A LESSON IN DISCIPLINE
That is why “Greenways” should have hidden its shamed head in one of the mountain’s tender mists instead of gaily smiling out at the world that morning.
When Miss Kinross rode briskly up the drive, perhaps an hour later, she had no suspicion that so truly shocking an occurrence had befallen the sunny place.
She leaned her bicycle against a ficus-covered post and crossed the verandah, a little surprised at the silence, for she was accustomed on her morning visits to being run into by Max on the red tricycle and to find little girls everywhere swinging, skipping, hoop-bowling, or doll-carrying.
She crossed the verandah and rang the bell; the door was closed—a most unusual thing.
Anna appeared and seemed to hesitate about asking her in.
[p217]
“Would you mind coming into the dining-room, ma’am?” she said at last; for how might a sitting-room be used for its legitimate purpose with a ramping rebel at large in it?
“Certainly,” said Miss Kinross. “Is Miss Bibby in?”
“Ye-e-es,” said Anna, and opened the dining-room door.
The little girls were all here. Miss Bibby had said they might do exactly as they liked this morning. Pauline sat crocheting at a grey woollen shoulder cape which was destined for some old woman in some old asylum, and was among the least interesting of her work. Lynn was reading. Not face downward, on a rug and with swiftly-moving eyes and hurrying breath, as was her custom with a living book, but she had merely picked up the History of England and sat with it quite listlessly on a chair. And Muffie was standing at the window, breathing on a pane from time to time and then drearily drawing figures upon her breath.
How could one be gay and do as one liked with the sitting-room door shut and locked on Little Knickerbockers?
Miss Bibby herself was standing before the bookcase, turning over a volume here and another one there. When Miss Kinross came in she was at Herbert Spencer’s Education, [p218] thinking that surely so wise and practical an observer of youth as he must have offered some recipe for such a situation as had just passed.
But Spencer held out no helping hand. The lines on her forehead deepened.
“Are you all well?” said Miss Kinross, coming forward to shake hands with her. “How do you do, little girls? How are the coughs? And where is my little cavalier?”
“He—he—” said Miss Bibby, hesitating a second, then deciding not quite to conceal the outrage since here might be wisdom. Surely here must be wisdom; for could any one dwell side by side with an author like Hugh Kinross and not absorb it in every pore?
“Max has been,” said Miss Bibby, “not—not quite good, I am sorry to say. He—I have been obliged to leave him by himself in the sitting-room.”
“Oh dear,” said Kate, “poor little chap; what has he done?”
Miss Bibby looked helplessly from one little girl to the other. She could not actually repeat the terrible language, and yet she did so badly need help in the emergency.
“He—I regret to say he quite forgot himself and used some naughty words,” she said. “What would you do in my position, Miss Kinross?”
[p219]
“Oh,” said Kate with a comfortable smile, “I’d let him out. He’s such a little fellow.”
“But he hasn’t said he is sorry,” said Miss Bibby anxiously. “I told him that when he rang the sitting-room bell I would go at once, for I should know it meant he was sorry.”
“And hasn’t he rung it, the young scamp?” said Kate, smiling.
“Well, yes, he did, several times,” admitted Miss Bibby unhappily; “but when I opened the door he said he had rung to say he wasn’t sorry.”
Kate laughed outright.
“What a man he will make!” she said admiringly.
Miss Bibby looked as if she did not quite follow the train of reasoning.
“So I took the bell away,” she continued, “and told him I would come every half hour and ask through the door if he was sorry. The second half hour is nearly up.”
“Oh,” said Kate impulsively, “let’s go and peep through the verandah window. Half an hour is a frightful time, Miss Bibby; he will have cried himself sick. Think what a baby he is!”
They tiptoed round to the verandah, the little girls at their heels, and they peeped cautiously through the window.
[p220]
Max was riding his tricycle. He had arranged the furniture to suit himself—a little table here, a chair there, and the rest of the things pushed out of the way; and he was earnestly practising some sharp turns and curves, in and out, out and in of the articles he had stood about. He had his tongue a little way out, a sure sign of the undivided attention he was giving the work. The way he manipulated the handles, the command he had over the little machine was really admirable.
Kate was convulsed.
“Why—why,” said Miss Bibby, “how did he get his tricycle? It certainly was not there when I went in last. Who gave him his tricycle?”
“I did, Miss Bibby,” said Lynn meekly. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Oh, Lynn!” said Miss Bibby.
“But he looked so lonely,” said the little girl piteously.
Miss Bibby went round at once to the other door and demanded “Trike,” though Kate strongly advised against it.
“I’ve quite fin’shed with it,” said the rebel sweetly, and dismounted without a struggle.
Miss Bibby wheeled it out, somewhat ignominiously.
“I want you to sit down quietly and think [p221] how very naughty you have been, Max,” she said. “Remember, I am coming in a few minutes to ask you if you are sorry.”
“A’right,” said Max cheerfully.
The ladies went back to the dining-room and conversation took a wider trend, for Miss Bibby seemed not too certain now of the judgment of the author’s sister.
