The Young Pretenders [A tale.] ... With twelve illustrations by P. Burne-Jones

Front matter

IN THE GARDEN. THE YOUNG PRETENDERS BV EDITH HENRIETTA FOWLER WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHILIP BURNE-JONES LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET TO MY MOTHER CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. In the Garden i II. Uncle Charley 20 III. In London 40 IV. Nursery Life - - - - - 60 V. About Lessons - - 77 VI. Ronald's Visit - - - - 96 VII. At the Sea-side - - 122 VIII. The Bogey-Owl - - 145 IX. Babs in Trouble - - - 164 X. Christmas - - - - - 184 XL Father-and-Mother-in-Inja - - 201 XII. Home Again - - ... ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE In the Garden - - - Frontispiece 'Where's my Soldier-Uncle?" 22 Kensington Gardens - - - 42 Nursery Days - - - 61 Lessons - - - 78 Ronald - - 97 Sand Castles - - 133 The Bogey-Owl - - - - 150 "I might Post One of Those"- - 168 " I did it ! " - - - - - - - - 188 "Come, my Darling"- - - 209 Home Again- - - 224 /0^m^\

Chapter I. In The Garden

Grannie would never come back any more. At least that was what nurse said, and so the children knew that it must be true. " When we're grown up shall we know everything right like Nana does ? " asked Babs, as they talked it over afterwards in the garden. " I daresay," answered Teddy carelessly. "What shall we play at now, Babs?" So the children forgot the news that nurse had told them, and cheerfully accepted the fact that their grandmother, with whom they had lived during the whole of their short lives, had gone away indeed beyond recall. It did not matter much to them. They had always thought of Grannie as a piece of the drawing room furniture, quite a nice piece, but dull and delicate as most drawing-room furniture is to the child mind. She had never entered into their world at all. That was peopled by a host of pretending folk, all the animals they ever came across, and most of the servants with their relatives and acquaintances inclusive.

Such an interesting world it was, bounded by the brook and the lanes, and full of excitement in the first bird's nest, and the young rabbits, to say nothing of Giles the gardener's thrilling stories ! And besides it was several weeks now since Grannie had gone away to London, and the memory of her was already growing a little dim. Teddy and Babs had both almost cried their eyes out when Don the retriever died ; — but then he was a real friend of theirs, and that makes a great difference. "Good-morning, little master and missy!" said Giles, as the two children peeped in at the tool-house door. " Has nurse told you the sad news ? " "No, what?" cried Babs anxiously. "Soot hasn't been caught in a trap again, has she ? " And the little girl's face paled with appre hension. " I mean about your poor, dear grandma."

" Oh, is that all ? " said Babs with a sigh of relief. "You gived me such a fright 'bout darling Soot ! " " Nana told us Grannie isn't never coming home again," answered Teddy ; " but, Giles, do take us to see the nest you found yesterday." " Yes, do ! " pleaded Babs. " Sakes alive ! " ejaculated the old man, " what callous creatures children be," and he drew his horny hand across his eyes and finished the plant he was potting before they all three started for the plantation, the children dancing round him with the delight of a couple of terriers just turned out of the kennel. " Teddy," said Babs, when their excitement about the nest had abated, and the gardener gone back to his work, "if that other big nest right up at the top of the tree that Giles told us 'bout, is so high what no ladders can reach it, how did anybody reach to put the eggs in ?

" This was rather a poser for Teddy. But that was the worst of Babs. She was always asking such difficult questions, and Teddy deep down in his masculine mind could not bear to own that he did not know. " I 'spect somebody climbed," he said du biously. "Oh, who?" asked his sister eagerly. " It couldn't have been Giles, nor Nana, nor Gran nie, nor the gardener's boy, 'cause I asked him specially if he couldn't get me one of the eggs for our c'lection, and he said it was much too high. Who could it be ? " " Somebody in the night ; p'raps a fairy." " P'raps an angel. Oh, yes," surmised Babs, " that must be it. One of those I 'spect out of ' Four corners to my bed '." "Yes," said Teddy, thankful that the subject was satisfactorily settled, " on their way down, you know." "What shall we play at, now ?

