Girls were creatures outside my circle of experience. Indeed, so little did I know of them that I wasn't even bashful at this sudden apparition. I returned stare for stare, taking very precise notice of the little figure before me. The round dark eyes, the disordered locks, the curving lips, full and red, the slightly tilted nose, the freckles about the brow, all spoke of qualities I could well appreciate. Here was a spirit to match my own, if the signs weren't false. Here was a courage, a wildness, a passion. And that ringing cry of "Daddy, daddy!" awoke echoes in my own heart. I knew at once that I had found a companion; nor did I share that contempt for girls which I have since found is so usual with boys, perhaps because I was ignorant of the tactics of sisters so well calculated to move brothers to disgust and misappreciation of the whole sex. Indeed I hardly said to myself: This is a girl. All I thought was: Here is a companion; we shall be able to play together. And her name was Jenny. I moved my lips as though to speak it. I thought I liked it. It was a name one could shout or whisper. It had a familiar, everyday sound; yet wasn't weak or faded or colourless.
She turned suddenly away from me, and I found myself wiping my hand across my lips. She looked up at her father and said, "You've brought him, daddy? He's for me?"
At that I opened my eyes, and her father laughed.
Jenny turned to me and said, "Daddy told me you would come soon. You're to play with me." Then she added, "I like you."
All this was a puzzle to me, and I looked to her father for some explanation; but he was still chuckling with amusement. It was Jenny who gave me a clue to the mystery.
"I haven't got a brother," she said. "I want you to play with me. Daddy promised."
"We'll play hide-and-seek," I answered.
"I'll go and hide," she cried, darting away. But she came racing back to ask my name.
"Tommy," I said.
"Tommy," she repeated, as though asking herself whether it would do. "Yes," she nodded, as it might be in approval, and was off again.
I turned my face to the wall and began to count. I heard Jenny's father move away.
"Sir," I cried, "how many?"
"How many?" he repeated.
"How many must I count," I explained.
"Never mind how many," he answered with a little laugh, "but mind you catch her."
"Oh, I'll catch her," I asserted confidently.
"Don't you be too sure," he said, still amused at some jest which escaped me. "She's slippery."
"I'll hold her tight," I declared.
At that he went, still chuckling a little to himself; and I started on my quest, little realizing the significance of that first step in the pursuit of Jenny.
I can't tell you all the turns of the game, but I found Jenny worthy of my mettle. She was a wild little thing, and rather than be caught would race away like a whisk of wind, and I would see her perched on some dizzy edge of ruin where my weight wouldn't allow me to follow. Then she would laugh in shrill delight, and seeing me baffled would come lightly slipping down to me and say, "You were beaten? Say yes."
But I would say no, not considering her manœuvre strictly fair.
Then she would stamp her foot and cry, "But you were beaten. You must say yes."
"Yes, then," I would mumble.
But this wouldn't satisfy her. My submission must be whole-hearted. And when at length she had wrung a full surrender from me she would throw her arms round my neck and eagerly kiss me. And looking back now I can't understand my reluctance to own defeat knowing the reward that awaited my acknowledgment.
Still the sweetness of the kiss didn't efface the bitterness of being beaten at my own game. So once when I saw her daintily stealing out along a narrow and crumbling wall I decided I wouldn't yield so easily. I climbed along after her, and although I felt the whole thing sway beneath me, and here and there a loosened stone slipped from under my knees and rattled to the ground, I persisted; till even Jenny began to grow alarmed, and cried to me not to come any farther.
I stopped and delivered my ultimatum: "Then own you're beaten."
"No, no, no," she cried, almost in anger. So I advanced.
Three times she called to me to stop, but I was determined not to unless she acknowledged defeat. But she screamed her refusal at me, and I smiled, feeling the joy of revenge. She had already broken my will more than once making me confess to being vanquished; now it was my turn.
The crazy wall still swayed beneath me, and Jenny crept out to the very last stone, which looked as though it might slip from under her at any moment. I pressed along the narrow edge towards her, and at last reaching out my hand would have touched her, but somehow she managed to draw away from me by yet another inch. I strained out; and something gave. I slipped and clutched; my eyes were full of dust; and there was a pain at my head. I found myself clinging to a crevice by my finger-tips, and above me I saw Jenny on her stone slowly slipping out from the wall. In a moment she would have fallen. I swung myself beneath her, and caught her in one arm: and then everything was dust and toppling stones, and a sudden jolt of all my body.
I scrambled out from the broken stuffs about me, and shook myself, glad to find my limbs undamaged; and Jenny who had fallen on top of me was saying, "Your head, Tommy; your head."
