CHAPTER XVI.

The others, scarcely noticing that she had gone, went on their way very slowly, watching the river as it swirled past, rushing by some places, at others apparently not moving. They were absorbed in sailing twigs down the stream when a flying white-faced figure dashed into their midst, chattering confusedly and almost weeping.

"Oh, what shall we do, what shall we do!" gasped Angela. "Guard found them. They are in there, dead or asleep. I don't know which. He is sniffing at their pockets. There are three of them, and he won't let them go, and it is Cousin Charlotte's cloth. I recognised it hanging out of his pocket, the one Anna wrapped the patties in—"

"What are you talking about?" demanded Esther, grasping Angela by the arm. "Don't be so frightened. What has happened?"

Angela tried to be calmer and more coherent. "There are three boys asleep in the very place where we were going. Guard found them. He was sniffing at their pockets when I got there, and he wouldn't come away, and—I believe they are the thieves that stole our lunch. One had a bit of white sticking out of his pocket, and Guard sniffed at it and pulled it out, and I am certain it is Cousin Charlotte's doyley! Oh, Esther, what shall we do? Shall we go away, or—or shall we—"

"Go away!" cried Esther, scornful and indignant. "No, indeed, except to fetch a policeman. I am going to tax them with it, and hear what they have to say. What boys are they, do you know?"

"I believe I have seen them at 'Four Winds,' but I don't know their names—but, Esther, do you think it is safe to accuse them—"

"Safe!" cried Esther scornfully. "What is there to be afraid of? If there was anything I shouldn't care. I am not going to let them get off scot-free, nasty, wicked thieves. They have spoilt our day, too, and all our fun. Let's be quick and catch them before they manage to escape."

The four turned and hurried to the spot. As they drew near they heard now and again a low growl from Guard, then voices half-whimpering, half-bullying. "Get away, get away you ugly great thing. You leave me alone."

Esther's and Penelope's eyes lightened at the scent of battle.

"Oh, don't let them hurt poor Guard!" pleaded Poppy piteously.

"No, dear, they won't hurt him. They are horribly afraid of him, really, I expect. Perhaps you had better stay here. Would you rather?"

But Poppy clung close, begging not to be left. If there was to be battle she was not going to let her sisters face it alone.

There was not much battle left, though, in the three young scamps Guard was keeping prisoners. The sight of the big, angry-looking dog, and the knowledge that they were trapped with proofs of their guilt on them, had quenched all their spirit. Torpid after their big meal, they had fallen asleep in their hiding-place, feeling perfectly secure from detection. They had been awakened by something touching them, breathing into their faces, diving into their pockets where the remains of their feast lay hidden, and had awakened with a start to find a huge, eager, angry animal standing over them. They would have yelled but for the fear of drawing still more attention to themselves and their whereabouts.

When they heard footsteps approaching their terror increased a hundredfold, but when the owners of them turned the corner, and they found they were nothing worse than four little girls—the eldest no bigger than themselves—their relief was great, and their courage began to return. They assumed at once a superior 'don't-care' air, as though they thought it all a great joke. In their own minds they felt they could easily defy such antagonists and get the better of them; but their attitude only made Esther and Penelope more indignant with them.

"Now," said Esther severely, "you are caught. You are three thieves, and we have caught you, and it only remains for us to decide what we shall do with you. Guard, come here."

Guard obediently came to her side, but he only helped so completely to block the entrance that the boys recognised at once that they were no better off than they were before.

"You go away and leave us alone," cried the tallest of the young scamps, a boy of about fourteen. "We've got as much right here as you, and you've no right to stop us if we wants to go. I'll tell the p'lice as 'ow you set your great savage dog on us. Yes, I will, see if I don't!"

Esther laughed scornfully. "I should like to see you," she said contemptuously. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I! wouldn't I dare! You just wait and see then," he went on in a bullying tone.

Penelope could keep quiet no longer. "That's easily proved," she said loftily. "I will go and get one. Constable Magor will be in the village about this time, it won't take me long to get him," and she turned away.

The boys' faces were a picture. Fear, confusion, astonishment took the place of their bragging. They still kept up a semblance of defiance, but it was very lukewarm. "No, you won't. You know you don't mean it. You needn't try to kid us. We know better."

