Chapter IX: The Coming of the Holidays

Miss Trent's car arrived at three o'clock on the following Monday afternoon. Noel was dressed in his best white sailor suit, and was immensely pleased to go off on his own. He sat back against the cushions of the car with such a proud self-satisfied look that his mother and Diana, who stood at the gate waving good-bye, both laughed together.

"He does think a lot of himself to-day!" said Diana.

"He's such a baby!" said her mother, almost apologetically.

"Miss Constance calls him the Cherub," said Diana. "I don't think he's a cherub when he screams and kicks for nothing."

"But he's getting better, isn't he? I don't hear so many rumpuses now."

"I think he's better since he saw Inez in one of her rages," said Diana gravely. "Oh, Mums, mayn't we have her to tea again?"

"The holidays will soon be here," her mother said, "then you can have her here every day if you like. We must get up some picnics. I should like that poor boy Ted to have a little fun."

"The week after next," sighed Diana; "it seems a long time. But let us talk about the picnics, Mums. I've never been to one, except when we had tea on the beach at Brighton."

Mrs. Inglefield began to describe a picnic in a shady wood where the dinner things could be washed up in a brook, and the tea boiled in a kettle over a real gipsy fire. Diana was enchanted at the sound of it; she had been feeling rather envious of Noel's treat, but now she forgot all about him, and only thought of the joys that were coming to them in the holidays.

Meanwhile Noel was being carried swiftly along through the country lanes, and it seemed that the end of his drive came almost too soon, for he was enjoying it so much. Ladywell Cottage stood in a garden of its own, well back from the road. It was a low thatched house with quaint gables and windows. The door had a deep porch to it in which there were seats; beehives lined a little path that led across the lawn to some apple trees. The hall door stood open, and as Noel came up a little shyly, wondering if he had better go in or ring the bell, he heard Miss Trent calling to him:

"Is that the Cherub? I heard the car. Come along in."

He took off his hat and stepped across the daintily furnished hall into a very pretty little sitting-room, where upon a chintz-covered couch by the open window lay his hostess.

She held out both hands to him.

"Come along. I have been such a dull dog to-day, and I want to be amused! Sit down on that small chair, and let me look at you. Now talk. You talk and I'll listen."

Noel felt absolutely dumb. What could he say?

"Well," she said, looking at him with a little laugh, "I'm sure you have never lost your tongue. And you do know such a lot that I don't. I want to be taught as well as amused."

"Grown-up people aren't taught," said Noel, looking at her in his stolid kind of way.

"Oh, aren't they, my little cherub! I'm learning every day of my life."

"I'm not a cherub," said Noel. "I'm a boy."

"Do you know what cherub means? In the Hebrew tongue, it means fullness of knowledge, and the cherubims have it. I think you know a lot that I don't know. I shan't tell you to be quiet about God. I like to hear you talk about Him."

"Reely?"

Noel couldn't quite make out this new friend, but his tongue was loosening.

"Chris says you can think about God, but boys don't talk about Him unless they're with their mothers alone; then they can."

"I wish I were your mother," said Miss Trent, looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes. "Can't you imagine I am?"

"Couldn't!" said Noel briefly.

Then after a moment's pause he said:

"Do you ever have the Devil in your house?"

Miss Trent checked her inclination to laugh. The small boy she saw was in dead earnest and could not stand ridicule.

"I hope I don't," she said gravely, "but I'm not sure. What does he come into houses for?"

"To get into your heart," Noel responded in a most cheerful tone. "He comes into mine ever so many times a day. Mums says if you're a good soldier you can keep him out, but he's too strong for me, unless I get behind Jesus Christ and fight him like that. We know a girl who doesn't know about fighting him. She lets him do what he likes with her."

"A great many people do that," said Miss Trent. "Go on, Cherub, tell me more."

