"I thought a friend of ours was considered stupid," he said.
"People can do very well when they like," Mrs. Caldwell answered tartly; "but they"re too lazy to try. When did you learn that, Beth?"
"I didn"t learn it," Beth answered.
"Then how do you know it?"
"It just came to me," Beth said.
"Then I wish your lessons would _just come_ to you."
"I wish they would," said Beth sincerely.
Mrs. Caldwell snapped out something about idleness and obstinacy, and left the room. The day was darkening down, and presently Captain Caldwell got up, lit a lamp at the sideboard, and set it on the dining-table. When he had done so, he took Beth, and set her on the table too. Beth stood up on it, laughing, and put her arm round his neck.
"Look at us, papa!" she exclaimed, pointing at the window opposite.
The blinds were up, and it was dark enough outside for them to see themselves reflected in the gla.s.s.
"I think we make a pretty picture, Beth," her father said, putting his arm round her.
He had scarcely spoken, when there came a terrific report and a crash; something whizzed close to Beth"s head; and a shower of gla.s.s fell on the floor. In a moment Beth had wriggled out of her father"s arm, slid from the table, and scrambled up on to the window-seat, scattering the flower-pots, and slapping at her father"s hand in her excitement, when he tried to stop her.
"It"s Bap-faced Flanagan--or Tony-kill-the-cow," she cried. "I can see--O papa! why did you pull me back? Now I shall never know!"
The servants had rushed in from the kitchen, and Mrs. Caldwell came flying downstairs.
"What is it, Henry?" she cried.
"The d----d scoundrels shot at me with the child in my arms," he answered, looking in his indignation singularly like Beth herself in a stormy mood. As he spoke he turned to the hall door, and walked out into the street bareheaded.
"For the love of the Lord, sir," Riley remonstrated, keeping well out of the way himself.
But Captain Caldwell walked off down the middle of the road alone deliberately to the police station, his wife standing meanwhile on the doorstep, with the light behind her, coolly awaiting his return.
"Pull down the blind in the sitting-room, Riley, and keep Miss Beth there," was all she said.
Presently Captain Caldwell returned with a police-officer and two men.
They immediately began to search the room. The gla.s.s of a picture had been shattered at the far end. Riley pulled the picture to one side, and discovered something imbedded in the wall behind, which he picked out with his pocket-knife and brought to the light. It looked like a disc all bent out of shape. He turned it every way, examining it, then tried it with his teeth.
"I thought so," he said significantly. "It wouldn"t be yer honour they"d be afther wid a silver bullet. I heard her tell "em herself to try one."
"And I said if they missed they"d be d.a.m.ned," Beth exclaimed triumphantly.
"Beth!" cried her mother, seizing her by the arm to shake her, "how dare you use such a word?"
"I heard it in church," said Beth, in an injured tone.
"Look here, Beth," said her father, rescuing her from her mother"s clutches, and setting her on the table--he had been talking aside with the police officer--"I want you to promise something on your word of honour as a lady, just to please me."
Beth"s countenance dropped: "O papa!" she exclaimed, "it"s something I don"t want to promise."
"Well, never mind that, Beth," he answered. "Just promise this one thing to please me. If you don"t, the people will try and kill you."
"I don"t mind that," said Beth.
"But I do--and your mother does."
Beth gave her mother a look of such utter astonishment, that the poor lady turned crimson.
"And perhaps they"ll kill me too," Captain Caldwell resumed. "You see they nearly did to-night."
This was a veritable inspiration. Beth turned pale, and gasped: "I promise!"
"Not so fast," her father said. "Never promise anything till you hear what it is. But now, promise you won"t say bad luck to any of the people again."
"I promise," Beth repeated; "but"--she slid from the table, and nodded emphatically--"but when I shake my fist and stamp my foot at them it"ll mean the same thing."
It was found next morning that Bap-faced Flanagan and Tony-kill-the-cow had disappeared from the township; but Murphy remained; and Beth was not allowed to go out alone again for a long time, not even into the garden.
All she knew about it herself, however, was, that she had always either a policeman or a coastguardsman to talk to, which added very much to her pleasure in life, and also to Anne"s.
CHAPTER IX
One of the interests of Captain Caldwell"s life was his garden. He spent long hours in cultivating it, and that summer his vegetables, fruits, and flowers had been the wonder of the neighbourhood. But now autumn had come, vegetables were dug, fruits gathered, flowers bedraggled; and there was little to be done but clear the beds, plant them with bulbs, and prepare them for the spring.
Now that Captain Caldwell had made Beth"s acquaintance, he liked to have her with him to help him when he was at work in the garden, and there was nothing that she loved so much.
One day they were at work together on a large flower-bed. Her father was tr.i.m.m.i.n.g some rose-bushes, and she was kneeling beside him on a little mat, weeding.
"I"m glad I"m not a flower," she suddenly exclaimed, after a long silence.
"Why, Beth, flowers are very beautiful."
"Yes, but they last so short a time. I"d rather be less beautiful, and live longer. What"s your favourite flower, papa?"
She had stopped weeding for the moment, but still sat on the mat, looking up at him. Captain Caldwell clipped a little more, then stopped too, and looked down at her.
"I don"t get a separate pleasure from any particular flower, Beth; they all delight me," he answered.
Beth pondered upon this for a little, then she asked, "Do you know which I like best? Hot primroses." Captain Caldwell raised his eyebrows interrogatively. "When you pick them in the sun, and put them against your cheek, they"re all warm, you know," Beth explained; "and then they _are_ good! And fuchsias are good too, but it isn"t the same good. You know that one in the sitting-room window, white outside and salmon-coloured inside, and such a nice shape--the flowers--and the way they hang down; you have to lift them to look into them. When I look at them long, they make me feel--oh--feel, you know--feel that I could take the whole plant in my arms and hug it. But fuchsias don"t scent sweet like hot primroses."
"And therefore they are not so good?" her father suggested, greatly interested in the child"s attempt to express herself. "They say that the scent is the soul of the flower."
"The scent is the soul of the flower," Beth repeated several times; then heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. "I want to sing it," she said. "I always want to sing things like that."