Now after that Captain Lyle drew old Peter aside. What the old man communicated to his young master the reader may learn in good time; but certain it is, that in less than half an hour Joe found himself back once more in his old quarters, not very much the worse for his singular adventure, and that within a week a high wooden palisade was placed all round the lake, with only one gate, and that padlocked. Leonard wondered, and so did his gentle sister. They looked at each other in silence at first, then Effie shook a serious little head, and said solemnly,—
“We mustn’t touch papa’s pike any more.”
“No,” replied Leonard, thoughtfully, “Joe is papa’s pike, and he mustn’t be touched.”
Leonard and Effie were the only children of their parents, who loved them very much indeed. Captain Lyle was proud of his boy, and, I fear, made almost too much of a pet of his girl Effie. He indulged them both to their hearts’ content, when they had done their duty for the day—that is, when they had both returned from the village school, for in those good old days in Scotland the upper classes were not above sending their boys and girls to the parish schools; there were of course no paupers went there, only the sons and daughters of farmers and tradespeople—when duty was over, then, Captain Lyle encouraged his children to play. Indeed, he seemed more like a big boy—a brother, for instance—than a father. He was always planning out new measures of enjoyment, and one of the best of these was what Leonard called The Miniature Menagerie.
I do most sincerely believe that the planning and building of this delightful little fairy palace saved the life of Captain Lyle. He had been invalided home in the month of January 1810—about ten months before the opening scene of our tale—and it was judged that a year and a half at least must elapse before he would be again fit for service. War-worn and weary though he was, having served nearly a dozen years, he soon began, with returning health, to pine for activity, when the happy thought struck him to build a palace for his children’s pets.
He communicated his ideas to Leonard and Effie, and they were delighted.
“Of course,” said Leonard, “we must assist.”
“Assuredly you must,” said Captain Lyle; “the pie would be no pie at all unless you had a finger in it.”
The first thing that the head of the house of Glen Lyle had done was to sit down in his study one evening after dinner, with the great oil lamp swinging in front of him, a huge bottle of ink, and a dozen pens and pencils lying on the table, to say nothing of a whole regiment of mathematical instruments that had been all through the French war, compasses, rules, squares, triangles, semi-circles, and what not.