We four and two more

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SHE UNFOLDED THE PAPER AND BEGAN TO READ

Copyright, 1909,

All Rights Reserved

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To

Four

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One More.

Contents

CHAPTEBI PAGE

I. The Cause of Liberty 1

II. Honor is the Subject of My Story . 21

Chapter I

There were four dogs at Uplands — Larry, the setter; Crumb, the Irish terrier; Shadow, the fox, and the brown puppy, who was the littlest of the lot and “nothing but a pure mongrel,” as Danby said, with his nose in the air. The first three were Granny’s property, the last one belonged to us — he was our very own. He came from nowhere in particular just after our arrival, and his welcome wasn’t as pleasant as ours had been. The stable-men drove him off with sticks and stones; they didn’t intend he should stay where he wasn’t wanted. They made that quite clear to him, or at least they thought they did. They were wrong. Perhaps he was too young to understand, or perhaps he meant to win them over. For back he trotted in the most forgiving and forgetting spirit possible.

Now this was fine and no mistake, only the men didn’t see it in the same light. They didn’t want to be won over. Instead, they agreed darkly among themselves to drown him. So they coaxed him to them, pretending they were friendly ; they fed him, stroked him, made his heart go pitapat with joy, and as soon as he was wriggling all over with gladness they tied a rope around his neck and dragged him to the pond. I guess the world looked pretty black to the poor fellow then; something must have told him that his end was drawing nigh. But just as the dreadful deed was about to be enacted, as they say in the history books, the captive broke from his cruel foes and ran off as fast as he could chase.

We knew nothing of this at the time, or the men would have had us to deal with, I can tell you. We are the Egertons — Philip (that’s me), Judy, my twin, Gilbert, and Margery — “us four, and no more.” Cousin Laura says that that last is a matter for much rejoicing. She is Granny’s cousin, so you see she isn’t a really near relation to us, except that she lives at Uplands — which make a nearness very often most uncomfortable now that we’ve come here to stay, because Father and Mother

S have gone to Manila with the regiment. We heard about the pup one afternoon when we were in the harness room and we cleared out right away. We wouldn’t have anything to do with such entertainers, though they were doing their politest for us. We couldn’t forget the poor little homeless one, and we searched for him high and low. But it was all in vain. And yet, a few days later, when we were out on an exploring expedition — for the place was new to us — the instant we heard a faint crying in some bushes our thoughts flew to him.

And it did seem most too good to be true, for it really was the pup himself. We recognized him from the description those unfeeling men had given, though he was thinner than ever, with his ribs showing through like barrel hoops, and the aU of him so miserable that even a heart of stone would have melted at the sight. Our hearts were not of that enduring stuff, but far otherwise, as the pup must have seen at a glance. He wagged his tail weakly and crawled toward us, uttering little squeaks which set Judy and Margery to crying real tears. He was pretty far gone, but we gave him some milk and biscuits we’d brought along and presently he seemed to feel better in his legs, you could almost see the frisldness come back. He was so glad to belong to somebody. Of course he felt that we’d adopted him, and we couldn’t disappoint him after what he’d gone through — blows, and starvation, and the next thing to drowning. We just took him into our hearts and pledged ourselves solemnly to be as fathers and mothers to him. It was a happy arrangement, and everything went well until Gilbert, who is a prudential boy, cast a shiver over us all by saying that perhaps Granny would have some remarks to make, and then — what?

That was a staggerer! We’d only lately come to Uplands, and though Granny is Mother’s mother, you can’t always reckon on grown-ups; you have to feel your way. So we raked our brains to find out what was best to do. And first we thought we’d hide the pup in the bushes and visit him on the sly, bearing food and water to him as folks do in war-time to secreted ones. He would have to be tied of course, not to keep him from running away, but to keep him from running after us, for though we might desert him, he’d never give us up. We soon saw that plan wouldn’t work. It would be dreadfully hard upon him nights, and it might pour a deluge any time, or strange boys might tease him — or — worse! The rope, too, would frighten him, he wouldn’t understand it. He’d put his whole trust in us, and the loneliness far from the people he loved — because all in a minute a dog will give you his heart for keeps — would be terrible hard to stand up under. We knew how that was ourselves. Father and Mother had only been gone a few weeks, and the ache they’d left behind was all edges — ^it wouldn’t get comfortable. So you can see why we didn’t want to plant one like unto it in a dog’s breast. But the more we talked the more muddled we got, until Judy fired a question at our heads.

“Have we adopted this pup to love, and cherish, and honor, and obey — for better, or worse?” she asked.

