Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City 19

Cleg Kelly, Arab of the City 19

And so soon as she missed him Vara stood up, with Gavin in her arms,

and cried, "Come back, Boy Hugh!" But Boy Hugh continued his wild

flight, driven by the unreasoning terror of the vast and uncomprehended

which had seized him suddenly and without warning.

 

At last Boy Hugh paused, not so much because he wished it as because

he had fallen into a moss-hole up to the neck, and so could run no

further. He sustained himself by grasping a bush of blaeberry plants,

and he dug his toes into the soft black peat.

 

Then Boy Hugh, who had not gone to Hunker Court for nothing, bethought

him that, since there was nothing else that he could do, it was time to

say his prayers. "O Lord!" he prayed—"O Lord, forgive us our sins, and

remember not our trans-somethings against us! Look down from heaven

and help"—(so far his supplications had run in the accustomed groove

in which Samson Langpenny conducted the "opening exercises" of Hunker

Court, but at this point Boy Hugh diverged into originality, as Samson

did sometimes when he stuck in the middle of the Lord's prayer)—"Look

down from heaven and help—a—wee laddie in a moss-hole. Keep him frae

teegers and lions, and bogles and black horses that come oot o' lochs

and eat ye up, and frae the green monkeys that hing on to trees and

claw ye as ye gang by. And gie me something to eat, and Vara and Gavin

after me. For I'm near dead o' hunger, and I want nae mair yesterday's

bread, and help me to find my whup-lash. And make me grow up into a man

fast, for I want to do as I like—and then, my certes, but I'll warm the

Drabble for stealin' my pistol. And bless Vara and Gavin, my faither

and Cleg Kelly, and a' inquirin' freends. Amen."

 

And if anybody knows a more comprehensive prayer, let him instantly

declare it, or, as the charge runs, be for ever silent.

 

 

 

 

ADVENTURE XXXVII.

 

BOY HUGH FINDS OUT THE NATURE OF A KISS.

 

 

Vara always looks back upon that night of fear and loneliness as the

worst in all their wanderings. She wrapped Gavin tightly in the shawl,

till only a little space was left for him to breathe. Then she ran from

knowe-top to knowe-top to look for Boy Hugh, and to call him to come

back to her. She dared not go far from the boulder lest she should miss

her way, and so not be able to find her way to the baby.

 

While Vara was wandering distracted over the moor, calling pitifully to

him, Boy Hugh was comfortably asleep beneath a heather bush. And the

June nights are brief and merciful in Scotland. It was not long before

a broad bar of light lay across the eastern hills. The pale sea-green

lingering in the west where the sun had gone down had not altogether

faded into the ashy grey of uncoloured night ere the eastern sky began

to flame.

 

The clouds of sunrise are like ocean-rollers on a wide beach—long,

barred, and parallel—for the sun rises through them with majestic

circumspection. But the clouds of sunset are apt to converge to a

point, like the wake which the sun draws after him in his tumultuous

downward plunge.

 

But the sun rose quite sharply this morning, as though he must be

businesslike and alert, in spite of the fact that he had a whole long

day before him. As he did so the shadows of every bush of bog-myrtle

and each tuft of heather started westwards with a rush. And the cool

blue image of a lonely boulder, like a Breton menhir, lay far half a

mile across the moor. On the sunny side of this landmark the red rays

fell on a bare and curly head. There was dew upon the draggled hair,

just as there was upon the yellow bent grass upon which it pillowed

itself.

 

Boy Hugh lay curled up, like a collie drowsing in the sun. He continued

to sleep quietly and naturally the undisturbed sleep of childhood. Nor

did he waken till the dew had dried from the bent and from off the

tangles of his hair.

 

At last he awoke, when the sun was already high. He uncoiled him like

a lithe young animal, and started to find himself under the open

heaven instead of under a roof. With a shake and a toss of his head he

made his toilet. Then suddenly he remembered about Vara, and hoped

vaguely that he would soon find her. But, alas! the day was bright.

