Part 2

"When night came the same small head appeared again, and the boy was close upon me, when suddenly he was brought to a stand-still, and uttered a loud cry. He had been caught in a trap, and the harder he tried to get out the faster he was held, and there he stayed till the gardener came and gave him a good thrashing. You may be sure I never saw that little boy again!

"Autumn, winter, and spring, all passed away very quietly, and then came a stir in the place. Windows were opened; workmen began to hammer and paint; the gardener made the walks and borders all so neat and trim; and one fine afternoon a carriage covered with boxes drove up to the door. Then the bustle was greater than ever. Servants ran about, horses clattered in the yard, dogs barked, and children's voices were louder than all. The next morning the garden gate opened and a lady and gentleman walked in, arm in arm, followed by two fine-grown lads.

"They paced round the gravel walks, then came up to me and admired my beautiful blossoms. Then and there the gentleman told the boys they should each have a garden of their own, and he pointed to the piece of ground by the Sweet-brier, and made the gardener divide it into two equal portions. After this the boys seemed to live out of doors.

"I soon found out that their names were 'Richard' and 'Joe,' although they called one another 'Dick' and 'Joey.' They dug, and planted, and sowed, and watered from morning till evening. The poor little trembling plants did not know what to be about. If they came above the ground, as often as not they were plucked up and thrown upon the dirt-heap as weeds. If they stayed below, the mould was grubbed up to see why they were so long coming. These boys often quarrelled, but their quarrels did not last long. They would begin with hard words, then go on to throwing mud and stones upon one another's ground; at last it would come to fighting, till Joey burst out crying, when they made up and were good friends again.

"What I did feel pity for was that poor old Pump at the end of the terrace walk. She was _once_ a tidy-looking, green-coloured, upright Pump, with a stone basin to catch the water.

"See what she is now--a broken-down, good-for-nothing ruin! The boys were for ever filling their watering-pots and soaking their flower-beds with water. Then they must needs sink wells made of large flower-pots with the hole at the bottom stopped up with clay. These they filled and refilled till they overflowed and made the gravel-walk a pond.

"The gardener often got angry with them, and they begged pardon, but went on the same as ever.

"At last the weather became very hot and sultry, and the Pump would only give a thin stream of water and that only with hard pumping. The boys couldn't stand this. They got upon the stone basin, lifted off her head, and threw a stone down to hear how much water there was in the well. The sound of the splash was so charming to their ears that nothing would satisfy them but that they must needs go on throwing in stone after stone, till the poor thing was quite choked and could only give a drop at a time, and that with a gurgle.

"And then, what do you think they did? Why, they lifted up her handle as high as it could go and let it fall again with a sudden jerk. That almost shook the poor thing to pieces. At last, her arm slipped quite out of its socket, and dropped down useless!

"No wonder that the Willow sprang up by her side to cry over her, and has been weeping there ever since, for she has never been pumped again.

"The gardener became furious, and I think he must have had the boys punished, for it was weeks before they came to work in their little gardens again, and the weeds had a fine time of it then. They ran in and out, and up and down, and round and round about the plants just as they liked.

"The Sweet-brier was of no sort of use in keeping them in order. She only looked down, and smiled to see them so wild.

"As the boys grew bigger I saw less of them. They went away for long seasons, and only came home now and then.

"I must say they always let me know directly they did return. I think they liked me the best of all the trees in the garden."

"You think so," said a voice from behind a netting on the wall; "but that is because we wall-fruit are so rich and rare, young fingers are forbidden to touch us, while they are allowed to play with you; and besides, we keep a large army of wasps, in bright yellow uniforms, to protect us against thieves. Late one evening Master Richard came into the garden. He crept up to me and stared me full in the face. 'I know what you want, my young man,' thought I; and I gently dropped one of my very ripest to the ground. He looked round to see that no one was watching, then he made a dart forward; but no sooner had he picked it up than a wasp flew out and stung his hand so sharply he let it fall, and went back yelling into the house. But I beg your pardon, Apple-tree. Pray, go on with your story, for we are much interested in all you are telling us."