" continued the little girl. " Let's pretend we're the Stoners." Mr. and Mrs. Stoner were a very erratic couple, whose varied experiences were Babs's great delight. She was always Mrs. Stoner — the fond mother of a most dilapidated family of dolls, and a cheery, chatty matron, notwith standing all her cares, and Teddy was Mr. Stoner. At least he always began by being M r. Stoner, and then to Babs's sorrow he generally turned out to be either a prince in disguise, or a terrifyingly wicked man called Henry- Baker. It was naturally very upsetting for Mrs. Stoner when either of these changes took place, and, indeed, on one memorable occasion her husband had suddenly become a lion, which was manifestly perturbing in any well-regulated household. Poor Babs used to implore Teddy not to turn out into anybody else.

But he was rather a romantic boy and enjoyed the unex pected. Moreover, he had one great advantage over Babs which influenced his style of play ; he, being seven years old, could read exciting fairy tales and work out his pretences on those lines ; while his little sister, being only five, was out of all this. For such sentences as " that fat cat," which were at present her literary boundaries, did not tend to inspire fresh thoughts or ideals. " Don't turn out to be any one else," pleaded Babs, " be just Mr. Stoner." " I can't be sure," said Teddy solemnly. " Well, then, do begin by being the prince. I'd rather have that than turning out." But in the end, as usual, Babs played Teddy's way, and Mrs. Stoner opened proceedings by giving a sumptuous dinner-party. Her only guests were snap-dragons, chosen as most suitable for banquets on account of their swallowing capabilities.

It was such fun pok ing down their open throats with a bit of stick, first some chopped grass out of the mower's wheelbarrow, mixed with water, and then a soil pudding made from the hostess's own receipt. " What shall we do now their froats is full ? " asked Babs anxiously before the last course. " I'll be the doctor," said Teddy. " Do people ever have the doctor right in the middle of the dinner-party ? " " They might, if they were very ill.' Rap, rap, rap, on the trunk of the tree, and Mrs. Stoner flushed and excited admitted Doc tor Teddy. Oh, then they had a lovely time, peering into the snap-dragons' throats, and pouring water down, and, in extreme cases, extracting the tongues from the back of the flower. " It's just like us when we had sore froats," cried Babs excitedly. By the time the doctoring was done, some of the snap-dragons were very languid and weak.

" They don't open their mouths kite so nice," said anxious Mrs. Stoner, stroking them tenderly with her fat brown singers. " They're very bad still," pronounced the doctor gravely. " An' this dear white one is all split." ' Then it must be drowned," continued the medical man, whose measures were drastic. " Oh, Teddy," gasped the little girl sym pathetically, " must it really ? " "Yes; we will go down to the brook with it now." So the tender little hostess bowed to the doctor's stern decree, and they set out across the field towards the brook with fatal purpose. " Let me kiss it afore it goes,"- asked Babs, as they stood on the bridge. And then, after sad farewells, they solemnly dropped the ragged flower into the water. A moment's mournful silence ensued. " Let's paddle," suggested Teddy, chiefly to cheer Babs's drooping spirits at the snap dragon's decease.

The thought of wading in the cool water on that hot morning filled the little girl with a sudden reaction of delight. They tore off their shoes and stockings, and ran about on the fresh grass before venturing into the brook. " I'se still Mrs. Stoner," said Babs. " I'm Henry Baker," announced Teddy. The worst had happened, for there was nothing which filled poor Babs with greater terror than these sudden appearances of Henry Baker. "Oh, please not, Teddy," she gasped. " Be a prince instead ! " " Henry Baker isa wicked man," said Teddy, utterly unmoved by her appeal ; " he cut all his children up in slices." The horror of this announcement was too much for Babs. In her hurry to reach dry land, she dropped her little bunch of petti coats and frock, trod on a sharp stone, and finally fell down in the soft red mud that lined the banks of the brook.

