Chapter 15

The Stripling

Lesbia's holiday at Dolmadoc was not without its trials. Before she had stayed there for a week she began to have a shrewd suspicion that she had been invited mainly to act buffer between Regina and the Stripling. The two unfortunately did not "get on". Regina was blazingly clever, interesting, and very nice with those to whom she happened to take a fancy. In the bosom of her own family she was what is sometimes aptly described as "a little madam". She had scarcely any patience or tolerance for Derrick, she sat upon him continually, snapping at his most innocent remarks. The Stripling certainly needed some slight forbearance, for he was in the awkward stage of a young cockerel learning to crow, but the treatment meted out to him by his sister was drastic. Lesbia was placed in a very awkward position. She was constantly required to act as referee in the frequent squabbles. If, in the cause of justice, she took Derrick's part, Regina would sulk for hours, and if, on the other hand, she supported her friend, the Stripling would declare that girls always sided together and would hint gloomily that he had finished with the fair sex for ever.

Secretly Lesbia sympathized with him, though for the sake of peace she could not openly announce herself his ally. It was much the same with the younger children. Regina had a soft spot in her heart for Una, but with Magsie she was constantly bickering.

Magsie had her own views about life, and fiercely resented criticism. She used to go out of her way sometimes to show her independence, and would do most silly things out of sheer bravado. The two little boys were alternately spoilt or swept aside as nuisances, according to the mood in which Regina happened to find herself.

So long as the weather was fine, and the Websters could spread themselves out in the garden, matters jogged along merrily enough, but a spell of rain sent the family barometer down with a run. Wales, like all mountainous districts, can do its wicked worst in the way of wet Augusts. For three days the view of the valley was totally obscured by mist, and the monotonous pat-pat of drops on the roof never ceased. The cottage, quite comfortable and commodious in ordinary circumstances, seemed suddenly to contract its walls. Lesbia, coming down one afternoon from the retreat of her bedroom, where she had retired to write a letter, found matters below somewhat strained. Mr. and Mrs. Webster had returned to Kingfield for a few days, leaving Pendry, the old nurse, in charge of the housekeeping and the children. It was the last item which made the difficulty. Nobody could agree about it. Pendry understood the term to refer to the whole family; Regina and Derrick declared it only meant the small fry, but included Magsie; while Magsie most indignantly repudiated being classed with Una, Piers, and Winston, and insisted that she was as grown-up as anybody. They were in the thick of the fray when Lesbia descended. Regina was having a sharp skirmish with Piers, whose painting-book, chalks, and other impedimenta occupied the one table at the sitting-room window.

"I've told you children before to keep to the nursery!" she commanded. "I won't have you bringing all your things in here, so you may just take them off."

"But Pendry _said_ I might come here!" protested Piers, keeping a jealous hand on his possessions, which Regina was ruthlessly sweeping away.

"It's not Pendry's business. _I_ tell you to go!"

"Indeed it _is_ my business, Miss Regina," interrupted the old nurse, zealous for her authority. "They've got Meccano all over the nursery table, and there isn't a corner left for Piers. He was perfectly good and quiet until you came meddling with him. Why can't you let him alone?"

"You've got my book, Regina," whined Una's injured voice. "You _knew_ I was reading _Little Women_."

"Oh, you children! You children!" protested Regina. "There isn't a corner of the house free from you. I wish I was in a convent or on a desert island. I'd get some peace and quiet there at any rate. Take your wretched book!" (flinging _Little Women_ at Una). "How was _I_ to know who was reading it? Why can't Magsie be quiet. I can hear that hinnying laugh of hers all over the house."

At that moment Regina did not at all resemble "The Blessed Damozel". She seemed very far away indeed from "the gold bar of Heaven". Lesbia seized her friend by the arm and whispered something into her ear. The storm-clouds cleared from Regina's face.

"Go a walk? Just by ourselves?" she replied, in the same undertone. "I'd adore it if _you_ would. I vote we do. Only don't let all this tribe find out. Mum's the word."

"We'll wangle ourselves off quietly," agreed Lesbia.

