Hollowdell Grange.

by George Manville Fenn.

CHAPTER ONE.

A FISH OUT OF WATER.

It was such a fine hot Midsummer day at Hollowdell station, that the porter had grown tired of teasing the truck-driver's dog, and fallen fast asleep--an example which the dog had tried to follow, but could not, because there was only one shady spot within the station-gates, and that had been taken possession of by the porter; so the poor dog had tried first one place, and then another, but they were all so hot and stifling, and the flies kept buzzing about him so teasingly, that he grew quite cross, and barked and snapped so at the tiresome insects, that at last he woke Jem Barnes, the porter, who got up, stretched himself, yawned very rudely and loudly, and then, looking in at the station-clock, he saw that the 2:30 train from London was nearly due, so he made up his mind not to go to sleep again until it had pa.s.sed.

It _was_ a hot day--so hot that the great black tarpaulins over the goods-waggons were quite soft, and came off all black upon Jem Barnes's hands. The air down the road seemed to quiver and dance over the white chalky dust; while all the leaves upon the trees, and the gra.s.s in the meadows, drooped beneath the heat of the sun. As to the river, it shone like a band of silver as it wound in and out, and here and there; and when you looked you could see the reflection of the great dragon-flies as they flitted and raced about over the gla.s.sy surface. The reeds on the bank were quite motionless; while, out in the middle, the fat old chub could be seen basking in the sunshine, wagging their great broad fantails in the sluggish stream, too lazy even to snap up the flies that pa.s.sed over their heads. All along the shallows the roach and dace lay in shoals, flashing about, every now and then, in the transparent water like gleams of silver light. Down in the meadows, where the ponds were, and the shady trees grew, the cows were so hot that they stood up to their knees in the muddy water, chewing their gra.s.s with half-shut eyes, and whisking their long tails about to keep the flies at a distance.

But it was of no use to whisk, for every now and then a nasty, spiteful, hungry fly would get on some poor cow's back, creep beneath the hair, and force its h.o.r.n.y trunk into the skin so sharply, that the poor animal would burst out into a doleful lowing, and, sticking its tail up, go galloping and plunging through the meadow in such a clumsy way as only a cow can display. A few fields off the gra.s.s was being cut, and the sharp scythes of the mowers went tearing through the tall, rich, green crop, and laid it low in long rows as the men, with their regular strokes, went down the long meadows. Every now and then, too, they would make the wood-side re-echo with the musical ringing sound of the scythes, as the gritty rubbers glided over the keen edges of the bright tools.

Hot, hot, hot!--how the sun glowed in the bright blue sky! and how the down train puffed and panted, while the heat of the weather made even the steam from the funnel transparent as it streamed backwards over the engine's green back! The driver and stoker were melting, for they had the great roaring fire of the engine just in front of them, and the sun scorching their backs; the guard was hot with stopping at so many stations, and putting out so much luggage; while the pa.s.sengers, in the carriages said they were almost stifled, and looked out with longing eyes at the shady green woods they pa.s.sed. One pa.s.senger in particular, a sharp-featured and rather sallow youth about twelve years old, kept looking at the time-table, and wondering how long it would be before he arrived at Hollowdell, for that was the name printed upon the ticket Fred Morris held in his hand.

But just at this time there were other people travelling towards Hollowdell station, and that too by the long dusty chalky road that came through the woods and over the wooden bridge right up to the railway crossing; and these people were no others than Fred Morris's country cousins, and the old man-servant--half groom, half gardener--who was driving the pony chaise with Harry Inglis by his side, while Fred's other cousin Philip was cantering along upon his donkey close behind-- such a donkey! with thin legs, and a thin tail that he kept closely tucked in between the hind pair, as if he was afraid the crupper would pull it off. He wanted no beating, although he could be obstinate enough when he liked, and refuse to pa.s.s the green paddock where he grazed; but he wanted no beating, while with his young master on his back: he would trot off with his little hoofs going pitter-patter, twinkle-twinkle over the road, at a rate that it used to puzzle old Dumpling, the fat pony, to keep up with.

Harry and Philip Inglis were rather different-looking boys to their cousin, for, stouter in build, they bore upon their good-tempered faces the brown marks made by many a summer's sun. And now, upon this occasion, they were all impatience to get to the station to meet Cousin Fred, who was coming down to spend the Midsummer holidays. The visit had been long talked about, and now the boys were in a state of the greatest excitement lest any disappointment might take place.

