Meg of the heather

by Evelyn R. Garratt

Finding that they were not the docile little children that she had expected, Sheila soon gave up the idea of bathing them and putting them to bed herself, and had relinquished that duty to Jane; and the housemaid could scarcely stand the pinches and kicks that the children gave her, or the water they threw at her as she bathed them. They were utterly uncontrollable. As for the pretty paper in the West bedroom, the children had not been there two days before Jane discovered pencil marks on the wall by the window, and the names of the little visitors scratched on the white paint of the shutters.

James, the gardener, lost all patience with the boys; not only were the heads of his dahlias violently knocked off, but the green house was invaded by the rebels, and in trying to reach the grapes a window was broken and branches torn down. He confided to Jane that, if Miss Dennison was going to fill her house with such little vagabonds, he would follow her example and leave.

As for the cook! She "felt fit to cry to see the waste," she informed her fellow servants. The children wouldn't eat the nice hot broth she made for them, or the rice puddings which were good and wholesome, and the plates came down again and again only just touched. If there was jam or pastry they ate it fast enough. She called it "right wicked" to indulge them like this. They'd go home worse than they came; "but there now," she added, "Miss Dennison don't understand children and she means well by them."

Miss Gregson was still more unhappy at the failure of the girl's plan; for she knew it would not be long before she would lose patience and interest in the work, and of what would happen then, her chaperon had no conception.

Sheila was getting to look worried and bored. There had been one or two days when the children had been good, but these were generally followed by times of rebellion and misconduct, during which the girl plainly lost heart, and gradually she left the care of them to others.

One afternoon she suddenly informed Miss Gregson that she had quite forgotten an engagement she had made with a friend in a neighbouring village. She was so sorry but she could not put it off.

"You won't mind, will you, Angel clear, taking care of the children for an hour or two," she said. "One is in duty bound to keep appointments if possible, and Clara would be bitterly disappointed if I did not go."

"I will do my best," said Miss Gregson, "but you must forgive any catastrophe which may happen in your absence."

"You can manage them better than I can," said Sheila, "I'm not a bit afraid." So after luncheon she ordered the cart, and was only too thankful to get out of sight and sound of the children for a time.

Miss Gregson, left to her own resources, determined to strike out a new line for herself. She had a large table placed in the empty room at the top of the house, collected pencils and paper, and after letting the children have a good run in the garden, during which time they did as much mischief as they could manage, scattering mould on the nicely kept paths, and pulling up flowers which they thought to be weeds, Miss Gregson seated them round the table and gave them a drawing lesson.