"Yes, I must make haste," said the Apple-tree, "for the night is passing away very rapidly. Well, one bright afternoon the boys came with their books in their hands and threw themselves on the grass under me to learn their holiday tasks, which I heard them say must be perfect before they left home the next day.

"They had not been there long before two splendid blackbirds flew up into the tree at the bottom of the garden. Every now and then they dived down into the gooseberry bushes and then flew back again, chattering to one another in a language which I did not understand, but which sounded very pretty and joyous.

"'Oh!' exclaimed Dick, 'how I should like to have a shot at those birds! Wouldn't they be nice in a pie?'

"'I'll set a trap,' said Joe.

"'A trap?' said Dick. 'They won't be caught in a trap at this time of year. If I had only a gun I could pick them off so easily,' and he made as though he was holding a gun and pointing at them.

"'I say, Joey, I'll go and get father's gun and have a shot,' he added.

"'You mustn't,' said Joe. 'Father said we were never to touch his gun, or go out shooting without him.'

"'Why, he taught me to shoot,' said Dick; 'and he says I'm a very good shot. I'm not a child now. I understand all about a gun, and I'm very careful. Besides, father is out for the whole day, and he won't know anything about it, if you don't tell, for I can load it again and put it back just as it was before. Oh, I _must_ have those birds!' and saying this he got up.

"'Pray, pray, don't!' said Joe.

"But Richard did go, and came back with the loaded gun.

"'Now, Joe,' said he, 'keep out of the way. Get behind the tree and you'll be quite safe.'

"Joe ran behind me, and Dick fired. One of the blackbirds fell into the bushes.

"'Here, Joe,' said Dick, 'just hold the gun while I go and look for the bird. Wasn't it a fine shot! Take care, for the other barrel is loaded! Don't move an inch for fear you should pull the trigger, and I'll be back in one minute!' Joe came forward and took the gun from his brother. Away ran Dick, and there sat poor Joe, afraid almost to breathe for fear of what might happen. Presently Dick appeared at the end of the walk holding up the unfortunate blackbird by its extended wings.

"Joe jumped up and went down to meet him. I couldn't see how it happened, but as they met there was a loud report, and I heard Dick call out, 'Oh, Joey, you have killed me!'

"Joe threw away the gun which he had been carrying, and ran screaming into the house.

"Then there _was_ a hubbub! All the servants ran out. The gardener picked up Dick, the footman picked up the gun, the housekeeper scolded at the pitch of her voice, and the housemaid shrieked, while Joe himself shed bitter tears of grief and wrung his hands in despair.

"They all passed through the gate. If you remember, I told you there were three windows on this side of the house. Well, one of the rooms seemed seldom used; but now I saw people moving about in it till the housekeeper came and drew down the blind.

"Then there was such a clattering of horses in the yard; the groom rode off in one direction, the coachman put the horses to and drove off in another, and then they all came back, and another carriage stood for ever so long at the door. I could just see the tips of the wheels round the corner till it got dusk.

"Then lights appeared in the room, and figures passed and repassed behind the blind.

"Now, the other windows belonged to the boys' rooms, and I thought I would just stretch out my highest branch and see if I could look into them. Richard's room was empty, but Joe was sitting in his.

"There he was, poor fellow, with his arms upon the table and his head resting upon them. A plate was near him, but he didn't seem to have tasted the food.

"While I was watching the door opened, and his mother came in. She leant over him and pointed to the bed. Then, putting down a candle, she left the room. Joe undressed and got into bed, but he seemed so restless he could not keep still for a minute. When the clock in the old church-tower struck ten I think he must have fallen asleep, for his mother crept in again softly, went up to him, and pushing back the hair from his forehead, gave him a kiss, and he didn't seem to notice it.

"The clock in the old church-tower struck eleven, and everything about the house was so quiet.

