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

But to-day Esther did not get her book; she was much too anxious, and kept rising and walking over to the window every few minutes, rather to the discomfort of the placid cat, who could not think what had come to his little mistress that day.

Esther was thankful that her mother had not seemed much alarmed by the news that the boys had gone out for a walk before breakfast.

"Boys like that sort of thing, I suppose," she said. "Their father said they were active and independent, and that we must not make ourselves anxious over them needlessly." Then she had taken up her letters and begun to read them; and Esther stole away, wishing she could be as calm and tranquil over the disappearance of the boys as other people were.

"I'm sure they have gone up to the Crag," she kept saying to herself, "and they may have got into some awful place, and all sorts of things may be happening!"

Esther could not have explained to Genefer or anybody grown up her horror and misgiving respecting the vicinity of the Crag; but it was a very real terror to her, and it had become greater since she had heard Bertie's account of the electric eye, and other awful things which were likely to be going on there now. Mr. Trelawny had an assistant now, and was going to do still stranger things. Suppose he wanted blood, or brains, or something human for his experiments! She shivered at the bare thought.

Suddenly she jumped up with a stifled cry. Through the open window she heard the sound of steps and voices; but before she had time to reach it again, the sunlight was darkened by the approach of a tall figure, and Esther saw that the missing boys were being led home by Mr. Earle, who had his hand upon the collar of each, as though he had found them a slippery pair of customers, and was resolved that they should not escape him.

"Here are your boys, Miss Esther," he remarked, walking in and depositing each of them upon the chair set ready at table for him. "I hope you have not been anxious about this pair of young rascals; and will you tell your mother, with my compliments, that I am ready to begin regular study with you all any day she may like to send word! You need not wait till next week unless you like."

There was rather a grim smile upon Mr. Earle's face, and the round spectacles glinted in the sunshine till Esther thought they must certainly be "electric eyes" – though what electric eyes were she had not the faintest notion, which, however, did not tend to allay her uneasiness.

"Thank you, sir," she said rather faintly; "I will tell mother." Then she plucked up her courage to add, "May I give you a cup of coffee after your walk?"

"Thank you; but I have breakfasted already," answered Mr. Earle with a smile, which made Esther just a little less afraid of him. "We keep early hours up at the Crag; and a good thing too for these young sinners!" and he threw a scathing look at the boys, who were sitting marvelously quiet in their places, looking exceedingly demure, not to say sheepish, though they stole glances across the table at each other, showing that the spirit of mischief within them was only temporarily in abeyance.

Mr. Earle nodded to them all and walked off through the window, and Esther looked curiously at her two charges as she poured out the coffee.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"Why, up to Old Bobby's of course!" answered Pickle, his mouth full of bread and butter. "Why can't we live up there, instead of in this little band-box? It's no end of a jolly place. Do you go often?"

"Not very," answered Esther with a little shiver.

"That's what he said," remarked Puck indistinctly, "but you'll have to come oftener now."

"Why?"

"Oh, because he said we might come as often as you brought us. I want to go every day."

"I don't think Mr. Trelawny would like that."

"Oh, he wouldn't mind. He said he didn't mind how many visits you paid him. He said little girls were worth twice as much as boys, but that's all tommy rot."

Esther's eyes opened rather wider.

"I don't know what tommy rot is," she said.

Puck burst out laughing.

"She doesn't know much, does she, Pickle?" he cried. "I wonder why Old Bobby likes girls better than boys?"

"Perhaps they're nicer to eat," suggested Pickle; and the two boys went off into fits of laughter, whilst Esther shook silently, wondering if that could have anything to do with it.

To judge by their appetites, the boys were none the worse for their morning's walk – they put away the food in a fashion that astonished Esther; but as she sat watching them at their meal, she noticed some very queer marks upon their clothes, which she did not think had been there last night – stains, and little holes, looking rather like burns; and presently she asked, —

"What have you been doing to yourselves?" and pointed to the marks.

Puck began to giggle, and Pickle answered boldly, —

"Oh, I suppose that must have been some of the stuff that smelt so nasty in the tanks."

"What tanks?"

"Don't you know? Haven't you ever been down there? In that jolly old cave under Old Bobby's house."

Esther felt a cold thrill creeping through her.

"I don't know what you mean," she said faintly.

"Well, you must be a precious ninny!" laughed Pickle, with a good-humored contempt; "fancy living here all these years, and not knowing that!"

"We haven't been here so very long," said Esther.

"Well, you've been here longer than we have anyhow. And we've found it out already."

She was shivering a little, yet was consumed by curiosity.

"Tell me about it," she said.

Pickle was quite ready to do that. He had appeased his first hunger, and he loved to hear himself talk, especially when he had an appreciative audience; and Esther's eager and half-frightened face bespoke the keenness of her interest.

"Well, you see, we woke up early, and didn't see any fun in lying in bed; so we got up and dressed and went out, and there was the path up through the wood, and we knew Old Bobby's house was somewhere up there. So it seemed a good plan just to go and look him up, you know."

"We often go out early at home," added Puck, "and look people up. Sometimes we wake them up throwing things into their windows, or at them, if they're shut. Sometimes they throw water at us, and that's awful fun. One old fellow did that, and we went and got the garden-hose, and his window was wide open, and we just soused his room with water. You should have seen him rushing to shut it up! But there isn't always a hose and pump handy," and he looked pathetic for a moment.

"Well," continued Pickle, "we got up the hill easy enough, and it was a jolly place. We forgot all about going to the house, there was such lots to see and explore. That was how we found the cave – poking about all over. There are no end of little crevasses and things – places you can swarm down and climb up again. We had a fine time amongst them; and then we found this one. We climbed down the chimney, but there are two more ways of getting in. Old Bobby came by one, and turned us out by the other."

"I've heard him speak of an underground place," said Esther in a low voice. "He said he'd show it to me, but I didn't want to go."

Puck stared at her in amaze.

"Why on earth not?" he asked.

"I thought it would be dark," she said, not caring to explain further; and both boys laughed.

"It is rather dark; but not so very when you've got used to it," said Pickle, "and boys don't mind that sort of thing. I don't know where the light gets in; but there are cracks, he said. Anyhow we got down a queer, narrow hole like a chimney, and dropped right down into a sort of huge fireplace – big enough to cook half a dozen men."

"O Pickle!"

"Well, it was. I expect, perhaps, they did cook men there in the olden times – when people were persecuted, you know, and they had places for torturing them," remarked Pickle, who had a boy's relish for horrors. "That sort of place would be just the very thing. And afterwards smugglers had it, and I daresay they murdered the excisemen in there if they got a chance. I never saw such queer marks as there were on the stones – did you, Puck? I should think they must be human blood. You know that won't wash out if it has once been spilt when there's a murder. I've read lots of stories about that. If you only cut yourself, it doesn't seem to leave a stain; but that's different from murder."