CHAPTER XIII
THE SMUGGLERS' CAVE
'Dark and dank, where the toad doth creep,
And the dusk-loving bat haunts the shadows deep.'
Great was the excitement in the family at the news of Aunt Helen's engagement, and equal were the lamentations when it became known that, instead of settling down near them as a pleasant and desirable uncle, Mr. Neville intended to carry his bride back with him to India as soon as matters could possibly be arranged, for he held a high position under Government in an outlying province, and could only be spared on short leave. Poor Aunt Helen was torn in two between the lover of her youth and the children of her adoption; but I really believe, when she saw Bobby's tears, that if Father had not put his foot down firmly, she would have thrown up everything, and clung to her bairns.
As it was, the house seemed entirely upset. Miss Jones, the village dressmaker, was installed in the Rose Parlour, and appeared to be stitching morning, noon, and night; the postman's bag was quite heavy with patterns and catalogues of Indian outfits; while distant relations and old acquaintances, who had neglected the Abbey for years, kept Nancy in a state of perpetual agitation by turning up suddenly to pay congratulatory calls.
'If they'd only send a letter to say they'd be coming,' she complained, 'one would have a chance to be ready for 'em. But old Mrs. Osborne arrived o' Monday, with me in the midst of my washing, and never a bit of cake in the house; and there was Squire Henley and his lady o' churning day, and I had to leave the butter half made to bring in tea; and ten to one there'll be someone more o' Friday, when I'm cleaning my kitchens. What with visitors all days of the week, and Miss Jones with her snippings and mess in the parlour, I, for one, shall be glad when the wedding is over, though how the house is to go on without Miss Vaughan goodness only knows.'
Peggy and Bobby liked the fun of the preparations, though they crept out of the way of the visitors as much as possible, for to be shown up in the drawing-room involved an amount of dressing and tidying which did not fit in at all with their ideas of holiday enjoyment, and they much preferred a picnic tea in the orchard, with Rollo and the rabbits for company, to the more select charms of the best china and the stately patronage of the neighbouring dowagers.
Lilian was busy trying to grow up suddenly and be ready to take Aunt Helen's place, for she was old enough now to realize how much responsibility would rest with her when she must manage the reins of the household alone, and she was determined that Father should feel as little discomfort as possible from the change.
So the younger ones were left more than ever to their own devices, to amuse themselves as they liked, and to get into mischief or not, according to the whim of the moment. I am afraid, if there was any mischief in the case, the blame generally rested with Peggy, for it was her enterprising mind which planned out the schemes of enjoyment.
It was certainly Peggy who suggested sitting on the top of the haystack, and making it sway backwards and forwards like a swing, a delightful sensation while it lasted, but which ended suddenly in the collapse of the whole top of the stack, much to Father's wrath, for it took David a couple of hours to repair the damage, and certainly did not sweeten the old man's already crusty temper. It was also Peggy's most inopportune idea to ride the brown cow round the pasture on the very afternoon that Mrs. Davenport was paying a stiff call in the drawing-room. She gave Bobby a leg up on to Brindle's broad back, and had just succeeded in scrambling inelegantly behind him, when the astonished quadruped paused in her task of cropping the succulent grass and buttercups, and realizing that something unusual was oppressing her, fled in mad career over the meadow, with the delighted children clinging desperately to her horns.
'Hoop-la! Yoicks! Tally-ho! I believe she'll take the fence!' shouted Peggy in anything but a quiet and young-lady-like tone of voice.