Chapter IX: Forbidden Fruit

THE first two or three weeks of Jock's new life at Lethmere West went by smoothly. As Mr. Royle had foretold, the hours passed with increasing speed, and things became more and more full of interest. Aunt Judith, though not very fond of boys, was really kind, and Grannie was delightful.

She had grey hair, and Jock counted her tremendously old, though in point of fact she was hardly more than middle-aged. She loved to have her little grandson about the place, and Jock soon got into the way of running to her for sympathy, just as he had done with his mother. Jock was always thinking of that dear mother, and he longed to see her again. Still, he was a healthy, merry, high-spirited boy, and everybody was good to him, and it would not have been natural that he should have gone on being sad.

The greater part of each day he spent with the Moore children, and more especially he and Mousie were perpetually thrown together. She really made a charming little friend for him, for she was full of plans and ideas. Without being much of a reader, she had a knack of picking up notions, and of bringing them out in a new shape. Certainly she never was dull. Jock liked her, and was amused with her funny impulsive ways. And Mousie was genuinely fond of Jock, though still a trifle patronising. Perhaps each helped to rub down some of the other's rough edges. Most boys and girls have certain rough edges, you know, and it is a good thing that they should be smoothed down early.

The children lived a very free and happy life, allowed as they were to run all about in the village and in fields adjoining. They were under orders as to "bounds," which had to be observed, and beyond which they might not go without leave. By this time Jock pretty well knew which parts were and which were not "within bounds."

Or at least he ought to have known. But, like many boys of his age, he was forgetful, and often he trusted to the Moore children to remind him.

For quite a long time, or what Mousie counted to be long, she carefully avoided leading him into mischief. Indeed she was so extremely well-behaved through those early weeks that Miss Baynes was heard to say—"Really, Phœbe is very much improved."

But not long after Phœbe had a wilful fit. It came on quite suddenly, no one could have said why—least of all Mousie herself. She only felt as if she couldn't—"couldn't"—go on any longer being good, and as if she really must—"must"—make a change and do something out of the common.

In plain terms, Mousie wanted desperately to do what she knew she ought not, and she wanted somebody to do it with her.

It was a sunny soft day in February, just like spring. No one could dream of frost or snow on such a day. Trees were still leafless, and hedgerows were for the greater part still bare, but many small bushes had begun to show signs of stirring life, and some had the green of early leaves already visible.

Tom had chosen to spend this half-holiday indoors, dabbling with paints as he loved to do, and Hugh stuck to him faithfully. Mr. Moore was away for several hours, and Mrs. Moore, as usual, was busied with household concerns. So it came about, as a matter of course, that Jock and Mousie were together.

"I'm going to do something," she announced. "Something most awfully jolly."

"What is it?" Jock asked, always ready.

"You're not to know yet. You've just got to do what I tell you. It's to be a surprise. I'll settle everything, and you needn't bother. I'm lots older than you, and I've been here always, and you haven't. So of course I know. And you've only just got to promise you'll do faithfully what I tell you. Promise."

"What for? Why must I?"

"'Cause I want some fun. 'Cause I've got something 'loverly' to show you." Mousie danced on the tips of her tiny toes like an acrobat. "We've all been most awfully good lately, and I want some fun. Wouldn't you like some fun too? And won't you like to come somewhere that you haven't been? But you've got to promise—else I won't take you."

Jock suddenly felt that he did want the "fun," and that he wanted to go very much—quite desperately. And if he gave this promise, then of course he must keep it. He always kept his promises. So that would settle the matter entirely. He wouldn't need to bother any more about what they were doing, or where they were going. He would only have to follow Mousie's lead.

All this flashed quickly through Jock's mind. A gentle voice, far down, did try to murmur something. It tried to say that perhaps things were not altogether right, and perhaps he had better wait and ask to know more first. But Jock did not want to hear that little voice, so he smothered it in a hurry. He did so want the "fun."

"All right—I promise," he said.

"You'll come just where I like, and you'll do just what I tell you, and you won't ask me any questions."

"I promise," Jock said in a hurry, afraid that he might hear again that gentle voice.

"Come along then. I've got Artie—all ready."

Artie, being so small a boy, was not allowed to be taken anywhere and everywhere even "within bounds" by the older children, without leave.

"Have you asked?" Jock began, and Mousie shot at him a needle-like glance of reminder. He had bound himself to put no questions, and he stopped helplessly.

Phœbe led the way to a large field behind the house, and there they found Artie, complacently waiting.

"I told him we'd come. This way."

She flung herself lightly over a stile; she seemed all arms and legs. Jock was active enough, but he could not rival Mousie. She seemed to have no weight. Together they hauled Artie over by main force, for he had no spring in him. Then they went through another meadow, and two smaller fields, to a rough common. By this time, as Jock knew, they were well outside "bounds."

"But, I say, Mousie," he objected; and she treated him to another needle-like glance. He dropped into silence. What else was he to say? It was difficult. He had given his word. What could he do?

It was perfectly clear to Jock himself what he "wanted" to do. He wanted with all his heart to see what Phœbe had promised to show him—to have the "fun."

And he went on. They followed a path through a copse, reaching a gate which opened into a wood. Jock had not yet been through this wood. He was to go "some day," when primroses would be in bloom, but it was not open to the public, and even the Moore children were not supposed to enter it without permission. Jock tried hard to think that Mousie must of course have got leave to come.

On and on they rambled, too fast for Artie, who had begun to flag. But Mousie, bent on carrying out her plan, did not seem to notice him.

After pressing onward for a time, they reached an opening among the trees, a wide space, grass-grown, closely fringed with bushes and firs. On the farther side lay a large pond, and it, too, had trees around, drooping over as if to look at their own reflections in the still water below.

"There! That's what I wanted to show Jock," announced Mousie in a tone of triumph. "Isn't it just—just—'loverly'?"

It really was "loverly," to use the funny word which Mousie often brought out, when excited. The sun shone, lending sparkles to the grass, and gay tints to the leafless boughs, and radiance to the water. A great, solid oak-trunk had large sloping branches, one of which hung far out over the pond. Suddenly Mousie raced to this tree, scrambled up its rugged trunk, and took her position on the overhanging bough. Then she began to wriggle along it, her slim black legs dangling on either side.

Mousie screamed with a half-fearsome delight at finding herself no longer over dry land. "It's—it's—bee-autiful," she cried. "I can see right down below—things moving. Oh, I say. Fishes."

"Oh, I say," echoed Jock. "Mousie, I'm coming too. I must come too."

"And me too—me too, Fee," cried Artie.