New Treasure Seekers; Or, The Bastable Children in Search of a Fortune
playing tricks on them, not amusing tricks like other Bastables might
have done--such as booby-traps and mice under dish-covers, which seldom
leaves any lasting ill-feeling--but things no decent boy would do--like
hiding their letters and not giving them to them for days, and then it
was too late to meet the young man the letter was from, and squirting
ink on their aprons when they were just going to open the door, and once
he put a fish-hook in the cook's pocket when she wasn't looking. He did
not do anything to Oswald at that time. I suppose he was afraid. I just
tell you this to show you that Oswald didn't cotton to him for no
selfish reason, but because Oswald has been taught to feel for others.
He called us all kids--and he was that kind of boy we knew at once it
was no good trying to start anything new and jolly--so Oswald, ever
discreet and wary, shut up entirely about the council. We played games
with him sometimes, not really good ones, but Snap and Beggar my
Neighbour, and even then he used to cheat. I hate to say it of one of
our blood, but I can hardly believe he was. I think he must have been
changed at nurse like the heirs to monarchies and dukeries.
Well, the days passed slowly. There was Mrs. Leslie's party shining
starrishly in the mysteries of the future. Also we had another thing to
look forward to, and that was when Archibald would have to go back to
school. But we could not enjoy that foreshadowing so much because of us
having to go back at nearly the same time.
Oswald always tries to be just, no matter how far from easy, and so I
will say that I am not quite sure that it was Archibald that set the
pipes leaking, but we were all up in the loft the day before, snatching
a golden opportunity to play a brief game of robbers in a cave, while
Archibald had gone down to the village to get his silly hair cut.
Another thing about him that was not natural was his being always
looking in the glass and wanting to talk about whether people were
handsome or not; and he made as much fuss about his ties as though he
had been a girl. So when he was gone Alice said--
"Hist! The golden moment. Let's be robbers in the loft, and when he
comes back he won't know where we are."
"He'll hear us," said Noel, biting his pencil.
"No, he won't. We'll be the Whispering Band of Weird Bandits. Come on,
Noel; you can finish the poetry up here."
"It's about _him_," said Noel gloomily, "when he's gone back to----"
(Oswald will not give the name of Archibald's school for the sake of the
other boys there, as they might not like everybody who reads this to
know about there being a chap like him in their midst.) "I shall do it
up in an envelope and put a stamp on it and post it to him, and----"
"Haste!" cried Alice. "Bard of the Bandits, haste while yet there's
time."
So we tore upstairs and put on our slippers and socks over them, and we
got the high-backed chair out of the girls' bedroom, and the others held
it steady while Oswald agilitively mounted upon its high back and opened
the trap-door and got up into the place between the roof and the
ceiling (the boys in "Stalky & Co." found this out by accident, and they
were surprised and pleased, but we have known all about it ever since we
can remember).
Then the others put the chair back, and Oswald let down the rope ladder
that we made out of bamboo and clothes-line after uncle told us the
story of the missionary lady who was shut up in a rajah's palace, and
some one shot an arrow to her with a string tied to it, and it might
have killed her I should have thought, but it didn't, and she hauled in
the string and there was a rope and a bamboo ladder, and so she escaped,
and we made one like it on purpose for the loft. No one had ever told us
not to make ladders.
The others came up by the rope-ladder (it was partly bamboo, but
rope-ladder does for short) and we shut the trap-door down. It is jolly
up there. There are two big cisterns, and one little window in a gable
that gives you just enough light. The floor is plaster with wooden
things going across, beams and joists they are called. There are some
planks laid on top of these here and there. Of course if you walk on the
plaster you will go through with your foot into the room below.
We had a very jolly game, in whispers, and Noel sat by the little
window, and was quite happy, being the bandit bard. The cisterns are
rocks you hide behind. But the jolliest part was when we heard Archibald
shouting out, "Hullo! kids, where are you?" and we all stayed as still
as mice, and heard Jane say she thought we must have gone out. Jane was
the one that hadn't got her letter, as well as having her apron inked
all over.
Then we heard Archibald going all over the house looking for us. Father
was at business and uncle was at his club. And we were _there_. And so
Archibald was all alone. And we might have gone on for hours enjoying
the spectacle of his confusion and perplexedness, but Noel happened to
sneeze--the least thing gives him cold and he sneezes louder for his age
than any one I know--just when Archibald was on the landing underneath.
Then he stood there and said--
"I know where you are. Let me come up."
We cautiously did not reply. Then he said:
"All right. I'll go and get the step-ladder."
We did not wish this. We had not been told not to make rope-ladders, nor
yet about not playing in the loft; but if he fetched the step-ladder
Jane would know, and there are some secrets you like to keep to
yourself.
So Oswald opened the trap-door and squinted down, and there was that
Archibald with his beastly hair cut. Oswald said--
"We'll let you up if you promise not to tell you've been up here."
