Australian Lassie Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  GHOSTS

  Betty's plan was beautifully simple. As Cyril said, he could easily havethought of it himself. It was nothing more than to effect areconcilement between their grandfather and their mother, and the meansto bring it about was to be "ghosts."

  "Mother said he was superstitious," said Betty; "she says all sailorsare. He doesn't like omens and things, mother says. What we want to dois to give him a severe fright."

  She had thought out alone all the details of her plan, helped only by afew incidental words of her mother's. The story of baby Dorothea beingtaken to melt a father's heart, for instance, had fired Betty with theresolve to try what baby Nancy could do in that direction.

  Cyril was more matter-of-fact.

  "If he wouldn't forgive mother when she took Dot, he's not very likelyto soften to you with Baby," he said.

  But Betty had counted that risk too.

  "You forget he's ever so many years older," she said. "He's an old mannow, and it's quite time he woke up. I've been thinking of everythingwe've to do and everything we've to say."

  "Ghosts don't talk," said Cyril.

  "They moan," replied Betty; "and they _do_ talk. In _Lady Anne'sCauseway_ there's a ghost, and it speaks in sepulchral tones and says:'Come hither, come hither to my home; thy time is come.'"

  The little girl's eyes were shining; the very thought of that otherghost's "sepulchral" tones gave her a thrill down her back and liftedher out of herself. Of all her plots and plans, and they were many andvarious, there was not one to compare in magnitude with this. In herthoughts she became a ghost, straightway. She glided about the house,her lips moved but gave no sound, her eyes shone. Underneath theexhilaration, that her ghostly feelings gave, was the smooth sense ofbeing about to do a great deed that would benefit every one--Cyril, hermother, her father, Dot, every one. Tears glistened in her eyes as shethought of the meeting between her grandfather and her mother, andbeheld in fancy her pretty mother clasped at last in the sea-captain'sarms.

  Throughout that Saturday afternoon she made her preparations, only nowand then giving Cyril a trifling explanation. He was much relieved tohear he would not be expected to take any active part in theproceedings, only to be at hand, in hiding, to help his ghostly sistercarry the baby.

  Tea was always an early meal at The Gunyah, that Mr. Bruce might have along evening at his writing, and the children at their home lessons.

  To-night, after the last cup and saucer had been washed and dried byBetty and put away by Dot, and after the baby, had been tucked into herlittle crib, by Betty again, a long pleasant evening seemed to stretchbefore every one.

  Mr. Bruce brought out _My Study Windows_, and declared he had "brokenup" till Monday. Mrs. Bruce opened a certain exercise book her eldestdaughter had given her, imploring secrecy, and Dot sat down to the pianoand wandered stumblingly into Mendelssohn's Duetto. The twins, to everyone's entire satisfaction, "slipped away"--Betty to her bedroom to makeher preparations, and Cyril (who was strictly forbidden even to peepthrough the key-hole) to the dark passage that ran from the bedrooms tothe dining-room and front door. He went on with his plans while hewaited. All day he had been thinking of the rainbow coloured futureBetty assured him was his. He had quite decided to leave school directlyhe was adopted, and to have "some one" come to teach him at home. Ofcourse his grandfather would not be able to bear him out of his sight.He had heard of such cases, and supposed he was about to become one.Then he decided to have a pony, a nice quiet little thing with a backnot _too_ far from the ground; and he would have a boat and sail herwhere the coral islands were, and he would have a few new marbles--andget his grandfather to have the emus killed.

  He had just arrived at the part of the story where his grandfather wasgiving orders for the destruction of his emus, when Betty opened thebedroom door a crack, and whispered his name.

  She shut the door at once, before he was fairly inside the room, andthen he saw her.

  Such a strange new Betty she was, that he almost cried out. Herface was white--white as death; two black cork lines stood foreyebrows, and black lines lay under her eyes, making them largerand unnatural-looking. She wore a black gown of her mother's, anda black capacious bonnet, and had a rusty dog chain tied to onearm. She moved her arm and fixed her eyes on her startled brother.

  "Do you hear my clanking chain?" she asked in what she fondly believedto be "sepulchral tones." "Ghosts always have them. Come on."

  But Cyril hung back somewhat--perhaps the glories of "being adopted"paled beside the unpleasantness of walking a lonely road in such unusualcompany.

  "It's--it's a silly game," he said. "I don't see any good in it at all."

  But the little ghost turned upon him spiritedly.

  "This isn't a game at all," she said. "This is _real_. It'll make motherfriends with grandfather, and get you adopted. Get baby and come on--itmight frighten her if she saw me."

  "They'll find out that she's gone," said Cyril, still leaning upon thebed-foot and eyeing his sister distrustfully. "Let's chuck it, Betty,we'll only get in a row."

  "We won't get in a row," said Betty staunchly. "She'll be only too gladwhen we come back and tell them all. I didn't undress Baby to-night, andI put on her blue sash and everything. All you've to do is to wrap thatshawl round her and catch me up. I'll be at the gate."

