"I cannot tell you, Andrew. I have been alone myself for the last two or three hours, but I ordered your tea to be got ready. May I give you some? Shall we come to the dining room at once? Your family were quite well three hours ago, so perhaps you and I may have a quiet meal together before we trouble about them any further. I think I may claim this little indulgence, as only properly respectful to your wife's sister, Andrew."

"Yes, Maria, I will have tea with you," said the Doctor. The pleased, bright look of antic.i.p.ation had altogether now left his face; it was careworn, the brow slightly puckered, and many lines of care and age showed round the lips.

"I will just go upstairs and wash my hands," said Dr. Maybright. "Then I will join you in the dining-room."

He ran up the low stairs to his own room; it was not only full of Aunt Maria's possessions, but was guarded by the faithful Scorpion, who had flown there in disgust, and now again attacked the Doctor's legs.

"There is a limit," he murmured, "and I reach it when I am bitten by this toy terrier."

He lifted Scorpion by his neck, and administered one or two short slaps, which sent the pampered little animal yelping under the bed; then he proceeded down the pa.s.sage in search of some other room where he might take shelter.

Alice met him; her eyes glowed, and the color in her face deepened.

"We are all so glad you are back, sir," she said, with an affectionate tone in her voice. "And Miss Helen has got the room over the porch ready, if you'd do with it for a night or two, sir. I've took hot water there, sir, for I saw the carriage coming up the drive."

"Thank you, Alice; the porch room will do nicely. By the way, can you tell me where all the children are?"

But Alice had disappeared, almost flown down the pa.s.sage, and the Doctor had an uncomfortable half suspicion that he heard her sob as she went.

Dr. Maybright, however, was not a fanciful person--the children, with the exception of baby, were all probably out. It was certainly rather contrary to their usual custom to be away when his return was expected, still, he argued, consistency in children was the last thing to be expected. He went downstairs, therefore, with an excellent appet.i.te for whatever meal Mrs. Cameron might have provided for him, and once more in tolerably good spirits.

There are some people who habitually, and from a strong sense of duty, live on the shady side of life. Metaphorically speaking, the sunshine may almost touch the very path on which they are treading, but they shrink from and avoid it, having a strong preference for the shade, but considering themselves martyrs while they live in it. Mrs. Cameron was one of these people. The circ.u.mstances of her life had elected plenty of sunshine for her; she had a devoted and excellent husband, an abundant income, and admirable health. It is true she had no children, and it is also true that she had brought herself by careful cultivation to a state of chronic ill-temper. Every one now accepted the fact that Mrs. Cameron neither wished to be happy, nor was happy; and when the Doctor sat down to tea, and found himself facing her, it was with very somber and disapproving eyes that she regarded him.

"Well, Andrew, I must say you look remarkably well. Dear, dear, there is no constancy in this world, that is, amongst the male s.e.x."

Here she handed him a cup of tea, and sighed lugubriously. The Doctor accepted the tea with a slight frown; he was a peaceable man, but as he said, when chastising Scorpion, "there are limits."

"If you have no objection, Maria," he said, curtly, "we will leave the subject of my personal appearance and the moral question which you have brought forward out of our conversation."

Then his voice and manner changed; he put on a company smile, and continued, without any pause, "How is your husband? Is he as great an antiquary as ever? And do you both continue to like living in Bath?"

Mrs. Cameron was a strong and determined woman, but she was no match for the Doctor when he chose to have his own way. For the remainder of the meal conversation was languid, and decidedly commonplace; once only it brightened into animation.

"I wonder where Scorpion can be?" said the good lady; "I want to give him his cream."

"I fear he is under punishment," said the Doctor. "If I judge of him aright, Scorpion is something of a coward, and is not likely to come into the same room where I am for some time."

"What do you mean? Surely you have not been cruel to him?"

"Cruel to be kind. Once again he attempted to eat my legs, and I was obliged to administer one or two sharp slaps--nothing to hurt; you will find him under your bed. And now I really must go to look for my family."

Dr. Maybright left the room, and Mrs. Cameron sat still, scarlet with annoyance and indignation.

