The Children of the Castle Read online

pass it I'll walkjust as slow as ever I can on purpose. You'll see, Mavis."

  "We'd better run now," said Mavis. "The sands are pretty firm justhere, and cousin Hortensia said we were to make ourselves warm. Let'shave a race."

  They had left the cove and were making their way to the hamlet by thefoot of the rocks, where at low tide there was a narrow strip of pebblysand, only here and there broken by out-jutting crags which the childrenfound it very amusing to clamber over. Their voices sounded clear andhigh in the air. For the wind seemed to have fallen with the recedingtide. By the time they reached the cottages they were both in a glow,and Ruby had quite forgotten her indignation at old Bertha's firelessrooms.

  CHAPTER TWO.

  WINFRIED.

  "And somewhat southward toward the noon, Whence lies a way up to the moon; And thence the fairy can as soon Pass to the earth below it."

  Drayton.

  Joan, a pleasant-faced young woman who had once been the children'snurse, and was now married to a fisherman who owned several boats, andwas a person of some consequence among the villagers, was standing atthe door of her cottage with a baby in her arms as the children came up.Her face beamed with smiles, but before she had time to speak Rubycalled out to her.

  "How are you, Joan? We've come round to ask how baby is, but it's veryeasy to see he is better, otherwise you wouldn't be so smiling."

  "And here he is to speak for himself, Miss Ruby," said Joan. "How verykind of you to think of him! And you too, Miss Mavis, my dear. Are youboth quite well?"

  "Yes, thank you, Joan," said Mavis quietly. But Ruby was fussing aboutthe baby, admiring him and petting him in a way that could scarcely failto gain his mother's heart. Joan, however, though fond of both thechildren, had plenty of discernment. She smiled at Ruby--"Miss Ruby haspretty ways with her, there's no denying," she told her husbandafterwards,--but there was a very gentle tone in her voice as she turnedto Mavis.

  "You've had no more headaches, I hope, Miss Mavis? Have you beenworking hard at your lessons?"

  "I have to work hard if I work at all, Joan," said the little girlrather sadly.

  "She's so stupid," said Ruby; "and she gets her head full of fancies. Idaresay that prevents her having room for sensible things. Oh,by-the-bye, Joan, tell us who lives in that queer cottage all by itselfsome way farther along the coast. I never saw it till the other day--it's almost hidden among the rocks. But Mavis says she once passed itwith you, and you made her run by quickly. Why did you, Joan? I do sowant to know."

  Joan looked rather at a loss.

  "You mean old Adam's cottage," she said. "I really don't know whypeople speak against him. He's never done any harm, indeed, he's a kindold man. But he's come from a long way off, and he's not like the otherfolk, and they got up a tale that there were queer sounds and sights inhis cottage sometimes--singing and lights late at night, that couldn'tbe canny. Some spoke of mermaids swimming down below in front of hishut and him standing talking to them quite friendly-like. But that's agood while ago now, and I think it's forgotten. And he goes to churchregularly. You'll always be sure of seeing him there."

  "Then why don't people like him?" said Mavis.

  "Perhaps it's just because he is good and goes to church," said Ruby."I'm not at all sure that I like extra good people myself. They're sotiresome."

  "He's not one to meddle with others," said Joan. "He keeps very much tohimself, and his talking doesn't sound like ours. So they call him aforeigner. Indeed, he's often not heard of or seen for weeks and evenmonths at a time, unless any one's ill or in trouble, and then he seemsto know it all of himself, and comes to see if he can help. That's onereason why they think him uncanny."

  "Did he come when baby was ill?" asked Ruby. Joan shook her head.

  "No, for a wonder he didn't."

  "Perhaps he's dead," said Ruby indifferently.

  "We're going past that way, Mavis. Let's peep in and see."

  Mavis grew rather pale.

  "Ruby," she said, "I wish you wouldn't--you frighten me."

