The main cause in this transformation was the influence of the children. Miss Kiligrew, the governess, developing measles on the second morning of Patsy’s initiation, and being removed to the infirmary at Tullagh, the children were left pretty much to their own devices, and the first use they made of their freedom was to make friends with Patsy.
One evening Lord Gawdor having in a fit of exuberance kicked a football through the nursery window, and he and his companions having been placed under arrest, Patsy, the other servants being busy, was deputed to carry them their tea.
It was four o’clock and nearly dark, the wind was rattling at the window (William, the gardener, who did all sorts of odd jobs, had put in a new pane), and the fire was flickering and dancing in the grate and casting moving shadows on the walls.
By this light the man driving the pig to market (he formed the pattern of the nursery wall-paper) always seemed more alive; and if you got drowsy enough and fixed your eyes on him, you might see all sorts of things in fancy round the bend of the road down which he was driving the pig. All the pictures in the world were nothing compared to this old picture on the wall-paper seen at dusk by the flickering light of the fire.
Doris, whose head, according to Miss Kiligrew, was stuffed with “nonsense,” imagined castles and knights in armour and swans floating on lakes round the bend of the road; why, goodness only knows, for the man and the pig were the most commonplace figures on earth. Lord Gawdor imagined a market such as took place every month at Castle Knock; he could not imagine, nearly so well as Doris—that is to say, he could only imagine things he had seen.
When Patsy arrived with the tea-tray, Doris was seated on the hearthrug reading out of a book of Welsh Fairy Tales. Lord Gawdor was seated opposite to her with his knees up to his chin, and Selina, spotless in a new frock, was curled up asleep in the old armchair, a Noah’s Ark book which she had just dropped lying face downwards on the floor by her side.
“I’ve brought you jam,” said Patsy, nodding at a huge pot of plum jam on the tray. “I took it out of the cubberd when Mrs Kinsella’s back was turned. I heard the ould—her ladyship sayin’ to her, ‘You’re not to send them up any jam, Mrs Kinsella, for they’ve misbehaved’ she says.”
“Dear me,” said Doris, “what a pity, for now we won’t be able to eat it.”
“Why not?” asked Lord Gawdor.
“Because grandmamma said we weren’t.”