Chapter XI: Without a Mother

For the first few days things went well. The three children were on their best behaviour. One day was spent at the Rectory, and Inez joined them there. Ted was out in the garden. He was as busy as ever, and had just completed a beautiful little set of furniture which he had enamelled white. A toyshop in the neighbouring town had promised to buy it from him. He was delighted to think that he could earn a little money.

"I wish—I wish I had clever fingers like you," said Chris. "Mums' birthday will be here very soon. I should like to make something for her."

"I could show you how to cut out a wooden photo frame for her and then you could stick cones and moss on it and varnish it over. Would you like to try? You'll have plenty of time these holidays. Come over in the mornings and I'll show you how to do it."

"That would be ripping!" said Chris.

Then his face fell.

"I shan't be able to be too much away from the others: not till Nurse comes back. Noel is always up to mischief when he's left alone."

"Why, I thought Noel was the good boy of the family!"

"He doesn't mean to be naughty, but he thinks of such strange things to do. Yesterday he got some paint from the attic and painted a lot of the garden hose. He made himself in a filthy mess, and the gardener is furious!"

"Well, get Diana to look after him for an hour to-morrow and come over here. Come about ten o'clock."

So this was settled. When Noel heard of it, he said:

"I don't want Diana to look after me. I'm going to be busy in the garden."

"So am I," said Diana; "we'll garden together. I want to tie up my rose, the branches tumble about in the wind."

"And I'm going to hose my Chris'mas tree. He loves a shower bath."

But the next day was rainy, and Mrs. Tubbs told them they must stay in the house. Chris was allowed to go to the Rectory. Diana and Noel had the nursery to themselves. Diana got out her story and began to write. Noel played with his bricks for some time, then tiring of it stole out of the room. Diana was too engrossed in her story to notice his disappearance.

He went downstairs and wandered into the drawing-room, and from there into his mother's boudoir.

"What can I do?" he muttered to himself. "I must get my hands busy, or Satan will find mischief for me, that's what Nurse always says." He began opening the drawers of his mother's writing bureau. In her anxious haste she had left them unlocked. Then he found himself turning over the contents, though he had an uneasy feeling that he was doing wrong. In the first one which he opened there were letters and old papers, a box of sealing-wax and some old pens and pencils. The next was in a very untidy state. "I'll tidy all Mums' drawers," he said to himself: "that will be very kind and good of me."

So with some trouble, he emptied out the whole contents of three drawers upon the carpet, and when they were in one confused heap, he began to sort things out and put back as he thought they ought to be. It was a long business, and several accidents happened. A bottle of gum emptied itself upon the carpet. The cork was not secure. Some ink out of a small bottle marked "marking ink" also spilt itself amongst the papers. Then Noel was tempted to light a match and seal some of the empty envelopes. He had seen his mother do it, but it was a difficult business. The match burnt his fingers, he dropped it hurriedly, and it immediately set fire to some of the loose papers.

This frightened him: he rushed out of the room to the back lobby where the garden hose was kept. Unfortunately it had been left by the gardener attached to the water pipe there. Triumphantly Noel turned on the tap, seized the end of the hose and ran back to the boudoir, where he turned it full on the heap of rubbish on the carpet. The water did more harm than the fire, for that had fortunately died down, but the room was flooded with water, and Noel began to feel very uncomfortable. He put the hose back, leaving pools of water following in his wake; and then hearing Chris come in, he began to bundle things back into the drawers as fast as he could. Chris discovered him before his task was finished, and his wrath was great.

"You wicked little beast! You've ruined Mums' room! What have you been doing? You deserve a good thrashing, and I've a great mind to give it to you!"

He seized hold of Noel by the neck of his jersey and marched him upstairs. Noel shrieked and kicked.

"You're as bad as Inez!" said Chris. "There isn't much to choose between the two of you!"

Noel was subdued and silent at once.

When Mrs. Tubbs and Cassy and Diana surrounded them, Noel lapsed into injured tears:

"I was tidying Mums' drawers. I'm not a wicked boy," he sobbed.

"You just look at the room, Mrs. Tubbs! There are great black sticky pools on the carpet; and the chairs and sofa and all the ornaments are streaming wet! I don't know what he's been doing, but he ought to be jolly well punished. I don't know what Mums will say when she comes back!"

"I'll write and tell her all about it at once," said Diana in tones of satisfaction.

Chris looked at her.

"That's rather tell-taley!" he remarked.

"I don't care. Mums said I was to write and tell her everything."

Noel began to cry lustily now. And then Chris, still holding him firmly, backed him into a big hanging cupboard outside the nursery door. Locking the door upon him, he said:

"You'll stay there till dinner-time to punish you."

Mrs. Tubbs and Cassy had gone to the boudoir to repair the mischief done there. Noel kicked and screamed till he was tired out.

