Girls of the Forest

by L. T. Meade

“Yes, Robert, and with attention—with attention and interest,” said Mr. Dale. “Why, upon my word, this is almost as good as a fresh rendering of the immortal Plato. Sit down, farmer, sit down.”

The farmer did not sit down.

“It’s no use mincing matters,” he said, “nor walking round the bush. It is just this. If there is a family on this earth that I have been proud to have to do with, it is that of the Dales. If there were children that I loved next to my own, it was the Dales. Why, I was brought up, so to speak, to look on them as my liege lords. My mother had the old feudal principles in her, and she never went with the times. She never held that we were as good as our betters. We were good enough, straight enough, honest enough, but we hadn’t the blue blood of the Dales in us. That is how I was brought up. Well, you, sir, were married, and came to live here with your good lady. It was the will of the Almighty that she should be taken, and the children were left motherless; and my little Nancy and I, we used to watch to do them a kindness. They were right pleased to come over and see us, and to ride barebacked on my two Forest ponies, and have their fun whenever they could get as far away as The Hollies. And Nancy was free to come to your house, and much she enjoyed it.”

“Well, Robert, very natural—very natural indeed,” said Mr. Dale.

“So I took it; so I took it.”

Here the farmer flashed an angry eye in the direction of Miss Tredgold.

“But never mind,” he continued. “I did not presume—far from that—far indeed from that. It pleased the Almighty to give you ten daughters, Mr. Dale, and to give me but one. And I love my one as much, perhaps, as you love the whole of your ten. But be that as it may, when Nancy went to The Dales to have her fun and her larks and her gay time, I was as pleased as Punch. And then this good lady came, and she said to herself, ‘Who is Nancy King?’ and the young ladies told her the plain truth; and then this good lady did not take the trouble to inquire. A farmer’s daughter was only a farmer’s daughter to her. Oh, I am not blaming her; but a little thought, a little less prejudice, would have prevented a lot of mischief. Anyhow, the good aunt gave the word—my girl and the young ladies were to have nothing to do with each other in the future. Mark you that, sir, when they were brought up, so to speak, together—always tumbling about in the same hay-field, and riding the same ponies, and playing the same games. It was all to end because of madam. Now, Mr. Dale, I was real mad when Nancy came and told me what had happened. My feelings were hot and strong and bitter, and I thought the treatment dealt out to my child and me none too just. So, sir, when Nancy asked me to help her, I helped with a will. When Miss Pauline came over to see us—which she did unknown to her aunt—I gave her the best of welcomes, and we started our midnight picnic for no other reason in life but to have her with us.”

“When did you have your midnight picnic?” asked Miss Tredgold very gently. “When? Kindly give me the date.”

The farmer looked into her face. When he saw how white she was, and when he glanced at the two little girls, Briar and Patty, his heart smote him.

“I was given over to evil feelings at that time,” he said, “and I don’t pretend for a moment I did right. Miss Pauline didn’t want to be coaxed, but Nancy was a rare temptress. We did our best, and the children came—three of them. You want to know the date, madam. It was the date of Miss Pauline’s birthday—the night after her birthday. Oh, yes, madam, we had our wild time—a right good time, too.” The farmer gave a short laugh. “You thought your young ladies quite out of the reach of the influence of Farmer King and his family; but you never guessed, madam, that all through one long beautiful summer night we had revels in the woods—dancing, madam; and a picnic, no less; and the young miss crowned with flowers as queen, and given the best presents we could give her. We took a drive under the oaks and elms and beeches of the New Forest, and you never guessed, madam—never. But Miss Pauline, Miss Briar, and Miss Patty were there, and Miss Pauline was our queen. Ah! she had a gay birthday, but you ask her what sort of a birthnight she had. It is true she was queen of the day, but that was nothing to the time when she was queen of the night. Well, sir”—the farmer’s eyes shone as he spoke—— “I meant it as a big joke, and I was desperately proud of myself; but I saw even then that Miss Pauline was fretting, and I spoke to her quite seriously, and I said, ‘If ever the time comes when you want a friend, I am the man for your purpose. Don’t you forget that; because you are a Dale and I am a King, and you Dales have always been our liege lords, so don’t you forget that.’ And the child, sir, she believed me. Lots of things happened afterwards, but of them I have nothing to say until last night. Miss Pauline came back to me, and she reminded me of what I had said to her that night in the woods. And, sir—and, madam—I mean to keep my promise. I came home at midnight, and there she was standing at the gate, white and slim and pretty as though she was a moonbeam. And she said, ‘You promised to help me when I was in trouble, and I have come to you to get you to keep your promise.’ Now, sir and madam, I have come here about that. The young lady wants to be helped. She has got a shock, and wants a bit of humoring. She says some words which have no meaning to me, but they mean something to her, and she must be humored. ‘I want to wash and be clean,’ she keeps saying; and she wants Nancy and me to take her away to the seaside where the waves are big and strong, and she insists on it that she will only go with Nancy and me. So, Miss Tredgold and Mr. Dale, I have come here to-day to say that we mean to take her.”