BOTH Aaron and Loveday were very tired when, for the third time, they rose at dawn, crept out of the house, and up the cliff; and if it had not been for the excitement of seeing what their enemies had done to the vegetable bed during the night, they would probably have left their pisky work, for one morning at least. But Loveday was very anxious to see if the bad piskies had done anything further when they found all the straw had been taken away from them. Aaron was excited, too, but he was more sleepy, and they were both just the least bit cross as they clambered up the slippery path.
“I’m jolly glad I am not a real pisky,” he said, “to have to do this every night. I reckon folks would have to do their work theirselves if ’twas left to me.”
Loveday did not answer. She felt very much the same, but she was not going to say so.
They did not sit down this time to enjoy the view, but their crusts as they walked. There was neither a lovely sunrise, nor a sea-fog—it was just an ordinary dull, grey morning; and Loveday no longer felt that for the future she should always rise with the sun, and try to make every one else do the same. Every now and then her thoughts would turn to her , comfortable little bed, though she tried hard to fix them on something else, for she felt that if she thought of it too much she should turn and run back to it, and creep in and lay her weary body out at full length between the blankets, and her sleepy head on the pillow, and sleep, and sleep, and sleep—all the day through, if she could.
Everything was quiet as usual when they reached the gate. By this time they had found out how to walk over the path without making much noise.
“We will try to make that place look very nice to-day,” said Loveday; “I’ve brought a knife and a pair of scissors with me, and we’ll cut off all the great big straggly things, and the dead things, and ‘heave ’em to cliff’ as we did the straw.”
“That’s one of mother’s best knives,” said Aaron anxiously; “you’d best not use that. You should have brought the ’taty knife, the little dumpy one she uses for peeling ’taties.”
“Well, I can’t go back now to change it,” said Loveday decidedly. “I must use this one. One knife isn’t very much, and they are meant to cut things with; we shan’t hurt it—besides, Bessie has got more like it.”
“Oh, well, do as you please,” said Aaron crossly; “only there’ll be a fine row if it’s spoilt. Knives”—with that superior, knowing air of his which always Loveday—“costs a brave bit of money.”
“Of course I know that,” she snapped . “I didn’t think they grew. Well, I’ll use the scissors, and you can use your hands; unless you brought something yourself to cut with.”
But by this time they had reached the walled-in garden, and in their excitement to see if anything had happened they forgot their crossness. Along the path they ran till they reached the bed, then stood still and looked at each other with wide eyes. The bed was covered again with straw—fresh, new straw—and over it and across it in all directions was fine cord, stretched to which had been stuck firmly in the ground.
The two felt quite frightened! Whoever had done it had spared no trouble in making all secure this time, but had carried out their work and beautifully. The children felt helpless.
“It is just to spite us,” whispered Loveday furiously.
But Aaron did not speak; he was really puzzled and alarmed. Thoughts were working so fast in his brain, too, that he could not catch one and put it into words. Loveday grew annoyed and half frightened by his silence.
“What do you think it is? Who do you think did it? Aaron, speak! Are you frightened? Do you think it is something that will hurt us?”
But in answer to all her eager questions, Aaron only said at last:
“I dunno; I don’t like the looks on it.”
Loveday was really rather alarmed, but to find Aaron even more so, and without a word to encourage her, made her very cross again.
“I don’t like the looks of all that cord,” she said, “and I’m going to cut it all, just to let them see that I am not afraid of them. I am not a coward.”
Poor Aaron! It was a little hard on him, for he really had begun to feel a horrible that it might not, after all, have been piskies’ that they were , but some real person’s careful work, and he was just beginning to say so when they heard quick footsteps coming along the path towards them, and, looking up, saw an elderly, grey-haired man with a very white and angry face and a pair of eyes with a look in them which filled Loveday’s little heart with alarm.
“It’s Mr. Winter!” Aaron.
That news did not increase Loveday’s alarm; it rather it, in fact, for, in the first place, she wanted very much to see this mysterious person, and, in the second place, she had always a feeling that sad people were never very angry about anything: they were too gentle, and had so much else to think about. But Mr. Winter soon undeceived her.
“Who are you?” he cried hotly, “and what are you doing in my garden, you young ragamuffins? What are you doing, I say? Is it you who have been with my beds day after day, and ruining all my seeds?”
“Please, sir,” began Aaron, and stuttering, and frightened nearly out of his wits—“please, sir, we didn’t mean no ’arm; we didn’t know——”
“What didn’t you know? You knew you had no right in here. You will know it now, at any rate, for you will just wait here until I get a policeman; then perhaps you will remember another time.”
“A policeman!”
Loveday was filled with horror, and could scarcely believe her ears. A policeman to be sent for, for her, Miss Loveday Carlyon! Oh, it couldn’t be true! He couldn’t mean it! It was a mistake. But oh, if only father were here, or mother, to explain!
They were far away, though, and Mr. Winter was here, talking more and more angrily, and saying, “Come with me, come with me, and I’ll see that you are safe till the police come!”
“I must explain to him myself,” thought Loveday. “Aaron isn’t any good”—which was quite true, for all Aaron’s thoughts were taken up in trying not to cry. He was much too scared to speak. Loveday went a little nearer the angry old man.
“Please, Mr. Winter,” she said, but very tremblingly, “we only wanted to do something kind for you. We weren’t stealing, or doing any harm. We never touched a flower—we didn’t see one to touch, but we wouldn’t have if we had.”
Mr. Winter stopped in his angry words as soon as she began to speak. Expecting, as he had, to hear the speech of one of the village children, Loveday’s pretty, refined voice gave him a shock of surprise. He looked at her more keenly, and with some curiosity.
“Kind!” he cried; “what do you mean? You wanted to be kind? Why should you? And why should you come into my garden to play , and then call them kindnesses? Why are you up and out wandering about the country at this hour of the morning? Whose children are you?”
“This is Aaron Lobb; his father and mother live in your cottage under the cliff; and I am Loveday Carlyon, Dr. Carlyon’s daughter. I’ve come from Trelint to stay with Bessie for—for my health, and one day Aaron and I came up here with a message, and your garden looked so untidy, I wished the piskies would come and make it nice for you. And then we thought we would pretend to be piskies and get up very, very early, and make it all nice and tidy&mda............