“You bet we have,” I answered, “and what’s more we’ve sworn it ungetoutably.”

“Well, then,” she cried, “let’s go break the news to Granny. She’ll have to know sooner or later.”

It was splendid advice, but just at first it knocked the wind completely out of us, and we could only stare at her while she looked back without winking; her eyes very big and shiny and her face fiame color. All of a sudden she sprang to her feet. “Are you going to forget that you are a soldier’s children?” she demanded.

I was up in a jiffy.

“Not me,” I cried, “I’ll let you know I’m no coward.”

The others stood up, breathing like steam engines. “You needn’t give yourself such airs, Judy Egerton,” Gilbert put in angrily. “I was the first to think of Granny, and I told you so. I dare anyone to call me a ’fraid cat.”

It was no time for war between us, but Judy’s words — and more especially the way she said them (that’s always the worst part!), were like a bomb thrown into our peaceful midst. I didn’t mean, though, that there should be any fighting if I could help it.

“Oh! come, Gilbert,” I interposed, “Judy only wanted to spur us on. You’ll spoil everything if you start a row. We’ve got to stand or fall together, and you can bet your hat there won’t be any falling.”

“But if it’s to be all standing we’ll never reach Granny,” Judy wailed. “ Can’t you see that we’ve got to be up and doing with a heart for any fate?”

I kept my temper, because I knew she was right. We couldn’t wait, we just had to go and have the matter settled at once. So off we trooped. I led, with the pup half asleep in my arms; then came Judy, then Gilbert, and last of all, Margery, bringing up the rear, because she was the youngest. We went very solemnly up the long drive, and when the house was reached we crept in through a side door and tiptoed along to the Blue Room. We met no one by the way. It was exactly like the Palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale; everywhere it was so very still. And as we went we couldn’t help feeling rather downhearted about our knees, with not knowing how Granny would take it all. It was hardest on me, really, because the pup would put out his little pink tongue every now and then and lick my cheek, and he did look so contented, just as if he thought his happiness was going to last forevermore.

Granny was at her desk, but as we entered the room she turned with a smile as if she was awfully glad to see us. Perhaps she’d finished writing, or perhaps she remembered right then that Father and Mother were far away and she had to be both of them at once to us (only she never could be for all her trying!). Before she could speak I up and told her what we’d come about, and after I was through we went closer and showed her the pup.

He was as cute as they’re made; he half winked at her, for all the world like some jolly little beggar, but he wouldn’t budge from my arms — he just snuggled down more firmly as though to show he was there to stay.

“Why, Phil,” she exclaimed, “he’s nothing but a common little cur. Look at his coat ”

“Oh! Granny dear,” Judy broke in, “Father says we mustn’t ever judge anyone by his coat, and I’m sure when the puppy is washed and brushed he’ll look more associable right away. He is dirty and smelly now, though inside he has the loveliest, cleanest heart, and it will break to flinders if we desert him.”

Granny didn’t speak; she sat quite still looking at us, and most especially at the pup, as if she were studying something very hard.

“My dear children,” she said at last, “I don’t want to refuse you anything in reason, but I can’t say yes to this request. I’ll have Danby find a home somewhere for the little stray — a good home — won’t that do as well?”

I couldn’t utter a sound; I just squeezed the puppy tighter. It’s queer how undetachable some things are in a moment. Gilbert and Margery stared straight before them, breathing very hard, but Judy stepped out of the line and went close to the desk,

“It wouldn’t be the same to the puppy,” she declared softly, “he’d be most unhappy, thinking of us. Please let him stay, dear Granny.”

“There are already a number of dogs at Uplands,” Granny said, a bit sharply. “ Don’t you like them? ”

“ We love them, and they adore us,” Judy cried, “they’re the dearest dears. Only, you see, we saved this one, and we took a vow to look after him for better, or worse, forever and ever, so we can’t break our solemn word.”

“ But, my dear Judy,” Granny put in, “ you had no right to make such a vow, you ought to have consulted me first.”

“I s’pose so,” Judy owned sadly, ‘‘only somehow you do a thing quick and never think about the ‘ought’ until afterwards. That’s the way it always is! And we didn’t have the time, really; we had to adopt the puppy before he could feel we were horrid like the rest of the world, and he wasn’t wanted anywhere. We couldn’t hurt his feelings.”

Granny tapped her foot on the floor, her face all puckered up, as if thinking didn’t come easy to her. Anyone could see, though, that she was trying to look at our side.

