Page:Once a Week Volume 8.djvu/654

 646 Whether it were possible for Katherine to think quietly on any subject whatever just then, I don’t know; however, her answer was given, and Mrs. Parker told Mr. Lee her daughter could not make up her mind to say anything but “No.” Shortly after Mr. Lee left Oldcourt and went abroad. The only one of the Parker family who bade him farewell was Katherine’s little brother Harry, and he announced in the evening:

“I shall be up early to-morrow: I am going up to say good-bye to dear Mr. Lee. Will you come, Katie?”

“No, thank you, Harry,” Katherine answered, with a look at her mother, “I am not fond of getting up early.”

“What a shame! not for once even, and he was so kind to you always. I am so sorry he’s going; I hope he won’t be long away. I suppose you think yourself too big for his pony now, Katie, as you never ride it. I wonder if I shall be able to have it when he is away.”

So early the next morning, a bright one in the middle of February, Harry was off along the lanes and across the fields to Oldcourt. There was a short cut through a wood, which skirted the Pool, to the house. The ground was crisp—just a tinge of white frost—every blade of glass sparkling in the bright sun. There is nothing so beautiful as a white frost, except the spring, when every bud is bursting, and every wood is getting full of wild flowers, and every bird is singing. They sing altogether, each its own song, yet none is out of tune, even when the rooks join in. How is it, I wonder?

A tall, dark man, with a calm, grave face was looking out on the park and woods at Oldcourt,—the park and woods that had been his and his fathers’ for generations. He did look old for four-and-thirty. Many men look as young at forty. The Lees all turn grey soon—it seems to run in some families—and there were some white hairs already showing among the black. The face looked almost stern, till two little hands seized hold of one of his, then it looked down with a kindly smile on the early visitor.

“Ah, Harry, my boy, I thought I should not see you again!”

“My dear old Michael, did you think I would let you go without saying a regular good-by? What a brute you must think me!”

“No, I do not, but it is early for you. You shall have some breakfast with me, for I had nearly forgotten it.”

So they sat down, and Michael Lee told Harry he was to fish with his keeper, George Mitford, whenever he liked, and Frisky he was to consider his own whilst he was away; and at that up jumped Harry and threw his arms round his neck and kissed him.

“I can’t think why you are going away,” said the boy. “I know you’re sorry. I saw your face as I came in. Why are you going?”

“Why? Everybody goes abroad sometimes, Harry. I shall be home again before Christmas, I dare say. What shall I bring you?—the falling Tower of Pisa, or Mont Blanc?”

“No, no; but I should like some red-hot lava from Mount Vesuvius, and a Mount St. Bernard dog: only a puppy, Michael. Are there any puppies, I wonder: you only read of the big dogs, but I daresay there are some puppies sometimes; don’t you think there must be?”

Michael Lee thought there certainly could not be always big dogs unless there were puppies occasionally.

“Can you bring some red-hot lava in your portmanteau, Michael? I want it the colour of that picture in your bedroom of Mount Vesuvius with the blue sky; will you take an empty jam-pot from Mrs. Wilkins and fill it full for me? It will burn your clothes if you have it loose, won’t it?”

Michael Lee thought it very probably would, and then he had to explain it would puzzle Michael Scott himself to bring him red-hot lava the colour of Mount Vesuvius in the picture with the blue sky. Of course Harry asked who Michael Scott was? and his namesake had to explain how one word of his had cleft, not Mount Vesuvius, but the Eildon Hills in three, and how when his horse stamped his foot, the bells in Notre Dame rang; and how he had told the Old Gentleman to mind his own business and carry him across the sea;—and just then the dogcart came round to the door, and Michael Lee said:

“Here comes, not Diabolus, Harry, but Black Rover, and I must mount and fly, or I shall miss the train. Tell Mrs. Parker I was sorry not to see her to say good-bye, and I hope she will come and take any flowers she likes; see, here is a note I had written, and was going to send; you take it for me; don’t lose it.”

“Oh no, I won’t lose it, and Michael, may Katie ride Frisky?”

“I do not think your sister cares for him now, Harry.”

There was a change in the tone of voice; a thing children are very quick in noticing.

“Are you vexed with Katie?” said the boy. “She was very fond of Frisky. I can remember, a long, long time ago—I could only have been a little fellow quite, about five or something of that sort, for I had pinafores—when she used to ride Frisky, and she liked it so much; and she used to fish then, and row the boat across the pool. I can’t think why she never does anything jolly now, can you, Michael?”

Michael swallowed his hot tea without answering; then the boy clung to him to say good-bye.

“I’ll take you through the park, and drop you at the gate, Harry;” and the thought of that brought a smile instead of the salt tears that had begun to come.

“I won’t cry, Michael; I shall be nine my next birthday.”

(It wanted 345 days to his next birthday!) But when he was dropped at the gate, and he and old Sarah at the lodge had watched the dogcart disappear, and he saw her shake her head and wipe her eyes, and heard her say: “There goes a good gentleman, if ever there was one in this world, or the next!” he could not stand it; and, after a good cry, he told Sarah that he was to ride Frisky, and go fishing with George Mitford; but all the fish he caught he should keep for Mr. Lee; he would not let