It was a desperately bad afternoon for outdoor exercise. There was a strong cold wind, and the rain was absolutely pelting down. For the sake of change, however, the girls would have braved a blizzard. There is a certain stage of wet-weather ennui which becomes absolutely insupportable. They put on mackintoshes, old hats, and tall rubber boots, then sneaked out by the back door to avoid being seen by the rest of the family. They had only gone a few hundred yards when there was a sound of racing footsteps behind them, and they were caught up by the Stripling, also attired ready to face the elements.

"Derrick! Who told _you_ to come?" inquired his sister inhospitably.

The boy grinned.

"Pendry gave me a hint, so I thought I'd clear out too, and leave the kids to fight over their Meccano. It's a ripping idea of yours. Where are you going?"

"Just a walk _by ourselves_!" declared Regina, taking her friend's arm.

"Oh, _do_ let him come with us," pleaded Lesbia. "Why shouldn't we all three go together and look at the waterfall? It will be grand on a day like this."

"Two is company and three is none."

"The more the merrier, say I."

"Don't be a bluebottle, Regina. I tell you I'm coming, so that's the long and the short of it," decided Derrick, taking Lesbia's other arm, and beginning to tow the girls up hill. "We're the three graces, or the three fates, or the three anything else you like. It's a lucky number."

"'When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?'" quoted Regina, giving in for once.

"Some rain certainly," agreed the Stripling cheerfully.

It was impossible to imagine a wetter day. The road was almost a rivulet, and the ditches were overflowing. Every leaf and blade of grass dripped tears. Even the birds seemed to have betaken themselves to shelter. The very cattle were huddled under the hedges. A drenched dog leaped through the bars of a gate and scurried past them. Yet the air was fresh and reviving, and there was something rather exhilarating in walking through the wet. It felt almost like sea-bathing. When a sudden squall of wind blew the rain in their faces they could fancy they were breasting a wave. Lesbia in the middle was particularly cheerful. She insisted upon what she called a three-part stunt. Each in turn improvised a line of verse, bringing it out as rapidly as possible.

_Regina._ The rain it raineth every day.

_Lesbia._ But in the house we will not stay.

_Derrick._ The kids we gladly leave behind.

_Regina._ And go a waterfall to find.

_Lesbia._ We few, we few, we happy three!

_Derrick._ I wish it were but you and me.

_Regina._ And I'd be gladly quit of _you_.

_Lesbia._ Now, now. No quarrelling you two.

_Derrick._ Like ducks we waddle fast along,

_Regina._ Quite jolly, though, and going strong.

_Lesbia._ My rhymes are done, I end the song.

"We're getting silly," continued Lesbia. "I don't think somehow any one of us will ever win the Laureateship."

"More likely qualifying for another volume of Mother Goose's verses," grunted the Stripling.

"You're the goose, fast enough," snapped Regina.

"Oh no, madam, that literary honour belongs to you."

"Now don't spar," interrupted Lesbia. "Listen! I can hear the waterfall. We must be getting quite near."

They had been climbing uphill along a rough, narrow road, and they now turned through a gate and walked across a field, and then plunged down into a wood to reach the stream. Path there was none, though a rough track among the trees showed them the direction they must take. It was beautiful in the gorge, but incredibly wet. The wind sent shower baths from the dripping trees on to their heads, the long bracken was soaking. The clumps of harebells were weighted down with raindrops, the blackberry blossoms lay battered. Vivid green moss and scarlet toadstools alone among the vegetation seemed to appreciate the excess moisture. Below them the waterfall thundered. They could see white gleams of it here and there among the trees. After a considerable scramble they at last reached a point of rock from which they had an uninterrupted view into the valley. The stream, a mild affair in fine weather, was swollen into a mighty volume of water that swirled along high above its usual banks, and dropped with a roar over the fall. It was a splendid sight, well worth the walk and the wet. They stayed watching it for some time, till Regina suddenly shivered with cold.

"The wind's bitter here. I vote we get a move on," she suggested. "Let us go down the bank and take that lower path. It will lead out into the road by the old mill. It's nicer to go home another way."

The lower path was boggy, but a little extra wet made no difference to the already soaked party. They tramped steadily on, enjoying the woods and the view of the water. At one point the Stripling made a discovery. Stopping and peering down the bank he announced briefly:

"Great Judkins! Wild raspberries as large as life. Come on, you girls!"

