'a little work, a little play,

to keep us going—and so, good-day!'

'no more latin, no more greek, no more cane to make me squeak!' sang bobby on the fifteenth of july, springing out of the pony-trap before pixie had stopped, and taking a flying leap over the pump-trough in the exuberance of his spirits.

'school is over, hooray!' shouted peggy, banging down her books on the mounting-block, and waltzing into the kitchen, where aunt helen and nancy were busy making jam. 'don't you hear, auntie? we've broken up for eight weeks! isn't it glorious?'

'i hear fast enough; but i'm afraid it will be a doubtful pleasure for nancy and me if you are all going mad like this. my dear child, don't you think you might choose a less juicy seat than a tray full of raspberries?'

peggy jumped up in a hurry.

'i really didn't see them,' she said. 'i'll go and help lilian unharness pixie. joe's away in the turnip-field. no home-lessons to-night, hip-hip-hooray!' and she took herself off like a whirlwind.

the holidays were indeed a delightful respite after the weary round of examinations which generally[86] makes life a burden at the end of the summer term, and the children set to work to enjoy them thoroughly. bobby had taken to entomology, and panted over the hot pastures, chasing butterflies with unflagging zeal. at dusk he would enlist peggy's services, and the pair went treacling for moths. a careful mixture of gin and syrup was smeared upon the trees, which were afterwards visited with a lantern, when the unfortunate insects could easily be taken in the midst of their revels, falling sad victims to the sin of intemperance.

caterpillars, too, were caught and kept in boxes, till the rose parlour became so full of interesting specimens that aunt helen, for once, rebelled, and ordered this new branch of the menagerie to be removed to the loft.

'i found one of your beasties inside my hat, and another in my teacup,' she complained. 'so you had better keep them where it does not much matter if they escape.'

lilian devoted herself to art, and sallied forth with her paint-box, pencils, and sketch-block, in quite a professional manner, looking for subjects. to be sure, the perspective of her cottages was apt to be rather peculiar at times, and the welsh mountains turned out a more vivid shade of purple, and the fields a far more brilliant green than nature ever painted them; but it was all good practice, and the admiring peggy thought that no royal academician could have produced such charming masterpieces. there was a little work, too, to make the playtime all the sweeter—fruit to be picked, peas and beans to shell, the garden to weed, and great piles of bread and cheese to be cut and carried out into the fields for the harvesters' 'drinkings.' but, as bobby said, it was all play-work, and much nicer than lessons, anyhow.

[87]peggy lay one afternoon at full length on the grass under the lime-tree, deep in the pages of 'treasure island.' it was rather a grown-up book, perhaps, for a little girl, but it was all about pirates, and sailors, and hairbreadth escapes, of so wildly exciting a nature, that she read on till she almost wept with disappointment to think she was not a boy to go to sea and meet with such thrilling adventures.

from the rose parlour came the strains of the piano, where lilian was wailing a melancholy little ditty with keen enjoyment. it is mostly when we are very young that we take the greatest delight in the sad songs; those who have felt the real bitterness of sorrow are glad to bury it deeply away, and do not wish it wakened, as sailors' wives love a place best where they cannot hear the sound of the sea.

lilian had always taken rather a delight in what nancy called 'the melancholics.' when quite a tiny child she had much preferred the tragedy of red riding hood to the brighter fate of the princesses who lived happily ever afterwards, and, with the tears streaming down her fat little cheeks, would quaver out 'tell it again!'

her first efforts in poetry had been in a distinctly pensive strain. when only about nine years old she had composed—

'the dying child's last words.

'remember me when i am gone,

and me thou canst not see;

when i lie sleeping in my grave,

dear friends, remember me.

'you'll keep my little garden neat,

my clothes you'll fold away;

my playthings in a drawer you'll put

with which i last did play.'