I put my hand up to my brow, realizing that everything was beginning to look dark about me. But Jenny had pulled out her kerchief and was dabbing at my forehead.
"I caught you," I said.
"Yes," she answered, still ministering to me.
"You own it," I pressed her.
"Yes," she again replied. And at that I repaid her in her own coin, putting my arms about her and kissing her.
She took it meekly enough, but said, "But you were, oh, so silly."
I laughed, but she continued, more gravely than I had yet heard her speak, "It'll always be there. Just under your hair. A big cut."
"Nothing," I said. And when the bleeding was staunched I suggested resuming the game. But Jenny looked about her and said it was growing dark, and suddenly added, "And I'm, oh, so hungry." She laid her hands shamelessly upon the empty member that was demanding nourishment, looking me straight in the eyes as though this was a serious matter.
"I'm hungry too," I said, suddenly realizing that my whole body was crying imperiously for food. So together we went into the house and found Jenny's father waiting for us, and some savoury soup steaming on the table.
We said not a word, but sat down in our places and lapped up the comforting broth with unctuous smackings, leaning back at the same moment with a profound sigh of relish....
Too soon came the hour of parting. As I said good-bye the vision of what awaited me at school began to take form in my mind.
"You'll come to-morrow," said Jenny.
But I knew that on the morrow I should be expiating the offence of to-day, so I answered rather sadly, "No, not to-morrow."
"But you must," she said.
"But I can't," I answered.
"Why not?" she demanded.
But how could I tell her of the punishment that awaited me?
"I can't tell you," I said.
"You must tell me, you must," she cried fiercely, stamping her foot.
"I can't, Jenny," I said again.
She looked at me a moment and asked, "Is it because I hurt you?"
"You didn't hurt me," I answered.
"Yes, I did," she declared, "and that's why you won't come."
"No, you didn't," I contradicted her, "and that isn't why I won't come."
"Then why, Tommy?" she asked, with a sudden change to a soft coaxing tone.
"I can't tell you," was all I could say, feeling very stupid.
Again she stamped, and said, "Then I won't kiss you."
"I'm sorry," I said, and turned to go.
But she sprang after me and cried, "Oh, Tommy, do tell me."
At this I turned and fled, shouting, "I can't, I can't."
I ran down the path to the gate, and came face to face with Jenny's father. He had evidently been waiting for me. He caught me in his tight grip, and looking sternly at me said, "Remember, it's the ghost that cries at night-time."
"Yes," I answered, "the ghost. I know. I've heard it."
"And seen it," he went on.
"And seen it," I admitted.
"Very well, very well," he patted me on the shoulder, and as I bade him good night and turned to go he added, "And if anyone wants to know who the new tenant is, remember it's Field: Captain Field."
"You are a captain?" I cried.
"How do you mean?" he demanded with a swift return to his fiercer manner.
"Why," I replied, "I like captains. You'll tell me stories."
"Stories! Ha, yes, stories enough for a lifetime," he ejaculated; and I ran on my way.
But I hadn't gone far before my run slackened to a walk, and then to a dawdle; for the prospect ahead of me wasn't alluring, and an idea was taking shape in my mind. If I returned and delivered myself up to authority I didn't know when I should be able to break from captivity again. And the thought of being separated from Jenny wasn't to be borne. I didn't remember having so thoroughly enjoyed myself since my father had left me. And then, too, there was the knowledge that she wanted me to return. She had dismissed me in anger because I hadn't promised to come back to her the next day. Well, somehow I must accomplish what I couldn't promise, and so appease her wrath.
I sat down by the road-side on a great pile of stones. I wanted to think. The obvious plan to follow was not to return to school. But where could I pass the night? Though spring was well on its way the night was a cold one, and I didn't relish the thought of spending it in the open. Perhaps I could return and find some corner in the ruin where I could at least shelter from the night air.
I looked back at the house. I hadn't left it far behind. A light was glowing faintly in a window facing me. I began to wonder which room that could be; and then I knew. On the other side was the room my father and I had used, and on this side I remembered was another large bedroom with a great four-post bed. It was a room I had climbed to, for the ivy grew thickly beneath it. I supposed Abou was sleeping there. Then suddenly I told myself that Abou would be sleeping in my old room, for I knew Captain Field was in the secret room above, and somehow it seemed to me that Abou would be near him. From what I remembered of that calm and patient voice, Abou must be very necessary to his master with those strange sudden ways of his which already I had had a glimpse of.
Then who was sleeping in that room? Why, of course....