Penelope without another word walked away. When first she spoke she had hardly intended really to get a policeman, but their taunts roused her spirit and determined her. The boys listened to her departing footsteps, and the look that came into their faces was not pretty. For a moment they looked only foolish, then their expression changed to one of bullying anger.

"Let's knock 'em down and run for it," urged one. "They don't know who we are. Tip they there things out of your pocket, Bill, so's they won't have no clue."

Esther's eyes darkened and deepened, her lips grew a little more compressed, but otherwise her expression did not change from its look of scornful disgust. Poppy clung closer. "Oh, Essie, don't let them hurt us," she whispered nervously.

Esther drew her closer and stood in front of her. "They won't hurt us, darling," she said, with calm defiance.

Angela, who all this while had been standing white to the lips and shaking uncontrollably, now suddenly pulled herself together. "If either of you dare to touch my little sister," she called out, "I'll—I'll—"

"Dear me," mimicked one boy rudely. "Will you really? What very fine people we are. Ain't we brave too! Come on, Bill," and they came towards the girls with a rush. But they had reckoned without a very important antagonist. Guard, sitting quiet, obedient, apparently unconcerned, had watched every movement. At their first step forward he was on his feet, when they made their rush he sprang towards them, knocking the first boy off his feet, and the others sprawling over him, and across the wriggling, bellowing, gasping heap he planted his big, rough body determinedly, growling fierce low growls every time they attempted to move, and even had his mistresses called to him then it is doubtful if he would have moved, so enraged was he.

But Esther did not call him. Her anger had flamed as hot as his at this attack of the bullies on Angela and little Poppy, and she felt no pity. "They shall stay there," she determined, "for the time, at any rate. We will see what will happen next."

The next thing that happened was a very meek voice coming from the prostrate trio. "Please, miss, if you'll call your dog off, we won't touch you, we won't really, honour bright!"

"Honour bright," scoffed Esther. "You have none. You don't know what honour is! I didn't know before that boys ever were such cowards."

"Please, miss, if you'll call him off and not let him hurt us, we'll promise—"

"I don't want your promises," cried Esther. "You are thieves and cowards, and I wouldn't take your word. Besides, we are not afraid of your touching us. Why did you steal our things?"

"Well—we found them," grumbled one of the boys. "Findings is keepings, and how was we to know they was yours?"

"You knew they were not yours, and you had no right to touch them."

"You shouldn't leave things about if you don't want them took. As like as not your dog would have had 'em if we hadn't."

"He is honest," said Esther scathingly, "and we are accustomed to honest people. The things were put in a safe spot, out of sight."

"Not so very safe," taunted Bill. "We found 'em easy enough." But his energy only called forth an alarming growl from Guard.

"We will find a safe spot for you, at any rate," said Esther meaningly, and the boys became thoughtful for a moment.

"Please, miss, your dog's 'urting. He's treading on my chest, and he's 'eavy," whined Bill, but Esther paid no heed. Silence reigned, broken only by the voice of the river, and the singing of the happy birds. Guard stood at his post, the three girls kept the entrance, the boys waited in increasing alarm, wondering what was going to happen. They were beginning to feel genuinely frightened.

Esther was thinking deeply. The truth was she did not know what step to take next. She did not really want to give them in charge, she did not want the affair to reach Cousin Charlotte's ears, and she did not know how to dispose of her prisoners with dignity.

At last the silence was broken by a pitiful wailing voice. "Please, miss, if you'll let us go, we'll promise never to do no such thing no more. Please, miss, we ain't thieves really; we done it for fun more'n anything, and—and now I—I wish I hadn't never seen the old things," and then the hero broke down and began to sob and call "Mawther, mawther, I want my mawther!"

Angela's anger evaporated. "I dare say he isn't really a bad boy," she whispered to Esther. "Let's forgive him, Essie."

Esther was making up her mind. "Look here, you boys," she called out at last, "if you apologise to us and say you are sorry, and will never do such a thing again, we will let you off this time. But you must tell me your names and where you live." She did not in the least know what good an apology would be, nor did the boys know what it was, but they promised readily.