"I don't make fren's with the Devil often," Noel went on gravely, "but when Chris gets me down on the ground and sits on me, I don't care nuffin about being good and pleasing God; I only wiss I could kill him, and of course Satan likes me to wiss that, for you know what I am then?"

"What?" asked Miss Trent, looking as if she were enjoying herself.

"A murderer!" said Noel, shaking his head solemnly. "And that's what Julia makes Inez feel. I b'lieve if nobody in'erfered with me I should be a quite good boy always."

"But as long as people are in the world, they will interfere with us, Cherub. I have suffered in that way, too."

"Have you ever had anyone sit upon your chest and twist your nose?"

"I've had a good many people sitting upon me, and trying to twist my poor will to suit them," said Miss Trent with a funny little laugh.

"Diana says I tell tales," said Noel. "She and Chris say that's an awful fing to do. So please forget I said Chris sat upon me. They've been learning me a lot of fings since I came to live with them. But I like them better than I did. Did you have any bruvvers and sisters when you were a little girl?"

"Only one brother," said Miss Trent. "I think he and I were better friends when we were small than we are now. He tries to manage me."

"Yes, that's what Chris and Diana do to me. I reely got on better wivout them, but Mums seems to like them very well. Does your bruvver insist on taking your hand when you can get on quite well alone, and then anover time run on and leave you ever so far behind?"

She nodded.

"Ah, Cherub! You and I understand each other very well. That's just what my brother does. He won't believe I can get on quite well alone, and as for going on and leaving me far behind, he and his books are always doing that. We quarrelled so badly one day that I ran away and left him, and that's why I'm down here, and I shall keep away till he is repentant."

"My dear child!"

It was little old Miss Trent who spoke. She had come quietly into the room, and had overheard her niece's speech.

"Well, isn't it true, Aunt Prissy?"

Miss Trent smiled and shook her head.

"I sometimes thank God that he is your brother only and not a husband."

"A husband! Horrors! Fancy living with a husband like Vincent!"

Then Miss Trent held out her hand to Noel, and drew him gently to her.

"I have an old-fashioned box of Chinese puzzles in my work-table over there: would you like to play with them? Tea will be coming in directly."

Noel was delighted with the little ivory box that was shown him. He sat on the window-seat, and was perfectly happy with it whilst the maid laid the table for tea. Then suddenly glancing out of the window he saw a man beginning to mow the lawn in front of the house. And when he saw him he sprang to his feet.

"There's God's man!" he exclaimed.

Constance Trent looked out of the window and smiled.

"Yes, I found out yesterday that he was out of work, and as I want some gardening done, he has come round to do it. Would you like to go and speak to him?"

Noel was out of the room and in the garden like a shot.

Running up to the man, he said:

"Good afternoon, God's man! I saw you frough the window. Do you like cutting grass?"

The man smiled.

"I like a job, little master. Why do you call me God's man?"

"Because you are. I prayed for a man, and God sent you."

"The Almighty God has no dealin's with me. Not for many a long year."

"But He did send you. I know He did, and you came along the lane just in proper time."

The man shook his head.

"I'm worse than nought in God's sight. Haven't been to church for nigh on twenty year—not since I buried my poor old mother."

"I s'pect God wants you back there, that's why He took hold of you yesterday and made you walk up the lane just when we wanted you. I'm having tea with the lady all by myself. I came in her car. There was only me in it."

"To think o' that, now!"

The man rested his mower and looked at Noel with a good-natured smile.

"Well, little master, if you brought me along that lane yesterday, you did me a good turn, for it give me five shilling and this job. I've a wife ill, and little enough to live on. Work is not to be had in these parts."

"I didn't bring you, God brought you!"

And then Noel was called indoors to tea.

Such a nice tea! A big currant cake, some sweet preserves, little iced biscuits, and hot sweet tea-cakes. Noel sat up on his best behaviour, and Constance and her aunt chatted and laughed with him until he felt thoroughly at home.