The sunshine began to run in his veins, and all the moorland world

was before him. He did not think much more about her at all. For the

moment he was as merry as the larks singing above him. He hallooed

to the plovers, and occasionally he threw stones at them, just as

the mood took him. By-and-bye Boy Hugh came to a wide burn, and at

once proceeded to cross it, as many a time he had crossed a plank in

Callendar's yard, upon all-fours like a monkey.

 

The burn was fringed, like many of the watercourses of the southern

uplands, with a growth of sparse and ill-favoured birches. Hugh

Boy found one of these which leaned far over the water, having had

its roots undermined by the winter spates. He crawled out upon its

swaying top without hesitation till it became too slender to bear

him. He counted upon the slender trunk bending like a fishing-rod and

depositing him near enough to the opposite bank to drop safely to the

ground. But just when Hugh Boy was ready to leap, the treacherous birch

gave way entirely, and fell souse into the water, with the small human

squirrel still clinging to it. The birch lay across the pool, and Boy

Hugh held fast. He was up to the neck in water. He wondered how he

would get out. First he managed to kick his legs free of the twigs

which clutched him and tried to drag him down.

 

"Here, nice little boy!" suddenly a voice above him cried. "Take hold

of my hand, and I will pull you out of the water."

 

It was the clearest little voice in the world, and it spoke with a

trill which Boy Hugh seemed to have heard somewhere before. It conveyed

somehow, indeed, a reminiscence of Miss Celie Tennant. But the little

lady who spoke was only a year or two older than Boy Hugh himself, and

she was dressed in the daintiest creamy stuff, fine like cobweb. Boy

Hugh looked at her in such amazement that he came near to letting go

the birch-tree altogether. She seemed to him to be all wonderful, with

yellow hair like summer clouds, and blue eyes full of pity.

 

Boy Hugh recalled certain things which he had heard at Hunker Court.

 

"Are you an angel?" he said, quite seriously.

 

"Oh no, silly!" cried the maiden gaily, shaking her fleece

bewilderingly at him. "Of course, I am only a little girl. I just

tooked my parolsol and comed a walk. And you are the very nicest little

boy that ever I saw—quite a child, of course," she added patronisingly.

"But take hold of my parolsol. Be careful not to splash me when you

shake yourself. And after that I'll give you a kiss. I like nice little

boys!"

 

"What is a kiss?" asked Boy Hugh.

 

They did not deal in the commodity in the Tinklers' Lands. And even if

his sister Vara did kiss him to sleep every night, and was for ever

kissing the baby as if its mouth was a sweetmeat, she did not think it

becoming or menseful to mention the word. So that, quite sincerely, Boy

Hugh asked again, "What is a kiss, little girl?"

 

"Come up here, nice boy, and I will show you!" replied the maiden

promptly.

 

And somehow Hugh knew that this was an invitation by no means to be

declined.

 

 

 

 

ADVENTURE XXXVIII.

 

OF MISS BRIGGS AND HER TEN CATS.

 

 

"Now then, do you like it?" asked this frank young person. But Hugh Boy

was silent as to what he thought of his first knowledgable kiss. Not

that it mattered, for the gay little lady rattled on regardless. "And

what is your name, little boy? You are very ragged, and you have come

a long way. But you are clean, and Aunt Robina can't scold me, for she

tells me to be kind to the poor, especially when they are quite clean."

 

Boy Hugh bashfully answered that his name was Hugh Kavannah. "And a

very nice name it is, nice little boy!" the maid rattled on, heeding

him but little, but loving the sound of her own twitter.

 

The children went over the moor together, till it began to feather into

sparse birch-woods and thicker copses towards the plain. Sometimes

as they went the little girl's hair whipped Boy Hugh's brow. He had

forgotten all about Vara and the baby.