"Guard, come here," commanded Esther.

Guard moved away reluctantly. He had not forgotten the sudden attack on his little mistresses. The boys sat up.

"His name is John Thomas, and his is Bill Baker, and mine's Silas Hawken," said the eldest of the three, "and we lives to Four Winds."

"Um!" said Esther sternly. "We know Four Winds and a lot of people there, so we shall hear if you don't behave yourselves, and if you don't we will tell the police about this. Now go."

With intense relief and quickening steps the boys were hurrying by them, Guard, still suspicious, following at their heels, when suddenly it was his turn to be bowled over by the enemy. With a roar of terror the three boys recoiled one on the other, and all three on top of Guard, for at the entrance stood Penelope and Constable Magor.

Angela and Poppy looked almost as frightened as the boys. They did not want them to be really taken to jail, and it seemed now as though matters were being taken out of their hands. They felt sure the culprits would be led away handcuffed. Poppy, with this in her mind, forgot everything.

"Oh, please," she cried, running to the constable, "please we have promised to forgive them. Don't take them to jail, please. They said they were sorry, and they won't ever be naughty again, and we let them go. Didn't we, Esther? Please don't hurt them."

Constable Magor looked at Esther, and Esther explained. The boys, looking the picture of miserable fear and shame, stood huddled together as far as possible from every one. The constable, with a knowing shake of the head to Esther, said, "All right, miss. I knows how to deal with they there young rogues." Going over to them he pushed them apart, and made them stand at equal distances from one another.

"Now you turn out your pockets, every one of them," he commanded sternly. "Right there afore me, you turn 'em out, and turn 'em out thorough, or I'll be doing it for you. Do you hear?"

They heard plainly enough, and with shaking hands turned out a collection of marbles, crumbs, sticky sweets, twine, broken patties and sandwiches, and sundry other odds and ends. One had the little doyley Angela had first recognised, another reluctantly produced a silver folding fruit-knife with 'C. Ashe' engraved on the handle. When the girls saw this they looked at each other. "Cousin Charlotte and Anna would have missed that," they whispered, "and then we should have had to tell."

The constable looked grave, too, when he saw the knife and the doyley. "This is serious," he said sternly, "and if it wasn't that the young ladies perticler asked me not to, I'd clap the handcuffs on the lot of you for it, and as like as not you'd get a week in jail, and have your jackets warmed with that there cat-o'-nine-tails you may have heard tell on. Don't you think, miss," turning to Esther with a very grave face, "as 'ow I'd better, after all?"

"Oh no—don't let him!" pleaded Poppy frantically.

Esther pretended to think deeply for a moment, debating the question; then, with great importance and dignity, "No, I think we will let them go this time, thank you," she said, "though when I gave them my promise I didn't know they were going away with stolen things in their pockets. I gave them my promise, and I'll keep it, but,"—very severely—"it is more than they deserve."

"That it is," said Constable Magor emphatically; "and if they don't look after their ways they'll taste that 'cat' yet. Do you hear, you young scamps? Let this be a lesson to you, and thank your stars you've got such kind-hearted young ladies to deal with, or I wouldn't say what would have happened to you by now! Now go. Right about face, quick march, and don't you let me have no more complaints of you, or I'll know how to act. You won't have a second such chance. Do you hear? Now go!"

They did not need a second bidding, but dashed out of the place as though they feared if they lingered their chance would be gone, and soon even their stumbling, scrambling footsteps could no longer be heard.

Then the policeman took his leave too, and the four were left looking at each other. The scene had tried their nerves and their courage more than they realised; they felt suddenly very tired and very depressed. Poppy began to sob from sheer weariness. The others felt as though they would like to follow suit, but pride forbade them. The moor and the river and the day seemed suddenly to have grown chilly and gloomy and sad.

"I think we will go home," said Esther. "Shall we?"

They all agreed, with something like relief in their voices. Poppy's sobs ceased. "It doesn't seem a bit like a burfday, does it, Essie? Oh, I am so tired."

