The Story of an Old Oak Tree, told by himself

Chapter I. The

old oak-tree stood on the lawn facing the drawing-room windows. It was very old — no one knew its age exactly ; but the old ladies used to say that it had been planted when their great-great-grandfather was a young man. Now, as Miss Kesia and Miss Tabitha had arrived at a certain age never alluded to by gentlemen, and only whispered over other maiden ladies' teacups when the elderly ladies themselves were not present, it must, of course, be understood that the tree, who had seen four generations, and was looking forward to the fifth, was a dignified, stately, venerable old oak — he himself being the great-great-grandfather of a very large number of children and grandchildren in the shape of branches. ' It is an English oak grafted on to a German oak,' said Miss Kesia, who had studied botany when she was young under the curate ; and as Miss Kesia said it in a tone which gave everybody to under stand that she knew all about it, and as no one in the village had the least idea of the difference between a German trunk and an English trunk, the subject always dropped there, only leaving a some what vague impression upon people's minds that Miss Kesia was a very clever woman, and un doubtedly much more clever than Miss Tabitha, who never ventured a remark in public without first appealing to her sister to ask ' if it were not so.' This afternoon Miss Kesia proposed taking tea with her sister under the oak. ' The weather is so seldom favourable, sister, for sitting out of doors that we must make the most of an opportunity when we get it.' Besides, there was the letter which had arrived that morning, and which both Miss Kesia and Miss Tabitha thought might be discussed more freely in the open air than in the house.

Barlow, who was a privileged person, when bringing the letters in the morning, had remarked that it was from foreign parts, which had caused a slight wondering look about Miss Kesia's eyebrows, and a certain hesitation in her manner before opening it. Whatever was in the letter from foreign parts, it was quite evident, as Barlow remarked afterwards to Mrs. Jane, the maid, that ' Miss Kesia had been upset, and was not herself; and that Miss Tabitha was no better was as plain as your nose upon your face.' Besides, the very fact of Miss Kesia having chosen the oak-tree on that particular day after the arrival of the letter was proof enough in itself that there was something in the wind ; for the old ladies had often confessed that when quite little their secrets had always been told under its boughs, and they still liked to keep up the old custom.

Even in winter they preferred the gravel-walk around it in preference to the highroad leading to the village when they had anything important to talk over. Consequently, if folk had been curious enough to have called upon them this afternoon, they would have found Miss Kesia sitting very straight in her high-backed wicker chair, pondering deeply, and poking large holes in the gravel-walk with her garden parasol, whilst Miss Tabitha kept losing her stitches every minute in the sock she was trying to knit. ' You know, sister,' said Miss Kesia, 'a boy is a great responsibility. If it were a girl I would not mind so much ; but a boy ! What can we do with him ?' ' Yes, sister,' answered Miss Tabitha ; ' the peace of the house will be broken. It's a great nuisance !' 'After all these years,' went on Miss Kesia, ' to have not so much as a line or a sign from Ralph, and then for him to do such a thing as this !

I really think it is too bad ! Besides, I have not the slightest idea what is good for boys. They are always in mischief the whole day long ; never tidy ; always climbing trees, or else trying to break their necks. Really, it is too bad — too bad, I say !' Poor lady ! her feelings overcame her, and she got up and paced up and down the gravel-path restlessly. Then, the question being renewed, with the im mediate possibility of the stage-coach arriving with its burden within the next four and-twenty hours, the old ladies thought that a third person's advice in this case might be better than their own, and they decided to call upon Mrs. Capel, who, although a widow and childless now, had been a mother ; and such having been the case, she would certainly know better than themselves how to treat a child.

Consequently, Miss Kesia and Miss Tabitha put on their calling bonnets, for such an important matter required a more important visit than an every-day sort of call, therefore the every-day bonnets were not judged good enough. Mrs. Capel was very sympathetic. She quite understood the old ladies' feelings, and the trial it would be to them to have a romping boy about the house, as well as the worry of having the cat and parrot teased ; but, as she said, ' Boys will be boys,' no matter where they are ; therefore, as he was on his way there, they must make the best of a bad matter and look on the bright side ; but on no account let him enter the drawing-room, give him no sweet things, and birch him if necessary — remarks which, as Miss Kesia said afterwards, showed the wise mind of a mother. Although they had determined to put on as severe an aspect as possible, with the idea of putting their good resolutions into operation, and to begin as they meant to go on, the morning found them anxiously looking forward to the arrival of the coach.