"What a mess!" observed Teddy unsym pathetically. Babs looked extremely surprised for a few moments, and then, as if to complete the catas trophe, she began to splash violently with both hands. " You'd better come out," continued Teddy, as his sister sat resignedly in water several inches deep ; and then from a scientific point of view : " What does it feel like, Babs ? " " Rather cold in the water and warmish in the mud," catching her breath. " Anything like hasty pudding would be ? ' Yes, something. On'y kite cold hasty pud ding." " More like porridge, perhaps ? " "Oh, yes," cried Babs, cheering up, "just like porridge and lots of cold milk." " You'd better go in," repeated Teddy, " 'cause of catching cold." " It's a horrid feeling," said Babs, as she scrambled up, " all heavy and dripping."

" It's horrider catching cold and stopping all day in bed," observed Teddy wisely ; and his little sister took the hint and started to run towards the house as fast as she could in her wet, clinging clothes. Nana was a lovely nurse to go to in a mess. She never scolded at all, but put Babs into a nice warm bath, and dressed her in clean, dry things, only muttering to herself every now and then, " Poor lambs ! gone to-day, and here again to-morrow," which remark Babs did not understand at all, and that cannot be wondered at, for to whom could it possibly apply ? The children were not gone to-day, and Grannie, who was, would not be here again to-morrow ; or indeed, as Nana had said, ever again. Still it seemed to relieve nurse's feelings, and that was the principal thing. One of the undermaids had ventured to laugh at this saying of Nana's that same morning, but had been sternly rebuked for making jokes when death was in the house.

"It ain't in the 'ouse any way," she rudely retorted. " It's in the Family, and that's the same thing," said nurse with dignity, as she left the room. Nana always spelt the family with a capital F. " Now, Miss Babs, dear," when the toilet was completed, "you'd better not go out again just at present, wait till after dinner, there's a i " love. Ordinarily this prohibition would have raised a storm, but the little girl astonished nurse by saying, " All right," as she ran off into the day nursery. " It's as if the dear lamb's thoughts were in Heaven, too," said Nana, wiping away a tear. But she was mistaken. The dear lamb was thinking solely of some very interesting birds' eggs which she and Teddy were trying to hatch on the top of the hot water cistern. And for some time she had been trying to persuade him to let her make a hole in one of them with a pin, just to see how they were getting on, but in vain.

This seemed a golden opportunity, for the children were nearly always together. So Babs started off to the attics, armed with a large pin to aid her research. " The eggs is addled, Teddy," she announced at dinner. "How do you know?" asked her brother sharply. " I made just a teeny, weeny hole in one with a pin, and I couldn't see nothing." " You'd no business to," said Teddy crossly. " Now you've spoilt that one. I told you not." " Oh, Teddy, I haven't killed the little bird ? " she asked in an agony. " Yes ; you have." Here nurse had to interfere, as Babs was almost in tears, and Teddy quite in a temper. "If there's any quarrelling about it I shall have to throw the whole lot away," she threat ened ; and the children were drawn together again by the bond of a common danger to their beloved property.

Four years ago Major and Mrs. Conway went back to India leaving their two children to live in the dear old country home with Gran nie. She did not know much about children, poor old lady, or perhaps she had forgotten what she once knew. It was so long since the major and his younger brother were little boys in the Cloverdale nursery, and that dear, dead daughter of hers a baby girl. And be sides she had latterly become a regular invalid, and could not do with the noise of childish voices and rough games. So Teddy and Babs had lived alone, going their own way and working out their own thoughts. Nana was very good in caring for their creature comforts, but she was rather old and fumbling too, and they had never known the joy of an under-nurse ; one of those scat ter-brained, jovial village girls who work so badly and play so splendidly.

So the children's chief and only playfellow had been the gar dener Giles. All day, every day, unless the weather was too bad, they spent out of doors, playing their quaint games and pretences, and growing with the birds and flowers in Nature's big nursery, quite independently of the training and teaching which children usually have. A happy, sun shiny life it was, and Cloverdale, the best, big gest, home-country in the world. But with just the same surroundings the two children were entirely different — different in looks and ways and character. And it seemed as if there were a mistake somewhere — that Teddy should have been the girl and Babs the boy. For Teddy had a sweet, fair face, framed in golden hair, his lovely mother's face, in fact, that ought to have been her daughter's. And Babs, poor Babs ! was dark and square and sunburnt.

