Terry
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Rosa Mulholland >> Terry
[Illustration: "Vulcan, Vulcan, let me tie your cap-strings."]
TERRY
or, She ought to have been a Boy
BY
ROSA MULHOLLAND
(LADY GILBERT)
Author of "Girls of Banshee Castle" "Four Little Mischiefs" "Giannetta"
"Cynthia's Bonnet-shop" &c.
_ILLUSTRATED BY E. A. CUBITT_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN
CONTENTS
CHAP. Page
I. "I HOPE SHE WILL BE CHANGED!" 5
II. "ONLY MISS TERRY COME BACK TO US!" 11
III. A WET DAY 20
IV. DREADFULLY GOOD 34
V. "BAD AGAIN!" 41
VI. A BRASS HELMET 61
VII. UP THE CHIMNEY 76
VIII. THE RUNAWAY BOAT 93
TERRY
CHAPTER I
"I HOPE SHE WILL BE CHANGED!"
"Think of what it was to manage her in the summer months!" said dear old
Madam Trimleston, looking wistfully at Nurse Nancy. "What could we do with
her this winter weather? I do hope she will be changed. Don't you think it
likely that school will have done something for her?"
"Of course I do, madam. What else did we break our hearts sendin' her there
for? And little Turly, that would ha' been content to stay here peaceable
if she would ha' let him alone! Sure it's often I say to myself that it's
Terry ought to have been the boy."
"The same idea has occurred to me, Nancy. Not that we ought to criticise
the arrangements of Providence."
"Well, madam," said Nurse Nancy, "I don't agree that Providence has
anything to do with it. Providence doesn't make many mistakes, I'm
thinkin'? It's ourselves mostly that steps behind His work an' puts things
asthray on Him."
"You are right, and yet I do not perceive in what way we made mischief in
the matter of poor Terry. Her mother and father and myself have always done
our best for her."
"Except when you gave her an unnatural name, if I may make bold to say it
to you, madam. She was born all right, God bless her; but when you put a
man's name on her, somethin' got into her, poor lamb, somethin' that'll
take a good while to work out of her."
"That's a very queer idea, Nancy. You know well that she was named after a
brave ancestor. It was hoped she would have been a boy, and her father gave
her the name he had intended for a boy; only we softened it, Nancy,
softened and changed Terence into Terencia."
A smile lighted up Nurse Nancy's wrinkled face.
"Well now, madam, as if anybody couldn't see through that little thrick! To
call her for a fightin' ould warrior that bet Cromwell an' held his own in
spite of him! An' her havin' to grow up a young lady with nothin' but
niceness in her! Ah, then now, madam, why didn't ye call her Mary, the same
as her grandmother before her?"
"We did, Nancy; you forget that we did," urged Madam mildly. "We named her
Terencia Mary."
"Then ye put the cart before the horse, madam," said Nancy, shaking her
head grimly, "an' the ould warrior has got the foreway in her over the holy
lady that has the best right in her, in regard of her sex. But don't fret
now, madam, for it's my belief that the Mary is in her still, an' she'll be
the gentlest yet that iver walked of the name. Only it's us that'll have a
han'ful of her until the ould warrior has done with her."
Madam smiled indulgently. Nurse Nancy would occasionally put forth a
fantastic notion like this, but in the main she was a patient, prudent,
wise creature who had well earned her honours in the family by long and
faithful friendship as well as service. During her latter lonely years old
Madam had drawn Nurse Nancy very close to her. While she smiled now she
said:
"We must remember that until a year ago Terry was brought up in Africa, was
accustomed to perfect freedom, to long rides with her father, and all kinds
of adventures."
"And so was little Turly, madam. Not that he isn't as brave as anything,
little darlin'; he'd follow Terry through thick an' thin, if it was
through the fire. But still an' all it never does be him that sets the
mischief goin'."
"But Turlough is only eight years old. Terry is ten, and two years of a
bush life at that age make a great deal more difference than the count of
the days," said Madam musingly.
Madam Trimleston was a pretty old lady who had soft white hair and sweet
blue eyes, and wore handsome lace caps with peachy ribbons in them; and she
usually sat in a high-backed arm-chair either at the fire or the window in
her own room with Nurse Nancy attending on her. For Madam was very
delicate, and since she had been left alone in old Trimleston House she
rarely went down into the great rooms below.
"It would make you cry," Nancy would say, "to see her sittin' there all by
herself, afther the family she rared, an' them all scatthered about over
the four corners of the earth; an' the rest o' them in heaven!"