Chris felt worried. He looked at Diana writing away as if her life depended upon it.

"I'm afraid Mums will say that you ought to have looked after Noel better. I s'pose I oughtn't to have gone away, but you did promise you'd see after him."

"Yes, but I was writing my story, and I forgot him."

"Don't make him out too bad, Diana. Tell Mums he was trying to tidy her drawers for her. He didn't mean to be wicked. I think I'll let him out. He's quiet now."

But when Noel was liberated, he rushed downstairs and out into the road without his cap. The rain had stopped. He was so angry that Chris had dared to lock him up in a cupboard that he hardly knew what he was doing. And then suddenly he met the man who had been doing some gardening for Miss Constance.

"Oh, God's man, they've been so unkind to me!"

Noel stopped and gripping hold of the man's coat held him prisoner whilst he poured out his story to him.

"And there's nobody to be kind to me, not one. Diana is writing to Mums to tell her I'm a wicked boy, and Chris called me a beast, and I hate him!"

"Oh, 'ere, little master! This won't do! No, it won't! Why, I were tellin' my wife of you, 'ow pious you were for such a little 'un. Why, your name for me sticks in my throat at times and keeps me from the 'Golden Dog,' which I do frequent more'n is good for me!"

Noel stopped crying. He began to smile.

"I b'lieve God sent you to meet me to be kind to me, did He?"

"Well, I shouldn't wonder. Cheer up! You be too big a boy to cry! I reckon you just meant to have a tidy-up. Accidents will happen."

"But Mums will hear about me, and she'll think I spoilt her room on purpose."

"Not her. And couldn't you write a letter yourself and say you didn't mean to do it?"

"Why, so I could!" said Noel. "Could you help me to write it?"

"I bain't much on a scholar, but my wife, she be a fine writer! You come on home with me, and we'll get 'er to set her pen to work for 'ee."

Noel slipped his hand inside the big horny one of his friend and trotted home with him quite contentedly. His cottage was up a lane at the end of the village. Mrs. Thorn, his wife, was just dishing a very nice dish of stewed rabbit; the little kitchen, though small and bare, was beautifully clean. In a chair up at the table sat a little white-faced, dark-haired boy about a year younger than Noel. His name was Bertie.

Mrs. Thorn listened with a pleasant smile to Noel's story. She asked him to sit down and have a bit of food with them, and promised to help him write his letter afterwards.

"I've heard of you, dear," she said. "I love the name you give my husband. And 'twas you who sowed some flowers 'mongst the graves in the churchyard. I lost my mother five months ago, and one day I found some sweet-peas growing on her grave. The vicar—he told me who had done it. I did feel pleased and proud."

"I wish I'd a grave in God's garden," said Noel eagerly. "I'd have flowers all over it. I've a garden of my own with a big Chris'mas tree in it. He's growing bigger and bigger, and at Chris'mas I'm going to have a party. Would your little boy like to come to it?"

"Indeed he would. Poor Bertie isn't strong. He can't go to school. He suffers from asthma."

Before the meal was over Noel was chattering away quite happily. And when it was done, Mrs. Thorn cleared away the dishes into the back kitchen, and her husband said he would wash them up whilst the letter was being written. Noel and Mrs. Thorn had a good deal of talk together over it. And finally this was what Mrs. Thorn wrote at his dictation, Noel signing the letter himself in big capital letters:

"MY DARLING MUMS,—"

"I never meant to make a mess, I truly didn't. I had nothing to do, I pulled out your drawers to tidy, and things spilt themselves, and Dinah is making me out wicked in her letter, and Chris locked me in the cupboard, and I have nobody to be my friend. And I wish you were home, darling Mums, and now God's man has given me some nice dinner, and Mrs. Thorn is writing this. I like her, and Bertie is coming to my Chris'mas tree. Good-bye, Mums, and please love me like God does, and I do try to be His good boy."

"NOEL."

When this letter was written, Tom Thorn asked Noel if he had not better go home.

"I want to post my letter," he said, "but I've no stamp."

"They'll give you one at the post office. We haven't one in the house," said Mrs. Thorn, "or I would give it to you."

Noel put his hand in his pocket rather grandly.

"I have two pennies of my own. I'll go to the post office and buy one. Good-bye, God's man, and I like Bertie and Mrs. Thorn. I'll ask you all—every one—to my Chris'mas tree."

He ran off down the street to the village, and Mrs. Thorn looked after him and smiled:

"Quite the little man, isn't he? I wish our Bertie was as spry!"

Bertie looked at his mother.

"He's bigger nor me. I'd like well to see his Chris'mas tree."

Meanwhile, at home they were very anxious about Noel. Chris went down the garden to look for him and then into the church and churchyard. Mrs. Tubbs was worried.