“A little common cur,” she went on slowly, “and our dogs have always been thoroughbreds — that’s Uplands’ record. Larry, and Crumb, and Shadow are such fine fellows, I’m proud of their pedigrees.”

“What is a pedigrees?” Margery interrupted. “Is it something to do with their feet?”

(That’s just like her! She’s always bothering people with silly questions. I tried to frown her into silence, but it was too late.)

“No, darling,” Granny laughed. “It’s an account of one’s ancestors. Let me see if I can make it clear to you. When we speak of a dog’s pedigree we mean that we know something about the dogs from whom he is descended — his father and mother, and grandfathers and grandmothers, and a little chart is made in order that if the dog is exhibited at a Show the facts of his parentage may be known. Some day you’ll learn all about your own pedigree, Margery, and what brave and good men and women your ancestors were. I’ll show you our family tree— — ”

“Have we a family tree?” Margery asked, staring with all her might.

Granny sat up very straight in her chair, quite away from its back, her eyes snapping.

“My dear child,” she cried, “where have you been brought up? Of course we have, and you can’t find a better one in the whole country.”

“ Then if that’s so,” Judy burst in excitedly, “we ought to adopt a little dog who hasn’t any tree of his own, but only bushes where he can lay his lonely head. We ought to shelter him, and gladly too, under our family tree. There must be plenty of room.”

Granny got up quickly and walked to the window, unregardful of us all. I was sure she was angry and had gone there to rule her spirit and be better than he that taketh a city, her face looked so red as she passed me. For anyone could see by the way she spoke that she was no end proud of the tree. Just like the chap in the poem who told the woodman to spare his, and touch not a single bough, because it had sheltered him in his boyhood days, and he meant to protect it, or know the reason why. I suppose Granny thought she must do that too, since Grandfather was dead and she had to run the whole place. She had to take a firm stand about intruders.

I felt, and so did Gilbert and Margery, that Judy had made a mess of it, but she didn’t seem a bit sorry. Presently, however, because we put a lot of “ Now you’ve done it, Smarty,” into our looks, she grew fidgety and snapped her eyes back, blustering it out, though it wouldn’t go down. She’d sent Granny into a towering rage, and the puppy was the same as dead. He grew cuter, too, every moment — and there were a good many moments just then. Time goes so slow when you’re stretched helpless on the rack of waiting.

Finally Granny turned and went right to where Judy stood, apart from us all, and she put her hand under her chin, tilting up her face. Judy isn’t like Margery — you’d never think the two were sisters. Her hair is brown, not golden, and it doesn’t curl a bit, though it crinkles a little back from her forehead and is long behind where it’s braided in a big pigtail. She hasn’t pink and white skin, either; she’s kinder pale in her unexcited moments, pale and thinnish, with never a dimple to her name, and her eyes, instead of being blue, are brown, but you never tire of looking at them — they’re so full of changes, though they ain’t strong, and she has to wear spectacles pretty generally. No, she isn’t a mite like Margery; folks don’t turn to stare after her, they just call her “odd,” yet they always end up by liking her. And what’s the best thing about her is that she’s game through and through. So she looked back squarely at Granny; she wasn’t afraid.

“ Child,” Granny said, with lots of love in her voice (you see she’d fought, and conquered), “it’s true that those of us who have much should do our utmost for those who have little ; the rich must give to the poor, the strong must help the weak. Darling, the puppy may stay.”

“0-oh!” Judy cried, with a long drawn breath, while we others were dumb with surprise, “you’re too swe-eet for anything! You’re the very dearest granny in the whole wide world of America, Europe, Asia, Africa and the archipelagoes. See how happy the puppy looks down to the very tip of his grateful tail.”

She gave Granny’s hand a little squeeze, and a kiss, and the next instant we others swarmed around shouting our thanks at the top of our lungs. Granny kissed us and fought off the puppy, because he’d caught the trick of thanking, too, and his kisses were slobbery. But he didn’t mind; he’d heard her kindness, and he understood.

“ Don’t let him come near me again, Phil,” she cried. “ Take him away and have him washed, and for pity’s sake use some of the waters of Arabia before you bring him where I am.’’

“We’ll call him Janet after you,” Margery began.

“No, no,” Granny interrupted, “that’s too great an honor, and I decline it; you’ll have to decide on something else.”