"How could Helen have married such a man?" she said to herself. "I never can get on with him--never. How cowardly it was of him to hurt the little dog. If it was not for the memory of poor dear Helen I should leave here by the first train in the morning; but as it is, I will not stir until I have established Miss Grinsted over this poor, misguided household. Ah, well! duty is ever hard, but those who know Maria Cameron are well acquainted with the fact that she never shirked it. Yes, I will stay; it will be very unpleasant, but I must go through it. What very abrupt manners the Doctor has! I was just preparing to tell him all about that wicked Polly when he jumped up and left the room. Now, of course, he will get a wrong impression of the whole thing, for the other children all take her part. Very bad manners to jump up from the tea table like that. And where _is_ Helen?--where are they all? Now that I come to think of it, I have seen nothing of any one of them since the early dinner. Well, well, if it were not for poor Helen I should wash my hands of the whole concern. But whoever suffers, dear little Scorpion must have his cream."

Accordingly Mrs. Cameron slowly ascended the stairs, armed with a saucer and a little jug, and Scorpion forgot the indignities to which he had been subjected as he lapped up his dainty meal.

Meanwhile, the Doctor having explored the morning room and the schoolrooms, having peeped into the conservatory, and even peered with his rather failing sight into the darkness outside, took two or three strides upstairs, and found himself in the presence of Nurse and baby.

"Well, Pearl," he said, taking the little pure white baby into his arms, looking into its wee face earnestly, and then giving it a kiss, which was sad, and yet partook of something of the nature of a blessing.

"Baby goes on well, Nurse," he said, returning the little creature to the kind woman's arms. Then he looked into her face, and his own expression changed.

"What is the matter?" he said, abruptly. "You have been crying. Is anything wrong? Where have all the children vanished to?"

"You have had your tea, sir?" said Nurse, her words coming out in jerks, and accompanied by fresh sobs. "You have had your tea, and is partial rested, I hope, so it's but right you should know. The entire family, sir, every blessed one of them, with the exception of the babe, has took upon themselves to run away."

CHAPTER XVII.

WHERE ARE THE CHILDREN?

Nurse's news astonished the Doctor very much. He was not a man, however, to show all he felt. He saw that Nurse was on the verge of hysterics, and he knew that if he did not take this startling and unpleasant piece of information in the most matter-of-fact way, he would get nothing out of her.

"I hope matters are not as bad as you fear," he said. "Sit down in this chair, and tell me what has occurred. Don't hurry yourself; a few moments more or less don't signify. Tell your tale quietly, in your own way."

Thus administered, Nurse gasped once or twice, looked up at the Doctor with eyes which plainly declared "there never was your equal for blessedness and goodness under the sun," and commenced her story in the long-winded manner of her cla.s.s.

The Doctor heard a garbled account of the supper in the attic, of the arrival of Mrs. Cameron, of the prompt measures which that good lady took to crush Polly, of Firefly's grief, of the state of confusion into which the old house was thrown. She then went on to tell him further that Polly, having refused to submit or repent in any way, Mrs. Cameron had insisted on her remaining in her own room, and had at last, notwithstanding all Helen's entreaties, forbidden her to go near her sister. The housekeeping keys were taken away from Polly, and Mrs.

Cameron had further taken upon herself to dismiss Maggie. She had sent a telegram to Mrs. Power, who had returned in triumph to Sleepy Hollow on Sat.u.r.day night.

"Miserable is no word for what this household has been," said Nurse.

"There was Miss Polly--naughty she may have been, dear lamb, but vicious she ain't--there was Miss Polly shut up in her room, and n.o.body allowed to go near her; and Mrs. Cameron poking her nose into this corner and into that, and ordering _me_ about what I was to do with the babe; and poor Miss Helen following her about, for all the world like a ghost herself, so still and quiet and pitiful looking, but like a dear angel in her efforts to keep the peace; and there was Alice giving warning, and fit to fly out of the house with rage, and Mrs. Power coming back, and lording it over us all, more than is proper for a cook to do. Oh, sir, we has been unhappy! and for the first time we really knew what we had lost in our blessed mistress, and for the first time the children, poor darlings, found out what it was to be really motherless. The meals she'd give 'em, and the way she'd order them--oh, dear! oh, dear! it makes me shiver to think of it!"