Esther bent down and kissed her and picked her up in her arms. She herself was tired, and Poppy was a heavy load for fourteen-year-old Esther; but she loved her baby sister so dearly she could not bear to see her sad and weary. "Put your arms round my neck and hold tight, and we will soon get home, and you shall rest a little; and then we will have tea, and all the rest of the day shall be one of the beautifullest you ever had. We will play games, 'Hot and Cold,' 'Pepper, Salt, and Mustard,' and all the ones you like best, and we will have a lovely time, won't we?"

Poppy nodded the weary little head resting on her sister's shoulder. "Yes," she agreed gladly, comforted greatly by Esther's tone. Esther herself did not feel at all inclined for games or jollity, or anything of the sort, but the mere pretending helped her. Penelope and Angela strolled on ahead, linked arm in arm. Guard trotted along slowly between the two couples, as though determined to be prepared for any more attacks, and so they reached home again at last, and thankfully they made their way to their comfortable bedrooms to prepare for the next event of that exciting day.

"I do hope," said Esther, as she slowly mounted the stairs, "that we don't have another angry word with any one all the rest of the day. It seems to have been nothing but quarrelling, so far."

"Laugh before breakfast, cry before night," murmured Poppy in a very weary voice; but when Esther had given her a nice warm bath, and tucked her away in her little bed for a rest, her spirits had recovered. "She didn't say 'keep on crying,' did she, Essie? So perhaps I have cried enough, and it's all over. Oh my! what lovely things Anna must be cooking," sniffing in the savoury odours which were finding their way from the kitchen. "I wonder what they are. I am going to have some of everything, because it's my birthday," and then the little heroine of the day dropped off into a dreamless sleep, while Esther turned over their scanty stock of clothing to try to find something worthy of the occasion.

When Poppy awoke the scent of hot jams and spicy cakes, and all sorts of other good things, was stronger than ever, reminding her, the moment she opened her eyes, what day it was, and what was before her. She jumped up in bed with a start. "Oh, I haven't slept too long, have I? Esther, is it very late? Do help me to dress quick!"

"It is all right," said Esther, in a calm, reassuring tone. "I am ready, and now I can attend to you. It is only four o'clock. There is plenty of time. I wouldn't have let you sleep too long, dear."

"But supposing you had slept too, and we had all slept!" Poppy's eyes grew very large and round at the mere thought of so dreadful a possibility.

"Oh my!" said Esther calmly, as she put the last finishing touches to her hair, "wouldn't it have been dreadful! Don't let's think about it."

Esther had put on her best frock and an old muslin fichu about her shoulders. The fichu was one her mother had thrown away long ago, and Esther had rescued. It was old, but it looked quite pretty and picturesque over her plain red frock. Poppy was better off than the others. She owned a little soft, white silk frock, which still looked festive and partyfied, in spite of frequent washings and not too careful ironings. Her pretty dark hair Esther tied with her own best rose-pink hair-ribbon. "Now if I had only got a sash for you, dear, your frock would look lovely."

"Never mind," said Poppy cheerfully. "I will wear my locket." From her jewel-case, as she called it, she took carefully a thread-like gold chain and a tiny old-fashioned gold locket; it had an anchor on one side and held two photographs. Poppy did not know whose photographs they were, and no one had ever been able to tell her, but she would not have had them removed for any consideration whatever. The other contents of her jewel-case were a large green malachite brooch in the shape of a Maltese cross, a tiny silver pig, and a broken gold safety-pin; but no child ever possessed treasures more greatly prized.

Before the toilette was complete Penelope and Angela came in, looking very neat and nice, and then an anxious consultation was held as to whether they ought to go down or wait until the bell rang. They compromised by going half-way and sitting on the stairs. The last few minutes did seem very long, for they were ravenous again by that time; but so prompt was Anna that before the clock began to strike the hour she came to the kitchen door, and had just begun to make a terrific clanging with the bell when they ran through from the inner hall.

"Well! 'tis a compliment, sure enough," she said, with a beaming smile, "when folks comes and waits outside for the doors to open. Come along in then, my dears. 'Tis all ready."

