Chapter IV: A Nursery Entertainment

Chris was delighted to have an excuse to go out in the rain. He sped away, down the garden, but there were no signs of Noel, then into the churchyard. When he got there, he found the young vicar, Mr. Wargrave, in the church porch. He had the door ajar, and to Chris's mystification seemed to be peeping through the opening.

"Have you seen my little brother?" he asked him.

"Hush!" said Mr. Wargrave, turning round, then he smiled at Chris.

"Don't make a noise," he said, "but have a look at him."

Chris peeped into the church. He caught sight of Noel's fair curly head at once. It was just above the edge of the pulpit, and two small arms were waving in the air. This was what he heard:

"And so you see, my frens, God wants you to be good. And my tex' is 'Fight the good fight,' and that's Satan, and I'll say good afternoon to you now, and mind you come next Sunday and I'll preach about the wind and rain trying to drown the boat. Amen."

Chris giggled loudly. Mr. Wargrave shut the door.

"We won't disturb him," he said.

"But he's no business there," Chris said; "Mums would be horrified. Noel thinks he can do anything he likes. He's going to be a clergyman, he says, so he's practising. He oughtn't to play in the church."

"It isn't play," said Mr. Wargrave. "Would you two boys like to come over to the Vicarage with me? My brother Ted would like to see you on a wet afternoon like this."

"I'd love it," said Chris; "but Nurse sent me to fetch Noel in. He's run away."

"I'll step across with you and ask Nurse to spare you for an hour. I live close here, you know."

Then he opened the church door with a little clatter. Noel darted down out of the pulpit. He looked very uncomfortable when he saw his brother's head peeping from behind Mr. Wargrave.

But he adopted a very careless air as he came down the aisle towards them.

"Are you come to have a—a service?" he asked the young vicar.

"No, I was coming to fetch a book in the vestry," Mr. Wargrave said; "and I want you and your brother to come back to the Vicarage to tea with me. We are going to your house to ask if you may. Perhaps you can get the permission while I get my book, Chris."

Chris sped away as fast as his legs could carry him. Noel stood still in the porch, looking out into the rain with grave thoughtful eyes. Mr. Wargrave was only a moment getting his book, and he joined him before Chris came back.

Putting his hand on his shoulder, he said, smiling:

"You'll be a preacher by and by, but don't hurry. We have to learn a lot before we can teach others."

Noel's cheeks became hot and red.

"Did you see anyone in the pulpit?" he asked in a whisper.

Mr. Wargrave nodded.

"I foughted I was quite alone. I only pretended the peoples. I just wanted to see if I could do it."

"Yes, yes, I understand. We'll forget it."

Mr. Wargrave pitied the small boy's distress and confusion. Chris reappeared, very breathless and happy.

"Nurse says we can come," he said. And then the three of them walked down the road a very little way, and turned in at a big iron gate with a thick shrubbery and a drive, and arrived at an old grey stone Vicarage, with small casement windows and walls covered with creepers.

The vicar took them straight through a long narrow hall to a room at the back of the house overlooking a very pretty garden. It was a cosy room. A bright red carpet was on the floor, and a blazing fire in the grate. There were bookshelves and many pictures lining the walls. On a big red-and-white chintz-covered couch by the fire, reclined a boy with a white face and a cheerful smile. He was a big boy, about fifteen or sixteen. Chris and Noel looked at him in awe.

"Two small neighbours, Ted," said Mr. Wargrave; "the other side of the church. They've come to tea. I'll go and tell Mrs. Hurcombe. You amuse them till I come back. I have my churchwarden waiting to see me."

He left the room. Chris and Noel stood by the side of the couch feeling a little shy of this strange boy, but when he looked at them and laughed, they laughed too.

"Don't think me an awful frump tucked up on a couch like this. It's only for a year. I was at school and hurt my back in the gym. Like to see how I spend my time?"