"You shouldn't have been so high-handed, Master Chris. What shall we do if any harm has come to him? Even Nurse never locks him into a cupboard."

Chris was consumed with remorse. Diana did not comfort him.

"He may have tumbled into the pond at the bottom of our field and been drowned, or perhaps a motor has run over him and they've taken him to a hospital."

"He's done it to annoy us," said Chris crossly. "I wish Mums was home!"

When dinner-time came Noel was still absent.

Mrs. Tubbs made the two children have their dinner.

"And afterwards, I'll put on my bonnet, and go down to the village myself. Somebody is sure to have seen him."

And then about two o'clock Noel appeared with a broad smile all over his face.

To all the questions and exclamations, he made answer:

"I runned away because everybody was unkind, and I've written a big letter to Mums and tolded her what you dooed to me, and I got a stamp and posted it, and it's going in the train to Mums as fast as it can!"

Chris and Diana looked at each other in a puzzled kind of way. They knew how badly Noel wrote, and what a time it took him to form his letters.

"You're not speaking true!" said Diana severely.

"Let him alone!" said Mrs. Tubbs. "I'm sure I wish Nurse was back! I've been worried to death this morning. Come and have your dinner, Master Noel, and be a good boy."

"I've had some nice dinner," said Noel triumphantly, "but I'll have some more."

In a few minutes Chris had got his story out of him. Nothing would shake Noel's self-satisfaction until Diana took him to see the carpet in Mrs. Inglefield's boudoir. Mrs. Tubbs had done her best with it, but there were black ink stains and discoloration.

When Noel saw it his face lengthened.

"I'm truly sorry," he said. "I fink I'll save up my pennies to buy Mums a new carpet. I should like to give her it on her birfday."

Chris and Diana scoffed at him.

"A carpet costs pounds and pounds and pounds!"

But they said no more to him, and for the rest of the day they got on peaceably together.

The next morning brought Chris a letter from his chum, George Burke. He was at his uncle's, and he invited Chris to spend a whole day with him and sleep a night there.

Chris danced round the table with delight at the thought of it, and then remembered that he had been left in charge.

"George wants me to go to-morrow, Dinah; he says he'll meet me at the station if I come by the first train after breakfast."

"All right," said Diana, "you go. Inez is coming to spend the whole day to-morrow. We shall be all right."

Chris's face was very grave.

He knew what a pickle Inez was. How could he go away and leave them! Noel was utterly irresponsible. His mother had left him in charge. Diana was too dreamy to look after them. The events of yesterday had taught him the necessity of keeping Noel under his eye.

But George told him that visitors were expected, and that he must come the next day or he could not have a room. And it was no use asking George over now, for he seemed to have so much on hand.

And then poor Chris walked up and down the garden path in agony of longing and indecision. It did seem hard to refuse; he had been so looking forward to seeing George again. If only Nurse would hurry back! Surely Mums would not expect him to lose this treat! He mightn't get the chance again. What was he to do?

In the bottom of his heart he knew what he ought to do.

"I am Mother's deputy. She made me it, and I promised her I would look after the others while Nurse was away. It's no good. I can't go. I must write by this post and tell George so."

And after saying this firmly to himself Chris ran back to the house. His mother had left a packet of postcards to be sent to her if Diana did not want to write more. He took one of these and wrote:

"DEAR GEORGE,—Awfully sorry. Can't come. Mother away. Am in charge
till she comes back. Very disappointed. Good luck to you!"

"CHRIS."

Then, lest he should be tempted to reconsider the matter, he ran off to the post office and posted his card.

He was rather cross and irritable for the rest of the day; and when Diana begged him to make plans for to-morrow so that Inez might enjoy herself, he said:

"Oh, I'm tired of Inez! I don't want to play with girls all day long!"

"No one asked you to," snapped Diana. "You've got so grand since you went to school that nobody is good enough for you. Why don't you go off to this boy George? We don't want you. I can look after Noel and Inez as well as you."

"Can you? Did you look after Noel yesterday when I was out?"

"Oh, well, that was my story. But I shan't write stories to-morrow. Don't be cross, Chris. Don't you think we might have our dinner out on the lawn under the trees? It would be like a picnic. And I've got a lovely idea for afterwards. We'll dress up and act History. Miss Morgan said she used to at school. We'll do the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, and Rosamond swallowing the poison."

Chris did not look thrilled. His disappointment was too acute.

"I'd rather have a paper-chase," he said.

"Very well," said Diana good-naturedly, "we will, and we can begin tearing up the paper to-day. Noel can help us at that."

Chris tried to forget George's invitation, and for the rest of the day, he busied himself in various employments. He knew he was feeling disappointed and cross, but he endeavoured to be cheerful.

After all, he reminded himself, he was only carrying out his mother's wishes, and she was dearer to him than a dozen Georges.