Part 12 (1/2)

Still when they reached the little cottage on the moor, and she caught sight of Nance standing in the doorway as if looking out for them, she could not help giving a tiny start, for no doubt the old woman _was_ a very strange-looking person.

'She really does look like one of the witches in my picture fairy-book,'

thought Rosamond.

But with the first words that fell from Nance's lips, the slight touch of fear faded away. There was something singularly sweet in the old woman's voice when it suited her to make it so, and she was evidently very pleased to see the little stranger.

'Welcome, missie dear,' she said. 'I was thinking you'd be coming to-day, and proud I am to see you all.'

Rosamond felt a little surprised at finding herself expected, but no doubt, she thought to herself, the boys had told the old woman that they would bring her.

'Thank you,' she said, in her pretty, half-shy way. 'I wanted to come very much. I think it must be so nice to live on the moor as you do.'

'Nance has always lived on a moor,' said Archie, 'ever since she was quite a little girl. That's why she came here instead of going to the village.'

'Aye, Master Archie,' said the old woman, 'I'd choke in a village, let alone a town, but there was a time that I was far away from moorland, though my life began on one and 'twill end on one too. But won't you come in, my dears. I was baking this morning--there's some little cakes maybe you'd like a taste of, and some nice fresh milk.'

None of the children had any objection to an afternoon luncheon of this kind, and Nance's little cakes were certainly very good. Miss Mouse felt exceedingly happy. The inside of the cottage was beautifully clean, and uncommon-looking in some ways, for Nance had trained a creeping plant so well that one side of the room was nearly covered by it, and, besides this, there was a kind of rockery in one corner with smaller plants growing in its crannies. The furniture, though plain and strong, was of quaint, uncommon shapes, and on the high mantelshelf stood some queer pieces of china, more rarely to be seen in those days than now, when the curiosities of the East can be bought by any one for very little.

Rosamond knew more about such things than the boys, as her father had been so much in India, and she thought to herself that perhaps the old woman had had sons or brothers who were sailors.

The little room was pleasantly warm without being too hot; indeed Nance loved fresh air so much that it was rarely her door was shut closely even in winter. The fire was dancing brightly, and there was a peculiar fragrance which seemed to come from it.

'I've been burning pine-cones and other sweet-smelling things,' said Nance.

Rosamond gave a sigh of satisfaction.

'It's perfectly lovely in here every way,' she said. 'It's like a fairy-house.'

'Oh, that reminds me,' said Pat, 'you promised to tell us a fairy story, Nance, at least I think it was to be a fairy one. Anyway it was about the great big moor where you lived when you were a little child.'

Pat had seated himself comfortably in his favourite corner near the fire, Miss Mouse and Archie opposite him, but Justin was fidgeting about in his usual way; he was the most restless boy possible.

'I say, where is Bob?' he asked suddenly.

Nance stepped to the door and looked out.

'He should be coming by now,' she said. 'He went about your ferrets to another place, Master Justin. He's been in a fine way at not getting them for you before. Ah! yes, there he is,' and she pointed to a black speck appearing on one of the little white paths at some distance.

'I'll go and meet him,' exclaimed Justin, 'perhaps he's bringing them with him. _I_ don't care about fairy stories. So when you're ready to go,' he went on, turning to his brothers, 'you can call me. I'll be somewhere about with Bob,' and he ran off.

Nance stood looking after him for a moment. Then she came in, half-closing the door.

'That's right,' said Archie, 'now we'll be very comfortable without Jus fidgetting about. Go on, Nance, we're all ready.'

Nance drew forward a stool, and seated herself upon it, between the children, in front of the fire. She had a pleasant, rather dreamy smile upon her face.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'I'VE PLENTY OF STORIES IN MY HEAD,' SHE SAID.]

'I've plenty of stories in my head,' she said. 'The one I was going to tell you the other day was an old one of my grandmother's. It was about a moor, though I can't say for certain if it was the one I remember best myself. It was told her by the one that was best able to tell it, and that was the very man it had happened to many years before, when he was a boy. They were poor folk, very poor folk, and they had hard work to keep the wolf from the door. The father was dead, and there were several little ones. This boy, Robin was his name, was the eldest, and the only one fit for regular work, and he was but twelve. He must have been a right-down good boy, though he didn't say so of himself, for he worked early and late and brought every penny home to his mother. Well, one night, 'twas the beginning of winter too, like it is now, he was going home from the farm where he worked, right across the moor. It was a good long way to the farm, for it was a lonely place where his home was, but there was no rent to pay for the bit of a place, so they stayed there, lonesome as it was, and worse than that sometimes, for the children were delicate, from want of good food most likely, and more than once the poor mother had had a sad fright, thinking the baby, the frailest of them all, would have died before the doctor could come to them. In the summer-time they got on better, and, putting one thing with another, they'd have been sorry to move.