A plain, cheerful child, full of the tenderest sensibilities, consumed by the most ardent feelings. While Teddy smiled an angel smile and did not care much really about any thing. " I will conjure this afternoon," announced the little boy magnanimously, and Babs's de lighted excitement knew no bounds. The con juring pigs were quite an institution in the Cloverdale nursery. They originally came out of a Noah's ark, which Grannie had given Teddy one far-away Christmas, and conse quently were both exactly alike. " Where will you conjure to ? " asked Babs with the deepest interest. " I will conjure this one into the wheelbarrow on the lawn, hidden in the grass," said Teddy, with a lordly air. " Look, here it is in my hand. You see it, and touch it ? " " Yes," exclaimed his little sister in an awestricken manner at the approach of so great a mystery.

" Well, look here ! Be gone, pig ! One, two, three, and away," and he waved his closed hand wildly in the air. " Now, Babs, go to the wheelbarrow and see if it's there." Away flew little Barbara downstairs and out at the garden door. She buried both her fat hands in the mown grass, and sure enough there lay a little wooden pig. "Oh, Teddy!" she screamed, "here it is. How wonderful you conjure! How do you do it?" But her brother never would tell. He en joyed her wondering admiration of his skill, and proceeded to electrify her still further by conjuring the pig back into the nursery cup board. "Again," she implored. " I'se thought of a place this time — into the rabbit-hutch." But Teddy said the conjuring was over for that day, and Babs could not persuade him further. So they took all the young rabbits out in the orchard and played with them happily till tea-time, when Nana arrived with the joyful announcement that they might have tea in the little tea-things on the lawn.

A slight squabble arose as to who should pour out, which was decided by a compromise suggested by nurse. Babs should help the milk and sugar and Teddy pour the tea. Tea in the little tea-things always ended with a delightful game called " lappety," which con sisted of a race between the children as to who could first drink a whole cup of milk, spooning it up with one of the tiny tea-spoons. It was very exciting, as Babs in her hurry generally choked, and then Teddy got so far ahead that he was sure to win. On this occa sion it ended more roughly still, the teapot was upset and the tray swam with a miscellany of slops, which fluid Teddy finally insisted that Babs should drink. The little girl obediently complied. She was accustomed from earliest youth to drink the leavings of a little tea-things party, and had apparently quite acquired the taste.

" Uncle Charley's coming to see us soon," said Teddy ; " Giles told me." " Oh, how lovely ! " cried Babs. " We haven't never seen him all our lives, have we ? " "Of course not ; he's been in India as well as Father, but he came home when Grannie went to London." " He'll be splendid, won't he, Teddy ? A real Inja soldier ! " A very favourite game of the children's was pretending to be Father and Uncle Charley. " I'm awful glad he's really coming," con tinued the boy, " 'cause he's been in a proper battle, you know, Babs. Giles told me all about it ; and got a medal from the Queen 'cause of it." " Oh, yes ; I know. Giles tells us lovely tales 'bout Uncle Charley." " I shall be a soldier too, Babs, of course." " Of course. But, Teddy, I wish Father had been in a battle, too. It makes it so much more of a soldier."

"He might have got killed," suggested Teddy. " Oh ! so he might. I'm awful glad now it was Uncle Charley as was in the battle." " And I am. His medal'll look lovely on his scarlet coat. Won't it, Babs ? " " Oh, lovely ! When's he coming? I'm so 'cited 'bout it." " One day quite soon, Giles says." " Master Teddy, Master Teddy ! " called Nana from the window ; " I want you." The children rushed in and found nurse poring over a little thin piece os pink paper which had come in an orange envelope. " I'm to take you up to London to-morrow, Master Teddy, dear, your uncle says." "What does it say?" asked Teddy, who could not quite manage to read writing yet. " Bring the boy here to-morrow for funeral, by eleven train to Paddington. Will meet you. — Captain Conway." " Not me too ? " cried Babs, with a dawning fear.