"Oh! do drive faster, Sam," said Harry, making a s.n.a.t.c.h at the reins; "I know he'll be there first. Tiresome old thing, you! Why didn't you start an hour sooner?"

"What for?" said Sam, grumbling, and holding tightly to the reins; "what was I to come an hour sooner for? Think I don't know how long it takes to drive over to station?"

"But," said Philip, from his donkey, "I'm sure we shall be late.

There!" he continued, "I can hear the train now!"

"Nonsense!" said Sam. "Where's the steam? Why, you can see the steam for two miles before the train gets in, and Dumps here could get in long before the train."

But Philip was right, for just then the loud and shrill whistle of the engine was heard as it started again, after setting down one solitary little pa.s.senger in the shape of Fred Morris, who looked sadly disappointed to find no one there to receive him but Jem Barnes, the porter, who stared very hard at the young stranger from Lunnun.

Dumpling galloped, and Neddy went off at a double trot, upon hearing the railway-whistle, spinning along at such a rate that before Fred Morris had learned which path he was to take across the fields to go the shortest way to Squire Inglis's, of the Grange, Hollowdell--and all of which information he was getting very slowly out of Jem Barnes--Harry had jumped out of the chaise. Philip leaped off his donkey, and they were one on each side of Fred, heartily shaking hands with him.

"I say, ain't you our cousin?" said Harry, breathlessly.

"Our cousin from London, you know," said Philip, "that was to come by this train?"

"My name is Morris," said the traveller, rather pompously, "and I'm going on a visit to Mr Inglis's at Hollowdell."

"Yes, to be sure!" said Harry. "You're Cousin Fred, and I'm Harry, and that's Phil. Come along into the chaise. Here Sam--Jem! bring the box and let's be off. But I say, Fred, isn't it hot?"

Fred replied that it was, seeming hardly to know what to make of the rough, hearty manners of his cousins, and he looked, if anything, rather disappointed when he was met by the rough grin of Sam, who was of anything but a smooth exterior, and altogether a very different man to his father's well-brushed livery-servant, who had seen him safely off to the station in the morning.

"I've come," said Fred at last, when they were fairly started with Philip and Fred in the chaise, and Harry this time upon the donkey bringing up the rear--"I've come because Papa said you would not like it if I did not; but I'd much rather you had both come up to me in London.

One can find something to do there, and there's something to see. I can't think how you people manage to live down here."

"Oh! we find something to do, don't we, Harry?" said Philip, laughing.

But Harry was very busy with Neddy, who had taken it into his head to go down a lane which led to the pound--a place where he had been more than once locked up; and it was as much as ever the lad could do to stop him; so Philip's question remained unanswered. "I say," continued Philip at last, after they had been conversing some time, during which Master Fred had been cross-questioning Philip as to his educational knowledge, and giving that young gentleman to understand what a high position he occupied at Saint Paul's School--"I say," said Philip, "can you swim?"

"No," replied Fred.

"Can you play cricket?"

"No," said Fred.

"Fish, row, shoot, rat, and all that sort of thing?" said Philip.

"No!" said the other. "I have always lived in London, where we do not practise that cla.s.s of amus.e.m.e.nt."

"Oh! come, then," said Philip, "we shall be able to teach you something.

Only wait a bit, and you'll see how we live down here. But here we are; and there's Papa waiting for us under the porch."

As Philip said this, Sam had crawled down from his seat, opened a swing gate, and led the pony into a garden through which wound a carriage drive up to a long low house, all along the front of which extended a verandah, the supports and sloping roof being completely covered with roses, clematis, and jasmine, which hung in the wildest profusion amongst the light trellis-work, and then ran up the sides of the bedroom windows, peeping in at the lattice panes, and seeming to be in compet.i.tion with the ivy as to which should do most towards covering up the brickwork of the pretty place; for it really was a pretty place,--so pretty, that even Fred, who thought that there was nothing anywhere to compare with London, could not help casting admiring looks around him.