Long before they heard the cracking of the whip, Miss Kesia and Miss Tabitha could be seen at the gate anxiously watching the horses making their way down the hill. The coachman, who had been told by Barlow that he was bringing Mr. Ralph's son home, drew up his horses with a flourish at the gate, touching his hat to the ladies with his first finger. ' We got him safe, miss,' he said. ' And a bright little chap he is, an', begging your pardon,' added the guard, ' it took me all my time to answer his questions, he axed so many.' A bright-faced, curly-haired boy sprang out of the coach at these words. ' Are you my aunt Kesia ?' he asked, looking up at Miss Kesia with wondering eyes. ' Father said I was to look for a lady with gray curls, but you have both got them. But I think this is Aunt Tabitha.

How do you do? Are you pleased to see me ? Father said you would be. And I am so glad to see you. One gets tired of travelling, even when people are kind.' ' Were the people nice to you on board ship ?: asked Miss Kesia. 'Very,' said the boy. 'I was so sorry to leave them ; but I knew that I could not stay always with them, you know ; and, besides, you are my aunt. Father said I was to tell you that I was christened John Ralph, after grandfather ; but everyone calls me Jack.' There was not a trace of the severe aspect that was to be worn for the good of the boy on the maiden lady's face, but there was a faint suspicion of tears in the bright eyes as she led the way into the prohibited drawing-room. ' Oh, there's father's old friend !' cried the boy. 'Where?' cried his aunts, gazing out of the window. 'Why, the old oak-tree,' he said. 'Oh, may I go out ? — I want so much to see it.' With a bound, he was out through the long French windows on to the lawn, racing across, with his hair blowing out behind him.

His aunts watched him from the drawing-room windows as he walked round and round the tree, as if he were examining every bough and branch belonging to it. Presently he came slowly back again over the lawn, looking about him with large, wondering eyes. ' So like Ralph,' whispered the old ladies to gether. He came in very quietly. His aunts asked him but a few questions about his life in India, for the slight catch in his voice and the pressure of his lips together told them that it would be unwise to do so. All through dinner he seemed to be thinking of something far away. Possibly it brought back thoughts of the merry dinner-times he had had with his father. When he gave his hand to say ' Good-night,' there was a certain dimness in his eye which was also reflected in Miss Kesia's own, for, bending down quickly, she kissed him on his forehead.

Miss Kesia and Miss Tabitha, in discussing him later on in the evening, agreed that he was a gentle manly boy, a very gentlemanly child, and looked decidedly quiet. There was nothing of the vulgar tomboy about him. The idea of the drawing-room being a prohibited room was out of the question. In fact, they could not think how they could have imagined such a thing as to think he could have been a rough, rude boy. ' But, as you see, sister,' said Miss Tabitha, ' we really know nothing about boys, for it's several years now since we had anything to do with them.' 'I really think we are more prejudiced than we should have been because of our aversion to the village lads. I regret that we should have been so hasty ; and we must go early in the morning to Mrs Capel, as I would not like her also to be under the same wrong impression.' This was really a very long speech for Miss Tabitha to make, but as Miss Kesia made no answer to it, it was very evident that, like her sister, she felt herself to be in the wrong. The subject dropped there ; but, decidedly, Miss Kesia was, as Miss Tabitha thought, very pensive for the rest of the evening.

Chapter II. The

boy was soon at home in his new surroundings, and made friends not only with everyone in the house, but out of it. Miss Kesia was not a little shocked at first when she found he had struck up an acquaintance with the donkey-boy, her pet aversion. This boy and Miss Kesia had fights — not hand-to-hand encounters. Miss Kesia's strength would hardly have been equal to Joe's, but she reproved him with a sharper weapon than her hand would have been, namely, her tongue ; although I am afraid that she wished in her heart she had been able to use a cudgel to his shoulders. There was a spare piece of common in front of her house, which she thought it was her right to have control of. Joe thought otherwise, and having noticed that the grass grew thick and long in that particular spot, he thought that his donkey might have the benefit of a good feed.

Unfortunately, that day the gardener had been in and out several times, and getting rather tired of latching and unlatching the gate, he left it ajar. Joe, being tired after a long walk, laid himself down on the turf, and, drowsily watching the donkey munching the grass, went off into a sweet sleep. How long he had been in it one could not say, but all at once he was awakened by hearing over the neighbouring hedge, which divided Miss Kesia's garden from the road, a most fearful yelling and shrieking. Peeping over, he saw Miss Kesia, as also her sister, assisted by all the men and maids, in a most frantic state of excitement, hooting and driving the unfortunate donkey. Barlow, who, in his desire to get the unwelcome animal out of the garden, had seized upon the first thing which came to hand, was flourishing a green cotton parasol — Miss Kesia's own.