It is true that Madam had sons holding posts in different lands, but her
daughters had "all died on her", as Nancy lamented. However, though old
Trimleston House stood in a lonely part of Ireland, between the hills and
the sea, yet Madam was not so desolate as might have been supposed, for she
was beloved by all the "neighbours" for twenty miles around, and poor and
rich made their sympathy felt by her. And everyone was glad when her
favourite son in Africa sent home his two children to her care; no one so
glad as the dear old granny herself, unless it might be Nurse Nancy.
To tell how the grandmother and nurse, whose hands had once been so full
and were now so long empty, went into the deserted nurseries and furbished
them up till everything looked as good as new would require a chapter to
itself. A handy man was sent for to come two miles and paint up the old
rocking-horse which had been standing for years with its nose in a corner
of a closet and its sides all blistered with damp; and nine-pins, tops, and
marbles were hunted out of drawers and cupboards.
"Mercy me! Look here, madam! If this isn't the dog that Misther Jack broke
the ear off knockin' its head against the wall one day and him in a
passion!" said Nurse Nancy.
She was afraid to bring forth the dolls, with their associations, but the
mother herself went to look for them.
"We are getting a little girl, Nancy," she said, "and we can't have nothing
but boys' toys for her to play with."
Nancy nodded her head, but Madam went boldly to the drawer, looked at the
dolls with their faded cheeks and glassy eyes, shook out their gay frocks,
and laid them back in their place. Nancy said nothing, but when Madam
remarked that evening:
"I am writing for one or two new ones. They will be fresher. And you might
lock up the old ones and leave them where they are," Nancy knew exactly
what her mistress was thinking of.
But that was more than a year ago. The story of how the girl and boy came,
and how the two old women, who had many years ago been so clever in the
management of children, failed utterly with the "young African savages", as
a lady neighbour twenty miles distant described Terry and Turly, need not
be told. There had been utter dismay in Trimleston House: and after much
struggling with difficulties, Madam had been obliged to yield to the
decision of their father and to send them to school.
There had been a summer vacation, the recollection of which made Madam and
Nurse Nancy tremble; hence the serious expectation with which they are
awaiting at the present moment the arrival of the children for the
Christmas holidays.
CHAPTER II
"ONLY MISS TERRY COME BACK TO US!"
"Yes," continued Madam; "from what the good schoolmistress has written to
me, and from the child's own letters, I am hoping to find my granddaughter
grown into quite a gentle little lady."
A shout from somewhere below the windows interrupted her, a shout so
unusual and peculiar that Madam and Nurse Nancy were silenced, and sat
listening and looking at one another. More cries followed, astonished,
admiring, and then a sound from a little distance of wild, shrill cheering
began to come nearer.
Madam and Nurse Nancy stood up and hurried to a window overlooking the
drive in front of the house, and then to another through which they could
see the avenue approaching it.
There was a hint of dusk in the air, yet enough light to show a strange
sight, a horse and car flying along between the trees towards the house,
and followed by a little rabble of boys and girls, all clapping their hands
and cheering in the wildest delight. The cause of their excitement was
easily seen. In the driver's seat sat a small figure with a yellow curly
head, her hat blown off and hanging on her shoulders by the strings round
her neck, her hands grasping the reins, and her feet planted determinedly
against the dash-board.
"Heavens!" cried Madam. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Don't be puttin' yourself out, madam," said Nancy. "It's only Miss Terry
come back to us! Sure the ould warrior hasn't done with her yet awhile.
Good saints! to see the grip that the little bits of hands of her has on
the reins!"
"It will kill me, Nancy, it will kill me. Can you see if there is anyone on
the car besides herself? What has become of Lally?"
"Oh, goodness knows!" said Nancy. "He's not to be seen; but Turly's with
her safe enough, houldin' on for his bare life, one clutch on the rail of
the seat, and the other on the well o' the car. Goodness knows how much
longer he could stick to it. But she's bringin' all up to the hall-door
splendid, an' I declare you would think the ould horse was laughin' at the
joke!"
"I hope she hasn't killed Lally and lost the luggage about the roads,"
groaned Madam. "And where has she picked up all that crowd of wild
creatures that are screaming round the car?"
"Sure, out of ivery place as they came along," said Nancy. "Now, I'll just
go down, madam, and bring the childher up to you, an' you're to sit there
and not to stir, for you're shakin' all over like the ould weather-cock on
a day whin the wind does be blowin' from ivery side."