He drew a table by the side of his couch nearer, and showed them on a wooden tray a complete set of dolls' furniture. There was a most beautiful little cabinet of polished wood, which opened and shut its doors, six chairs with red leather seats, a four-post bedstead, a polished square table, and two chests of drawers.

"Oh!" cried Chris. "Did you make these all yourself?"

"Yes, and a lot more. They go to an Arts and Crafts Depot and sell like old boots. And I made them myself with the help of a book only, so I feel rather swanky over them."

"I wish Dinah could see these," said Chris.

"Here's something you may like better."

He produced a little canoe, and then a tiny tram and a wheelbarrow and a cart.

"It passes the time," he said.

"Don't you never go out of doors?" asked Noel, looking at him gravely.

"Not often. I have to be wheeled out in a flat pram, and I hate it. But when summer comes, I can lie on a rug on the lawn and then I shall feel first rate."

Chris was fingering the toys lovingly.

"I wish I was clever," he said with a little sigh.

"Can you make houses?" asked Noel eagerly. "Could you make a church?"

"He's mad on church," said Chris; "we've only just dragged him out of it. He's been in India, and doesn't know England."

"Tell us about India," said Ted, smiling at Noel.

Noel launched forth at once, waving his hands and getting quite excited as he described his home in India and the native servants, and all the pets he had kept out there. Chris openly yawned, but Ted was interested, and when Mr. Wargrave returned all three boys were talking fast and freely. Tea was brought in by a very smiling housekeeper, and they had a merry time.

But Chris watched Ted gravely, and at last he said to him:

"I couldn't laugh like you do if I had to lie on my back all day long. I'd have to die straight off if I couldn't jump up and run about."

"That's how I felt first of all," said Ted simply. "But of course it doesn't say much for your pluck if you can't face pain. And I came to see that I must make the best of it, and that I could be thankful that I wasn't blind or deaf and dumb, or covered over with loathsome sores. And—I—well, I've been helped along by remembering that there's a suffering corps in God's army, as well as a fighting corps."

Chris looked at him with big eyes.

Here was a big boy talking about God. He could not understand it.

But after tea, he was made very happy by having a lesson in wood-carving from Ted.

Noel went off with Mr. Wargrave to his study.

He sat on the deep window-ledge there, and swinging his legs, told the vicar all about his Christmas tree.

Mr. Wargrave was a good listener.

"I think it's splendid," he told him. "And then at Christmas perhaps you'd be able to make numbers happy. If I had a tree like that, I would ask a lot of children out of the village, and there are some in the Union, about a mile off on the high road. I'm the chaplain there, and I always feel sorry for the children. They don't have many pleasures. If you love Ted, he'll make you a lot of toys for your tree."

"Oh, will he?" Noel was radiant. "And I'll have a very big party. Mums will let me. I'll have all the children who live here. I do wish it was Christmas time."

"Oh, don't wish that. We have the lovely summer coming first. All of us are happy in summer-time. The flowers and the bees and butterflies, and the birds and squirrels and rabbits—they all love the warm sunshine. And you will, too."

"I don't like it when the sun is very hot," said Noel thoughtfully; then his thoughts took another turn. "What's a hypercrit?"

"Someone who pretends to be what he is not."

Noel frowned.

"And a 'cocky beggar'? I thoughted beggars were poor ragged men who asked for money: they were in India."

Mr. Wargrave smiled.

"Oh, that's a boy's expression for anyone who thinks a lot of himself. I suppose your brother has been calling you that?"

"If you speak about God at all, you're a hypercrit," said Noel. "I 'spect Chris doesn't know what it means: it's too long a word for him. I'll tell him so. I don't pretend half as much as they do; they're always pretending in their games. Why is it wrong to talk about God?"

