The House of Arden, E. Nesbit [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

if we could, it wouldn’t be right, would it? Aunt Edith said he was in heaven. We couldn’t go there, you know. It isn’t like history⁠—it’s all different.”

“Well, then,” said Richard, “I shall have to tell you. You know, I rather took a fancy to you two kids that Gunpowder Plot time; and after you’d gone back to your own times asked Betty Lovell who you were, and she said you were Lord Arden. So the next time I wanted to get away from⁠—from where I was⁠—I gave orders to be taken to Lord Arden. And it⁠—”

“Come along, do, dear,” said the sudden voice of the Mouldiwarp. “The clock’s all ready.”

A soft light was pressing against their eyes⁠—growing, growing. They saw now that they were in a great chalk cave⁠—the smugglers’ cave, Edred had hardly a doubt. And in the middle of its floor of smooth sand was a great clock-face⁠—figures and hands and all⁠—made of softly gleaming pearls set in ivory. Light seemed to flow from this, and to be reflected back on it by the white chalk walls. It was the most beautiful piece of jeweller’s work that the children⁠—or, I imagine, anyone else⁠—had ever seen.

“Sit on the minute hand,” said the Mouldiwarp, “and home you go.”

“But I can’t go,” said Edred grimly, “till I’ve heard what Richard was saying.”

“You’ll be caught, then, by the King and his soldiers,” said the witch.

“I must risk that,” said Edred quite quietly. “I will not go near the white clock till Richard has told me what he means.”

“I’ll give him one minute,” said the Mouldiwarp crossly, “not no more than that. I’m sick to death of it, so I am.”

“Oh, don’t be cross,” said Elfrida.

“I bain’t,” said the Mouldiwarp, “not under my fur. It’s this Chop-and-change, and I-will-and-I-won’t as makes me so worritable.”

“Tell me, what did you mean⁠—about my father?” Edred said again.

“I tried to find you⁠—I asked for Lord Arden. What I found wasn’t you⁠—it was your father. And the time was your time, July, 1908.”

“What!” cried Edred and Elfrida together.

“Your father⁠—he’s alive⁠—don’t you understand? And you’ve been bothering about finding treasure instead of about finding him.”

“Daddy⁠—alive!” Elfrida clung to her brother. “Oh, it’s not right, mixing him up with magic and things. Oh, you’re cruel⁠—I hate you! I know well enough I shall never see my daddy again.”

“You will if you aren’t little cowards as well as little duffers,” said Richard scornfully. “You go and find him, that’s what you’ve got to do. So long!”

And with that, before the Mouldiwarp or the nurse could interfere, he had leapt on to the long pearl and ivory minute hand of the clock and said, “Home!” just as duchesses (and other people) do to their coachmen (or footmen).

And before anything could be done the hands of the clock began to go round, slowly at first, then faster and faster, till at last they went so fast that they became quite invisible. The ivory and pearl figures of the clock could still be seen on the sand of the cave.

Edred and Elfrida, still clinging together, turned appealing eyes to the Mouldiwarp. They expected it to be very angry indeed, instead of which it seemed to be smiling. (Did you ever see a white mole smile? No? But then, perhaps you have never seen a white mole, and you cannot see a smile without seeing the smiler, except of course in the case of Cheshire cats.)

“He’s a bold boy, a brave boy,” said the witch.

“Ah!” said the Mouldiwarp, “he be summat like an Arden, he be.”

Edred detached himself from Elfrida and stiffened with a resolve to show the Mouldiwarp that he too was not so unlike an Arden as it had too hastily supposed.

“Can’t we get home?” Elfrida asked timidly. “Can’t you make us another white clock, or something?”

“Waste not, want not,” said the mole. “Always wear out your old clocks afore you buys new ’uns. Soon’s he gets off the hand the clock’ll stop; then you can get on it and go safe home.”

“But suppose the King finds us?” said Elfrida.

“He shan’t,” said Betty Lovell. “You open the chalky door, Mouldy, my love, and I’ll keep the King quiet till the young people’s gone home.”

“They’ll duck you for a witch,” said the Mouldiwarp, and it did not seem to mind the familiar way in which Betty spoke to it.

“Well, it’s a warm day,” said Betty; “by the time they get me to the pond you’ll be safe away. And the water’ll be nice and cool.”

“Oh, no,” said Edred and Elfrida together. “You’ll be drowned.” And Edred added, “I couldn’t allow that.”

“Bless your silly little hearts,” said the Mouldiwarp, “she won’t drown. She’ll just get home by the back door, that’s all. There’s a door at the bottom of every pond, if you can only find it.”

So Betty Lovell went out through the chalk to meet the anger of the King, with two kisses on her cheeks.

And suddenly there was the pearl and ivory clock again, all complete, minute hand and hour hand and second hand.

Edred and Elfrida sat down on the minute hand, and before the Mouldiwarp could open its long, narrow mouth to say a word Edred called out in a firm voice, “Take us to where Daddy is;” for he had learned from Richard that white clocks can be ordered about.

And the minute hand of pearl and ivory began to move, faster and faster and faster, till, if there had been anyone to look at it, it would have been invisible.

But there wasn’t anyone to look at it, for the Mouldiwarp had leaped on to the hour hand at the last moment, and was hanging on there by all its claws.

XIV The Finding of the Treasure

“To Richard Arden!” shouted the Mouldiwarp of Arden as it leaped on the hour hand of the pearl and ivory clock. And then the hands went round far too fast for speech to be possible. When the clock stopped,