A Terrible Tomboy

by Angela Brazil

'Well, the gentry has queer tastes, I will allow. There's you and Master Bobby, now, always a-collecting of stones and insects and like rubbish to litter up the Rose Parlour, and I suppose some grown folk is as foolish as children over such things. However, it's live and let live, and if they care to take their pleasure that way, let 'em, although it wouldn't be my taste if I was a lady born.'

'Come along, Bobby,' said Peggy, 'we'll go into the ruins, and see what these people are doing. Miss Crossland has often talked about the Antiquarian Society in the history lessons at school, and I always wanted to see one of the meetings.'

'Ay, do,' said Nancy, 'and if you can make head or tail of their talk, it's more than I can. One of 'em asked me if there was any sepulchral slabs, and it turned out she only meant tombstones after all. She could 'a got plenty o' they in Warford Cemetery, without coming this distance, I reckon.'

Feeling rather shy, and not liking to intrude their presence upon strangers, the children followed the party into the ruins, and creeping under the protecting shelter of some bushes, found they could take quite a good view of the proceeding unobserved. The antiquarians did not seem to be discussing anything very learned just at present, for they had drawn out flasks, and packets of sandwiches, and were engaged in picnicking upon the stones in a truly modern fashion, while occasional bursts of laughter were wafted along the air.

'It looks jolly fun. I wish they'd ask us to join them!' whispered Bobby.

'I don't see Miss Crossland there,' returned Peggy. 'But perhaps she's away for Whitsuntide. They certainly seem to be having a good time.'

To enjoy an al fresco meal, however, was evidently not the main business of the society, for the members soon disposed of their refreshments, and began to collect in little groups round a learned-looking gentleman, who, with a bundle of papers in his hand, seemed clearing his throat in preparation for giving an address. The children could hear most of what he said, and a very interesting account of the Abbey it proved to be, with a description of the size and extent of the old buildings, and the life led by the ancient monks, which quite delighted Peggy, who revelled in Scott's novels and historical stories, and which made the past days rise up so clearly before her that she could almost fancy the bell ringing for vespers, and hear the rustle of the gray robes of the friars as they passed silently up the chancel to their stalls in the choir. The members seemed to take copious notes in pocket-books, and asked occasional questions, one literary-looking lady, in spectacles and a large black hat with nodding feathers, being particularly insistent, and volunteering so much information that she threatened to usurp the place of the lecturer, and had to be gently suppressed, while an old gentleman distributed pamphlets broadcast, declaring he had had them specially printed for the occasion. The speeches were over at length, and a last farewell round of the ruins having been made, the society finally took its departure, with the intention of viewing the church, and an injunction for all the members to assemble for tea at the Bluebell Arms at half-past four precisely.

As the last pink parasol and straw hat disappeared through the little gate, Peggy and Bobby emerged from their retirement, somewhat stiff and cramped, and were just about to give vent to a wild war-whoop as some slight relief to their pent-up feelings when they noticed that after all they were not alone. Two antiquarians had remained behind, so evidently fascinated with their surroundings that they lingered about, measuring the walls with a yard-tape, and putting down the items in well-worn pocket-books. One of them was a singular-looking old gentleman, small and thin, with a clean-shaven face and a scholarly stoop. Seemingly he thought considerably more of his books than of such details as his toilet, for there was a very large expanse of gray sock visible above his dusty shoes, and his limp shirt-front looked guiltless of starch. In spite of the heat of the day, he wore two overcoats, one above the other, and the pockets of both were filled to overflowing with pamphlets and papers. He kept a fragment of pencil continually in the corner of his mouth, like a cigar, and Peggy noticed that when he accidentally mislaid his pocket-book he jotted down notes upon his cuffs, as if it were quite an ordinary occurrence to use them in lieu of paper. The other old gentleman was stout and jovial-looking, with a full gray beard and whiskers, and an amazingly juvenile suit of tweeds. It was evident that his pitch of enthusiasm, or perhaps physical endurance, was not equal to that of his companion, for he panted with heat as he held the other end of the yard measure, and gave vent to occasional grunts of disapprobation as he toiled painfully to the tops of mounds to get bird's-eye views of the outlined cells, or take snap-shots of the remains of the windows and columns.

'Interesting, most interesting! Abounding at every yard with testimony of the past, and in some ways unique, and a valuable contribution to our list of early English abbeys. With your photographs, Sedgwick, we shall have ample material for our projected treatise, which I trust should be ready for the September issue of the Archæologian'—and the little old gentleman sat down on a broken column, and pulled a sheaf of papers out of one of his many pockets.

'Warm work, though, Doctor,' replied the other, wiping his steaming brow. 'I believe I would sell my birthright for a tumbler of water. I wonder if they would give us some up at the house. There does not seem to be a spring or anything about here.'