[88]there ought to have been more verses, but at this point father had unfortunately got hold of the paper, and persisted in treating the poem in such a comic light that the indignant authoress had never found the heart to finish it, though the fragment was considered very talented by aunt helen, and carefully put away in an old work-box, with the first specimens of peggy's handwriting and one of bobby's little baby-curls.

peggy came to the end of her book at last, and life seemed so stale and flat anywhere out of the south seas that she wandered down the garden for a little diversion. lilian's fresh young voice proclaiming that her heart 'was breaking, breaking,' came wafted along the terrace, mingled with the sound of the reaping-machine, and the indignant gobble of the old turkey, which bobby was chasing round the pasture.

'let him alone, you naughty boy! whatever mischief will you be in next?' cried aunt helen, flying to the rescue of the patriarch of her poultry-yard, and enforcing her remarks by sounding raps on the culprit's curly brown pate. bobby was the apple of her eye, but she considered wholesome chastisement to be necessary to his moral welfare.

'oh, auntie, i've finished my book, and we've nothing much to do this afternoon; don't you think we might take our tea out into the woods?' said peggy, swinging herself over the garden wall into the pasture.

'you can if you like; only you must get the baskets ready yourselves, and not worry nancy. you may as well buy a loaf while you are out, too,' said aunt helen, rummaging a shilling out of her pocket. 'we're baking again to-day, but the harvesters take so much bread for the "drinkings." get some tea-cakes, too, if they have any.'

[89]'all right,' cried peggy, rushing off with enthusiasm to rouse lilian from the piano and forage in the pantry for a supply of jam and butter.

half an hour later an interesting procession started off from the kitchen door: lilian first, with the basket of cups and provisions, peggy with the milk-can, and bobby armed with the kettle, while rollo seemed to be everywhere at once, and as pleased as anybody.

'i've got the matches,' said peggy, 'and a newspaper. you're sure you put in the spoons, lilian? we forgot them last time.'

the place where the children were going was a delightful spot for a picnic. a rapid stream ran through the woods, dashing down over great boulders, making little cascades and waterfalls as it went, with here and there a deep, clear pool, where the trout lay snugly under the stones; the rocks under the overhanging trees were carpeted with the softest and greenest of moss, and tall ferns grew right down to the water's edge, mingling with trailing ivy and creeping moneywort. a grassy glade under a tall beech seemed intended by nature for a summer-house, for there was a large flat stone in the middle, which served for a table, and a circle of little stones round, just high enough for seats, so that you might imagine queen mab and her fairies dined here on moonlight nights, with the squirrels for guests and the bats and owls for waiters.

the children put down their baskets, and ran about gathering dry sticks to build their fire. there were plenty of dead branches strewn about in the wood, so they soon had a goodly pile of fuel. bobby filled the kettle at the stream, and planted it firmly on lilian's elaborate erection of sticks. peggy struck a match and set the paper alight; up went the smoke,[90] and in a few moments the bonfire was blazing grandly. but unfortunately the picnic party had quite forgotten that burning wood does not make a very substantial foundation, for the whole pile suddenly collapsed, and over went the kettle, spilling all the water, and putting out the fire with a hiss.

'what a nuisance!' exclaimed lilian. 'we must find something to hang the kettle on, like the gipsies do.'

'suppose we make a kind of fireplace between two big stones, and then we can put a thick branch across,' suggested peggy. 'it will be easier to lift the kettle off, too. i don't know how we should have seized it from the middle of that blaze.'

the second attempt proved a much greater success, and in a short time the water was boiling bravely, while a very attractive feast was spread out upon the mossy table.

lilian had filled the teapot, and the company was just about to sit down and fall to with much relish, when the party was suddenly augmented by an unexpected guest. down the little path from the glen above solemnly marched a very small girl indeed, so round and fat and chubby that she looked nearly as broad as she was long. she was a pretty child, with soft, dark eyes and pink cheeks, so plump and full that the little nose seemed almost to be lost between them. a pair of stout brown legs showed under the smocked holland pinafore, her white sun-hat hung upon her back, and she clasped a dilapidated doll in her arms.

she strolled up to the astonished children with the dignity of a duchess.

'i saw you lighting the fire,' she announced calmly, 'so i took isabella, and i've comed to tea.'

'we're very glad to see you, i'm sure,' said lilian. 'is isabella your dolly?'

[91]'no; she's my child. i don't call her a dolly: it hurts her feelings, so please don't say it again!'