[Illustration]
Meanwhile Terry had brought the car in triumph to the door and jumped down
from her perch, her yellow curls on end in the wind, her hat flapping on
her back, and the fur capes of her little coat standing up straight round
her ears. She threw away the reins and ran to the horse's head, putting her
cheek against his nose, petting him with her hands, and pouring out
flatteries enough to turn any animal's brain.
"You darling, you angel, how lovely you did run for me! Has anybody got a
lump of sugar? No, well it is a shame. But I'll come to you to-morrow with
lots of it."
"Miss Terry! Miss Terry! Welcome home, Miss Terry!" shrieked a chorus of
shrill young voices. "Sure we run a lot of the ways with ye, Miss Terry,
darlin'!"
"So you did!" cried Terry. "Wasn't it splendid?" Her little purse was in
her hand in a moment. "Here is all I've got!" and she flung its contents of
shillings, sixpences, and coppers among the dancing youngsters, who
scrambled and wrangled for them, and finally disappeared in a headlong
scamper down the avenue.
By this time Turly had got down from the car, disdaining the assistance of
the women who came to moan over him.
"It's well you didn't kill your brother, Miss Terry," said Nurse Nancy
severely, "and your gran'ma is anxious to know whereabouts on the road you
murdhered Misther Lally."
Terry stared at her with her big blue eyes, and then burst out laughing.
"Oh, you dear, funny old Nurse!" she said; "I'm sure Granny never thought
of such a thing. Why, here is Lally, dear old slowcoach! Got off to pick me
some moss, and got left behind. And to think that Turly didn't know how to
hold on to a car! But please take me to Gran'ma, Nursey dear, I do so want
to see her!"
Granny was sitting very erect in her chair, with a face that was intended
to be severe, but was only sad and frightened. The door opened and Nurse
Nancy appeared with the children. Terry flew forward, but Granny waved her
off, and began to address her seriously.
"Terencia Mary" (Granny's voice quavered), "what is the meaning of your
behaving in this extraordinary manner?"
"Oh, Granny dear, I didn't behave, I assure you I didn't. We had such a
glorious drive home, and I am so glad to see you. But oh, Granny dear, I'm
afraid you are sick; you look so pale."
"No wonder if I am sick and pale at your conduct. Do they allow you to sit
in the driver's seat and drive the cars at Miss Goodchild's?"
"They couldn't, Granny dear," said Terry, shaking back her bright curls,
and fixing her clear eyes on the old lady's face. "They have no cars, only
an omnibus to take us to the station. And I couldn't drive an omnibus, now
could I, Granny?"
"And do you think----" but Terry's arms were round her Granny's neck, and
the kisses of her fresh young lips were sweet on the wrinkled cheeks.
"There, there, Terry, my darling, we must talk about it another time. You
won't do it again, will you, Terry?"
"I won't indeed, Granny, not if you don't like it. But do give me a huge,
gigantic hug, Granny darling! And only look at Turly. Hasn't he grown fat
and big! Come close up, Turly dear; Granny wants to hug you."
The hugs were given in plentiful measure and then Turly, who had been
standing aside, looking rather abashed, plucked up courage and remained by
Gran'ma's knee. He was a sturdily-built little fellow, with large, dark
eyes and a square forehead, ordinarily rather silent and slow in his
movements. The contrast between him and the light-limbed, quick-speaking
Terry was remarkable, and to no one more obvious than to Turly himself, who
had the most adoring admiration of his lively sister.
"Are they to have their tea in the nursery, madam?" asked Nurse Nancy, who
had been standing by, a witness of Granny's attempt and failure to scold.
"No, Nancy; no! Terencia is going to be good. They must have tea with me
here. Just put them into their evening clothes and bring them back to me."
After half an hour's manipulation from Nurse Nancy the children returned to
Granny, who in the meanwhile had dozed in her chair, quite worn out with
the fatigues of expectation, and the necessity for being angry. Nothing
remained of the afternoon's excitement to Madam but the touch of fresh
young lips on her cheeks, and of warm, young arms clasping her round the
neck. When she opened her eyes they rested on a meek-looking little
gentlewoman in a white frock, with a blue silk work-bag hanging by long
blue ribbons from her arm.
"Miss Goodchild taught me to make it, Granny, and she said you would like
me to have it; and I have worked you such a pretty linen cover for your
prayer-book; Nancy is going to unpack it after tea. And doesn't Turly look
sweet in his velvet knickers? The pockets of his other things are all gone
in holes with marbles. And oh, Turly, only see what a lovely tea Granny is
going to give us! Honey, jam, brown bread, hot tea-cakes! Turly is so fond
of sweeties, you know, Gran'ma."