"The only light was in the room with the blind down, and on that blind the figure of the mother, sitting watching all through the long hours of the night, might be clearly seen.

"The clock in the old church-tower struck twelve! The glimmering of a light in Joe's room drew my attention. I peeped in again. He was out of bed, had lit his candle, and was putting on his clothes! As soon as he was dressed, he went to his chest of drawers, took out a pocket-handkerchief, and spread it upon the table. Into this handkerchief he put a pair of boots, a brush and comb, and a clean shirt; then he tied it up with two knots, and proceeded to take down a desk from a shelf. Out of this he took some money, counted it, and put it into his purse."

"I wonder how much he put in!" exclaimed the Mint from its bed of herbs.

"As much as he had got, and no more, you may be sure," answered the Sage.

"I hope it was not all silver," said the Pennyroyal.

"Oh, pray, don't interrupt!" cried the Thyme, "for the moments are flying, the minutes are running so fast, and the half-hours declare the hours are about to strike! Do, please, go on, Apple-tree!"

"Well, having put his purse in his pocket, Joe went to the fireplace, and unhooking a small picture from the wall, he wrapt it in a clean handkerchief and put it in another pocket. Then he came to the window, drew it gently up, and looked out. First, he threw his bundle down on the flower-border below, then he scrambled out upon the trellis-work and crept down by his hands and feet till he reached the ground. Picking up his bundle, he passed quietly through the gate into the yard, and going up to a rabbit-hutch, he took out a most beautiful large white rabbit. This he hugged in his arms and talked to, but I couldn't hear what he said. He rubbed his cheek several times up and down against its soft fur, then put it back, and taking his bundle under his arm, unlatched the gate leading into the fields, and set off running as fast as his legs could carry him.

"When he came to the stile he jumped over, and stood still to take one long last look at the old white house standing out so clear in the bright moonshine.

"I saw him kiss his hand towards it, then turn round and set off running again. He was soon quite out of sight, and from that day to this he has never been seen here again. And he needn't have gone after all. I heard the groom tell the gardener the foolish servants had frightened him by telling him 'he had murdered his brother, and must take the consequences.' But Dick wasn't killed. He got all right again, although he was ill for a very long time, and never looked the same bright lad he was before he lost his brother. But, hark! I hear a human being near--silence all!"

At that moment there was a crash as of a bough of a tree snapping, and the young traveller was over the wall with a bound.

"Tell me, tell me!" he cried, "are they all alive?"

There was a dead silence.

He stamped his foot, and implored the voices to speak once more, but no answer came.

"Can I," he said, striking his forehead with his hand--"can I have been dreaming?"

He rushed to the garden gate, passed through, and shut it with such a slam that the poor sleepy Pear fell at once to the ground.

A very short time after, the sun came laughing up from behind the horizon, the birds began to sing, smoke danced merrily out of the kitchen chimney, the church-bells rang out a merry peal, and all to celebrate Joey's return to his home!

That afternoon there was a grand feast in the old white house, to which all the fruit and vegetables were invited.

* * * * *

"What a very strange story, Papa!" exclaimed Clement.

"It is a very nice one," said Lucy; "only I suppose it isn't quite true."

"I wish I had got Joey's soft white rabbit," murmured George.

No words fell from little Nelly's lips, for she had fallen fast asleep on her mother's lap.

STORY OF A GLOWWORM.

Did you ever see a glowworm? There are plenty of them shining on the grass during the long nights of June and July. Shall we come out on to the lawn one evening and see them? Look! there they are! shining like little fairy lamps all over the grass. If you try to disturb them they will hide their light, for they like to keep quiet. Now you cannot find them, for they are all dark again. I do not think a glowworm is a pretty insect when it has no light. Shall we catch one very quietly while it is shining and place it on a leaf? In the morning you will see it is a rather long insect, with brown scales over its back and it has some tiny legs, in front. You must give it some lettuce leaf, and a few of those little dead flies we found on the window-sill this morning. Do you want to keep it altogether? I think you had better not do so, it would soon die. It can feed itself better than you can. And now, shall I tell you the story of a glowworm while you put this one carefully on a lettuce leaf which I have placed in a pot?