 

"Do they make you say your prayers in the morning as well as at night?"

she asked; "they do me—such a bother! Aunt Robina, she said last week,

that it was self-denial week, and we must give up something for the

Lord. So I said I did not mind giving up saying my prayers in the

morning. 'Oh, but,' said cousin Jimmy, 'you must give up something you

_like_ doing.' Horrid little boy, Jimmy, always blowing his nose—you

don't, well, I don't believe you have a handkerchief—and Aunt Robina,

she says, 'Well, and what do you think God would say if you gave up

saying your prayers?' 'God _has_ said already,' I told her. 'What has

God said?' she wanted to know, making a face like this——. So I told

her that God said, 'Pray don't mention it, Miss Briggs.' My name is

Miss Briggs, you know. I have ten cats. Their names are Tom and Jim,

and Harry and Dick, and Bob and Ben and Peter. But Peter's an awful

thief."

 

She paused for breath, and shook her head at the same time. Hugh Boy

listened with the open mouth of unbounded astonishment.

 

"Yes, indeed," said Miss Briggs, "and I fear he will come to a bad end.

I've thrown him into the mill-dam three times already, like Jonah out

of the ship of Tarshish. Aunt Robina says I may play Bible stories on

Sundays, you know. So I play Jonah. But he always gets out again. Next

time I'm going to sit squash on him till he's dead. Once I set on a

nestful of eggs because I wanted some dear wee fluffy chickens—but I

need not tell you about that. I got whipped, but Aunt Robina had to buy

me a new pair of—oh, I forgot, I was telling you about wicked Peter.

Peter is not a house-cat like the rest, you see. He is a bad, wicked

cat. He lives in the barn or in the coach house and eats the pigeons.

And he lies on the cows' backs on cold nights. But in the daytime Peter

sleeps on the roof of the outhouses, and when any one of the other cats

gets anything nice to eat, Peter comes down on them like a shot——"

 

"Oh aye!" cried Boy Hugh, excited to hear about something he

understood, "I hae seen them do like that. Then there's a graund fecht,

lying on their backs and tearing at ane anither wi' their claws, and

spittin' and rowin' ower yin anither like a ba'——"

 

"My cats are not horrid creatures like that!" said Miss Briggs, in a

dignified manner, "as soon as ever they see Peter coming they take to

their heels and—oh, you should just see them run for the kitchen door!

And their tails are just like the fox's brush that Aunt Robina dusts

the pictures with. And then in a minute after you can see wicked Peter

sitting on the rigging of the barn eating my poor darling house-cat's

nice breakfast."

 

"Three cheers for Peter!" cried Hugh, who did not know any better than

to express his real sentiments to a lady.

 

Miss Briggs instantly withdrew her hand from his. Her nose turned up

very much, till its __EXPRESSION__ of scorn became almost an aspiration.

 

"I am afraid you are not such a nice little boy after all," she said,

severely.

 

As they went on together the children came to the very edge of the

moorland. They ascended a few steps to a place where there were many

tumbled crags and cunning hiding-places. From the edge of these they

looked down upon a plain of tree tops, in the midst of which peeped out

the front of a considerable mansion. The lower windows and the door

were hidden in a green haze of beech leaves.

 

"That is where I live, little boy," said Miss Briggs, grandly. "The

propriety will belong to me some day. And then I shall send Peter away

for good."

 

Miss Briggs looked down on the house and gardens with the eye of the

possessor of a "propriety."

 

"Tissy, wissy—tissy—wissy!" she cried, suddenly forgetting her dignity.

 

There was a stirring here and there among the trees. And lo! from off

the roofs of the barn and the byre, out of the triangular wickets,

from off round-topped corn-stacks and out of different doors in the

dwelling-house, there sprang a host of cats. "See them," said Miss

Briggs, impressively, "every one of them comes to meet me. That's

Peter, wicked Peter," she said, pointing to a large brindled pussy

which led the field by half-a-dozen lengths. Over the bridge they came,

all mewing their best, and all arching their tails.