"It isn't wrong; it ought to be the natural thing with every one of us. If we love anyone very much, we can't help talking about them. But—"

Mr. Wargrave hesitated; then he went on:

"Boys and girls, and grown-up people too, are shy sometimes of telling people what they feel deeply in their hearts; and when children play about with each other, they keep their thoughts about God and heaven to themselves, and don't quite understand anybody talking freely about it. I'm not saying they are right. But it makes us more reverent if we speak about God very gravely, almost in a whisper."

Noel listened and nodded his head.

"I'll try."

And then he caught sight of a case of butterflies, and for the next half-hour hung over it entranced, whilst Mr. Wargrave talked about butterflies and their ways.

When Chris and Noel's visit was over, they went home and described all the glories of the Vicarage to Diana, who was quite curious about them.

She was wild to see the dolls' furniture.

"I don't see why I shouldn't go straight in to-morrow. I'll ask Mums if I may. That ill boy would be very glad to see me. Mums was only saying the other day that visiting sick people was a very nice thing to do."

When Mrs. Inglefield returned home, three eager children met her in the hall.

She was quite pleased that the boys had gone to tea at the Vicarage.

"Lady Alice was telling me about that poor boy. It is a dreadful trial for him to be laid up like that for a year, or perhaps longer."

"But he's quite happy," said Chris. "He laughs like anything!"

"Yes, he has a brave cheerful spirit. I shall be very glad for you to know him. He must be a nice boy."

Two or three days afterwards, Diana got her chance. Mr. Wargrave came to call, and spoke to her in the hall as he was leaving. Diana was always outspoken.

"I don't want to be rude," she said, "but I'm just dying to see the dolls' furniture at your house. Could you ask me to, do you think? I wouldn't expect tea. I wouldn't be as mean as that, but just to see them."

"You shall come in now," he said, smiling, "if your mother will let you. Ted will be only too delighted to show you all his toys."

Mrs. Inglefield, who was standing by, gave her permission, and Diana danced off, and was a good hour away. She came back to the nursery with glowing eyes.

"He not only makes toys," she said to the boys emphatically, "but he makes poetry! He said some to me!"

The boys were impressed. Ted and his doings were much discussed amongst them for the following days.

The weather kept them indoors a good deal. It was rain and wind every day, and the nursery was a small room for three active children. One morning Nurse, sitting at her work there, was visited by Mrs. Budd.

Chris and Noel were busy in a corner with their bricks, Diana was finishing her story, but as she scribbled off the last sentence she caught a fragment of conversation between Nurse and her visitor.

"I always felt she would be dull here. She misses the master, of course, and she's been accustomed to a life in India. I feel fair worried when I sees her so quiet knitting for the boys, and tears in her eyes all the time."

"'Twill be better in the fine weather when there's plenty of gentry round her to keep her from dullness."

Diana shut up her papers and went over to the window. She had what Nurse called her "thinking cap" on!

After their early dinner she called the boys to her and said:

"Look here, I promised to keep Mums from feeling dull. It's come upon her, and we've got to do something."

"What?" asked Chris.

"We'll give her an entertainment," said Diana grandly. "And I'll tell her it's coming, so that will take away the dullness, to feel it's coming. We'll do it after tea."

"What can we do?" asked Chris helplessly.

"I've thought it all out. I'll read her my story. It's finished, and she's never heard any of my stories. It's awfully exciting. And you and Noel can learn something to recite, like we did with Miss Carr to Granny once."

"We can dance," said Chris, romping round the room, "and dress up! Oh, that will be the thing, Dinah!"

Mrs. Inglefield was feeling rather lonely that afternoon. She had been writing to her husband, and now she was knitting socks for Chris, and thinking about his schooling. She was in her boudoir. Presently she heard a sharp rattat at her door, a little giggle, and then a note was pushed through the bottom of the door.

She picked it up and opened it.

"OUR DEAR MUMS,—"

"We're sorry you are dull, but we are not going to let you be any more. At half-past five we invite you to our Grand Entertainment. Tickets free. The performance will be thrilling."

"YOUR LOVING CHILDREN."

