“And I am to stay there for two years,” said Maggie; “I 11 mean two more. I will ask you, Isabel Tristram, what good society is worth at the end of your two years. I expect you will tell me a very different story then.”
At this moment there came a hurried, nervous, excited knock at the room door.
“Aren’t you coming, Miss—Miss—Maggie? Clover and Dove and Spot-ear and Angelus are all waiting. Their hutch is beautiful and clean, and I have all their lettuces waiting for them just outside, so they sha’n’t begin to nibble till you come. Do, do come, please, Miss Maggie.”
“Of course I will, my darling Peterkins,” replied Maggie in her joyful voice. “Oh, this is—this is—this is fun!—Come along, Belle; come along.”
“But don’t let poor Jack get into a temper,” said Isabel in a half-frightened whisper.
Maggie took no notice of her. She opened the bedroom door and flew downstairs, holding the dirty, hot little hand of Andrew, alias Peterkins, while Isabel followed in their wake.
In a far-away part of the rectory garden, on a bit of waste land at the other side of the great vegetable garden, were two hutches which stood side by side, and these hutches contained those most adorable creatures, the pets, the darlings of the Tristram boys.
The Tristram boys were aged eleven and ten years respectively. Jack was eleven, Andrew ten. They were very sturdy, healthy, fine little fellows. At present they went to a good day-school in the neighborhood, but were to be sent to a boarding-school about the same time as their sisters were to begin their education at Aylmer House in Kensington. Their passion above all things was for pets. They had tried every sort: white mice (these somehow or other were sacrificed to the reigning cat) and waltzing mice (that shared an equally luckless fate); these were followed by white rats, which got into the garden and did mischief, and were banished by order of the rector, who was a most determined master in his own house. Dogs were also forbidden, except one very intelligent Airedale, that belonged to the whole family and to no one in particular. But the boys must find vent for their passion in some way, and rabbits were allowed them. At the present moment Jack owned five, Andrew four.
In trembling triumph, Andrew brought his new friend to see his darlings. He greatly hoped that Jack would not appear on the scene just now. While Maggie was up in her bedroom taking off, her hat, he had, with herculean strength, managed to move an old wooden door and put it in such a position that Jack’s hutch was completely hidden, while his hutch shone forth in all its glory, with those fascinating creatures Spot-ear, Angelus, Dove, and Clover looking through their prison-bars at the tempting meal that awaited them.
“Here they are! here they are!” said Andrew. “Beauties, 12 all four; my own—my very own! Maggie, you may share one of them with me while you are here. He must live in his hutch, but he shall be yours and mine. Would you like Spot-ear? He is a character. He’s the finest old cove you ever came across in your life. Look at him now, pretending he doesn’t care anything at all for his lettuce, and he’s just dying for it. Clover is the greedy one. Clover would eat till he-burst if I let him. As to Angelus, she squeaks sometimes—you’ll hear her if you listen hard—that’s why I called her Angelus; and Dove—why, she’s a dear pet; but the character of all is Spot-ear. You’d like to share him with me, wouldn’t you, Maggie?”