The children, of course, took much longer; they never went straight anywhere, and even if they started to run they forgot half-way where they were going, and wandered off in several directions, after pa.s.sing objects of interest, before they remembered. So, excepting on long summer afternoons, they very seldom got as far as this particular corner, where the beech-trees grew in such abundance as to give their name to the whole place.

There was another reason as well as its remoteness from civilization which made the children regard this corner with a peculiarly awe-struck interest. On the other side of the high wall which bounded the farm at this end lived an old lady, about whom most extraordinary stories were told. She was undoubtedly eccentric and fond of seclusion, as she had spent a large sum of money on fencing her little property entirely round with a stone wall about ten feet high. Also, she never went for walks; and it was said that tradesmen's carts were not admitted into the garden, but had to wait outside on the road while the old housekeeper carried all they brought through a door in the wall, which she carefully closed behind her. n.o.body but the clergyman and the doctor had been admitted to see Mrs. Howard for years; and they were neither of them gossips, so the neighbourhood did not learn much after their visits. Some people said that the old lady was mad; others that she had committed some terrible crime for which she had been sentenced to imprisonment for life, but that being very rich, she had been allowed to escape this disgrace on condition of paying a huge fine and promising never to go outside those gloomy high walls.

The children firmly believed all the different stories they had been told by successive nursery-maids, and even a legend started by the old weeding-woman, to the effect that Mrs. Howard belonged to a very high family living in London, and that having gone mad she took advantage of her position to shoot at the Queen as she was driving through Hyde Park. The story broke off at this point, which was so unsatisfactory that the children teased Mrs. Bunn to try and remember more, until, being in a hurry to get on with her weeding, she hazarded a suggestion that perhaps the poor lady was so mad that she forgot to load the pistol. As the Queen continued to live and reign, this really seemed very probable.

Of course the little Wests could have asked their parents about Mrs.

Howard, and found out from them something more nearly approaching the truth. But on the whole they very much preferred being at liberty to believe all sorts of wonderful and terrible reports. It is such hard work to satisfy one's natural craving for romantic adventure when one is carefully brought up in a well-guarded nursery and schoolroom, that it would be mere stupid ingrat.i.tude not to get all the excitement one could out of a mysterious neighbour.

After this explanation, it can be better understood how very bold and thrilling a proposal Madge made when she suggested that the Eagle's Nest should be built in a beech-tree that actually overhung the boundary wall.

"How are we to begin? What shall we do first?" inquired the twins, as with business-like rapidity the three children started off across the fields immediately after their dinner. For once none of them lingered to pick b.u.t.tercups, or even hunt the pigs.

"First we make the floor," said Madge, who was in a very good humour at being so undoubtedly leader of the expedition. "Until that is made we have nothing to stand on while we are putting up the roof."

This was unquestionably true; besides, everybody felt that though a very fairly satisfactory nest could be imagined open to the sky, some sort of floor was an absolute necessity in a tree-house.

"But where shall we get the boards and nails from?" asked John, thinking of the neat planks he had so often counted in the nursery.

"Boards and nails!" laughed Madge. "Do you think it's going to be exactly like the stupid sort of houses we are used to? Perhaps you expect to see a brown carpet with red spots, like the one in the schoolroom?"

"Of course not! Don't be so silly!" cried John angrily. But all the same, it must be confessed he could not imagine a house very unlike Beechgrove.

"You see, this will be more of a nest," interposed Betty; "so it ought to be made of sticks."

"That's it! Follow me and I will show you where to get some." And Madge set off running across the field, closely pursued by the two others.

It was not very difficult to guess where the sticks were to be found.

Every winter the wind had a delightful way of blowing down some large boughs on the farm, and these used to be cut up and stacked together until wanted for various purposes. The children regarded these windfalls as expressly designed for their convenience and amus.e.m.e.nt.

They climbed on the heavier logs, which were piled into temptingly irregular mountains several feet high; and of the smaller sticks they made every kind of defensive weapon.

Madge led the way straight to one of these wood-piles. After much study she chose several small branches, and all three children, producing knives out of their pockets, set to work hacking off unnecessary twigs. The twigs being extremely tough and the knives not at all sharp, this process took a long time, and the afternoon seemed to be going by without their even coming in sight of Eagle's Nest.

"It's really no good trying to tidy up these sticks here!" Madge cried at last in despair. "Let us each carry as many branches as we can to the Eagle's Nest, and we can trim them into shape there when we see exactly what we want."

This seemed a particularly good idea, as all their hands were aching after sawing away for so long with their blunt knives at the hard wood.

So a procession set out, each child dragging a branch along the ground.

By doing it that way they could move good-sized branches which would afterwards cut up into several sticks.

"Oh, Madge, it's perfect! It's quite perfect!" cried the twins some time later, when, hot and panting, they at last dropped their burdens beneath the great beech-tree by the wall.