"P.S.—It will be done in the Nursery—punctule."

So Mrs. Inglefield had enough to keep her expectant and smiling. She heard a good deal of noise overhead for the next hour or so. But punctually at half-past five she presented herself at the nursery door.

It was opened by Noel, who had a pink paper cap on his head, and his body and legs all wound round and round with coloured handkerchiefs and ribbons.

He gave her a very low bow and led her to Nurse's armchair, which was draped in an old red shawl.

It was the seat of honour. Then she was presented with a programme.

AFTERNOON ENTERTAINMENT

An acrobatic exhibishon.
Two gentlemen's duel.
An Authoresses story.
Beautiful Poem resited by motor-car and horse.
General Dance and Wind up.
All can join.

A row of chairs divided the audience from the performers.

The entertainment opened by Chris standing on his head in the corner, and Diana balancing a doll's tray of tea-things on his feet. Catastrophe was saved by her snatching the tray away, as his feet began to shake.

Then Noel and Chris had a fencing bout with two hoop sticks. Mrs. Inglefield drew a long breath when it was over and neither combatant was hurt. The next item on the programme was:

"An Authoresses story."

Diana made her appearance in one of Nurse's best gowns. A wreath of ivy was round her head. She had sheets of paper in her hand and commenced to read in a high sing-song voice.

The story was about a miserable ragged little girl in London who was given sixpence and a kiss by a beautiful lady one afternoon when she was selling matches in the streets. The lady's face and dress was described with much detail. Mrs. Inglefield had no difficulty in recognizing herself as the lady. The little girl's name was Sally, and she fell in love with this lady and used to follow her round in London every day, only at a distance. At night she dreamt of her. And then one day the lady was nearly run over by a motor. Sally dashed into the middle of the road and saved her, but got knocked down herself and had her leg broken. Then the lady burst into tears at her bravery, and told her coachman, who had arrived on the scene, to take her home in her carriage. She was carried to the "most beautiful house in London." Her bedroom was "covered with pink satin curtains and cushions all over the place." Sally was placed in bed, and a doctor sent for who mended her broken leg.

"But suddenly Mrs. Field fell on her knees by the bed and seized the broken leg:"

"'It is her, my long-lost daughter,' she cried. 'I know the scar which she had as a baby. My nurse lost her one day when she was wheeling her pram in Kensington gardens!'"

"And all was true, and Sally's leg mended very soon, and she never had to go back to the old woman who made her sell matches, but she lived with her darling mother ever after. And she grew up and married a relation of the Royal Family. But she always remembered her ragged time and gave money to match-girls. This is the moral and the end."

There was much applause when the young authoress sat down.

Then the children retired into the night nursery. After a time, with a rush and a fierce snorting noise, Chris tore backwards and forwards several times.

"A motor-car!" said Mrs. Inglefield, clapping her hands.

Then Noel entered, galloping up and down and whinnying so loud that Mrs. Inglefield called out very quickly:

"A horse!"

And then he and Chris stood together and recited the following poem:

CHRIS. "I shriek and everybody flies!
I tear along beneath the skies,
I stop as quickly, for I feel
My master's hand upon the wheel."

NOEL. "I trot along the hard high road,
To journey slowly is my mode.
We want to see, to feel, to smile,
To scent the beauty of each mile."

CHRIS. "Past meadows, villages I fly,
No time to see as I go by!
The wind, the air is all I feel,
Beside the hand upon the wheel."

NOEL. "My master's hand is on my rein,
His eyes are in the country lane.
I canter on up hill, down dale,
Through grassy fields and lovely vale."

CHRIS. "I scorch up hills, I fly along,
My warning 'honk' is all my song.
Towns, rivers, sea, all pass away.
A hundred miles we do each day."

NOEL. "But cars can't hunt, or ride at will
Through woods, or up untrodden hill,
Nor soak their souls in beauty fair,
That's only done through my brown mare."