The donkey, although liking green when it came to him in the form of green-meat, objected strongly to a green shade being thrust into his face to dazzle and be wilder him, and would not retreat before the enemy. He stood on his fore-legs and kicked with all his might out behind, which so frightened Miss Tabitha that she ran straightway into the house, and only peeped for the remainder of the time from behind the window. Joe, seeing that matters were coming to a climax, ran into the garden at this moment, crying, ' Hold up, Billy,' at the same time attempting to catch at the string bridle to lead him out. The donkey, hearing his master's voice, was quiet at once, and the two made for the gate. Miss Kesia, although hot and flurried at her afternoon's work, followed both donkey and boy to the gate, rating the boy sharply all the while, promising to get him punished for trespassing and spoiling her garden and lawn.

To which remarks the boy was quite deaf, ignoring both lady and maids, until, having reached the gate and found the battalion safely behind him, he gave vent to his feelings by putting his tongue out as far as he could, and kicking a caper on the grass. Therefore the fact that Joe and Jack were friends made the maiden ladies very anxious, and Miss Kesia thought no time was to be lost in causing this undesirable friendship to be broken at once. She could not, and would not, have him friends with such a common boy. 'You know, Jack,' she began, 'Joe is a very rude boy. It's not because he's a donkey-boy that I object to him, but because he teaches his donkey to steal and destroy other people's property. In spite of what I have said to him, he will bring him to graze over my piece of common, and it's only the other day that he let him get into my garden and trample upon all the flowers.

I cannot think of allowing you to associate with him.' ' But, Aunt Kesia,' said Jack, ' I don't think that he will be rude again, or yet bring the donkey over the common, and I'm sure he's very sorry that the donkey spoilt the flower-bed. He said he would show me where the cuckoo lays her eggs, and the thrush's nest. I'm — I'm so sorry.' A burst of tears followed, which quite upset Miss Tabitha's nerves ; a very slight thing did that. And she begged her sister to allow Joe to take Jack just once. Miss Kesia, however, was firm ; the boy who had made grimaces to her when she had reproved him for his good was not a fit companion for Ralph's son, and what she had said, she had said. It must end there. This storm on the family horizon blew over, but Miss Kesia was not quite satisfied with herself, although she had carried her point.

Jack went quietly out, and laid himself under the old oak-tree, whose branches, reaching down to the ground, screened him from the house. He felt sad and wretched, and longed for his father to confide his grief in. He had not meant to put Miss Kesia out, but in his defence of Joe he feared that he had done so. He lay there and listened to the rustling of the branches and the cawing of the rooks. Presently it sounded to him as if someone were whispering overhead. He raised himself up on his arm to listen, and peeped up into the branches. No one was to be seen. Again he heard it, and this time it seemed as if it said ' Jack.' ' How very curious !' he thought. He jumped and stared with all his might into the thick leafy branches. ' Look up higher, Jack,' called out a voice. Looking higher, he saw what he thought was a face at the top of the tree. ' Who are you ?' he cried. ' I'm the oak,' replied the voice. ' Why, how funny !' said the boy. ' I did not know that you were a man.' ' That's because you have not known me long enough,' said the tree.

Now, I ask you candidly, have you ever seen an oak as large as me before ?' ' Well, I can't say that I have,' said Jack ; ' but ' ' But what ?' said the voice again. ' Speak out ! Did you ever see such arms as mine ?' Jack looked ; they were immense, and such funny arms — just like those of a wild man's in the woods. Jack had never seen a wild man's arms, but they had often been described to him by his old nurse when she had told tales in the evening. ' Come up,' said the voice. The two big bough arms bent down and picked him up, and Jack found himself sitting in front of the oak's face. It was a funny face — so large and round, with such big eyes underneath shaggy eyebrows, which were so thick and long. Jack thought the hair was the most wonderful hair he had ever seen on a man before. It grew right low down on his forehead, almost into his eyes, and then streamed out quite straight behind him.