" No, dearie," said Nana lovingly, " but we'll only be gone a day or two." " Oh, I would so have 'joyed the funeral ! " cried Babs, " why didn't they want me too ? " " There, there, miss dearie, don't fret. Funerals aren't nice for little girls ; " which sounded as if nurse thought them delightful for every one else. " I wish I was going, too," continued Babs, wailing. But Nana came to the rescue with kisses of comfort, and suggested that the little girl should sail boats during her bath ; and this was a stroke of genius on the part of nurse. Babs's distress vanished as if by magic, and judging from the shouts of laughter and splashing which emerged from the bathroom during her ablutions, the trouble was apparently quite forgotten. For happily children's sorrows, though perhaps as keen as those of their elders, are nothing like so long-lived.

Teddy was not nearly so excitable as his little sister, and took the news of his coming journey very calmly. He methodically set about pack ing his best top and paint-box in case he wanted either of them at the funeral. And nurse at tended to such details as clothes after the children were safe in bed. They both sat up till nearly eight o'clock on this memorable occasion, and Babs was spared the anguish of that half-hour which usually came after her bed-time and before her brother's. " Teddy," she called, the last thing, just be fore Nana shut the night nursery door, " s'pose the eggs hatch while you're away, what must I give them to eat ? " " Bread and milk," said Teddy. " And just a few worms mixed with it ? You remember how our last starling but one joyed bread and milk and worms ? " " Now, children, no more talking, or I shall have to shut Master Teddy's bedroom door."

" I'se rather glad after all that I'll be at home in case those eggs do hatch," murmured Babs to herself. "It would be so lonesome for the little ones without me for their mother." And the dear little mother-soul within her rejoiced that no pleasure of hers should inter fere with her loving maternal duties. Which is the way of mothers.

Chapter II. Uncle Charley

But Teddy and Nana did not come back again soon. Four, five long summer days went by, and Babs was still alone at Cloverdale. She was enjoying herself immensely. It was such a treat going down to tea in the servants' hall, such fun helping Giles all clay to garden, and listening to his thrilling conversation. Uncle Charley was the never-failing theme. Giles waxed so eloquent on the heroic conduct of British soldiers, and Babs caught his spirit and tone in a manner which even indulgent Nana would have noticed and rebuked. At last a letter came to cook, telling her to prepare for Captain Conway, who was coming down to Cloverdale that very night. It was very tiresome that he would not arrive till long after Babs was asleep, but on the fol lowing morning, directly she knew that he had gone downstairs, she rushed into the dining- WHERE S MY SOLDIER-UNCI.E ( room in ecstatic anticipation of her introduction to this heroic soldier-uncle.

A slight, fair young man sat at the table, pouring out a cup of tea. " Where's my soldier-uncle ? " asked Babs, aghast, with an anxious little quaver in her voice. " I want to see him." "Good gracious! is that really the girl?" thought Captain Conway, as he looked at the sturdy, brown little maiden before him, and looked in vain for some likeness to that lovely, stately woman who was his brother's wife. " I want my Uncle Charley ! " she repeated impatiently ; " you can go away, strange man." " But look here, child, I am your Uncle Charley. Don't you know me?" How could she have known him when he had been in India for the whole five years of her short life ? But he could not think of anything else to say. This first appearance of his niece had so greatly disconcerted him. The boy was so pretty and graceful and taking that both his uncle and aunt were delighted with him.

And Captain Conway had vaguely ex pected that when he went to Cloverdale a trim looking maid would have brought to him a well dressed, golden-haired, fairy kind of child, who would have kissed him prettily, and lisped out some polite, orthodox greeting ; instead of which the door had been flung open, and, trans fixed at the sight of him, a square, brown, plain, untidy little creature had stood on the threshold, impatiently demanding that he should go away, and that her Uncle Charley should come. " I am your Uncle Charley." Then as if to himself: " Imagine this being Barbara's child ! " To his great surprise the little girl stamped her foot in a sudden frenzy of passion. " Go away, nasty strange man," she repeated. " They told me my uncle was a soldier, and I'se not a Barbara child. They calls me Babs."

