branches. Then Hope said:

"Tell me more about you and Timothy this morning."

Fan looked very sweet and serious.

"You won't tell Charity, for she may laugh."

"No, I won't tell her. I knew you were keeping something back, from your face."

"Well, I said he lives there alone, but it's not quite true, for he doesn't. Somebody else lives with him. Do you know, Hope, he's been telling me of quite a new God?"

Faith dropped her voice to an awed whisper.

"Oh, Faith, how wicked! 'There is no God but One,'" quoted Hope glibly.

"It isn't, it's all in the Bible. I know God lives in heaven, and Jesus went back to heaven, but this is the God Who has His Home on earth now, and He's called 'The Comforter,' old Timothy said:

"'The Comforter lives with me. He ought to live with you, little lady, for He lives to dry all tears.'

"I was crying, I couldn't help it, at poor Sandy's leg! Did you know there was a God called the Comforter, Hope?"

Hope hesitated: "I believe you mean the Holy Spirit."

"But I thought the Holy Spirit was just a Thing like a clean heart," said Faith; "this Comforter is a real person, just like God and Jesus, and Jesus sent Him to take His place when He went away, because He said the world would be so sad, and Timothy says the sad people miss a lot when they don't know the Comforter, for it's the thing He likes best to do to dry their tears and make them happy. So I promised him when I cried next time, I would ask the Comforter to dry them up. And Timothy says He will come and live with any one of us, and make us good if we ask Him."

"Yes, that's the Holy Spirit," said Hope with assurance; "you ask Granny about it. You are so funny, Faith. I knew you hadn't got hold of a new God."

"His Name is 'The Comforter,'" said Faith decidedly; "Timothy told me so, and he is going to teach me about Him when I go to see him."

Then she lapsed into silence, looking dreamily up into the sky.

Suddenly she said:

"I told Timothy He must be specially for children, for grown-up people hardly ever cry; but Timothy says they're often very sad in their hearts, and nobody knows it but the Comforter."

"Well, we're not going to be sad," said Hope, beginning to swing herself to and fro on the apple branch; "I think it's going to be like fairyland here."

"But we shall have to do lessons," said Faith.

Lessons were a greater trial to Faith than to either of her sisters; and many a tear was shed over the spelling-book and the slate of sums.

"We shan't do lessons for a long time Aunt Alice said to Granny this morning. 'We'll let the children run wild for a bit. It won't hurt them, and then we shall see later about a school for them.' Running wild is so lovely. It means swinging on trees like this, and going into the woods and meeting adventures as we did this morning! Charity and I did best, for we're going to see ponies and books in a big house very soon."

"No," said Faith, shaking her dark curls; "mine is best, for I mean to get to know the Comforter if He will let me, and Timothy is going to show me how to do it."