 

"Their ten tails over their ten backs!" said Miss Briggs, as if she

found much spiritual comfort in the phrase.

 

The cats rubbed themselves against her. Some of them leaped upon her

shoulder and sat there, purring loudly. Hugh Boy was unspeakably

delighted.

 

"I wish Vara could see," he said, remembering for the first time his

sister and Gavin.

 

A harsh voice broke in upon them.

 

"Elizabeth Briggs! Elizabeth Briggs! What is all this play-acting? And

what gangrel loon is this that ye are bringing to the door by the hand?

Is there not enough wastry and ruination aboot the house of Rascarrel

already, without your wiling hame every gypsy's brat and prowling

sorrow of a gutter-bluid? Think shame o' yoursel', Elizabeth Briggs!"

 

Hugh Boy dropped the hand which held his. He would not bring disgrace

on the friend who had helped him.

 

"Aunt Robina, you forget yourself," interposed the young lady with prim

dignity, "and you forget 'what sayeth the scripture.'"

 

She took Boy Hugh's hand again, and held it tighter. "Forget the

scripture," cried a tall dark-browed woman who came limping out from a

seat under a weeping elm. She was leaning heavily with both hands upon

a staff, which she rattled angrily on the ground as she spoke.

 

"Yes," said Miss Briggs, "do you not know that I am Pharaoh's daughter,

and this is little Moses that I drew out of the water?"

 

"Hold your tongue, Elizabeth Briggs, and come here instantly!" said

the dark woman, tapping the ground again with her staff.

 

Hugh Boy knew the tone. He had heard something like this before.

 

"Is that your 'awfu' woman'?" he said aloud, pointing with his finger

at the woman leaning upon the stick.

 

"Elizabeth Briggs," she commanded again, pointing at the little girl

with her stick, "come in to your lesson this minute. And you, whatever

you may call yourself, take yourself off at once or I'll get the police

to you!"

 

"Yes, do go away, nice little boy," said Miss Briggs; "but when you

grow big, come back to the house of Rascarrel and Miss Briggs will

marry you. And I will give you another kiss at the garden stile—and

so will Peter!" she added. For she felt that some extra kindness and

attention was due from her, to make up for the most unscriptural

hardheartedness of her Aunt Robina.

 

So the children took their way together to the garden stile, and as

they went out of sight, Boy Hugh turned round to the dark-browed woman:

 

"My name is Boy Hugh," he said, "but I'm not a beggar, awfu' woman!"

 

The children went slowly and sorrowfully along a gravel walk thickly

overgrown with chickweed and moss. Their feet made no sound upon it.

On either side box borders rose nearly three feet, straggling untended

over the walks. Still further over were territories of gooseberry

bushes, senile and wellnigh barren, their thin-leaved, thorny branches

trailing on the ground and crawling over each other. Beyond these again

was a great beech hedge rising up into the sky. Boy Hugh looked at the

dark Irish yews standing erect at the corner of every plot. He thought

they were like the sentinels at the gate of Holyrood, at whom he used

to look as often as he could slip away from the Tinklers' Lands.

 

Then all suddenly and unexpectedly he began to cry. Miss Briggs stopped

aghast. She was, like all womenfolk, well accustomed to her own sex's

tears. But a male creature's emotion took her by surprise.

 

"What is the matter?" she said; "tell me instantly, nice little boy."

 

"This maun be heaven, after a'," said he, "an' your awfu' woman winna

let Boy Hugh bide."

 

Presently they came out upon a circular opening where the bounding

beech edge bent into a circle, and the gloomy yew tree sentinels stood

wider about. Overhead the crisp leafage of the beeches clashed and

rustled.

 

Here was a great garden seat of stone, and there at the back rose a

fountain with stone nymphs—a fountain long since dry and overgrown with

green moss. It seemed to Boy Hugh as if they could never get out of

this vast enclosure.