" It is all right, I am a soldier," he said soothingly, "and I have come all this long way from London to see you." " I thought you'd be 'zackly like this," she explained, drawing nearer, and the smart young officer looked with amazement on a hideous ad vertisement for recruits, which portrayed a red cheeked soldier blowing a trumpet ; " and Giles always says as the British soldier is the pride o' the nation, and I was so glad my uncle was one, and now you are quite different, not a bit like the pride o' the nation, and no sword nor medal nor nothing," and she looked at him reproach fully. " Never mind about that," exclaimed her uncle ; " I'm not dressed like a soldier to-day. I've got lots of scarlet coats and swords in Lon don, and you shall see them all if you will be good." Babs's face brightened at this cheering news.

"And a trumpet and shield?" she asked eagerly. ' Yes, yes, everything," answered the captain, with a slight disregard of the truth, and in the hope of diverting her. " Who is Giles ? " " I love Giles," said Babs, forgetting her disappointment ; "he is Teddy's and my best friend next to Nana. You see Grannie was gener'ly ill. Giles said she'd got the chronic, and since Teddy and Nana went to London I've lived in the garden, and goin' about with Giles more'n ever, and we've had the loveliest talks 'bout you, and the crops, and when the old pig'll be ready for killing ; and I weed, and dig, and help Giles all day. Let me go now," con tinued the child, pulling away from his hand, " I shall just catch him while he's feedin' the fowls ! " " So that is the girl," thought the captain, a vexed look sweeping over his face. ' What a pity !

But this running wild and being the companion of some farm-labourer must be put a stop to. It is most unfortunate. She is not a bit like a eentleman's child, either to look at or to talk to. Fat brown legs, covered with scratches, filthy hands, hair that looks as if it had never been brushed or cut, frock fit for the workhouse, accent atrocious, manners and education entirely lacking." So the fastidious, dandified captain reckoned up his small niece's enormities, and resolved that things should be very differently managed now the children were under his control. For Captain and Mrs. Conway had decided to take Teddy and Babs home with them to London, and keep them until their parents came back from India, to settle in the old home at Cloverdale. " I've 'splained to Giles about your being not a bit like a soldier to look at," said Babs, on her return to the room a few minutes later, "an' he says as elders and betters must be honoured in spite o' their looks, which, as they didn't make themselves, is no fault of theirn."

"Babs!" exclaimed her uncle; "you really must not talk like that, it's not at all like a little lady." The brown eyes filled with tears, and an ominous pucker round the mouth caused Cap tain Conway to add hurriedly : " There, there, don't cry ! Here's a new shilling for you." Babs brightened up in a moment,, and took the peace-offering with delight. " I've never had so much money in my life afore," she said excitedly, " I never have no thing but pennies, 'cept the threepenny bits on Sunday, which Giles says take as natural to the off'tory bags as ducklings do to duck-ponds." Captain Conway sighed, but Babs went on cheerfully : "I'd like to see you in your scarlet coat soon, with your spear and shield. Do you often kill people now, Uncle Charley?" " No, not often," laughed the young man. " On'y wicked people, I s'pose?

" " Not anybody at all." Babs looked woefully disappointed, until a fresh thought suddenly diverted her : " May I crack your egg for you ? Do let me, I can do it so nice." As her uncle was afraid of vexing her again, he resignedly acquiesced. " There's always the chance of finding a chicken in it, you see," she continued, " that's what makes eggs so interesting for breakfast. We only have them on Sundays, so we on'y get very few chances." " Have you got any real chickens out of doors ? " " Oh, yes ; splendid ones. All the bantams are mine, and the others Teddy's." " I'm afraid you are very fond of the coun try," said her uncle, trying to picture this wild, out-of-door child shut up in a London nursery. " What are you 'fraid of in the country ? " she asked. " The cows ? I'm not a bit 'fraid of them, an' I milk the dear, white one some times when Giles holds her tail.