"Yes, Nurse," interrupted the Doctor. "It was unfortunate Mrs. Cameron arriving when I was absent. I have come back now, however, and all the troubles you have just mentioned are, of course, at an end. Still you have not explained the extraordinary statement you made to me when I came into the room. Why is it that the children have run away?"

"I'm a-coming to that, sir; that's, so to speak, the crisis--and all brought about by Mrs. Cameron. I said that Miss Polly was kept in her room, and after the first day no one allowed to go near her. Mrs.

Cameron herself would take her up her meals, and take the tray away again, and very little the poor dear would eat, for I often saw what come out. It would go to your heart, sir, that it would, for a healthier appet.i.te than Miss Polly's there ain't in the family. Well, sir, Miss Helen had a letter from you this morning, saying as how you'd be back by six o'clock, and after dinner she went up to Miss Polly's door, and I heard her, for I was walking with baby up and down the pa.s.sage. It was beautiful to hear the loving way Miss Helen spoke, Doctor; she was kneeling down and singing her words through the key-hole. 'Father'll be home to-night, Polly,' she said--'keep up heart, Poll dear--father'll be home to-night, and he'll make everything happy again.' Nothing could have been more tender than Miss Helen's voice, it would have moved anybody. But there was never a sound nor an answer from inside the room, and just then Miss Firefly and Master Bunny came rushing up the stairs as if they were half mad. 'O Nell, come, come quick!' they said, 'there's the step-ladder outside Poll's window, and a bit of rope and two towels fastened together hanging to the sill, and the window is wide open!' Miss Helen ran downstairs with a face like a sheet, and by and by Alice came up and told me the rest. Master Bunny got up on the step-ladder, and by means of the rope and the bedroom towels managed to climb on to the window sill, and then he saw there wasn't ever a Miss Polly at all in the room. Oh, poor dear! he might have broke his own neck searching for her, but--well, there's a Providence over children, and no mistake. Miss Polly had run away, that was plain. When Miss Helen heard it, and knew that it was true, she turned to Alice with her face like a bit of chalk, and tears in her eyes, and, 'Alice,' she said, 'I'm going to look for Polly. You can tell Nurse I'll be back when I have found Polly.' With that she walked down the path as fast as she could, and every one of the others followed her. Alice watched them getting over the little turnstile, and down by the broad meadow, then she came up and let me know. I blamed her for not coming sooner, but--what's the matter, Doctor?"

"I am going to find Polly and the others," said Dr. Maybright. "It's a pity no older person in the house followed them; but so many can scarcely come to harm. It is Polly I am anxious about--they cannot have discovered her, or they would be home before now."

The Doctor left the nursery, ran downstairs, put on his hat, and went out. As he did so, he heard the dubious, questioning kind of cough which Mrs. Cameron was so fond of making--this cough was accompanied by Scorpion's angry snarling little bark. The Doctor prayed inwardly for patience as he hurried down the avenue in search of his family. He was absolutely at a loss where to seek them.

"The broad meadow only leads to the high-road," he said to himself, "and the high-road has many twists and turns. Surely the children cannot have ventured on the moor; surely Polly cannot have been mad enough to try to hide herself there."

It was a starlight night, and the Doctor walked quickly.

"I don't know where they are. I must simply let instinct guide me," he said to himself; and after walking for three quarters of an hour instinct did direct him to where, seated on a little patch of green turf at one side of the king's highway, were three solitary and disreputable-looking little figures.

"Father!" came convulsively from three little parched throats; there was a volume in the cry, a tone of rapture, of longing, of pain, which was almost indescribable. "Father's come back again, it's all right now,"

sobbed Firefly, and immediately the boys and the little girl had cuddled up to him and were kissing him, each boy taking possession of a hand, and Firefly clasping her arms round his neck.

"I know all about it, children," explained the Doctor. "But tell me quickly, where are the others? where is Polly?"

"Oh, you darling father!" said Firefly, "you darling, you darling! let me kiss you once again. There, now I'm happy!"