“ What do you think of Moses? ” Gilbert demanded in his lordliest manner. “It isn’t a very pretty name, but we found this fellow in the bushes, too ”

“ Come off your perch,” I broke in. “ The Moses you mean was in the bulrushes — ^in a quaggy place, which Lady Tress lane isn’t. I’ve thought of a splendid name. Please listen, Granny. I told you how the stable-men tried to kill the puppy with hurling stones at him, though they didn’t succeed. Then they set about to drown the little chap, but he escaped a watery grave. And so I think Liberty would be the dandies t name for him, because, you see, he’d rather have Liberty than death.”

Granny stood looking at me as if she thought I’d gone crazy.

“ Oh I you must know about Patrick Henry,” I went on, moving nearer to her, “ and how he said: ‘Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace, but there is no peace. The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it. Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.’ ”

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Gilbert and the girls. Then Judy caught Granny’s dress in her hand.

“ That’s Father’s very, very favoritest,” she cried, “You ought to hear him say it, his eyes shining just like Phil’s, and his face all lighted up as if something in his insides was on fire, and he ”

She stopped very suddenly, and we had to keep still too, on account of the lumps in our throats. Even the puppy was quiet, and — somehow — Granny seemed far away; we couldn’t see her clearly. But she really was quite close, for presently she patted my shoulder gently.

“Those are grand words, Phil,” she said; “you can’t go wrong if you remember them, and especially if you remember your dear, noble father ”

“And Mother too,” Judy put in.

“And Mother too,” Granny repeated. Then she clapped her hands briskly and went on in a jolly, every-dayish voice, “Cheer up, children. Two years will go very quickly, and we are all going to be so bright and brave. Look at Libert}" now, struggling for freedom. I fancy he considers Phil’s grasp quite as bad as chains and slavery. There ! that’s better. Now scamper away all of you to the stables, and tell William to give your playfellow a good scrubbing. Tell him, too, that I wish this little newcomer to be treated as well as the other dogs; that he is one of my household. Be very polite about it, and let the other men understand as well.”

We cleared out directly, and in a little time Liberty was like another being. Truthfully, I think he didn’t approve of the washing, though he endured it nobly, only giving a few grunts and a snap or two, which did but prove that he had some spirit. His teeth were too young to work any mischief and William just laughed at his impudence. William’s a nice fellow, with no airs or affectations about him. When I gave the men Granny’s orders they listened for all they were worth, and then they owned up that they’d been wrong, and they honestly regretted it. They agreed, too, that the pup was a promising sort, which they’d overlooked before, on account of his not being as unspotted as could have been wished. Of course that was pretty handsome, and we shook hands all around to show we forgave them from our hearts. They were uncommonly nice and so eager to do things for us that they fairly tumbled over one another in their hurry, but when I told them the Patrick Henry bit they were as quiet as mice. They didn’t stir, and when I got through they didn’t stir, either; not that I minded, as I’d been there myself.

By and by Danby, who was sitting on the block, cleared his throat and asked me to tell it all over again, which I did. I liked doing it. The next moment the men caught on like a house on fire, their faces just shone, and before I could reach the end Danby was on his feet calling to them to give three cheers for Liberty. Then every man was up, and the air was so full of noise that we kids had to join in, too. It was like a bugle feeling in your spine, with drums, and fifes, and waving flags all jumbled together — a fellow had to yell — he couldn’t help it. There was a fine rumpus, you can bet, and it was so ear-cracking that our new Liberty scampered into Judy’s arms as scared as if a whole battalion of the enemy was at his heels. He thought, somehow, that we meant him. Of course everybody roared at his conceit, but more quietly, and he soon got over his fright, though he wouldn’t leave his shelter.

He was looking very different, for a bath will work wonders. We hadn’t been able to use the Arabian water Granny spoke of; we just had to make plain pump water do, but it ran off the dirt splendidly, and Liberty came out spandy fresh, only smelling rather much of brown soap, which is a clean smell — though there are some who don’t care for it. William said he understood, and the next we knew he’d fetched a bottle of perfumery from his room. It was libelled “ The Breath of the Meadows,”

go WE FOUR AND TWO MORE

and was very far-reaching. He was awfully choice of it himself, only using it Sundays when he went to walk with Bella, the kitchenmaid, who is his best girl. But his is a rare and generous soul. In spite of everything we could say he sprinkled more than half of it over the puppy, and after that you never would have dreamed brown soap had been used at all.