After tea Miss Trent took him round the garden and picked some beautiful ripe red cherries to take home to his mother. He had another talk with Constance before he left, and she said to him:

"Look here, little cherub, you seem to be on very friendly terms with God. Couldn't you ask Him to make my foot quite well? I want to get about. I wasn't made for lying still."

"I'll ask Him in my prayers to-night," Noel said promptly.

"And do you think He'll make my foot well to-morrow?"

Noel looked thoughtful.

"When I had the measles in India, Mums said God didn't want to take them away till I'd learnt to lie still and be a good boy—"

"Ah, perhaps I have got to lie here and be a good girl!"

"But you're a grown-up lady. Grown-up people always feel good, don't they?"

"I won't try to undeceive you, little cherub. You're a darling! I must see more of you. I hope I shan't be tempted to steal you away from your mother."

"You couldn't do that," said Noel as he lifted up his face to be kissed. "Nobody, not wild chariots and horses, could tear me away from Mums!"

Then he said good-bye. The car was there to take him home again. Miss Trent took him down the garden path and he waved to Constance, who was at the window looking after him.

"You must come again," she called out to him. "If I don't get well by next week, you must come to tea with me again!"

And Noel called out in reply:

"I will! I will! I'll come as often as you ask me."

He was very excited when he got home, telling his mother and Diana all about his visit, and rather troublesome with Nurse. She said his head was turned by the notice taken of him, and when he had defied her by coming to his supper with very dirty hands, and then screamed with anger when she dragged him off to the bathroom, Diana said very gravely:

"If Miss Trent saw you at home, she wouldn't say you were a cherub!"

"Why?" Noel demanded.

"Because cherubs never have dirty hands, and never scream like you!"

"Are cherubs angels?"

"Kind of angels. Little fat boys who look out of the clouds. I've seen them in pictures."

Noel was back in the nursery now eating his bread-and-milk. He turned his hands over and looked at them thoughtfully.

"It's weeding. I took up some grass weeds round my Chris'mas tree. What is the earth like in heaven?"

"I don't know, but it isn't dirty, I suppose. Everybody is always clean and good there."

"I don't think I'm a cherub," said Noel; "but if Miss Trent likes to call me it, I shall pretend I am."

"Then you'll have to try to be like one," said Diana.

Noel said no more, but when Nurse undressed him that evening and spoke to him sharply, he said rather plaintively:

"I wish I was a real cherub, then I shouldn't be managed."

"You're no more like a cherub than the black cat is!" said Nurse shortly. "Now get into bed, and try to be a good boy to-morrow. That's all that you need trouble your head about."

And Noel laid his head on his pillow and went fast asleep, to dream that Miss Trent and he were sailing through the sky on a fat soft white cloud, and then that they tumbled into a pond and "God's man" fished them out with his garden rake!

He went to tea with Miss Trent once more in the following week and enjoyed himself even more than before, for her foot was better and they had tea in the garden, and he played with a terrier puppy which had been given to Miss Trent the previous day.

The days were sunny and warm, and lessons were really a trial when everything out of doors was so delicious. But as every day passed, the holidays came nearer, and at last the eventful Wednesday came when Chris came home from school and Miss Morgan said good-bye to the children for six long weeks.

Then Mrs. Inglefield had her first picnic. And Inez and Ted both came to it. Ted was carried on a stretcher and laid on a light four-wheeled little carriage that the village carpenter had made for him. And Mr. Wargrave drew it gently along the roads, till they came to the wood where Mrs. Inglefield meant to have her picnic. He and Miss Constance Trent were both invited to the picnic. Miss Constance limped a little, but her foot was very nearly well.

Mrs. Inglefield took them all to the very spot in the woods where she had always picnicked as a little girl. There was a stream running by, and a smooth grassy place under some old beech trees. Diana was so lost in admiration of the scenery that she stood gazing round in silent awe. Inez laughed at her.

"What's the matter? Don't you feel inclined to dance like the fairies?"

