Meantime the naughty children were turned out of the room while they talked, and the mystery of this, sobered their temper considerably; so that they made no further disturbance, but wandered up and down the stairs, and about the hall, in silent discomfort.

"At one time they thought they heard the drawing-room door open, and their aunt go up-stairs towards the nursery department again; but then for a long while they heard no more; and at last, childlike, began to amuse themselves by seeing how far along the oil-cloth pattern they could each step, as they walked the length of the hall, the great object being to stretch from one particular diamond to another, without touching any intermediate mark.

"In the midst of the excitement of this, they heard their aunt's voice calling to them from the middle of the last flight of stairs.

There was something in her face, composed as it was, which alarmed them directly, and there they stood quite still, gazing at her.

"'Grandmamma and I,' she began, 'think you have been very silly indeed in making such a fuss about those rabbits' tails; and you have been very naughty indeed to-day, VERY NAUGHTY, in crying so ridiculously, and teazing all the servants, because of one being lost. You can't play with them rationally, nurse is sure, and so we think you will be very much better without them. Grandmamma has sent me to tell you--YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE TODS, AS YOU CALL THEM, ANY MORE.'

"Aunt Judy, it was horrible!" cried No. 6; "savage and horrible!" she repeated, and burst the next instant into a flood of tears.

"Oh, my old darling No. 6," cried Aunt Judy, covering the sobbing child quite round with both her arms, "surely YOU are not going into hysterics about the rabbits' tails too! I doubt if even their little mammas did that. Come! you must cheer up, or mamma will leave to be sent for to say that if you are so unreasonable, you must never listen to Aunt Judy's stories any more."

No. 6's emotion began to subside under the comfortable embrace, and Aunt Judy's joke provoked a smile.

"There now, that's good!" cried Aunt Judy; "and now, if you won't be ridiculous, I will finish the story. I almost think the prettiest part is to come."

This was consolation indeed; but No. 6 could not resist a remark.

"But, Aunt Judy, wasn't that aunt--"

"Hush, hush," interrupted Aunt Judy, "I apologized for both aunt and grandmamma before I told you what they did. They meant to do for the best, and

'The best can do no more.'

They cured the evil too, though in what you and I think rather a rough manner. And rough treatment is sometimes very effectual, however unpleasant. It was but a preparation for the much harder disappointments of older life."

"Poor little things!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed No. 6, once more. "Just tell me if they cried dreadfully."

"I don't think I care to talk much about that, dear No. 6," answered her sister. "They had cried almost as much as they could do in one day, and were stupified by the new misfortune, besides which, they had a feeling all the time of having brought it on themselves by being dreadfully naughty. It was a sad muddle altogether, I must confess. The shock upon the poor children's minds at the time must have been very great, for the memory of that bereavement clung to them through grown-up life, as a very unpleasant recollection, when a thousand more important things had pa.s.sed away forgotten from their thoughts. In fact, as I said, the motherless little girls really broke their hearts over a parcel of rabbits' tails. But I must go on with the story. After a day or two of dull desolation, the children wearied even of their grief. And both grandmamma and aunt became very sorry for them, although the fatal subject of the Tods was never mentioned; but they bought them several beautiful toys which no child could help looking at or being pleased with. Among these presents was a brown fur dog, with a very nice face and a pair of bright black eyes, and a curly tail hung over his back in a particularly graceful manner; and this was, as you may suppose, in the children's eyes, the gem of all their new treasures. The feel of him reminded them of the lost Tods; and in every respect he was, of course, superior. They named him 'Carlo,' and in a quiet manner established him as the favourite creature of their play. And thus, by degrees, and as time went on, their grief for the loss of the Tods abated somewhat; and at last they began to talk about them to each other, which was a sure sign that their feelings were softened.

"But you will never guess what turn their conversation took. They did not begin to say how sorry they had been, or were; nor did they make any angry remarks about their aunt's cruelty; but one day as they were sitting playing with Carlo, in what may be called the Tod corner of the nursery, the eldest child said suddenly to her sister, in a low voice

"'What do you think our aunt has REALLY done with the Tods?'

"A question which seemed not at all to surprise the other, for she answered, in the same mysterious tone:-

"'I don't know, but I don't think she COULD burn them.'

"'And I don't, either,' was the rejoinder. 'Perhaps she has only put them somewhere where WE cannot get at them.'

"The next idea came from the younger child:-

"'Do you think she'll ever let us have them back again?'

"But the answer to this was a long shake of the head from the wiser elder sister. And then they began to play with Carlo again.

"But after that day they used often to exchange a few words together on the subject, although only to the same effect--their aunt COULD not have burnt them, they felt sure. She never said she had burnt them. She only said, 'YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE TODS ANY MORE.'

"Perhaps she had only put them by; perhaps she had put them by in some comfortable place; perhaps they were in their little basket in some closet, or corner of the house, quite as snug as up in the nursery.