There was indeed quite a feast waiting below. Owing to the bad weather few people had passed that way lately, and the fruit had had time to ripen. Derrick, Regina, and Lesbia descended upon it like three blackbirds, and spent a scratchy but blissful ten minutes gathering and eating all they could reach. Tangles of raspberry canes tear worse than almost anything in the world, and mackintoshes and fingers suffered badly. Regina, reaching over for a particularly large and ripe specimen, lost her hat. It fell a long way down the bank on to the rocks by the stream and disappeared.

"O bother!" she cried. "Now my hat's gone. And however am I going to get it back? Derrick, just fetch it for me, will you?"

Derrick plucked the raspberry which Regina, in her agitation had missed, and shook his head.

"'The snail he said too far, too far'," he quoted. "That hat's done for. You'll never see it again. It's probably dancing down-stream."

"It's probably nothing of the sort. I expect it's lying on the rocks if you'd only go and look for it. What a slacker you are."

"Thanks awfully! So pleased to hear your opinion of me. I'm ever so flattered, I assure you."

"Lesbia! Don't you think he ought to go and fetch my hat?"

"Lesbia doesn't think anything of the sort. I can see it in her eye. Do you, Lesbia?"

Thus appealed to, Lesbia was in a tight corner. Privately she thought Derrick would probably have fetched the hat if Regina had only asked him nicely. She tried to hedge.

"Shall I drop mine too?" she said jokingly, taking off her own hat and twirling it on her finger for fun. "Perhaps you'll fetch them both."

In a twinkling Derrick snatched it from her, threw it below on to the rocks, and went scrambling after it. Next moment a corner of the bank hid him from their view. The girls laughed.

"Temper!" said Regina. "That's Derrick all over."

"I hope he won't be long. My hair's getting very wet," declared Lesbia.

They waited some time, but no Derrick returned with the hats.

"I suppose we shall have to go and see what he's doing," grumbled Regina, preparing for a downward scramble.

They had almost to slide among the bushes to reach the rocks. They arrived at the bottom scratched and mudstained. There was not a trace of Derrick anywhere. Neither were the hats to be seen. The brown water swirled past carrying sticks and branches on its foaming surface. Regina looked at its hurrying course, and at the slippery bank.

"I do hope----" she began, then stopped. She had no need to finish, for the same fear was in Lesbia's eyes. Where had Derrick vanished? There was no exit from the platform where they were standing except by the way they had come.

"We--we oughtn't to have let him go," faltered Lesbia.

"Could he have climbed up there?"

"We'll go and see."

In a horrible scare the girls retraced their steps, and ran along the top of the cliff, calling "Derrick" with all the force of their lungs. There was no reply. The only sound to be heard was the roar of the water. Regina, thoroughly terrified, burst into tears.

"It's my fault if he's drowned!" she sobbed. "Oh, what _are_ we to do?"

The girls hunted about and called for some time, then finally went home in a frantic state to raise the alarm. The first person they saw as they entered the front door was Derrick, dressed in dry clothes and munching a green apple. He bowed politely.

"Your hats are drying by the fire," he said in a nonchalant tone.

"How _did_ you get home?" gasped the two girls. "We've been looking for you everywhere?"

"Why, I climbed up the rocks and went on."

"You wretched boy! You gave us such a fright!" panted Regina.

"Mother Hubbard's dog isn't in it with you," declared Lesbia.

Derrick shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't help it if you chose to chase after me. I think I was a trump to take your hats home for you. You look uncommonly wet. Best change."

As little rivers were running from their garments down on to the hall floor, the girls took his advice and hurried into dry clothes.

"He was a mean wretch to play such a rag on us," fumed Regina, rubbing her damp hair with a towel.

"I thought nothing but a monkey could climb up those rocks. Boys have nine lives. I shan't be scared another time, whatever mad tricks he plays," declared Lesbia, buttoning her blouse in a hurry at the sound of the welcome tea-bell. "All the same," she added to herself, "Regina's far fonder of that Stripling than she'll admit, though they _do_ spar. She had umpteen dozen fits when she thought he was drowned. If she really has such a warm corner for him, why, in the name of all common sense, can't she show it and be decent to him? I don't believe in people making a palaver about you when you're dead. If they've anything nice to say they'd better say it while you're alive and will enjoy hearing it. That's my opinion."