"Rather," said Turly, which was the first word he had uttered since he
escaped with his life from the car.
The candles and lamps were now lighted in Granny's handsome sitting-room,
and a huge turf fire burned on the hearth, for it was a wintry evening. The
tea-table had been placed to one side, near Granny's chair, and as Madam
laughed heartily at Terencia's prattle no one could have suggested that the
coming of this bright little creature had been as a nightmare to the old
lady for many weeks past.
But after the children were gone to bed Madam Trimleston said to Nancy:
"I must say a few words to Lally. Ask him to come up here and speak to me."
Very soon heavy footsteps were heard ascending the stair, and Michael
Lally, the coachman, was seen standing in the doorway.
"God bless ye and good evenin' to ye, madam! It's glad I am to see you
lookin' so well, madam."
"Thank you, Lally!" It was hard to begin to find fault after so genial a
greeting. "But I want to ask you a question, Lally. How am I to entrust my
children to your care after what happened this afternoon?"
Lally passed his big hand over the back of his head and looked puzzled,
while a little smile lurked in the corners of his mouth.
"Is it in the regard of Miss Terry dhrivin' home with herself in the car,
madam?" he said. "Sure I declare to your honour, madam, that I won't be
the better of it for this month to come."
"The idea of your letting that child seize the reins--"
"Well now, madam, she didn't. Says she in her coaxin' way: 'Lally,' says
she, 'just let me sit on your seat and hold the reins, and you can be
watchin' me,' says she. 'Sure,' says she, 'many's the time I drove my
pappy,' says she, 'when I was over there in Africa,' says she, 'and he did
used to be delighted with me, seein' me at it,' says she. An' I couldn't
stand her coaxin', and I just pleased her, till all of a suddent she took a
fancy to some moss that was growin' in the dyke. And nothin' would do her
but I was to get down and gather it for her, and the next thing was she had
jaunted off with herself and was lookin' back laughin' at me."
"I know; I know her way," said Madam. "Lally, I intended to give you such a
scolding as you could never forget, but I see it's no use. I can only
implore of you not to give in to Miss Terry's coaxing again, no matter what
the consequences." And then Granny paused, remembering those kisses on her
cheek and those arms round her neck.
"We must try to control her," she said, "or her wild daring will cost us
her life."
"God forbid, madam!" said Lally.
"You have had a long, cold journey to-day. Have you had a good supper,
Lally?"
"Sorra bit could I ate, madam, till I had a word with yourself. But anyhow
I'll go and ate it now."
CHAPTER III
A WET DAY
Terry and Turly were snugly lodged on the same flat with Granny's bedroom
and sitting-room. Nurse Nancy's room stood between the two pretty little
chambers given to the children, and the big day nursery was close by.
Everything was very nicely arranged for the comfort of the little visitors
and for the maintaining of a proper control over them by Madam and Nurse
Nancy; Here they were to be safe night and day under the eyes of their
elders, except when allowed to go out with proper escort. The gate at the
back stairs, which gave on the landing and had been placed there years ago
for the protection of little children long since able to take care of
themselves, was as strong as ever and shut with as clever a snap, so that
there was no danger by that way. There were also guards on all the fires,
and an ornamental bar across each window to prevent little rash creatures
from throwing themselves out.
"What mischief can she do?" Granny had asked Nancy after surveying all
these safeguards before the coming of the children; and Nancy's hearty
answer, "'t will puzzle her, madam," had been soothing to the anxious old
mother.
When Terry wakened on the morning after her arrival she got up and put her
face to the window-pane.
"Wet!" she said. "Mountains all wrapped up in white sheets with just their
heads out. Rain pouring. And I did so want to be out everywhere till
bed-time again!"
She had taken her bath and dressed before Nancy had done with Turly and
came to look for her.
"Now, Miss Terry, it's too much in your own hands you are entirely, Miss,"
said Nancy. "You had a right to stay quiet till I came to give you leave to
get up."
"But, Nancy dear, what would be the use in my lying there to be a trouble
to you when I have got a pair of hands of my own? But oh, Nursey, will you
put in a few buttons up my back for me? Now didn't I save up something to
be a bother to you?"
"If that's all the bother you give me it won't be heavy on me," said Nancy,
giving her a few finishing touches before she brought her into tho nursery
to breakfast.
