Evelyn Everett-Green - Esther's Charge - A Story for Girls

At last she heard the unmistakable sound of the beat of a pair of horses' feet upon the hard road. That must be the carriage. The color came and went in her cheeks. She called out to Genefer that they were really coming at last, and then stood with the gate wide open behind her, whilst the odd-job man stood a little in the rear, ready to help with the luggage.

Round the bend in the road dashed the carriage. Esther heard a clamor of voices before it had stopped. There were two heads poked far out of the window, and two shrill voices were exchanging a perfect hurricane of comment and question. She saw that each boy was being held from behind by a hand upon his collar; then the carriage stopped, and the voices became audible.

"Let go, Old Bobby!" cried one voice. "Here we are!"

"The carriage can't get through the gate," shrieked the other. "Oh, drive on, drive on, coachman, and let us stick fast. It would be such fun!"

"There, get out with you, you young pickles!" spoke Mr. Trelawny's deep bass from within the carriage. "I'm thankful to deliver you up with sound skins and whole bones. Don't you see your cousin Esther waiting to speak to you? Take off your caps, and behave like little gentlemen, if you know how to."

The boys were out in a trice, but they had not even a look for Esther. Both had darted round to the horses, and stood under their noses, reaching up to stroke them, perfectly fearless, and asking the coachman a hundred questions about them.

Mr. Trelawny came behind and took them each by the collar once more.

"Didn't you hear me tell you to go and speak to your cousin?"

"Oh, she's only a girl, and she'll always be there. I like horses best," remarked one youngster in a perfectly audible voice; and sensitive little Esther bit her lip, though she felt no anger in her heart. After all, she was only a girl.

"I don't want to stay in this poky little house. I'll go on with you, and live in your house instead."

The next moment, to Esther's unspeakable astonishment and dismay, both the boys had scrambled back into the carriage, and were clinging tightly to the seats, shrieking out to the coachman, —

"Drive on! drive on! This isn't the house! We're going to live with the bobby man!"

Esther stood perfectly aghast, unable either to speak or move. She did not know which impressed her most – the extraordinary behavior of her cousins, or their perfect fearlessness towards Mr. Trelawny, whom they treated without a particle of respect.

His face was rather grim, though there was a humorous gleam in his eyes as he put out his long, strong arms, and hauled the obstreperous boys out of the carriage, amid much squealing, and kicking, and roars of laughter.

It was all play, but a sort of play that Esther did not understand in the least. With a boy held fast in each hand, Mr. Trelawny turned to the grave-faced little girl and said, —

"I had meant to present these two young gentlemen to your mother myself, but I think the only thing I can do is to get away as fast as I can. Perhaps they will come to their senses then;" and so saying, he made a sudden dive into the carriage, which had now been relieved of the luggage with which it had been piled.

The boys were after him like a shot, and Esther was in terror lest they should be run over before the carriage got safely away; but at last this was achieved, after much shouting and bawling and scrimmaging; and though both boys set off in pursuit like a pair of street Arabs, the horses soon left them behind, and they returned panting and breathless to the little gate.

"He's a jolly old buffer," said one of the boys; "I'd like to have gone with him."

"I shall go and see him every day," remarked the other. "He said he lived close by."

Then they reached the gate once more, and held out their rather smutty paws to Esther.

"How d'ye do? Hadn't time to speak to you before. Are we all going to live in this funny little box of a place?"

"It's our house," answered Esther shyly, much more afraid of the boys than they of her; indeed they did not seem to know what fear or shyness was. "I think you'll find there's plenty of room inside; and we have a very nice little garden."

"Call this a garden!" said the boy, with a look round; "I call it a pocket-handkerchief!"

Then they both laughed, and Esther laughed too, for there was something infectious about their high spirits, though they did talk in a fashion she had never heard before.

"Come and see mama first," she said, "and then I'll take you up-stairs to wash your hands, and then we'll have tea together. I daresay you are hungry."

They followed her into the little drawing-room where Mrs. St. Aiden lay. On her face there was a look of some perplexity, for she had heard a great deal of shouting and laughing, and was in some anxiety to know what it could mean.

Now she was looking upon a couple of little boys, in plain dark-blue knickerbocker suits, both having round faces and curly hair, though that of the elder boy was dark brown, and his eyes were a bright hazel; whilst the younger was blue-eyed, his hair the color of burnished gold, and his face, when at rest, wore a sort of cherubic expression that went to his aunt's heart.

"My dears, I am very glad to see you," she said. "Come and kiss me, and tell me which is Philip and which is Percy."

The boys looked at each other, and a gleam came into their eyes.

"We'll kiss you to-day," said the elder one, advancing, and speaking with the air of one making a great concession, "because we've just come, and Crump said we were to. But we're not going to kiss every day. That's like women and girls. Boys don't kiss like that. So you won't expect it, you know."

Then the pair advanced simultaneously; each gave and received a kiss, and stood back again, the younger one wiping the salute from his face with the cuff of his jacket.

"I hope you're not a kissing girl," he said in a low voice to Esther, who stood behind lost in amaze, "because I shan't let you kiss me."

"And which is Philip and which is Percy?" asked Mrs. St. Aiden again, more disposed to be afraid of the boys than they of her.

"Oh, we don't call ourselves by these affected names – nobody does," said the elder of the pair in lofty tones. "I suppose I'm Philip, but really I hardly know. They all call me Pickle, and him Puck. You'll have to do the same."

"I am not very fond of nicknames," said Mrs. St. Aiden, not quite pleased. "I shall call you by your right names whilst you are in my house."

"Call away; we shan't answer!" cried Pickle, with one of the ringing laughs which took off just a little from the bluntness of his speech. – "Come along, Puck, we've done it all now. – Oh, one thing more. Crump sent his love to you, and was sorry he couldn't come down and see you. I think that's all."

"But I don't understand. Who is Crump?" asked Mrs. St. Aiden rather breathlessly.

"Oh, only father," answered Puck, as he sidled out at the door; and then making a dash across into the dining-room, he set up a great whoop of delight, for there was a splendid tea set out – chicken, and ham, and tarts, and Devonshire cream, and several kinds of cake and jam; and the boys had scrambled on to their chairs in a twinkling, and were calling out to somebody to make haste and give them their tea, as they were just starving.

"But you haven't washed your hands," said Esther aghast.

They contemplated their grubby little paws with great equanimity.

"Mine aren't dirty to speak of," said Pickle.

"Mine are quite clean," asserted Puck, with an angelic smile.

"We're not like cats and girls, who are always washing," added Pickle. "Do give us our tea. We're so hungry and thirsty!"

"But you haven't said grace!" said Esther, whereupon the boys began to laugh.