"I really think it's pretty good," replied Madge modestly. She felt that as she had invented this plan herself it would not be good manners for her to admire it too freely. "You see those two boughs poking out like great arms over the field? The sticks must be long enough to stretch from one to the other, and the Eagle's Nest when it is built will be between them."

"Oh, why did we never think of it before!" exclaimed Betty, rolling on the ground in an ecstasy of admiration.

"Well, you know we don't often come into this corner of the field to look about," Madge reminded her; "it's so far from the house. And besides," she added frankly, "I used to be rather afraid of coming here without Nurse when I was smaller, because of Mrs. Howard."

A shade of anxiety pa.s.sed over the younger children's faces. They had forgotten all about that mysterious old lady behind the wall, with her terrible character for madness and crime. Yet she was possibly lurking within a few yards of them, even listening to what they were saying.

"Do you think," began John seriously, "are you sure, that it's quite safe here?"

"Quite safe," a.s.serted Madge decidedly. "If Mrs. Howard tried to come an inch this side of the wall she would be a trespa.s.ser, and we could send a policeman after her."

An elder sister who has mastered the law of trespa.s.s to this extent is really an invaluable possession. John's mind was quite set at rest, and with a sigh of relief he again pulled out his knife and began hacking away at a branch.

"I dare say you are both wondering how we are going to get up to the Eagle's Nest," said Madge. "Now I will show you."

She went to the wall against which the beech-tree was growing, and deliberately put her toe into a deep crack between the stones where the mortar had fallen out. The others watched with the greatest excitement, while, partly supported by inequalities on the trunk of the tree, and partly taking advantage of projecting stones in the wall, she slowly climbed up until she was on a level with the destined foundations of the Eagle's Nest.

"Now hand me up a branch," she cried, "and I will lay the first stone of our house!"

"But I thought you said it was to be all sticks?" objected John.

"Do try and not be stupid!" exclaimed Betty rather sharply, as she wrestled with a branch far beyond her strength to lift single-handed.

"One always talks of laying the first stone, you know, whatever the place is built of. At least I never heard of laying the first brick!

And please help me to lift up the end of this branch, I can't push it high enough, and it will get entangled in my hair and knock off my hat."

The twins struggled unsuccessfully to lift the heavy branch high enough for Madge to reach. She stooped forward as far as she dared, almost losing her balance indeed, in her effort to get hold of this refractory foundation-stone. "If you two were only a little taller!" she exclaimed reproachfully.

Betty looked down abashed. She was short for her age, and knew it.

Quite an inch more in the wrong than John. But she had ideas.

"If we knotted all our handkerchiefs together and tied them to one end of the branch, you could pull it up easily," she suggested.

In ten minutes more the first stick, or stone, of the Eagle's Nest was laid amidst shouts of congratulation and rejoicing.

CHAPTER IV.

A ROPE-LADDER.

Building even the most simple sort of house is a very great work. A nest ought to be begun and finished in less than a week--at least year after year birds accomplish something of the sort without our ever thinking them particularly clever or industrious. But the Eagle's Nest at Beechgrove was terribly incomplete, even after a fortnight's labour had been expended on it.

"It doesn't look as if it would ever be finished," said John mournfully, "and yet we have worked so hard."

His spirits were apt to give way when anything went wrong either at lessons or play, and the first sign of depression was that he sat still and did nothing.

"You see, making the steps up the wall took a very long time," said Betty, who was vigorously sawing away at some twigs with a knife that had lately lost the little edge it ever boasted. "But they are very good steps," she added proudly.

By scratching patiently with sharp stones and long-suffering knives, the children had managed to remove a good deal of mortar from cracks about a foot apart all up the wall, so now there was no difficulty in finding a sufficient resting-place for their feet. This was much lighter work than dragging heavy branches across the field from the wood-pile, and had consequently been more popular with everybody. But at last Madge had been obliged to remind her little band of labourers that even the best sort of staircase, if it led nowhere, was not very serviceable. So then they began to drag branches again, and very weary work they found it. And now at the end of a fortnight there were only five rough misshapen logs pulled up into the right place, with a great many torn pocket-handkerchiefs to show what a hard struggle it had been to lift them from the ground. No wonder John was becoming faint-hearted.

"You talked about a house big enough to hold several people, with a nice roof in case it rained," he said reproachfully.

Madge represented that it so seldom rained in June they could easily wait for their roof a little longer. "One can put that on at any time," she urged. "There is a good bough above, and we could spread an old shawl over it like a tent, or we might make a sort of wren's nest with sticks all up the sides and top, and crawl in through a hole.

That would be very cozy, only I am afraid it would take a good many sticks, and you none of you like getting sticks."

"No, I don't," said John stoutly. "I've dragged enough of those old things across the field, and I won't be bothered with them any more.

And it's no good talking about making it like a wren's nest--silly little birds that never fight or anything! What do eagles want with those sort of stuffy little houses?"