“I brought you round that book I promised,” said Miss Kinross, “but I haven’t found your story yet. I have hunted everywhere again for it, and I cannot think where Hugh could have put it. Are you sure you are not in a hurry for it? I could write to Hugh, of course, though I really don’t know his address; he only told me Melbourne.”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Bibby, “I would not have him worried on any account. A few days will not make any difference. I can wait until he returns. And it is possible”—her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled with the hope—“that he has taken the MS with him and means to look through it while he is away.”
“But he did look through it,” said Kate; “he told me he had spent all the morning over it. That is what makes me doubtful that he can have taken it. He said so distinctly that it was on his desk and that I was to take it across to you.”
Her eyes held a troubled look. Hugh was [p222] so hopelessly untidy with his papers that it was just possible the precious MS had fallen into the waste-paper basket and been reduced to smoke by Lizzie. Still it seemed unwise to meet trouble half-way. Hugh would be back now any day, so there was no use to worry the poor authoress unnecessarily.
“Well,” she said, “I must be off if I am to get my ride. But I tell you I shall not enjoy it a bit without the little man on the little red tricycle pounding along behind me to the corner as usual. You couldn’t find it possible to let him out now? He must feel good by this. You never feel naughty as long as this, do you, Muffie?”
“Never,” said Muffie stoutly.
“Boys are so different,” sighed Miss Bibby.
“Well, let us have one more peep before I go,” pleaded Kate.
They tiptoed round to the verandah window again. But this time there was no sign whatever of the rebel though both doors were still locked on the outside. Miss Bibby flew back in terror to the door that opened into the hall; she had taken the key of the verandah doorway. But as her eyes went wildly searching among the furniture they fell upon a dusty little sandal with a brown little foot attached. The boy had crawled so completely underneath the low sofa that nothing more of him was visible.
Not a toe quivered.
Miss Bibby stooped down and laid a hand on the foot; the muscles of it lay soft and resistless beneath her fingers.
“Max,” she said again.
“Oh, oh,” said Lynn, whose nature was easily strung high, “is he dead! Oh, is he dead!” She leapt across the room.
But Miss Bibby was gently drawing more of the unresisting body into view—the scratched and chubby knees that succeeded the brown feet, and that were perfect little “calendars of distress,” the three-inch “trousers,” the crumpled tunic, the little smudgy face.
“Fast asleep!” she said tenderly, and gathered him very softly up into her arms.
“Fast asleep!” said Kate, and something stirred at her heart and made her long to gather up the chubby rogue herself.
“I will lay him down on the sofa,” whispered Miss Bibby, but made no haste to do so, so sweet was the sense of the warm, helpless child body in her arms.
But when the little girls had flown to make a nest with cushions and proclaimed it ready, what further excuse had she? She moved gently across the floor with her burden. But the motion broke the boy’s light sleep and he stirred in her arms and opened half an eye. It fell on Kate.
[p224]
“I’m coming,” he said sleepily, “wait for me,” and sank away again—“wait for me,” and struggled back almost to wakefulness.
Miss Bibby sat down on the sofa with him.
“There,” she said soothingly; “hush, go to sleep, love.”
Love of course instantly opened his eyes wide.
“I’m going wiv her,” he said, looking at Kate. “I always go wiv her to the corner.”
“But my little boy was naughty,” murmured Miss Bibby in his ear. “Is he my own little good boy again?”
Max nodded.
“Get the licycle,” he commanded the three little sisters who were looking at him yearningly.
They flew to obey.
“I’m hungly,” he announced.
“Yes, yes—you had no breakfast, darling—Pauline, quickly, some arrowroot biscuits and a glass of milk.”
Anna herself brought in the little tray; she had a soft spot in her heart for this member of the black-hearted sex after all.
“I put cream on them for you, darling,” she said, and proffered the biscuits.
Max munched away. “I like cleam,” he said, licking it lovingly off one biscuit.
[p225]
“Well, I am thankful the insurrection is over and that discipline has been so firmly maintained,” said Kate with a twinkle in her eye.
Miss Bibby blushed.
“You are sorry, aren’t you, darling?” she said, feeling after her formula as a matter of duty.
Max nodded again.
“Say you are sorry, darling boy,” she whispered.
Max patted her cheek and then stole his little arm round her neck in a perfectly cherubic way.
“I’m solly,” he said; then he seemed to realize more clearly that the lady’s honour had to be vindicated before all these “girls,” and he repeated more loudly and without being asked, “I’m velly solly.”
“You darling!” cried the delighted Miss Bibby, and clasped and kissed him again.
Pauline wheeled “Trike” out to the foot of the steps, Lynn rushed for the ever lost boy-hat, Muffie flew to pick a stone up from the path before the little wheel.
Then a flash of irresistible humour shone in Kate Kinross’s eyes.
“Max,” she said with exceeding suddenness, “what are you sorry for?”
Max mounted his machine from behind and settled himself in his saddle.
[p226]
“Solly cos I was shut up,” he said in the most perfect faith, and then pushed at his little red pedals and started slowly away.
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