"And here the conversation would break off again. As to asking any questions of their aunt, THAT was a thing that never crossed their minds. It was impossible; the subject was so fatally serious! . . .

But I believe there was an involuntary peeping about into closets and out-of-the-way places whenever opportunity offered; yet no result followed, and the Tods were not found.

"One night, two or three months later, and just before the little things were moved back from London to their country home; and when they were in bed in their sleeping room, as usual, and the nurse had left them, and had shut the door between them and the day nursery, where she sat at work, the elder child called out in a whisper to the younger one:-

"'Sister, are you asleep?'

"'No. Why?'

"'I'll tell you of a place where the Tods may be.'

"'Where?'

"'The cellar.'

"'Do you think so?'

"'Yes. I think we've looked everywhere else. And I think perhaps it's very nice down there with bits of sawdust here and there on the ground. I saw some on the bottle to-day, and it was quite soft.

Aunt would be quite sure we should never see them there. I dare say it's very snug indeed all among the barrels and empty bottles in that cellar we once peeped into.'

"The younger child here began to laugh in delighted amus.e.m.e.nt, but the elder one bade her 'hush,' or the nurse would hear them; and then proceeded whispering as before

"'It's a great big place, and they could each have a house, and visit each other, and hide, and make fun.'

"'And I dare say Softy was put there first,' interposed the younger sister.

"'Ay, and how pleased the others would be to find him there! Only think!'

"And they DID think. Poor little things, they lay and thought of that meeting when 'the others' were put in the cellar where 'Softy'

already was, ready to welcome them to his new home; and they talked of all that might have happened on such an occasion, and told each other that the Tods were much happier altogether there, than if the others had remained in the nursery separated from dear little Softy.

In short, they talked till the door opened, and the nurse, unsuspicious of the state of her young charges, went to bed herself, and sleep fell on the whole party.

"But a new world had now opened before them out of the very midst of their sorrow itself. The fancy home of the Tods was almost a more available source of amus.e.m.e.nt, than even playing with the real things had been; and sometimes in the early morning, sometimes for the precious half-hour at night, before sleep overtook them, the little wits went to work with fresh details and suppositions, and they related to each other, in turns, the imaginary events of the day in the cellar among the barrels. Each morning, when they went down- stairs, Carlo was put in the Tod corner of the nursery and instructed to slip away, as soon as he could manage it, to the Tods in the cellar, and hear all that they had been about.

"And marvellous tales Mr. Carlo used to bring back, if the children's accounts to each other were to be trusted. Such running about, to be sure, took place among those barrels and empty bottles. Such playing at bo-peep. Such visits of 'Furry' and his family to 'Buffy' and HIS family, when the little 'Furrys' and 'Buffys' could not be kept in order, but would go peeping into bungholes, and tumbling nearly through, and having to be picked out by Carlo, drabbled and chilled, but ready for a fresh frolic five minutes after!

"Such comical disputes, too, they had, as to how far the grounds round each Tod's house extended; such funny adventures of getting into their neighbour's corner instead of their own, in the dim light that prevailed, and being mistaken for a thief; when Carlo had to come and act as judge among them, and make them kiss and be friends all round!

"Such dinners, too, Carlo brought them, as he pa.s.sed through the kitchen on his road to the cellar, and watched his opportunity to carry off a few un-missed little bits for his friends below. Dear me! his contrivances on that score were endless, and the odd things he got hold of sometimes by mistake, in his hurry, were enough to kill the Tods with laughing--to say nothing of the children who were inventing the history!

"Then the care they took to save the little drops at the bottom of the bottles, for Carlo, in return for all the trouble he had, was most praiseworthy; and sometimes, when there was a rather larger quant.i.ty than usual, they would have SUCH a feast!--and drink the healths of their dear little mistresses in the nursery up-stairs.

"In short, it was as perfect a fancy as their love for the Tods, and their ideas of enjoyment could make it. Nothing uncomfortable, nothing sad, was ever heard of in that cellar-home of their lost pets. No quarrelling, no crying, no naughtiness, no unkindness, were supposed to trouble it. Nothing was known of, there, but comfort and fun, and innocent blunders and jokes, which ended in fun and comfort again. One thing, therefore, you see, was established as certain throughout the whole of the childish dream:- the departed favourites were all perfectly happy, as happy as it was possible to be; and they sent loving messages by Carlo to their old friends to say so, and to beg them not to be sorry for THEM, for, excepting that they would like some day to see those old friends again, they had nothing left to wish for in their new home:-

"And here the Tod story ends!" remarked Aunt Judy, in conclusion, "and I beg you to observe, No. 6, that, like all my stories, it ends happily. The children had now got hold of an amus.e.m.e.nt which was safe from interference, and which lasted--I am really afraid to say how long; for even after the fervour of their Tod love had abated, they found an endless source of invention and enjoyment in the cellar-home romance, and told each other anecdotes about it, from time to time, for more, I believe, than a year."

When Aunt Judy paused here, as if expecting some remark, all that No.