"No; I only want to look and look," said Diana. "It's like the woods in the pantomimes, only you can't get inside them there, and now we're really in this."

Miss Constance overheard this. She turned to Diana and impulsively laid her hand on her shoulder.

"Don't you let anyone quench your love of beauty, dear," she said. "Fill your soul up with it whenever you get a chance, for you'll have the memory of it when you're an old woman. They've tried to quench me in London, but I've run away from them."

Diana looked at her gratefully.

"You understand?" she said. "You see, we've come away from London, too, and we're so glad we have. For there's nothing like this in the whole of London, not even in Buckingham Palace!"

"Indeed there isn't," Miss Constance responded.

Then the children ran off together. There were trees to climb, and rabbits' holes to explore, and flowers and berries to pick. The older people unpacked the luncheon baskets, and Ted lay on a rug looking up at the sky and green trees, with deep contentment in his heart.

Before long they were all sitting in a circle under the beech trees, enjoying cold veal pie and sandwiches, salad and cold chicken, followed by fruit tarts and cream. Chris and Diana had never enjoyed themselves so much before. The country was newer to them than to the others. Noel took everything that came to him in a matter-of-fact way. Inez was a little shy of the grown-up people.

After the lunch was over Chris and Diana helped their mother to wash up the dishes in the stream. Inez and Noel wandered off together.

Miss Constance sat down by Ted's side and talked to him. Mr. Wargrave helped Mrs. Inglefield in packing up the remains of the lunch.

Inez and Noel suddenly frightened a rabbit out of his hole, and then gave chase to it. Noel longed to catch it. They ran and ran along the narrow green paths that led through the wood.

When they were tired out they turned back. But they had lost their bearings, and were really wandering away from the picnic party, instead of towards them.

"I'm afraid we're lost," said Inez, suddenly stopping still.

She did not look afraid, her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"I've often wished to lose myself," she said, "but I've never managed it. Every one meets with adventures when they're lost."

"But I don't like being lost," said Noel, puckering up his face. "I don't like it at all."

"It's jolly! Come on, it's no good standing still. We shall get out of this old wood if we walk long enough."

Noel trotted after her with an anxious face.

"We'd better ask God to find us the way back," he said at last.

"Oh, no, we won't do that. This is fun!"

"It isn't fun," said Noel crossly.

Then Inez took hold of his hand.

"Come on, I think I know the way. Look at the light through the trees over there. We're at the edge of the wood now."

But they were not, and after wandering on and on, Noel began to cry.

"I'm tarred. I'm going to ask God to find us."

"Oh, you're always talking about God!" said Inez impatiently. "God is in heaven, millions and billions of miles away from us. He won't hear you. You only think He does."

Then she dashed on in front and called to him excitedly:

"Come on, here's a fence and a field. We're out of the wood."

Noel scrambled after her. They climbed the fence. The country was strange to them. There was a river, and across the field an old disused mill-house.

Once out of the wood Noel recovered his spirits, and when Inez proposed that they should go across the field and see if anyone lived in the old house, he agreed to accompany her.

"And then we'll go back to the uvvers!" he said.

"There's generally someone living in ruined houses," said Inez. "In story-books it's gipsies or smugglers or misers. We'll go and see."

But when they came to the old house, it was quite deserted. The roof had partly fallen in; there was no glass in the windows.

Inez and Noel scrambled in at an old window and explored the house. Then they found a shut door which with difficulty Inez opened. This led into a small room with a window high above their reach. There was an old box in the corner turned upside down. By its side was a heap of ashes. Evidently a tramp had taken refuge there at some time. A gust of wind suddenly swept through the house, and the door which the children had left open, banged violently. As it shut upon them the vibration brought a torrent of mortar and stones down from the roof.

Noel was frightened and ran to open the door. He could not move it, and when Inez came to his help she found that it had jammed in some way, which made it impossible for her to open it.

"Oh, Noel," she screamed, "we're shut up here! We shall never be able to get out, and we shall be starved to death!"