Black, White and Gray, Amy Walton [universal ebook reader txt] 📗

"If all the others wanted him to stay, would you let him?"

"I'll have nothing to do with asking them," said the farmer, spreading out his hands. "I'll have nothing more to do with Tuvvy at all. I've given him up. Now you run away, my boy, and let me get to my business."

Dennis stood for a minute, half uncertain whether he should put some more questions; but Mr Solace sat down to his desk, and grasped his pen with such determination, that he did not dare to make another attempt, and unwillingly left the office.

He did not, however, entirely give up hope. Dennis was a stubborn little boy, and when he had fixed his mind upon a thing, he did not soon leave off trying to get it. Could Aunt Katharine help him, he wondered, as he and Maisie ran home together. At any rate he would tell her all about it, and ask for her advice. But when she had heard the story, Aunt Katharine did not seem to have much advice to give.

"I don't think you must worry Mr Solace any more, Dennis," she said. "He knows best how to manage his own affairs and his own men. A little boy like you can't understand such things. If the wheelwright behaves badly, of course he must lose his place."

"But," persisted Dennis, "Mr Solace really does want to keep him, I know, only he says it isn't fair to the other men."

"Well, you'd better get them to sign a Round Robin, then," said Miss Chester, laughing; "_I_ can't interfere."

She was hurrying away, as though there were no more to be said on the subject, but Dennis followed her.

"Oh Aunt Katharine," he said earnestly, taking hold of her dress, "_do_ wait a minute, and tell me what you mean by a Round Robin."

Aunt Katharine was always willing to make things clear to the children if she could, and she now sat down patiently to explain to Dennis what a Round Robin was. When he quite understood, he ran quickly in search of Maisie that he might describe it to her before he forgot a word, and get her to help him in preparing one.


CHAPTER SIX.

LOST!

"There!" said Dennis triumphantly, "we've got it right at last."

"There's only one tiny smudge on it," said Maisie, looking anxiously over his shoulder at the Round Robin.

It had cost them nearly two days of earnest effort and repeated failure, for although Aunt Katharine had described exactly how it was to be done, she had left them to carry it out entirely by themselves. It sounded so easy to say: "Take a sheet of cardboard, and draw a large circle on it, leaving room for all the signatures you want. Then write the petition clearly in the middle, and that is a Round Robin." But it was not so easy when you began to do it. First the circle was too large, and then it was too small, then there were mistakes in the spelling, and then there were too many blots; but at last, after wasting four sheets of cardboard, the Round Robin approached perfection. Aunt Katharine came in to see it, and smiled, and said she thought it would do.

"But you've got a good deal before you yet, Dennis," she added. "Do you think you shall be able to get all the men to sign?"

"Every one of them," said Dennis decidedly. "I shall begin with the bailiff, and end with the pig-man. He can't write his name, but he can put a cross."

"It won't matter which you begin or end with," said Maisie, "because there isn't any first and last in the Round Robin."

From this moment all Dennis's energy and interest were spent upon getting the Round Robin signed. He could talk and think of nothing else, but though Maisie was eager for its success too, it did not entirely take her mind from other things. She often thought, for instance, of the two kittens in their new homes, and wondered how they were getting on, and whether Blanche was beginning to be a "comfort" to Philippa. Darkie was certainly growing handsome and more amusing every day, but perhaps he could not exactly be considered a "comfort." Madam, his mother, at any rate did not find him one, and was often very vexed with him, because he would not give up the pranks and follies of childhood. She could no longer put up with it patiently, when he pounced upon her tail if she happened to whisk it, or played leap-frog over her back like a small black goblin. On such occasions she would spit at him angrily, and box his ears with the whole strength of her outstretched arm, but Darkie did not care a bit. He must play with some one, and as Peter the dog would not notice him, there was no one left but Madam. Dennis and Maisie were quite ready to have a game, but they were not to be compared to cats for fun and frolic, and besides, they began to have some tiresome ideas about training and education. Darkie must be taught to beg like Peter. Every morning, before he was allowed to taste his breakfast, he was made to go through certain exercises.

"Beg, Darkie, beg," Maisie would say, holding the plate high above his head; and then Dennis would place him forcibly down on his hind-legs, and lift up his front paws. Darkie was a cunning cat, and he soon found that begging was to his advantage, so he learned his lesson quickly, but it was only one of many which followed, and he got very tired of them.

"Darkie can beg," said Maisie, when she next saw Philippa. "How does Blanche get on?"

