"I"d do anything for _you_, though I hate to be a molly-coddle!"
whispered Diana. "I"m most fearfully sorry if I"ve really made you feel ill!"
The decoration of the church was only one of the incidents of Christmas; there were other things to be done before the festival arrived. The Flemings liked to preserve old traditions, and finding that their little American guest was very keen on all the details of a genuine British Yule-tide, they did their best to satisfy her. Mrs. Fleming used the cherished half-pound of currants--which in the war-time shortage of dried fruits was all the grocer could send her--to make the frumenty and spiced cakes that from time immemorial had been eaten in that northern district to celebrate the feast of the Nativity. A Yule-log was sawn and placed upon the dining-room fire, and a huge bough of mistletoe hung up in the hall.
"We ought to have the Waits to make it just perfect!" said Diana.
"I believe some of the choir used to go round carol singing once," said Meg, "but it"s been given up. The mothers said the girls caught cold, and they stayed out too late, so it was put a stop to. It"s a pity in a way. Mrs. James was saying only the other day that she quite missed them, and so did Mrs. Holmes. They both said Christmas wasn"t what it used to be."
The pupils of Diana"s eyes were growing large and round and shining, as they always did when her fertile mind was evolving new ideas. She seized Meg"s arm.
"Oh, I"ve got such a brain-wave!" she confided. "Look here! Why shouldn"t we be Waits? We"ve learnt all those Christmas carols at school. Let"s go round and sing them. It would be ripping fun!"
The idea appealed to Meg and Elsie, and, rather to the astonishment of the girls, the boys also took it up with enthusiasm, and volunteered their a.s.sistance. They enlisted the help of the village schoolmistress, and some of the most tuneful among her pupils, and all on the spur of the moment made up their company.
"What always spoils carol singing," said Monty sententiously, "is that everybody"s generally so beastly out of tune. They don"t seem able to keep the pitch without a harmonium."
"Pity we can"t carry a harmonium with us!"
"Why shouldn"t we?" suggested Neale. "I don"t mean I"m going to haul the thing on my back, so you needn"t grin. I"ve a better notion than that.
We"ll see if the Blackwoods will lend us a cart. Put the harmonium inside, hang up a lantern to see by, and there you are, with a movable concert platform ready to take round where we like."
The others looked at Neale with admiration. It was such a very brainy idea, they wondered they had never thought of it for themselves. Time was short, as the performance was to be that evening, so they dispersed to make their arrangements. Ted Blackwood, a member of the church choir, agreed to bring his father"s cart.
"I"ll take t"owd mare," he grinned. "Shoo"s steady, and won"t bolt when th" harmonium starts. Aye, I"ve a big stable lantern as "ull do too."
Here indeed was an excitement for a young American visitor. Diana could hardly wait till tea was over and darkness fell. Fortunately it was a fine evening, with a hint of frost in the air, so the expedition would not be damped by rain. Mrs. Fleming insisted upon all the party being very warmly clad, and brought out an old picture of "The Waits" to demonstrate that the use of m.u.f.flers was an integral part of the ceremony. Diana, to her delight, was lent a Red Ridinghood cloak of Meg"s, clad in which she felt that she had stepped back at least three centuries, and was walking in the days of the Stuarts.
"I might be one of the pilgrims in the _Mayflower_!" she exclaimed.
"What would Dad give to see me? I wish you were coming too," she added to Mrs. Fleming.
"I"m too busy, child, to-night," said Mrs. Fleming, kissing the roguish little face framed in the red hood. "Enjoy yourselves, chicks! And, Diana,"--with a warning finger held up--"_don"t_, please, do anything desperately amazing!"
"I"ll be an absolute model of mild mediaeval maidenhood," promised that damsel, with twinkling eyes.