'i'm ever so sorry,' apologised lilian, trying to repress bobby's giggles. 'whose little girl are you?'

'i'm father's girl. father's painting pictures up there in the wood. i paint pictures, too, sometimes, when isabella don't want me,' confided the juvenile artist; and to judge from the smears of paint upon her pinafore, she had evidently been pursuing that art with more vigour than discretion.

'won't you come and sit on my lap?' said peggy coaxingly, for she loved small children.

the chubby infant looked the slight figure up and down, as if appraising the offered accommodation.

'she hasn't got a lap to sit upon,' she remarked scornfully, settling her stout legs on the grass.

'you haven't told us your name yet,' said lilian, trying to draw out the interesting visitor.

'my name's matilda christabel wilkins, but they call me matty for short.'

'are you sure they don't call you fatty?' inquired bobby.

'no; only rude people. nice people call me miss wilkins. i don't like boys. i was four last week, so i'm quite a big girl now. will the doggie hurt me? i think i will have some of that cake!'

'hadn't you better begin with bread-and-butter?' said lilian. 'no, dear, the doggie won't hurt you; it's only his play. come here, rollo! i'm afraid i haven't a spare cup; but perhaps you won't mind having some milk in a saucer. are you staying about here?'

'yes, at the farmhouse. i help mary to milk the cows. mary sings to them. i can sing, too. would you like to hear me sing now?'

[92]'if it won't trouble you too much,' began lilian.

'no. i like it!' and miss wilkins crossed her short legs, turned up the brown eyes, and broke forth into such a very extraordinary burst of melody that the children were nearly in fits. it had neither time nor tune, but the notes quavered about on the scale like a distant representation of the bagpipes. from the words they supposed it must be meant for a hymn, and it wound on through six or seven verses, till bobby grew quite hysterical.

'thank you,' said lilian, stifling her mirth, when the youthful madame patti had at length drawn to a close. 'where did you learn that?'

'i learn it on sundays, out of a book. shall i sing it for you over again?' evidently thirsting for an encore.

'hadn't you better have some tea first?' suggested peggy hastily. 'see, i've put strawberry jam on your bread-and-butter.'

the attractions of preserve seemed to outweigh the charms of music, for miss wilkins ate stolidly for five minutes without volunteering any further remarks.

'you've got freckles on your nose,' she announced at length to lilian. 'and she's torn her dress!' with an eye on peggy. 'what a lot that boy eats! nurse says it's very rude to fill your mouth so full!' pointing a severe finger at bobby, which so convulsed him that he nearly choked.

'perhaps you would like some cake now,' said lilian, politely passing the basket to the stranger.

'thank you. i'll take two pieces, because isabella would like one. i think i had better be going home now. good-bye. i'll call again another day;' and the young lady crammed one piece of cake into a diminutive pocket, and, munching the other, strolled[93] away up the glen, with the luckless isabella head downwards under her arm.

'i hope she'll be all right; she's such a dot to wander about alone!' said lilian anxiously, peering through the trees, and much relieved at seeing a tall figure in a brown velvet jacket catch up miss wilkins and bear her off upon his shoulder. 'i suppose they're staying at brown's farm. i know they sometimes let rooms during the summer.'

'she's a queer young customer, at any rate. i feel quite ill with laughing,' said bobby, swallowing down his fifth cup of tea and flinging his crumbs for the robins.

'let's clear up, then. suppose, instead of going straight down by the village, we walk up through the woods to pengarth, and buy the bread there. we can leave our things here, under the tree, till we come back,' said peggy, hastily swilling the teacups in the stream and packing them up in the basket.

the others readily agreed, and they set off for a glorious scramble up the steep hillside. the path was so narrow that in places they could scarcely push through the thick, overhanging bushes and the trailing brambles, where the blackberries were already turning red, and showing a fine promise for the autumn. the trees were covered with nuts, which bobby cracked with persistent hope, and perpetual disappointment when he found them all yet empty of kernels.

they crossed the stream by a bridge roughly made of two pine-trees flung from bank to bank, with a rope for a hand-rail, a somewhat dizzy foothold for anyone who minded the rushing water beneath, but infinitely to be preferred to stones and mortar in the children's opinion.