  Baby was used, as were all of the others except Dot, to an open-airexistence. Most of her daylight hours were spent, either rolling on therough lawn, or sleeping in a hammock swung beneath an apple tree, and asa result, night-tide found her a very drowsy baby indeed. The childrenmight romp and sing and chatter around her very cot as she slept, butshe could not steal out of her slumbers even to blink a golden eyelashat them.

  So that when Cyril overtook Elizabeth at the gate, my Lady Baby wasasleep in his arms, and so she stayed in spite of the thumping of hisheart, and the chatter of the ghost, and the rough road.

  The night was dark with the luminous darkness of an Australian summernight. The tender sky was scattered with star-dust, a baby-moon peepedover the hill-top and the leaves and branches of the great bush treeslay like dark fretwork over the heavens.

  Betty, holding her dress well up, and Cyril carrying the sleeping baby,hurried through the belt of bush that lay between their home and theirgrandfather's. Betty strove to instil energy into her listless brother,telling him stories of a golden future in store for him. But at thetwo-rail fence below "Coral Island Brook," Cyril came to a standstill,and urged Betty, who was under it in a trice and on her feet again, to"come along home."

  Betty turned her ghastly face towards him indignantly. "I won't," shesaid fiercely. "Give me the baby and go home yourself if you like."

  Between the outer world of bush and the house was a slip of groundcalled the banana grove, and known in story to both boy and girl, as theplay-place of their mother.

  Cyril followed Betty through this grove, trying to make up his mind ashe went, whether to go or stay. To stay and take his part in theproceedings; to do and be bold--as an inner voice kept urging him--toblend his moans with Betty's, and carry the heavy baby; or to turn uponhis heels, and fly through the darkness from these horrid hauntedgrounds where his grandsire, and the great emus and dogs lived; whereJohn Brown stated he had his dwelling--away from all these terrors tohis small cottage home on the other edge of the bush, where were parentsand sisters, music and lights--and another voice urged this.

  So he neither followed Betty nor went home; but, in dreadful doubt andgreat fear, he hung between the two courses in the banana grove, andshivered at the tree-trunks and the rustling leaves and the straypatches of moonlight.

  And Betty went forward alone with the baby. Her heart was beating in asickening way, but her courage was, as usual, equal to the occasion. Itwas far easier to her to go forward than backward now, and she bracedherself up with a few of her stock phrases--"He won't eat me anyway";"It'll be all the same in a hundred years"; "No Bruce is afraid _ever_."

  A
great bay window jutted into the darkness and gave out a blaze oflight. This was the lowest room in the tower portion of the house andwas, as Betty knew, her grandfather's study.

  Betty's mind was swiftly made up. All fear had left her, and shestepped into the soft moonlight--a ghost indeed.

  She called Cyril, and her voice was so imperative that he quitted hissheltering tree and ran to where she stood on the edge of the grove.

  "Take Baby," she said whisperingly; "I can't do what I want with her inmy arms."

  "Come home, B--B--Betty," implored the small youth--and his teethchattered as he spoke--"I--I don't want to be adopted. I----"

  "Hush!" urged Betty, and filled his arms with the baby. "I--I don't wantto be r--rich," cried Cyril. "It's b--b--better to be poor."

  "H--sh!" said Betty again.

  "I--I don't want to be like a c--camel!" whimpered the boy. "R--rememberabout rich men getting to Heaven."

  "Stay close here with Baby," ordered the little ghost, and the nextsecond she had glided away over the path to the verandah. She went closeto the window--three blinds had been left undrawn and the window panesran down to the verandah floor. Surely the room had been designedexpressly for this night.

  Cyril, in horror, beheld his sister creep to the first window and peepin; creep to the second--to the third.

  All the other windows were darkened; only this one room in all the greathouse seemed to be awake.

  Then, in the silence which lay everywhere, a blood-curdling thinghappened. Betty's "clanking chain" came in contact with something ofiron reared up near the window and gave forth a fearsome sound. Coldchills played about Cyril's back, a distant dog barked--and Baby awoke.

  Betty at once perceived this to be the one moment. Many people canrecognize their moment when it has gone. Betty's talent lay in seeing itjust as it arrived.

  If truth must be confessed, fear had once or twice during this campaigntugged at her heart; when Cyril had urged home, her greatest desire hadbeen to flee. But Betty never quite knew herself--was never in anycrisis of her life absolutely certain what this second terriblyinsistent self would do.

  Instead of scampering away with Cyril through the night, her feet hadtaken her to the windows, and the proportions of her plan had growngloriously, albeit her heart-beats could be heard aloud.

  Now, when her chain clanked, it seemed to her the war drum had beensounded. She darted from the verandah across the path and snatched thebaby from her brother's arms; then, running back to the verandah, herchain clanked again and again, and she rent the air with a dismal wail--

  "Father! Father!"

  From the depths of an easy chair whose back was to her there rose thetall bent figure of an old man.

  Betty had arranged to "rend the air with wail upon wail"--to "press herpinched white face, and her little one's, time after time upon thewindow pane," but opportunity interfered, the window flew up, and Bettycrouched on the floor in terror.