All along one side of the gravel drive there was a tall, smoothly-clipped hedge of laurels; while on the left the velvet lawn, dotted all over with beds of scarlet geranium, verbena, and calceolaria, with here and there rustic vases br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with blooming creepers, swept down in a slope towards the park-like fields, from which it was separated by a light ring fence. Right in front was another mighty laurel hedge, that looked to be almost centuries old; and on the other side was what was called the kitchen garden, though, I think, it might have been called the parlour garden just as rightly, from the rich banquets it used to supply of all kinds of luscious fruits--peaches, nectarines, plums, strawberries, apples, pears, currants; and as to gooseberries, the trees used to be so loaded with great rough golden and crimson fellows, that they would lay their branches down on the ground to rest them, because the weight was greater than they could bear. But the greatest beauty of the house at Hollowdell, or, as it was called in the neighbourhood, "The Grange," was the ivy, which did not creep there, but ran, and ran all over the place--sides, roof, and all--even twining, and twisting, and growing right up amongst the two great old-fashioned chimney-stacks, round the pots, and some shoots even drooping in them, and getting black and dry amongst the smoke that came curling and wreathing out. For Squire Inglis would not have the ivy cut anywhere excepting in the front, where he used to superintend while Sam cleared it away now and then, so as to give the roses and creeping plants a chance to show their beauties in the bright summer-time. And there the Grange stood, with flowers blooming around it in every direction, as sweet and pretty a place as could welcome any one just come from the great desert of bricks and mortar called London, in which people who are not compelled are so foolish as to go and spend their time in the sunniest and brightest days of the year.

And, as Philip said, there stood Papa beneath the porch; and directly after there stood Mamma too, to welcome their sister's child, whom they had not seen since he was almost a baby.

"Now, boys," said the Squire, after all the handshaking had been finished, "I've nothing to do with this. Fred is your visitor for a month, so I leave you to make him happy and comfortable, and mind you see that he enjoys himself."

Philip and Harry promised readily enough that they would. "But, Papa,"

said Harry, "Dr Edwards said, when we broke up, that we were to do a little work every day during the holidays, and--and--"

"And what?" said his father. "Eh, now," said he, good-humouredly; "I think I can make a good guess at what you would like. You'd like me to write to the Doctor to let you off, wouldn't you?"

"Oh! yes, yes, yes, Papa," shouted the boys, clapping their hands.

"Hurrah, that's capital!"

"Well, but would it be right?" said their father, seriously.

"Oh! yes, Papa," said Harry; "for we will do so much after the holidays, and work ever so hard to make up for it; and it is so very, very hard to learn lessons away from school. I never can get on half so well, for one can't help thinking of the games we want to play at, and then one don't feel to be obliged to learn, and it does make such a difference: so do please write, there's a good, good father," said Harry, coaxingly.

The Squire laughed, and that laugh was quite sufficient to satisfy the lads, who gave two or three frisks, and tossed their caps in the air; when Philip's fell on the top of the verandah, and had to be hooked down with a long hay-rake.

Dinner was nearly ready, so Fred followed his box up to the pretty little bedroom he was to occupy--one which opened out of the room set apart for Harry and Philip; and soon after he was down in the dining-room eating a meal that called forth the remarks and comparisons of his cousins, who were dreadful trencher-men. They told him that he must learn what a country appet.i.te meant, and so, by way of teaching him, they dragged him off, as soon as dinner was over, to look at all the wonders of the place. First over the flower-garden, and round by the aviary, where Mamma's gold and silver pheasants were kept; and then into the green-house, where Poll, the parrot, hung in her great gilt cage, swinging about amongst the flowers, dancing up and down, and shrieking out whenever anybody came by; then swaying backwards and forwards in the ring in the cage, and climbing up and down all over the bars, this way and that way, head up and head down, and all the time looking as wicked and cunning as a hook-beaked old grey parrot can look.

"Sam, Sam, where's the master?" shouted Poll, in a reedy-weedy tone, like a cracked clarionet, as soon as the lads came in sight. "Stealing the grapes. Stealing the grapes," she shouted again. "Rogues, rogues, rogues! Two in the morning, hi! hi!" And then she gave a shrill whistle, and burst out into a loud hearty laugh, that made Fred stare, it was so natural.

"There," said Philip, proudly, "you haven't got such birds as that in London."

"Oh yes, we have," said Fred, "but Papa don't care about buying them.

Poor Polly," he continued, putting his finger in to stroke the parrot.

"Don't do that," shouted the boys together; but it was too late, for almost at the same moment Fred gave utterance to a most doleful "Oh-h-h!" Poll had made a snap at his finger, and hooked a piece of flesh out sufficient to make it bleed pretty freely.

"What a beast!" said Fred, angrily, and binding his handkerchief round the place; "I'd kill it if I had my way."

"But it was your fault," said Harry, quietly, "for trying to touch it; wasn't it?"

"Ah! but he didn't know it would bite," said Philip, "or he would not have done so: but never mind, come along, and let's go down the garden."