“Did I not tell you, my love, that the climate was charming?” was Mr Sudberry’s triumphant remark when a dazzling blaze of light would roll over flood and fell, and chase the clouds away.
“There, didn’t I say so?” was the withering rejoinder of Mrs Sudberry, when a black cloud rolled over the sky and darkened the landscape as with a wipe of ink.
Hitherto victory leaned decidedly to neither side, the smile of triumph and the humbled aspect of defeat rested alternate on either countenance, so that both faces taken together formed a sort of contradictory human barometer, which was not a bad one—at all events it was infinitely superior to that instrument of the banjo type, which Mr Sudberry was perpetually tapping in order to ascertain whether or not its tendencies were dropsical.
When father was up at “set fair,” mother was certain to be depressed, inclining to much rain; yet, strangely enough, it was on such occasions very dry! When mother was “fair,” (barometrically speaking, of course), father was naturally down at “changeable”! Yet there was wonderful contradiction in the readings of this barometer; for, when mother’s countenance indicated “much rain,” father sometimes went down to “stormy,” and the tails of his coat became altogether unmanageable.
But, towards the middle of the holidays, father gained a decided victory. For three weeks together they had not a drop of rain—scarcely a cloud in the sky; and mother, although fairly beaten and obliged to confess that it was indeed splendid weather, met her discomfiture with a good grace, and enjoyed herself extremely, in a quiet way.
During this bright period the Sudberry Family, one and all, went ahead, as George said, “at a tremendous pace.” The compasses having arrived, Mr Sudberry no longer laid restrictions on the wandering propensities of his flock but, having given a compass to each, and taught them all the use of it, sent them abroad upon the unexplored ocean of hills without fear. Even Jacky received a compass, with strict injunctions to take good care of it. Being naturally of an inquiring disposition, he at once took it to pieces, and this so effectually that he succeeded in analysing it into a good many more pieces than its fabricator had ever dreamed of. To put it together again would have taxed the ingenuity of the same fabricator—no wonder that it was beyond the power of Jacky altogether. But this mattered nothing to the “little darling,” as he did not understand his father’s learned explanation of the uses of the instrument. To do Mr Sudberry justice, he had not expected that his boy could understand him; but he was aware that if he, Jacky, did not get a compass as well as the rest of them, there would be no peace in the White House during that season. Moreover, Jacky did not care whether he should get lost or not. In fact, he rather relished it; for he knew that it would create a pleasant excitement for a time in the household, and he entertained the firm belief that McAllister and his men could find any creature on the hills, man or beast, no matter how hopelessly it should be lost.
There being, then, no limit to the wanderings of the Sudberrys, they one and all gave themselves over deliberately to a spirit of riotous rambling. Of course they all, on various occasions, lost themselves, despite the compasses; but, having become experienced mountaineers, they always took good care to find themselves again before sunset. George and Fred candidly declared that they preferred to steer by “dead reckoning,” and left their compasses at home. Lucy always carried hers, and frequently consulted it, especially when in her father’s presence, for she was afflicted, poor girl, with that unfashionable weakness, an earnest desire to please her father even in trifles. Nevertheless, she privately confided to Fred one day that she was often extremely puzzled by her compass, and that she had grave doubts as to whether, on a certain occasion, when she had gone for a long ramble with Hector and Flora Macdonald, and been lost, the blame of that disaster was not due to her compass. Fred said he thought it was, and believed that it would be the means of compassing her final disappearance from the face of the earth if she trusted to it so much.
As for Mr Sudberry himself; his faith in the compass was equal to that of any mariner. The worthy man was, or believed himself to be, (which is the same thing, you know!) of profoundly scientific tendencies. He was aware, of course, that he had never really studied any science whatever; but he had dabbled in a number of them, and he felt that he had immense capacity for deep thought and subtle investigation. His mind was powerfully analytical—that’s what it was. One consequence of this peculiarity of mind was that he “took his bearings” on short and known distances, as well as on long venturesome rambles; he tested himself and his compass, as it were.
One day he had walked out alone in the direction of the village, four miles distant from the White House, whence the family derived their supplies. He had set out with his rod, (he never walked near the river without his rod), intending to take a cast in what he styled the “lower pools.” By degrees he fished so near to the village that he resolved to push forward and purchase a few books. Depositing rod and basket among the bushes, he walked smartly along the road, having previously, as a matter of course, taken his bearings from the village by compass. A flock of sheep met him, gazed at him in evident surprise, and passed on. At their heels came the collie dog, with his tongue out. It bestowed a mild, intelligent glance on the stranger, and also passed on. Close behind the dog came the shepherd, with plaid bonnet and thick stick.
“A fine day, friend,” said Mr Sudberry.