 

There was also a little stone building at the end down the vista of the

gravel walk. Its door stood open and Boy Hugh looked within. It was

empty like a church. The floor was made of unpainted wood in squares

and crosses. There were painted pictures on the walls, and a shining

thing with candles standing upon it at the far end. Behind this the sun

shone through a window of red, and yellow, and blue.

 

"Is that God?" said Hugh Boy, after gazing a long time at the glory

of the shining crimson and violet panes and the shining gold upon the

altar.

 

But Miss Briggs dragged him away without making him any answer.

 

Presently they came to half-a-dozen steps in an angle, which led over

the outer wall. They had slipped under a mysterious archway of leaves

and so through the beech hedge in order to reach this ladder of stone.

 

"Good-bye!" said Miss Briggs; "remember—come back, nice little boy, as

soon as you are growed up, and I will marry you. And then we will send

Aunt Robina to the poorhouse. Kiss me, nice boy—and now kiss Peter."

 

With that Miss Briggs disappeared, running as hard as ever she could,

so that she would not need to cry within sight.

 

But as soon as she got to the great circle of the beeches and yews, she

burst out sobbing. "He was the very nicest boy—the nicest boy. But of

course there could be nothing in it. For he is only a mere child, you

know!"

 

But Boy Hugh walked stolidly up the steps, and so out of Paradise.

 

"I am very hungry!" he said.

 

 

 

 

ADVENTURE XXXIX.

 

THE ADVENTURE OF SNAP'S PORRIDGE.

 

 

But he found Providence just over the wall. For there sat Vara and

there was the great stone behind which they had spent the night. All

his wanderings had just brought him back to where he had started from.

But for all that he was exceedingly glad to see Vara.

 

He called her, standing still on the top of the wall. She started up as

if she had heard a voice from the grave. And the face which she turned

to him was colourless like chalk.

 

"Wi' Vara," said Hugh, "what's wrang? Your face looks terrible clean?"

 

"O, Boy Hugh—Boy Hugh," she cried, bursting into relieving tears, "it's

you. What a night you have given me!"

 

But not a word of reproach came from the lips of Vara Kavannah. She

had, indeed, enough to do to keep the babe quiet. For having run hither

and thither over the moor looking for her brother, she had not had time

to seek for any farmhouse where she could get some milk for Gavin's

bottle.

 

In a little, however, they were again walking hand in hand, and Boy

Hugh was pouring out all the story of his adventures in the Paradise of

the House of Rascarrel.

 

Chiefly he dwelt upon the divine beauty and abounding merits of Miss

Briggs.

 

"Dinna you think she was an angel frae heeven?" said Boy Hugh.

 

"I think she was a nasty, wicked, enticing little monkey!" burst out

Vara. For though it is part of womanhood's privilege to put up with

the truantry of mankind without complaint, it is too much to expect

her to suffer gladly his praises of the Canaanitish women he may have

collogued with upon his travels.

 

And then Vara walked a long way silent and with her head in the air.

Hugh Boy kicked all the stones out of his path and was silent also.

 

Nevertheless, though in this sulky silence, they travelled steadily

on and on. Horizon after horizon broke up, spread out to either side,

streamed dispersedly past them, and recomposed itself again solidly

behind them.

 

"I'm awesome hungry!" at last said Boy Hugh, humbly. Vara became full

of compassion in a minute.

 

"And Vara has nothing to give ye!" she said; "poor Boy Hugh!"

 

The baby woke with a faint cry.

 

They had passed off the moor and were now come among inhabited houses

again. They were just passing a little cottage which stood with its end

to the road, as a little boy came out of the gate with a great bowl of

porridge and milk in his hand.

 

"Snap! Snap!" he cried, and looked up and down the road. A small

terrier pricked its ears briskly over a wall and then leaped down upon