Many years ago, when I was a little girl, I was very fond of pets of all sorts. I was a funny little girl, for I did not even dislike spiders! and I often wished I could catch and tame a little mouse for my very own. There were plenty of them behind the wainscot in our large London house; but the cat would eat them one by one, so that I never got a chance of keeping one to myself. Indeed I do not think old nurse would have let me do so. She hated all such horrid creepy things, she said; but I told her I was sure a mouse was anything but horrid, because I had just been watching one come out of his hole that the carpenter had forgot to stop up.

"And indeed, Nurse," I said, "he ran so prettily about the room, and got into your basket of work. I was so happy to think he had found a warm snug corner this windy day, but directly you came in again he ran away."

You may be sure old nurse looked very frightened on hearing about the mouse in her basket, and the carpenter had no peace till he had brought his tools and put a board neatly across the hole. So I never saw my little mouse again. And it had such a soft little coat of fur too! When I grumbled to Nurse she told me not to be a tiresome little girl; that mousey was all very well to look at, but he was very, very mischievous, and would eat up everything in the cupboard if we would let him.

Well, to return to my story, one evening my eldest brother, who was a great tall fellow fresh from school, and much older than I was, came to the foot of the stairs and called out, "Elsie! I've brought something for you."

Now, I knew he had just returned from a cricket match in the country, where he had gone that morning by train, and I thought it very kind of him to think of me at all.

"What is it, George?" I asked eagerly as I bounded down the nursery stairs.

George stood under the gas-lamp of the second landing waiting for me, and now he pulled out a pocket-handkerchief. Out of the handkerchief he drew a little cardboard box, with air holes pricked in it, and when he opened the lid I stood on tiptoe and looked into it.

"Why, George, you've only brought me a caterpillar!" I said not quite pleased.

"No, it isn't," replied George, "it's a glowworm. After the cricket match we went to supper at the squire's, and on the lawn there were hundreds of these pretty things, so I brought you one."

"But I thought a glowworm had fire in its tail?" said I.

"You are quite right," replied George. "It has; but then you can only see it in the dark, and there is the gas-lamp burning over us. Suppose we take it into the dark greenhouse and put it in a pot?"

I thanked George very much for his trouble in bringing me such a treasure, and we hastened to a sort of glass place we had built out over an extra room, and in which my mother placed all her favourite plants. We put the little creature on to a flower-pot, and true enough when it was left quite quiet it began to shine.

"What is that light for?" I asked George.

"I believe it is a lamp for it to see its food by in the dark as it crawls over the grass. And another thing, nightingales are fond of glowworms, and nightingales too must live, so you see they can easily spy them out, can't they?"

"I'm glad, George, you saved this one from the nightingale," I said. "Now it will shine here every night like a little fairy lamp, and when we give my party it will be of great use, won't it?"

George laughed at me, and said he thought the glowworm would have to grow a good deal larger before it could do that. Nurse now called me to bed, so after we had put some leaves close to the glowworm we left it shining brightly.

The next morning I ran to see if my glowworm was pretty or ugly by daylight, but it was gone!

I looked in every pot, but I could not find anything like a caterpillar.

"Of course it had crawled away somewhere!" said Nurse, and she gave a shudder as she felt sure it would come up to her bed-room. I was very unhappy at my loss. However, nothing could be done. But what was my surprise and delight when, that same evening, as it grew dark, my mother called to me as she was passing the greenhouse, "Elsie! Elsie! is not this your fairy lamp on the floor?"

I ran down quickly, and found my dear little glowworm shining merrily on the stone pavement of the greenhouse. It was walking across to the other side of the wall, "only just to take an airing," as I said to mother.

She said, "Look, it has saved itself because of its light, otherwise I would have put my foot on it when I came to shut the windows." I quickly got a leaf and put "Glowy" back again into the pot till I had got something else.