So he promised, and we let down the rope-ladder. And it will show you
the kind of boy he was that the instant he had got up by it he began
to find fault with the way it was made.
Then he wanted to play with the ball-cock. But Oswald knows it is better
not to do this.
"I daresay _you're_ forbidden," Archibald said, "little kids like you.
But _I_ know all about plumbing."
And Oswald could not prevent his fiddling with the pipes and the
ball-cock a little. Then we went down. All chance of further banditry
was at an end. Next day was Sunday. The leak was noticed then. It was
slow, but steady, and the plumber was sent for on Monday morning.
Oswald does not know whether it was Archibald who made the leak, but he
does know about what came after.
I think our displeasing cousin found that piece of poetry that Noel was
beginning about him, and read it, because he is a sneak. Instead of
having it out with Noel he sucked up to him and gave him a six-penny
fountain-pen which Noel liked, although it is really no good for him to
try to write poetry with anything but a pencil, because he always sucks
whatever he writes with, and ink is poisonous, I believe.
Then in the afternoon he and Noel got quite thick, and went off
together. And afterwards Noel seemed very peacocky about something, but
he would not say what, and Archibald was grinning in a way Oswald would
have liked to pound his head for.
Then, quite suddenly, the peaceable quietness of that happy Blackheath
home was brought to a close by screams. Servants ran about with brooms
and pails, and the water was coming through the ceiling of uncle's room
like mad, and Noel turned white and looked at our unattractive cousin
and said: "Send him away."
Alice put her arm round Noel and said: "Do go, Archibald."
But he wouldn't.
So then Noel said he wished he had never been born, and whatever would
Father say.
"Why, what is it, Noel?" Alice asked that. "Just tell us, we'll all
stand by you. What's he been doing?"
"You won't let him do anything to me if I tell?"
"Tell tale tit," said Archibald.
"He got me to go up into the loft and he said it was a secret, and would
I promise not to tell, and I won't tell; only I've done it, and now the
water's coming in."
"You've done it? You young ass, I was only kidding you!" said our
detestable cousin. And he laughed.
"I don't understand," said Oswald. "What did you tell Noel?"
"He can't tell you because he promised--and I won't--unless you vow by
the honour of the house you talk so much about that you'll never tell I
had anything to do with it."
That will show you what he was. We had never mentioned the honour of the
house except once quite at the beginning, before we knew how discapable
he was of understanding anything, and how far we were from wanting to
call him Archie.
We had to promise, for Noel was getting greener and more gurgly every
minute, and at any moment Father or uncle might burst in foaming for an
explanation, and none of us would have one except Noel, and him in this
state of all-anyhow.
So Dicky said--
"We promise, you beast, you!" And we all said the same.
Then Archibald said, drawling his words and feeling for the moustache
that wasn't there, and I hope he'll be quite old before he gets one--
"It's just what comes of trying to amuse silly little kids. I told the
foolish little animal about people having arteries cut, and your having
to cut the whole thing to stop the bleeding. And he said, 'Was that what
the plumber would do to the leaky pipe?' And how pleased your governor
would be to find it mended. And then he went and did it."
"You told me to," said Noel, turning greener and greener.
"Go along with Alice," said Oswald. "We'll stand by you. And Noel, old
chap, you must keep your word and not sneak about that sneaking hound."
Alice took him away, and we were left with the horrid Archibald.
"Now," said Oswald, "I won't break my word, no more will the rest of us.
But we won't speak another word to you as long as we live."
"Oh, Oswald," said Dora, "what about the sun going down?"
"Let it jolly well go," said Dicky in furiousness. "Oswald didn't say
we'd go on being angry for ever, but I'm with Oswald all the way. I
won't talk to cads--no, not even before grown-ups. They can jolly well
think what they like."
After this no one spoke to Archibald.
Oswald rushed for a plumber, and such was his fiery eloquence he really
caught one and brought him home. Then he and Dicky waited for Father
when he came in, and they got him into the study, and Oswald said what
they had all agreed on. It was this:
"Father, we are all most awfully sorry, but one of us has cut the pipe
in the loft, and if you make us tell you any more it will not be
honourable, and we are very sorry. Please, please don't ask who it was
did it."
Father bit his moustache and looked worried, and Dicky went on--
"Oswald has got a plumber and he is doing it now."
Then Father said, "How on earth did you get into the loft?"
And then of course the treasured secret of the rope-ladder had to be
revealed. We had never been told not to make rope-ladders and go into
the loft, but we did not try to soften the anger of our Father by saying
this. It would not have been any good either. We just had to stick it.
And the punishment of our crime was most awful. It was that we weren't
to go to Mrs. Leslie's party. And Archibald was to go, because when
Father asked him if he was in it with the rest of us, he said "No." I
cannot think of any really gentle, manly, and proper words to say what I
think about my unnatural cousin.
We kept our word about not speaking to him, and I think Father thought
we were jealous because he was going to that conjuring, magic lantern
party and we were not. Noel was the most unhappy, because he knew we