The face was kind, and the boy fell quite in love with it at once. ' I knew your father,' said the oak. ' My father ! did you really ?' exclaimed the boy. ' Oh, I want him so badly !' A burst of tears followed. ' What's the use of crying for what one cannot have ?' remarked the tree coolly. ' Your father sent you here, and here you must stop. Quite a nice place to stop in, too. I've been in it all my life, and I don't regret it or yet want to leave.' ' I don't want to cry,' said the boy ; ' but, oh ! I was so disappointed that Aunt Kesia said Joe should not take me birds'-nesting.' ' Oh, that's it, is it ?' said the oak. ' Good gracious ! I can show you more in five minutes than Joe can in five days.' ' Can you really ?' said Jack. ' I would be grate ful to you.' ' Grateful !' exclaimed the oak ; ' who talks about gratitude ?

Bah !' ' Did my father know you could talk ?' asked the boy ?' ' Your father !' cried the oak. ' Why, I've talked with him hundreds of times — can do so now if I want to.' ' But he's in India,' said Jack. ' Do you doubt my words ?' said the tree ; ' if so, get down.' He bent his arm downwards so that Jack could get off. ' Oh no, please !' said the boy ; ' I don't want to disbelieve you ; only really it does seem so strange.' 'Certainly, it may appear strange to you,' said the oak more politely ; ' but allow me to explain myself. I'm a great, great, ever so many great, grandfathers,' he went on. ' My offspring are scattered in many lands : some have gone to Africa, some to America, and some to India. Between us the strong wind and the soft breeze carry messages, so that whenever I feel that I am in want of a talk with either of them, I speak softly to the breeze, and the breeze carries it across the sea to where I want it to go.

I, alas ! cannot go to them, or they come to me ; but we are in constant communication with each other, although distant.' ' Dear me !' said Jack, ' I never thought that, when one spoke, that the breeze could carry it so far away.' 'Not in your case,' said the oak, 'but mine is different. Between the elements and the vegetable kingdom there has always existed a great sympathy, which cannot extend nowadays to the animal world. Therefore the case is otherwise.' ' I thought you were a German oak,' said the boy. 'Aunt Kesia said that you were.' ' A German oak indeed !' said the tree. ' I'm English, thoroughly and truly English. It's true I was imported when young from Germany ; but I married into an English family. My children are English, and what does it matter what my roots are, whether they be English or German ?' ' I never knew trees could marry,' said Jack ; ' I thought they were grafted.' ' Grafted in my case meant marriage,' said the oak. ' New people get new-fangled ideas into their heads, but when I was young things were different.' ' You must be quite ancient,' remarked the boy after a pause. ' Aunt Kesia said you were the same as you are now when she was young.' ' Ah, ah !' laughed the oak ; ' I remember her when she was a wee thing tumbling about the lawn.

Dear me ! how time does fly, to be sure !' His face looked so grave that Jack did not like to speak. All at once he brightened up. ' Talk about tumbling,' he went on, ' I never shall forget your father tumbling into the pond after the forget-me-nots. They were both at loggerheads, and both obstinate, for when one tumbled out the other tumbled in.' ' Tumbled out, tumbled in !' cried Jack. ' Yes,' said the tree ; ' the forget-me-nots are of a retiring disposition. Of course you know the reason why ?' ' I don't think I do,' he answered. ' Not know why !' he exclaimed ; ' why, I thought all the babies knew it.' ' But you forget,' said Jack, ' that I've lived in India all my life.' ' Well, I suppose I do,' replied the oak ; ' but I really thought children in India knew it ; still, I don't mind telling you.

First of all I must tell you about the pond affair. Your father was quite a little chap, and the forget-me-nots rather difficult for him to get at. Still, he had taken a fancy to the bright blue eyes, and he meant to have some. He pulled and pulled with all his might. At last, being tired at holding out so long against him, they gave way with a jerk, and he tumbled into the water, which, fortunately, was not very deep.' ' Poor father ! I do hope he was not hurt,' exclaimed Jack. ' Oh dear no !' replied the tree — ' only wet. Perseverance gets its reward, if it's only in the shape of a wetting. Dear me, how tired I feel ! I really think you had better be going.' ' Oh, but please do tell me why the forget-me nots are so retiring before I go,' said Jack. ' Well,' said the tree, ' as it is rather a delicate subject, it is perhaps better told now whilst we are alone than in the presence of a third person.