Anna was in her best frock with her Band of Hope scarf on, and looked flushed and pleased, and no wonder, for the kitchen looked beautiful. It was decorated with no fewer than twenty nosegays of flowers, arranged on the dressers and mantelpiece and every available space in jugs and pots and vases of every description; while on the table were bread and butter, 'splits' spread with jam and cream, seed-cakes, currant-cakes, an apple tart covered with cream, on a plate, and the birthday cake. Oh! how good it all smelt and looked.

Anna took her seat at the head of the table before the tea-tray, with the heroine of the day on her right hand and Esther on her left.

"I hope you've all got good appetites," she said, as she handed them their cups.

"Oh yes," they said meekly, but thought, as they looked at each other, it was as well Anna did not know how good, and why.

"You look tired, I think," she went on. "You've been out too long, perhaps; but your tea will refreshen you."

Esther thought if Anna only knew all they had been through since she saw them last she would not wonder at their looking tired. She did long to pour out all their adventures to her. She would have been so interested and sympathetic, and it would have been such a relief to have talked it all over with some one older than themselves, and thus have thrown off the fear of a chance word or hint escaping one or the other of them. Once or twice the tale almost got beyond the tip of her tongue; but she thought of the curtailed freedom which might follow, so held her peace.

The others were, for a time, completely absorbed by the meal. Never greater compliment was paid to any feast. Very soon there was not a dish on the table but what showed gaps. The 'splits' vanished in no time; the apple tart looked quite shabby. Anna was kept quite busy helping them to one thing after another. At first she fairly beamed with delight; but by and by she began to look a little perplexed.

"I suppose it is a long time since you had your lunches," she said reflectively, "and the air do give one a appetite. P'r'aps you hadn't better have any more tart, Miss Poppy, dear. Hadn't you better try a bit of plain bread and butter?" She did not like to say much, but she really began to grow quite troubled at the size of their appetites.

Before they had finished their tea Ephraim came to the door. He had tidied for the evening, but had come back with a message for Miss Charlotte.

"Oh, do ask him in," pleaded Poppy earnestly. "Anna, do. It would seem so unkind to let him see us having such a lovely tea and not offer him any."

"I shouldn't think he'd want any," said Anna, with seeming reluctance; but she called out to him, "Come inside, Ephraim, and close that door. You'm keeping the young ladies in a draught. Miss Poppy wants to know if you can stay and have some of her birthday tea. You'm welcome to if you can."

Ephraim seemed able, and even glad, to stay. "I wanted to see Miss Poppy," he said. "I've got something for her, as that there furrin chap down to Edless was bringing along. I met un at the gate and told un I'd take it in for him as I was coming in," and he laid a neat white parcel on the table beside the astonished little maid.

"For me!" she cried, looking all round the table, wide-eyed with excitement. "Are you sure it's for me, Ephraim?" she asked, as she began to undo the pretty ribbons which tied the parcel—rose-colour ribbons like that in her hair. The excitement of all very nearly equalled hers, and when she lifted out of the soft white paper a beautiful silk-fringed sash of the same shade, they all shrieked with joy.

"The very, very, very thing I was wanting for you just now!" cried Esther. "Oh, how lovely! It is from Mademoiselle. How kind and beautiful of her."

Poppy handed the sash round for inspection, while she read the little note enclosed.

"It is not poppy-colour, but will my dear little market-woman accept it from a grateful customer with much love and every good wish for many happy returns of the day?"

Their excitement was so great they could not eat another mouthful, somewhat to Anna's relief, for she had really grown quite anxious lest they should make themselves ill.

Ephraim's appetite almost rivalled theirs, but at last even he had done, the table was cleared, and space made for games to begin. It was then that Ephraim came out in a new and unexpected light, for if any one had told Anna or the children that he could be a leading spirit in games and jokes, and riddles and such-like, they would have refused to believe it; but he proved it beyond all doubt or denial, for the next hour or two flew by with shrieks of laughter and endless fun, and Ephraim was the leader of it all.

"Anna," said Poppy, as she was being put to bed that night, "don't you like Ephraim now better than you did?"

Anna refused to own to any such weakness, but she blushed a little as she denied it.

"P'r'aps," said Angela, in a half-absent way as she brushed out her hair in Poppy's room, "p'r'aps Anna likes him so much already she can't like him better if she tries"; and Anna blushed as though Angela's chance shot had reached home.