CHAPTER II.
The next day was a very wet one; and Aunt Lucy, coming up into the schoolroom in the morning—as she invariably did, even during the holidays—saw a most extraordinary collection of baskets standing on the floor, in front of a small fire of sticks blazing away in the fireplace.
There was a large covered market basket, a fish bag with a skewer through the top, and a small japanese basket, with a lid which was kept in place by the poker and tongs laid carefully over it.
The baskets were all occasionally agitated from within; and Aunt Lucy found on enquiry that they contained the guinea-pig family, who having been flooded out of their usual quarters by the rain, had been brought in to a fire by Bobbie to be dried!
"I really object to these animals in the house!" said Aunt Lucy, trying to be severe; but Bobbie's face was so pathetic, she did not order them to be taken out at once, as she had at first intended.
"As soon as they are dry you must move them away, Bobbie," she continued; "I have had quite enough trouble with Jack's. I can't have the house turned into a menagerie."
"Really, Aunt Lucy, you needn't mind Habbakuk and Funnel—they are so very well behaved. I have been debillerating whether I ought to bring in Pompey, because his hair streams out—but he did look so cold and mis'rable, I thought you wouldn't objec'."
At this moment a housemaid came up to say there were visitors in the drawing-room.
"It is your two uncles from India," said Aunt Lucy, taking Bobbie's reluctant hand. "They have come on purpose to see you, so you must leave the guinea-pigs for a minute—Jerry can stay with them, and come down as soon as you return."
Bobbie departed groaning, while the under-nurse good-naturedly made up the fire, and began to dry the guinea-pigs with an old duster.
In a few minutes Bobbie returned, his fat round face red with the exertion of scrambling upstairs, his brown eyes sparkling.
"What are they like?" enquired Jerry, who was not fond of visitors, as Anne brushed at her curly hair, and tried in vain to flatten it to the nursery regulation of smoothness.
"Oh, two middle-aged, light gentlemen," replied Bobbie carelessly. "One gave me a shilling to buy a guinea-pig, so now I'm quite safe in telling James to bring them on Friday." And Bobbie seated himself before the fire with Habbakuk and Funnel on his knees, and rubbed away at them vigorously.
Jerry retired downstairs, but reappeared in a very short time—rushing into the room again like a whirlwind.
"What do you think the uncles have promised us, Bobbie?" she cried excitedly; "guess the most beautifullest thing you can possibly think of!"
"Guin——" commenced Bobbie, and checked himself hastily.
"Certainly not!" said Jerry, with decision. "I said I must run up and tell you, you'd be so wild with joy; it begins with a 'P'—but it isn't 'pig.' Now guess again."
"Prawns, p'rambulators, prongs, pastry," commenced Bobbie rapidly. "Well, none of those are very nice except pastry. I can't think of anything more, Jerry, you must tell me."
"Pantomime!" said Jerry, triumphantly; "next Saturday!—what do you say to that?"
Bobbie's eyes twinkled. "With preserved seats, like we had last time! Oh, splendid!" and he began to caper about the room with delight.
"Well, this has been a day!" he exclaimed, as he sank down, quite exhausted. "What a lot for my diary! I'd better write it out at once, before I forget it."
A large book, interleaved with blotting-paper, was disinterred from the play-box, and Bobbie sat down before it solemnly.
The greater part of this book was filled with minute accounts of what time its owner got up, and went to bed, what pudding he had for dinner, and what lessons he learnt; but on this occasion the entry assumed such large proportions that it spread right over the next day, and was wandering into "Friday," when Bobbie suddenly remembered the tea-party, and that room must certainly be left for that!
Jerry, looking over his shoulder, when he had finished, read the following, adorned with many blots and smudges:—
"Had sutch a day. 2 lite gentlemen who turnered into Unkels ('You mean, "turned out to be uncles,"' corrected Jerry) came And gave me 1 shiling for the brown ginny-pig I acepted with thanks they are goin to tak us Jerry and me to the pantermine and tea at Mrs. Funnels on Fryday (not the Unkels but nurs).
"P.S.—Plenty mor to say but no rume. cant put the puding to-day."