"You are not going to run away again, my little dear," said I. "No, no, you must go into a cage now." So I got an old tumbler with a chip in it and put some leaves in it, and then tumbled my glowworm in, head-foremost, and covered up the top with a piece of paper.

But my mother said that would not do, as there was no air; so she pricked the paper full of holes as I remembered George had done to his box, and we put on the lid again. The next morning I found my pet quite alive; but it had not eaten any of the lettuce leaf, and I was very sorry. Still it was alive, which was a great deal. I gave "Glowy" some fresh leaves and left it there. George said he thought "Glowy" would not like so much hot sun beating down upon him through the glass roof; but I reminded George that glowworms liked hot countries, for Uncle Bob told me he had seen splendid ones abroad when he went on voyages.

That was all very well, said George, but did I not know that they came out when it was quite cool in the evenings? Still I had my way, and left my little friend in the blue glass tumbler, because he would look so pretty shining through it at night. I was so afraid he would run away again. When evening came there he was crawling on a leaf and shining so brightly. I gave him some mustard and cress to eat, for a change, and felt quite delighted.

The next day I found he had not eaten anything. Perhaps he did not like the green food. I resolved to try him with flies; but after hunting I could not find any that were dead, so he had to go without. The next day I found little "Glowy" all curled up at the bottom of the glass as if he was going to faint. "Oh, George," I said, "I quite forgot he had no water to drink!" and I ran to fetch a few drops in a cup.

"You'll drown him in all that," laughed George; but I was very careful and only dropped a few drops close to him on the leaf. But he would not move. I was so afraid he would get ill that I took him out and placed him on a pot of Virginian creeper to see if he would recover. To my delight he began to crawl again, so I left him to roam about.

I knew I should find him again in the evening by his light, as I did before. But when I came in from my afternoon walk with Miss Smith, our governess, Nurse told me that John the man-servant had been watering all the plants that afternoon, and she hoped there was an end to my funny fancies.

Oh, how silly I was not to tell everybody where "Glowy" was! for, of course, Nurse hoped he was drowned; but John wouldn't have done it if he had known. I hunted by daylight in vain for him; but when evening came to my joy I found him feebly shining, and perched on the edge of the earthenware saucer in which the Virginian creeper pot stood. The saucer was full of water, so I don't know how he had got across; I wondered if glowworms could swim. I pushed little "Glowy" gently on to a leaf with a piece of stick, and put the whole on an orange plant for him to get dry again.

Alas, the next morning poor "Glowy" looked very ill--at least George said he must be, because he had not moved from the spot, and glowworms always like to crawl about in search of food. I looked forward to the evening to see if he would shine again; but no, poor "Glowy" was quite still and would not shine. George said he was dead because I did not feed him properly; but it was not my fault, it was John's for watering him. I was very sorry, because I had had a little pet for a week, and now I did not know where to find another one so pretty. But George after a while showed me it was my fault. You see I had not let the glowworm roam about in the back garden to look for his own food, because I thought I could feed him much better. But it was not so much that; it was the glass cage into which I put poor "Glowy" that he did not like. It was too hot in the greenhouse. So I made a mistake. We learn to do better by experience--we learn that we are often in the wrong. But I would not believe it when George told me so; when I lost my little glowworm I had to believe it, but it was too late, and my fairy lamp had gone out.

George told me he had also learnt the same thing by experience, when he caught three very young blackbirds once. We were living in the country then. He thought he could feed them, though the gardener said they would die, because, while they could not feed themselves, the old blackbird could do it best and not George. So they did die one by one. The bread and milk George gave them was not enough to keep them alive. So I think now, it is very cruel of boys when they take little birds out of their nest, and besides it makes the mother-bird so unhappy.

Well, I had lost my little glowworm. It was an ugly little insect in itself, but you get fond of a thing you have taken care of, and I felt quite sorry when I had no fairy lamp left.