Chapter II Honor Is The Subject Of My Story

“Two more!’’ cried a shrill voice in the room behind me. It was Cousin Laura speaking. I knew that right off, and I tell you what, I forgot all about my book, though I’d been deep in it the moment before, as I crouched closer into the corner, scarcely daring to breathe. Yet I was pretty safe. The heavy window-curtains fell to the floor in stiff, straight folds, leaving an open space in the middle and that part of the seat for anyone to see, but there were bully hiding-places at the sides if you remembered to squnch back, and nobody would ever suspect you were there, especially if you’d piled up the cushions kinder careless-like beforehand.

“Two more!” the voice went on. “Janet Ronalds, have you gone out of your senses?”

Granny gave a little cough that meant many things.

“Not that I’m aware,” she answered 21 coldly. I think I may safely say I am still in my right mind, no matter what opinion others may hold of me.”

“But to turn your house into an Infant Asylum,” Cousin Laura squeaked, “to have six children invade it — it’s preposterous, it’s ”

I lost the rest of the sentence, so upsetting were those simple words “ six children.” What did she mean? What could she mean? There were only four of us. I sat up very straight, every part of my body tingling queerly.

Now I know, as well as the next fellow, that it isn’t the thing to listen to people on the sly, only it’s different if you don’t set out purposely to do it. It’s like the greatness that Duke — Granny’s butler — is always talking about. He says some are born to it, and some scrabble around and get it themselves, and some have it thumped right down upon them. Eavesdropping is the same. Some are born eavesdroppers, and some go about eavesdroppering, and some have eavesdropping forced upon them. I really was the last first, which sounds like a charade, only it isn’t.

That morning when I’d crept into the room

THE SUBJECT OF MY STORY 2S about ten o’clock there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was raining pitchforks, though that didn’t matter much to me as there was nothing special to take me outdoors. Besides, I’d seen a jim-dandy book on one of the shelves in the library, and I wanted to have a fling at it; so as soon as I could, I left the others in our quarters, the girls sewing for their stupid dolls, and Gilbert pottering around among his things. They didn’t notice when I sneaked off, and I knew Judy wouldn’t give me away, she’d be the only one of the lot to think of my hiding-place because she’s so tremendously keen about reading herself. Gilbert and Margery only care for the books that are written for kids, while she and I like the other kind. And that’s how I didn’t start out meaning to do any wrong, as you can see. Granny and Cousin Laura always sat in the Blue room after their breakfast, so I never dreamed they would come into the library. Which does but prove that “ dreams go by contraries,” as Cook truthfully remarks. Anyway, there I was in a pretty fix. For how could I burst out and frighten them out of their seven senses? All in a flash I had to hit on what to do — to eaves-

24f WE FOUR AND TWO MORE

drop, or not to eavesdrop. And the first seemed best. Besides, things had gone so far — oh! you know how it is yourself — I just had to find out who those children were.

“An Infant Asylum,” Cousin Laura went on, “I really wonder you’re not more firm. Why didn’t you wire Peter that it was impossible?”

“Because it isn’t,” Granny cried hotly. “I fancy my house is large enough to accommodate all my grandchildren. If there were sixty, instead of six, I should welcome them just the same.”

Cousin Laura gave a great gasp that you could hear all over the room; it sounded as if something had gone to pieces inside of her. But she was mute, only her muteness said an awful lot.

Granny chuckled a little (how I loved her for it!). She isn’t a bad sort by herself; it’s only because she hasn’t been with children for so long that she’s slow, sometimes, about understanding them.

“Come, come, Laura,” she said, “bear up! There are only six after all. You can console yourself with that thought, and Jack and

Sheila are quiet little bodies. . . . Pray,

don’t sniff like that — it’s most annoying.”

I buried my guilty nose in the pillow while Cousin Laura indignantly denied any sniffing on her part.

“I’m not deaf yet,” Granny said with a touch of temper that meant she’d think what she pleased. “ I still retain my other faculties, though my mental powers have been questioned. And I repeat they are quiet, well-behaved children. Surely, you remember the charming little letters I have had from them.”

Cousin Laura muttered something about the hand of the governess showing its cloven foot between the lines; you never could be certain of unassisted effort. Now, that was an unfair thing to say, and if she believed it in her secret soul she ought to have kept it there; but I suppose she was mad at being accused of a deed she hadn’t done, so she spoke rashly and unthinkingly. Her words acted like a match to powder. In an instant Granny’s grandmotherly spirit was up in arms, and from the way she went on you’d have thought there never had been, and never would be again, such wonderful children as Jack and Sheila

Ronalds. I didn’t like the picture she drew of them. It was a mistake to have the stupid little beasts come. For once I was ready to side with Cousin Laura; theire really was no sense in making an Infant Asylum of Uplands.