But just then I heard some one coming along the road by the way I had already come. With my instinct for concealment I crept behind a pile of stones till he should pass; but I wasn't relieved to hear him make towards me and seat himself on the heap. I had had a glimpse of him as he approached through the dark. All I had seen was that he was carrying a short stout stick.
It was some little time before he rose again and moved on; and meanwhile I had heard shufflings and tuggings and whispered oaths as though some difficult or painful operation was in progress, but I didn't dare peer above the stones to investigate. But when at last the fellow got up to go I did peep after him, and was startled to see what had been a two-legged man hobble away with one leg transformed to a wooden stump below the knee. I rubbed my eyes and gazed after him as he melted into the night. But the change was no mere illusion. I could hear the clop of his wooden leg on the hard road.
For a while I sat there wondering what it could mean, till stories of impostors who feigned blindness and lameness came into my mind. I told myself it was some sham beggar, and turned my thoughts to my own case. Again I looked towards Sunset Towers; but the light had gone from the window. Only a looming black shadow shutting out a patch of the sky told me where the great mansion stood.
I got up slowly, and still uncertain what to do made my way back to the old house. Without thinking I wandered round to the side where I had seen the light, and found myself looking up at the window. And then I started to climb.
I was soon on the sill peering into the room, but couldn't distinguish anything through the blackness. I wondered whether I had better descend again before I was seen, but something held me there in spite of myself. And while I crouched I thought I heard a faint muffled cry echo through the house, but though I strained my ears I didn't hear it again. Then it seemed to me that it must be terrible for Jenny to be alone there, with the sobs and moans I knew from of old haunting the night-time, startling one from sleep with a strange sense of unseen things flitting and hovering in the gloom. I tapped at the window, and said softly, "Jenny, Jenny!"
She didn't hear me. Perhaps she was asleep. I tapped again, and a third time. Then I drew back and nearly fell, for I suddenly became aware of a white figure on the other side of the glass with face pressed to the pane. I had never before seen anything quite so ghost-like. But I recovered myself immediately, for it was Jenny herself. I hadn't heard her noiseless passage across the room.
I spoke her name again.
She opened the window and let me in, shutting it behind me.
"Have you come to tell me why?" she asked.
"I've come to stay," I answered, adding rather paradoxically, "If I don't go away I can come back."
She didn't notice the paradox, but took my meaning.
"Yes," she said; and then, "It's cold." She slipped back into the great bed, where I could dimly see her little figure like a tiny mound in a wide plain.
I jumped on to the bed and lay at her feet. "I'll stay here," I said. She sat up and turned down the coverlet, telling me to wrap it round me.
I curled myself into it, pulling it up tight under my chin, and soon began to glow warmly.
And then again I heard that cry. It wasn't like the cries I had heard before. It was wilder and more ringing, not so sad and plaintive.
Jenny asked, "Did you hear that?"
"It's the wind," I answered.
"There's no wind," she said.
I lay and said nothing, not wishing to frighten her with stories of ghosts.
Presently I heard her call me: "Tommy!"
"Yes," I answered.
"I think it's daddy."
"No," I contradicted her with emphasis.
"I think it is."
"Jenny it's--it's a ghost," I declared, remembering my instructions.
"No, it's daddy," she asserted again. "I've often heard him. There's a bad man who comes and frightens him; then he shouts like that."
I sent out a flying thought to Dirk and his vow of vengeance. Could it be possible that Jenny's father was the King's Man?
"Jenny," I said, "I tell you it's a ghost. I've heard it before. I've seen it." And to take her mind from her father I told her a jumbled-up story, part true, part imaginary, of how once I thought I had heard my friend calling to me in the night, and had risen, and had been led I knew not where, and had found a skeleton in the darkness; and it was the ghost of the skeleton that had been calling me all the time. I ended: "They call as though it's somebody you know. Then you want to get up and go to them, and then they catch you."
Jenny lay quiet for a minute, then said, "Tommy, that's a lovely story. Tell me another."
I was immensely relieved to realize that she didn't believe me, for as I finished the tale it came to me with a flash of fear that she might want to know how it was I had ever lived in the house.
"To-morrow," I answered her, for I was weary.
I expected her to insist in her imperious way on another recital then and there, but she said, "I'm tired, Tommy. Good night."
"Good night," I returned, and was soon asleep.
I awoke early, and crept out of my cover. Jenny was still sleeping. I threw her a look; then crossed to the window, and climbed down.
When I arrived on the scene for breakfast the Captain was somewhat surprised to see me. "Back again?" he cried.
I looked at Jenny and answered, "I'm not going to school any more."
The Captain laughed uproariously; but Jenny said, "You'll stay at school with me. Daddy'll teach us."
I thought then that school had prospects of interest for a boy.