  In the banana grove Cyril fled from tree to tree, crying dismally. Thedarkness, the screams, the chain, the opening of the window, had eachand all terrified him almost past endurance. Now he felt convinced hisgrandfather was chasing him with the emus.

  Meanwhile Betty on the verandah was also quaking. A stern voice from theopen window demanded "Who is there?" but her fortitude was not equal toa wail.

  "I heard some one say 'Father, Father,' I'll swear," said a somewhatfamiliar boyish voice.

  "I saw a face," said the old man.

  And then Baby began to whimper piteously, and Betty's heart sank intoher shabby small shoes.

  Footsteps were coming her way; the inevitable was at hand and sherecognized it, and with an effort stood upright cuddling the baby close.

  The old man put his hand on her shoulder, and with a "I'll just troubleyou--this way please," and not so much as a quaver in his voice, led herinto the brightly-lighted study.

  And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilisticrenown.

  He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him--only for amoment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed--and thechain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effectupon her grandfather.

  The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.

  "Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.

  "No," said Betty, "it's--it's only me," and she looked straight into hergrandfather's face, although her voice was trembling.

  "And who are _only you_?"

  The child hesitated. In a vague way she felt she would be doing hermother's and Cyril's great future an injury to tell her name. And yet,quick-witted as she was, it did not occur to her to find a new one.

  The young face in the old black bonnet looked beseechingly into theman's.

  "_Please_ don't ask my name," she begged.

  "Take off your bonnet."

  She put Baby on the floor at her feet and pulled off her bonnet. Andher dark curly hair fell loosely around her odd white face.

  "Now--your name!" shouted the old captain, as if he were calling to asailor high up a mast.

  "Elizabeth Bruce," faltered the girl, for her reason showed her in asecond how John Brown would give it if she did not.

  A certain gleam that had been in the old man's eyes went away and hisbrow grew black as thunder. Betty instinctively picked up the baby againand gathered up the train of her dress.

  "Ah!" said the old man, breathing hard.

  Then suddenly a light dawned on Betty and she saw things as this old manwould see them, which was the very way of all others that he must notdo.

  She repeated swiftly to herself her old charm against fear--"No Bruce isafraid. I can only die once. He won't eat me."

  "It's all my fault," she said, and her brown eyes looked into his brownones. "Cyril and I got tried of being poor, and I--I thought it would bea good plan if you adopted Cyril--and--and I came to frighten you."

  "Ah----"

  "I thought you were old, and--and--might be sorry now, and I thought abit of a fright--I thought if a ghost----"

  Her chain clanked and her hands trembled, and Baby bumped up and down inher arms. The very remembrance of her words left her, for a great frownwas spreading over the old man's face. He turned angrily to the boy.

  "Put her out of the door," he said. "Put her out of the place!" and somehot words, fearful and unintelligible some of them to the small girl,burst from his lips.

  And Betty, Baby and chain and all went out into the darkness. Only thebonnet remained.

  Cyril was on the outermost edge of the grove, and with danger behindhim, and Betty and Baby before his eyes, safe and unhurt, a wave of veryill-temper swept over him. He refused to have part in any more ofBetty's "silly games," left her to carry the baby unaided, and told hershe had spoilt his chance of ever being adopted. But he was all the timewishing passionately that he too had "done and dared"--that he had notcrouched there among the trees, afraid and trembling. A small innervoice, that spoke to him very sharply after such occasions, told himcontemptuously, that he had been more afraid than a girl; that he hadbeen a coward; and as soon as he reached their small lamp-lit home, heran away from silent Betty and the babbling baby, to his own bedroom, tocry in loneliness over this second self who had done the wrong.

  And Betty stole silently into her bedroom. The dining room door wasstill closed, and those quiet elder ones were having their "pleasant"evening. She undressed the baby, and kissed her over and over, then puther into her little cot and gave her a dimpled thumb to suck. And sheherself cuddled up very close to her, and began to cry too. So much forall her show of bravery now.

  And a small voice spoke to her also, and showed her the seamy side ofthis great deed of hers. Told her that no one else in all the worldwould have dreamed of doing so wrong a thing; pointed out her mother andfather and pretty Dot, Mrs. and Mr. Sharman as examples of greatgoodness. When the baby was placidly sleeping, she sat upright on theend of her mother's bed in her earnestness to "see" if
any of thoserighteous five would be guilty of the wickedness of becoming ghosts tofrighten an old man. She would have felt easier at once if she couldhave convinced herself that they would; but she could only see each ofthem rounding eyes of horror at her, and her sobs, broke out afresh.

  The door opened and Cyril came into the darkness, whispering andwhimpering,--

  "I didn't play fair, Betty," he said--"I wish I'd played fair--I----"

  "Oh," said Betty sobbingly--"Oh, Cyril, you're ever so much nobler thanI am. You wouldn't frighten an old man, neither. Oh, I wish I was asgood as you!"

  Whereat a sweet sense of well-doing stole over Cyril. "Never mind," hesaid cheerfully, "do as I do another time."

  "There won't be another time," said Betty. "I'm going to turn over a newleaf, and be as good as if I was grown up."