Ill news travels fast, and I never make mischief. So listen. It was at the time of the christening of plants. I've often heard my grandfather tell the tale, which has been handed down from one gene ration of us to another, by grandfathers to grand sons, and so on, until it came to me, so that you see it must be true.' ' Of course,' said Jack. ' Well, at that time, when trees were created with their roots and branches and leaves, they were exactly as they are now, only that they had no names ; so the Master appointed a day for the grand ceremony of christening, and giving to each one a different colour, so that they should not be all alike. Everyone came, in order to receive his or her colour and name. One he called a rose, and gave her a red frock ; another dark blue, and named her violet ; another one, lily of the valley ; another, sunflower ; and so on, until they had every one of them received a name.

They were all so happy and merry because of their beautiful colours and names. ' But just at the end of the feast there came to the Master a little tiny flower, dressed in blue like the sky, so bright and beautiful. " Dear Master," she said, "what didst thou name me? I have forgotten." The Master looked at her quietly and sorrowfully, then spoke, "What, thy name so soon forgotten ! then shalt thou in the future be called Forget-me-not." Poor little thing ! she was so ashamed, that she ran away until she came to the brook, where she sat in silence and wept. Since that time she prefers to live there quite alone, but should anyone go in the evening quietly alone and pick her, you may hear her say very softly to herself, "Forget-me-not."' Jack's eyes were full of tears, he felt so sorry for the poor little thing. ' I think I'll be going now,' he said. ' Thank you so much, dear tree, for telling me all about her ; I shall ahvays love her now because she is so lonely.' 'Good-bye,' said the tree; 'to-morrow we will continue our conversation.

Only it must be quite understood that the friendship which exists between us must not be divulged to a third person, or I cannot answer for the consequences.' ' I won't tell anyone,' said Jack. ' Good-bye until to-morrow.' He ran home over the lawn thinking very deeply.

Chapter III. On

being awakened the next morning by Barlow, Jack's first thought was of the old oak-tree ; but, remembering his promise, he said nothing about it to Barlow, although he had so much on his mind. He took a long look out of the window at it, hoping that it would give him a sign, but the big tree only looked like a tree in the morning light, and the two big boughs, with their branches, only rustled faintly in the morning air. He was very silent, so much so that Barlow thought that his little charge had the headache and was feeling dull. ' Nice place this ; your aunt's house, is it not, Master Jack ?' ' Yes, Barlow,' he replied ; ' I am very fond of it, and the trees and flowers are so nice,' added the boy, looking out of the window across the lawn at the tree. 'Ah, Master Jack,' said the old man, 'you like the old oak, so used Mr. Ralph ; he was just as fond of that as he was of his dog.

Many's the day I've caught him talking to it, when he least expected me to be near.' ' Oh, but he's so amusing,' said the boy ; ' he can tell you everything, and knows every tree in the garden ; he has lived here so long, you know.' Then he stopped short, remembering suddenly that he had broken his promise. Barlow looked amazed. ' Queer little chap,' he thought ; ' there's a tile loose somewhere,' which remark may lead one to a just supposition that, although a privileged person, he was just a little countrified in his talk. ' Did you see the place where Mr. Ralph tumbled into the brook when he was a boy ?' asked the old man again. ' He was nearly gone that time ; me and Mrs. Jane fished him out ; he was in a pickle ! He was right set upon having those flowers — forget-me-nots, I think they were.

He was always fond of flowers, was Mr. Ralph, and would spend hours and hours in the garden. Why, I have hunted for him many a time, and found him at last hidden away in some corner ; but his favourite place was in the tree opposite, where he would sit and play and amuse himself all alone. He was just like a squirrel ; could clamber anywhere, no matter how high.' Jack smiled ; he knew all about that. No clambering up was needed ; there was a much easier way of getting up. Jack and Barlow were very good friends. Many's the talk that they had had together about the doings of his father when he was a young boy like Jack, and nobody knew as well as the old man how much the boy missed his father and longed for his return to England. Quickly finishing his dressing, he vaulted out of the window on to the lawn, and scampered over it with his fair hair blowing out behind him.

To his great disappointment, not a vestige of a face, or even arms, was to be seen. He thought he had made some mistake, and wandered round and round, gazing up into the boughs. But no ; the tree this morning was simply a tree : there was not a sign of the figure that he had seen yesterday. ' What can have happened ?' thought he ; 'I could not have dreamt it. It was all so real.' He shook one of the branches that he could reach with his hand, hoping that by doing so the face would appear : but with no success. Sorrowfully he went back again into the house to breakfast. His aunts noticed how still he was, but thought it was possibly the remembrance of the donkey-boy of the day before, and wisely said nothing to him. But it was with a very quiet face and manner that he ran to get ready to go into the village with his aunt to do some shopping, although it was a walk that he liked most of all.