up the steep bank they trudged, through fields of[94] bracken higher than bobby's head, getting out at last upon a white road that wound along the top of a cliff, with a stream roaring below, till round a sudden turn they came upon pengarth, a prim little village, nestling in a hollow, and consisting of a short street and a big chapel and school-house.

there was a small general shop in pengarth, where groceries and boots, apples and red-herrings, seemed all mixed up with yards of print and ribbon, penny ink-bottles, milk-cans, sun-bonnets, gingerbread, pear-drops, and bull's-eyes, presided over by a funny old woman in a black wig and horn spectacles, who seemed to find much enjoyment in gossiping with her customers; for the children had to wait quite a long time, while the chief points of last sunday's sermon in chapel and the new dress of the minister's wife were freely discussed. at length the stout farmers' wives picked up their baskets and took their departure, and old mrs. ellis was able to give her undivided attention to lilian's modest little voice, which had been striving to make itself heard, in a vain request for bread and tea-cakes for the last ten minutes.

'i say, lil, couldn't we go straight down the wood here, and cross the stream by the picnic place instead of the pine bridge? it would save nearly a mile,' suggested bobby, as they turned to go home.

'i suppose we could get over the stepping-stones?' replied lilian rather doubtfully. 'i don't think there's a proper path through the wood, but we could find our way somehow, and it is certainly much shorter.'

so they plunged down through the thick tangle of trees which clothed the side of the cliff. it was so steep that in places they were obliged to sit down and slide, clutching at the trees as they passed, to save themselves from falling, and bringing down such[95] showers of small loose stones and shale that it seemed as if the whole hillside were sliding too, and lilian was very relieved when they all got safely to the bottom. now that they were really close to the water the stepping-stones looked much farther apart than they had imagined, and very slippery and slimy, too, with a swift current flowing between.

they all stopped and looked at it for a moment, each secretly wishing that somebody else would offer to go first, but nobody liking to make the plunge; even rollo stood whimpering and whining on the bank, as if he did not half like the adventure.

'here goes!' cried gallant bobby at last, leading the way as though he were charging at the enemy, and with four jumps and a long leap he managed to get over dry-shod, with rollo at his heels, barking loud and furiously.

not to be outdone in pluck, peggy essayed to follow with equal style, but her foot slipped on a particularly green and moss-grown boulder, and in a moment she had plunged, tea-cakes and all, into an impromptu bath. luckily, it was not deep, and she soon scrambled out, and fished up the paper-bag as well; but she was a very wet and draggled object, and as for the tea-cakes, they were a moist wreck!

'oh, i know i shall go in, too!' wailed lilian from the other side. 'i'd better try and save the bread, at any rate,' and she flung the loaf with all the strength she could muster across the stream. it fell well on the opposite bank, and peggy made a desperate effort to catch it, but it eluded her grasp, and rolling down the bank with a series of aggravating bounds, descended with a splash to seek a watery grave.

'there! it's gone! and it's in such a deep hole, too. we can't possibly get it out. we shall have to[96] leave it for the fishes,' said peggy, poking vainly into the depths with a long stick. 'lil, you'll never get over if you stand shivering on the brink like that. do come along!'

but lilian popped down on the grass, and pulled off her shoes and stockings as the most speedy way of solving the difficulty, and hustled miss peggy home with all possible haste, to be dried; for the water was very cold, and her teeth were chattering in her head, while her dripping garments left such a moist track as she went that bobby unfeelingly compared her to a watering-cart.

'what am i to do with such terrible children?' said poor aunt helen, as the trio recounted their adventures round the supper-table. 'i can scarcely let you out of my sight without you tear your clothes to ribbons or come home half drowned.'

'they're chips of the old block, helen!' laughed father. 'we vaughans have a natural love of adventure: it's in the blood, and bound to come out somehow, so best let it have its fling while they are young, and they'll sober down when they come to years of discretion. eh, bairns? don't you agree with me?'

and three hearty young pairs of lungs carried the resolution with a unanimous 'rather!'