They went first to the Blackwoods" farm, then, when Ted had harnessed "t"owd mare", they proceeded with the cart to the schoolhouse, and, after a good deal of heaving and hauling, lifted in the harmonium and a stool for Miss Simpson, the schoolmistress, to sit upon while she played. The rest of the party having joined them, they jogged along to the first house on their list, that of Mrs. Holmes at the Old Grange Farm. They drew up the cart outside the door, placed lanterns on the harmonium, and saw Miss Simpson settled at the instrument--a matter of some difficulty, as the cart sloped, and the stool was inclined to slide away. Ted held the old mare by the bridle, in case the music might revive her youthful spirits and cause her to bolt. The others grouped themselves round the cart. Miss Simpson struck up, and through the keen night air rang out the cheerful strains of "Christians, awake!" The Holmes family opened the door in quite a state of excitement, and listened with much appreciation while "Good King Wenceslas", "The First Nowell", and other old carols were sung. They insisted on bringing the party indoors for slices of Yule cake, and would have given them hot coffee as well, but Monty, who wished to visit other houses, declared they had not time to wait while it was made. So they tramped on to the James"s farm, where they had an equally hearty reception, and were regaled with cocoa, currant bread, and cheese.
It was a unique experience, trudging along country lanes with a cart and lanterns, with h.o.a.r-frost under foot, and a few stars winking in a misty sky, then standing in the cold night air to sing their carols. Diana felt that she could never forget it, and that the shrill voice of little Jack Greenhalgh warbling
"Nowell! Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!
Born is the King of Israel!"
would always be a.s.sociated with her idea of Christmas.
She had her fill of old-world customs, for she was allowed, by special favour, to go into the belfry and help for one brief minute to pull a bell. And after service on Christmas morning she stood in the church porch and watched the distribution of the "roth shillings", which, in accordance with the terms of an old charity, were handed over to "twelve worthy widows resident within the bounds of the parish". She helped in the afternoon at the schools, where a big tea-party and Christmas-tree were given to the children of the village, and joined n.o.bly in the games that were played afterwards, tearing round at "Drop the Handkerchief", or pulling at "Oranges and Lemons", with unflagging energy.
"Have you had a nice Christmas Day, childie, away from all your own people?" asked Mrs. Fleming, holding Diana"s face between her hands as she said good-night, and looking at her critically for signs of home-sickness.
But Diana"s eyes were without a suspicion of moisture, and her voice was absolutely cheerful as she answered:
"Yes, thanks; just topping!"
CHAPTER X
A Fit of the Blues
The interest of experiencing a real old-fashioned English Christmas had kept Diana"s spirits up at fizzling-over point, but directly the festival was over, her mental barometer came down with a run, and landed her in a bad fit of the blues. There were several reasons for this unfortunate plunge into an indigo atmosphere. First, the inevitable reaction after the over-excitement of breaking up, sending off presents and cards, and duly celebrating the Yule-tide feast. Diana was a highly-strung little person, whose nerves were apt to get on edge, and who made the common mistake of trying to live too fast. Her father"s "lightning methods", which she much admired and imitated, were decidedly wearing to her vitality, and left her sometimes like a squeezed orange or an india-rubber ball that has lost its bounce. Then secondly, the French mails had been delayed, and, since the holidays began, Diana had not received a single parcel, letter, or even solitary picture post card from her parents in Paris. The blank was great, and though the Flemings a.s.sured her that foreign posts were irregular, and that the whole of her correspondence would probably arrive together in one big cargo, she nevertheless could not rid herself of the uneasy impression that illness or accident to father or mother might be the cause of the delay. Reason three, a hackneyed but very present trouble was the weather. The English climate had behaved itself during the first days of the holidays, and had shown Diana quite a story-book aspect of Christmas, with a light fall of snow on the fells, h.o.a.r-frost on all the plants and ferns in the garden, and the sun a red ball seen through a rime-tipped tracery of trees. After that, however, it revenged itself in rain, steady rain that came down from a hopelessly grey sky without the least glint of sunlight in it. It was very mild too; the air had a heavy languor that made everybody feel tired and disinclined for any exertion. Mrs. Fleming spread the table with sewing, and sighed at the largeness of the task which faced her. The Vicar shut himself in his study, and pinned a notice on the door stating that n.o.body must disturb him. Monty retired to develop photos; Neale, clad in a mackintosh, went out into the wet; Meg and Elsie buried themselves in books.