Philippa had driven over to Fieldside with her mother one bright afternoon in April, and now she and Maisie were in the garden, Dennis as usual being absent on business connected with the Round Robin. Maisie had been very pleased to see Philippa when she first arrived, for she wanted to hear about the white kitten, and she looked forward to a pleasant talk with her. Before she had been there five minutes, however, it was easy to see that she was not in a nice mood. That was the worst of Philippa, Maisie always found. You could never take her up just at the point you left her; she might be agreeable, and she might be just the opposite. To-day she had her grown-up manner, and was full of little affected airs and graces, and Maisie, glancing at her once or twice, saw the reason of it. Philippa was wearing a new hat of the latest fashion, covered with the most beautiful drooping feathers, and she could not forget it for a moment.

"If I can find Darkie," repeated Maisie, "you should see him beg. He does it most beautifully."

"Fancy!" said Philippa, with a slight drawl and a little laugh. "Well, Blanche doesn't need to _beg_ for anything. She gets all she wants without that.--Where's Dennis?"

Maisie repeated the story of Tuvvy and the Round Robin, and Philippa laughed again.

"What odd things you do," she said. "Mother says you're not a bit like other people."

Maisie had been searching in vain for Darkie in all his usual haunts, and calling him at intervals, but no kitten appeared; there was only old Madam curled up in the sun, blinking in lazy comfort.

"I'm afraid I shan't find him," she said, with a disappointed face. "He's such a cunning cat. He knows we want to teach him things, so he often hides. Very likely he's watching us now, somewhere quite near. But I did so want you to see him beg."

"Why do you teach him things?" asked Philippa, "It must be a great trouble to you, and he doesn't like it either."

"Oh, but it's good for him to learn," said Maisie. "It makes him obedient and well-behaved.--Don't you teach Blanche anything?"

"Oh dear, no," said Philippa. "She would scratch me if I tried, directly."

Maisie looked grave. "Do you think Blanche is growing a nice cat?" she asked presently.

Philippa tossed her head, and made all the feathers on her hat wave.

"She ought to be," she said, "for she has all sorts of advantages. She's got bells, and ribbons, and a clockwork mouse, but she hasn't a very nice disposition. She often scratches. Miss Mervyn's quite afraid of her, and mother would send her away at once if she wasn't mine."

Maisie sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, but in her own mind she felt sure that the white kitten was not properly managed.

"I wonder," she added aloud, "how the grey kitten will turn out. Aunt Katharine's going in to Upwell to-morrow, and she's promised to call at the tinsmith's and ask after it."

Philippa yawned, and did not seem to feel much interest in the grey kitten.

"How do you like my hat?" she asked, with a sudden liveliness in her voice. Before Maisie could answer, Aunt Katharine called the children from the drawing-room window. Mrs Trevor was going away, and just as they were seated in the carriage Dennis appeared, rather hot, but glowing with triumph.

"Half of them have signed," he said, waving the Round Robin in the air as he approached. Philippa leaned back languidly beside her mother, and gave a little affected wave of the hand to her cousins as she drove away.

"What's the matter with Philippa?" asked Dennis. "She's got something new on, I suppose."

Without waiting for an answer, he proceeded to tell all he had done that afternoon. No one had refused to sign, although some of the men had a good deal to say before they did so, and others looked as though they did not understand the Round Robin very clearly.

"But I think it will be all right," finished Dennis; "and if I get them all, Mr Solace can't refuse to let Tuvvy stop, can he?"

Maisie agreed rather absently, for she was still thinking over her talk with Philippa. The white kitten's home did not seem to have turned out very well so far, and she had expected it to be the best. Perhaps the grey kitten's humble abode would be happier, after all, than Haughton Park.

"Madam," she said, turning to the old cat, who had chosen a sunny spot on the window ledge, and was taking a nap, "I've got some news for you. Aunt Katharine's going to call at the tinsmith's--that's where old Sally's Eliza lives, you know--and ask after your grey kitten."

"_She_ doesn't care," said Dennis, laughing contemptuously, but Maisie knew Madam was pleased, for she tucked her front paws under her and purred. She would no doubt be anxious to hear about her kitten, and the next afternoon, when the time came to expect Aunt Katharine back from Upwell, Maisie stood waiting in the hall with the old cat tucked under her arm. Madam should hear the news directly it came. It seemed a long time in coming, and even when at last Aunt Katharine drove up to the door, she had so many parcels to look after, and so much to say about them, that Maisie