  "Miss Ruby would be frightened herself. She's only joking," said Joan."I don't suppose there's aught the matter, still I don't think you'dbetter stop at old Adam's. It isn't like as if he was one of our ownfolk."

  "Rubbish!" said Ruby again. "I'm off. You can send your husband to seeif the old wizard has turned us into frogs or sea-gulls, in case we arenot heard of any more. Good-night;" and off she ran.

  Mavis had to follow her. There was not much fear of Ruby's really doinganything rash, for she was by no means a very brave child, still Mavisalways felt uncomfortable when her sister got into one of these wildmoods.

  "Good-bye, Joan," she said gently. "I'm so glad baby's better. Idaresay Ruby's only joking;" and then she ran along the path, which justhere in the hamlet was pretty level and smooth, after Ruby.

  They had quite half a mile to go before they got to the lonely cottage.It stood some way back from the shore, and great craggy rocks near athand almost hid it from sight. One might have passed by that way oftenwithout noticing that there was any human dwelling-place there. But thechildren were on the look-out.

  "There," said Ruby, "the old ogre can't be dead: there's smoke comingout of the chimney. And--oh, just look, Mavis, what a big fire he musthave; do you see the red of it in the window?"

  "No," said Mavis, "it's the sun setting. Look out to sea--isn't itsplendid?"

  But Ruby had set her heart upon exploring the fisherman's hut. Shebegan scrambling up the stones, for there was really nothing worthy ofthe name of a pathway, quite regardless of the beautiful sight behindher. And as usual. Mavis had to follow, though reluctantly. Still shewas not quite without curiosity about the lonely cottage herself.Suddenly, when within a short distance of the hut, Ruby stopped short,and glancing back towards her sister, lifted her hand as if to tell herto be silent and listen. Then Mavis became conscious of the sound ofvoices speaking--not old Adam's voice certainly, for these sounded softand clear, and now and then came a ripple of silvery laughter, verysweet and very delicate. The little girls, who had drawn near together,looked at each other.

  "Who can it be?" said Mavis in a whisper.

  "The mermaids," replied Ruby mockingly. "Perhaps old Adam has invitedthem to tea."

  But as she spoke there came distinctly the sound of the words "Good-bye,good-bye," and then there was silence.

  Somehow both children felt rather frightened. "Suppose old Adam'sreally dead," said Ruby, looking rather pale, "and that these are--fairies, or I don't know what, come to fetch him."

  "Angels," said Mavis. "Joan says he's good. But--Ruby--I shouldn'tthink angels would laugh." She had scarcely said the words when theysaw running down the rough slope from the hut the figure of a boy. Heran fast and lightly, his feet scarcely seeming to touch the stones; hewas slight and very active-looking; it was pretty to watch him running,even though as he came close it was plain that he was only a simplefisher-boy, in rough clothes, barefoot and sunburnt. He slackened hispace a little as he came near the children, then glancing at them with asmile he lifted his dark blue cap and stopped short.

  "Can I?" he began, then hesitated. He had a pleasant face and cleargrey eyes, which looked one straight in the face with interest andinquiry.

  "What do you say?" asked Ruby rather haughtily.

  "I thought perhaps you had lost your way," he answered quietly."There's not many gentry comes round here;" and then he smiled, for novery particular reason apparently, though his smile nevertheless gaveone the feeling that he had a reason if he chose to give it.

  "No, we haven't lost our way," said Ruby; "we came here on purpose. Doyou know the old man who lives up there?" and she pointed to the hut.

  "Is it true that there's something queer about him?"

  The boy looked at her, still smiling.

  "Queer?" he repeated.

  Ruby began to feel annoyed. She tapped her foot impatiently.

  "Yes," she said, "_
queer_. Why do you repeat my words, and why don'tyou say `Miss,' or `My Lady?' Lots of the people here call me `MyLady.' Do you know who I am?"

  The boy's face had grown graver.

  "Yes," he said. "You are the little ladies from the castle. I haveseen you sometimes. I have seen you in church. We always call you thelittle ladies--grandfather and I--when we