Diana, feeling that life was utterly drab, wandered from room to room doing nothing. She could not settle to sew, read, paint, write letters, or any normal employment, and had not even the patience to try to put together a jig-saw puzzle. She missed Wendy and her other chums amongst the intermediates, and was almost tempted to wish herself back at school. Her piquant little face with this new _triste_ aspect was a sorry spectacle, and Mrs. Fleming watched her uneasily.
"I hope the child isn"t going to be home-sick," she said to herself. "I shall be sorry we took her in if we can"t make her happy."
It was evident that something must be done, and something beyond the ordinary resources of books and dissected puzzles. Mrs. Fleming cudgelled her brains. Her few days" acquaintance with her young visitor had taught her that Diana needed judicious handling. It was no use making palpable efforts to interest her. In her pixie moods she seemed almost to resent it.
"I believe the secret of Diana is to switch her thoughts off herself on to other people," ruminated Mrs. Fleming. "Instead of trying so hard to amuse her, I shall ask _her_ to amuse _us_."
She waited till her guest, who had taken an aimless prowl round the house, returned once more like a wandering will-o"-the-wisp to the dining-room, then she tackled her.
"Diana, I want you to do something very kind. I"m in low spirits to-day, and feeling as stupid as an owl. I believe we all are--Meg and Elsie, and the boys, and even the Vicar! I"d give anything for something to buoy me up and to look forward to. Suppose, after tea, we were to make a circle round the fire and tell stories--really jolly stories that we"d prepared beforehand. We"d each take the rest of the day to think them out. If possible, they must be personal experiences; things that have actually happened to ourselves. You must have had adventures in America, I"m sure, that would interest us immensely. I"m just longing to hear about your life out there. Can"t you write down a few notes, and give us a really good yarn? You"ve no idea how much I"d enjoy it."
Diana stopped whistling, and stood with her mouth screwed into a b.u.t.ton.
Her grey eyes were fixed on Mrs. Fleming speculatively.
"I didn"t know grown-up ladies ever got bored stiff!" she remarked at last.
"They do horribly sometimes; indeed the more middle-aged they are the more they need cheering up, I think. They don"t like "getting on in years"."
"I guess you want me to act jester."
"That"s exactly the role I"d like to a.s.sign to you."
The twinkle was slowly coming back to Diana"s eyes, and the dimples to the corners of her mouth. The effect was like sunshine bursting through a rain-cloud.
"I guess I"ll try if I can remember anything to startle you, if you"re out for sensations. It"s a kind of literary society, isn"t it? Can you lend me a pencil, please, and some waste paper? I don"t know what I"ve done with my blotter. Thanks! Now I"m going right up to my bedroom to sort of ruminate."
Mrs. Fleming"s prescription for low spirits acted like a charm. Diana spent most of the rest of the day scribbling. She came down to tea looking quite elated. The others tried to question her, but she refused to be drawn. "Wait and see!" was all she would vouchsafe.
[Ill.u.s.tration: WE SET OFF AND RODE ALL THE MORNING]
It was cosy in the drawing-room when the family collected and made a circle round the log-fire. By unanimous vote Diana"s story was given first innings, and, seated in a basket-chair near the lamp, she opened her ma.n.u.script.
"I thought I"d rather read it than tell it, if you don"t mind," she said. "I"m a duffer sometimes at telling things. Before I start off, though, I"d best explain who folks are, or you won"t understand. Uncle Carr Clifford had a ranch in New Mexico, and I used to go and stay there months. They always kept a special pony for me to ride. Her name was Darkie, and she was just a peach. I used nearly to live on her back.
Lenox, my cousin, would take me all round the ranch. I"d great times.
Well, it was when I was staying at Buller"s Creek (that was Uncle Carr"s ranch) that this happened. Have I made it clear?"