After breakfast the children were told that Granny was not very well, a
result of the excitement of yesterday and the wet weather which affected
her. She could not have Terry and Turly with her until afternoon tea time,
except just for a minute to bid her good-morning.
Terry was greatly distressed at this news until she had seen Granny
looking, to her eyes, just the same as ever, after which she was quite
contented. Only, how was the day to be spent?
There was a little excitement about the unpacking of her things and setting
out the little presents she had got for Granny. Nurse Nancy too had to be
surprised and delighted at the gift of a nice, large, white lawn kerchief,
hemmed by Terencia, such as Nancy was accustomed to wear folded round her
neck and across her breast, and which was so becoming to her dear old black
eyes and brown face. And after that gratifying presentation how could Nurse
Nancy be exceedingly strict and distrustful on that particularly wet and
dark December morning? On the contrary, she was in her most amiable and
indulgent humour.
"I've got such a fine lot of toys for good children," she said, and began
opening the cupboards and drawers. "Here's dolls and soldiers, and bricks
and all sorts of what-not. And you'll amuse yourselves with them like good
childher, for I'm goin' to be an hour or so in there, attendin' on your
gran'ma. Or will I send up Bridget to be lookin' afther ye?"
"Oh no, please!" said Terry, "we can look after ourselves till you come
back. Now, can't we, Turly?"
Turly, who was riding from Kimberley to Pretoria on the newly-painted
rocking-horse, waved an assent, and Nurse Nancy left the nursery without
misgiving.
She was not long gone before Terry began to get impatient with the new
dolls. She had inspected them inside and outside, found what they were made
of, satisfied herself as to whether or not their clothes came off and on,
tossed up their curls and smoothed them down again, shaken them up and told
them to stand up straight, which they promptly refused to do. At last it
seemed that there was nothing more to be done with them.
"Oh, you _are_ stupid!" she exclaimed; "staring with your glassy eyes,
always your same pink cheeks, and never saying a word."
"Dolls don't talk," said Turly, who was now solemnly engaged in making a
play on the floor with a box of soldiers.
"Of course they don't," said Terry. "That's just what it is. I hate playing
with things that have got no life in them!"
"Soldiers aren't alive," said Turly, as one tumbled over and he set it up
again, "but I'm having a splendid battle."
"Oh, Turly, how can you? Oh, I do so want things to be alive! Now, do just
come over to the window and look down into the yard at Vulcan sitting in
his kennel, poor dear, when he is longing to be running all over the world!
Oh, I declare, he sees us, and is wagging his tail! Just look at his big
eyes and his nose pointed up at us. Now, that is the kind of creature I
want to play with. But there he is shut up in his cage, and we--"
"Can't we go down to him?" said Turly.
"It's too wet. Nurse would be in such a fuss if we played in the yard. But
I don't see why we mightn't bring him up. He's the watch-dog, and
watch-dogs are only wanted there at night. It couldn't be any harm to have
him up here only for half an hour or so. I'll wipe his paws on the mat so
that he sha'n't make any mess. And he doesn't bark much unless he hears a
noise at night, so I am sure he wouldn't disturb Grandma."
Turly had swept away his soldiers, and stood up ready for the adventure.
"I won that battle," he said; "so now, come on!"
"Take my hand, Turly. They sha'n't say I led you into mischief this time,"
said Terry. "I'll take care you don't fall down the back stairs."
[Illustration]
"I can take care of that myself," said Turly.
"No, you can't. You are not as old as I am, so hold on to me well in case
the stairs are slippy."
They went out on the landing very quietly, "not to make any fuss", as Terry
said, and made for the gate at the top of the stairs. Terry knew the trick
of the hasp and it was quickly opened, and away they went, down flight
after flight, into the yard.
"Oh, I say, it _is_ wet!" said Turly, as they paddled across the yard with
the rain pouring on them.
"Hush!" said Terry, "or someone will hear you and come running to prevent
us. And it can't be any harm. It will be such a delightful treat for poor
old Vulcan!"
Turly said no more, and the two children stood with the rain drenching
their hair and clothes, and almost blinding them, as in silence they
unfastened the chain that held Vulcan to his kennel. The dog was scarcely
able to believe his senses when he felt the little soft hands pawing at his
neck, and as soon as he was free he jumped on them wildly, embracing them
with his hairy arms and covering them with mud.
"Quiet, now, Vulcan!" said Terry softly. "You must be very good, or we
sha'n't be able to take you up to the nursery. Come along, old fellow, and
pick your steps over the sloppy places."