A Guinea-Pig Story.

CHAPTER I.

On a sloping lawn, before an old-fashioned, rambling house, Bobbie and Jerry were playing at nine-pins on a hot day in August.

Under the shade of a cedar tree the under-nurse sat working; and “Aunt Lucy” an old lady with snow-white hair, crowned by a black mushroom hat was slowly pacing the gravel walk, digging out a weed here and there with a long spud she carried for the purpose.

Jerry was only playing nine-pins because Bobbie was so fond of them. She did not care for them herself, for she thought that as she was ten years old they were too babyish, but Bobbie was only eight, so of course it was not to be expected of him that he would care for “grown-up” things.

There was a pleasant buzzing in the air, as old Jeptha Funnel led the donkey in the mowing machine, up and down the wide lawn, pausing every now and then to exchange a few words with the children.

“When are you a-coming to tea with us, Master Bobbie, and Missy?” he enquired, stopping to fan his heated face with a red pocket-handkerchief. “James Seton’s got some guinea-pigs that he talks of bringing over for you to see, any day as you’ll fix upon.”

“Oh, that is nice. I do so long to have another!” cried Bobbie rapturously. “I only want three-halfpence-farthing more, and I shall have enough in my money-box to pay for it. Will James wait till Friday?”

“Of course he will, Master Bobbie; don’t you worry your head about that.”

“Well, it’s an extraordinary thing, Jeptha, but you can’t think how I’ve been saving, and saving, and saving for that guinea-pig; and it seems as if I never should have enough,” said Bobbie confidentially. “I saved up for ’Funnel’ the one that’s called after you, you know in no time; but we were up in Scotland then, and there wasn’t hardly any shops that I could spend my money in.”

“Things always do seem a long time a-coming when you’re longing for them, so to speak, day and night, sir.”

“Yes, it’s quite true that ‘a watch-pocket never boils,’” said Bobbie. “I shall leave off rattling the money-box, and try and forget all about it till Friday.”

“You’re right there, sir,” said Jeptha, not noticing the new rendering of the proverb, for he was as fond of long words and sentences as Bobbie himself; “you come right up to the cottage on Friday, along of nurse and Miss Jerry. The missus ’ll have tea for you, and I’ll see that Jim brings the guinea-pigs.”

“Does James Seton know anything about cats?” enquired Jerry eagerly. “You know they’re my favourite animals just like guinea-pigs are Bobbie’s and I do want to get some new recipes for my cat-book!”

“Why whatever is a cat-book, Miss Jerry?” asked Jeptha curiously.

“Don’t you know, Jeptha? I write down all sorts of cures for cats, and what they ought to eat; and several times it’s been very useful to Miss Meadows and Maria.”

“I can’t say I know much about the subject, Miss Jerry, nor I don’t think Jim doesn’t, neither, never having made a study of it, as you may say. Miss Meadders is the tabby cat, ain’t she? A very fine cat I call her.”

“Yes; I made a portrait of her and Maria, to send to mamma out in India, and Bobbie made a picture of Funnel (not you, you know). She liked them so much. Shall I tell you why Bobbie is so interested in guinea-pigs?” continued Jerry, taking the old man’s hand, and speaking in a mysterious whisper.

“You know Jack belongs to the ‘Cavey Club’ at school, where all the boys must keep guinea-pigs; and he wrote Bobbie a letter last term with a picture of a guinea-pig on the flap of the envelope, and ’Where is it?’ written where the tail ought to be. Ever since then Bobbie has been mad after guinea-pigs.”

“Yes, I can remember Master Jack a-walking in here with ten of ’em,” said Jeptha, “and keepin’ ’em in the lumber room in houses made out of cigar-boxes.”

“Oh, but Aunt Lucy found it out, and wouldn’t allow it,” said Jerry. “They all had to be taken out to the stable yard again.”

“I must own I think on that occasion yer Aunt was reasonable, Miss Jerry; a guinea-pig don’t seem a kind of a domestic indoor animal like a cat, for instance.”

“Will you have mufflings and crumfits for tea, do you think, when we come?” enquired Bobbie, after a thoughtful pause. “Excuse me asking you, but I do like them so very much.”

“Oh, Bobbie, you shouldn’t say that!” cried Jerry, reprovingly; “it’s very impolite. Aunt Lucy would be quite horrified!”

“Well, I don’t mean anything rude,” said Bobbie. “I do like them, and I can’t help it. I can’t see why it’s any more rude than if I said I liked guinea-pigs.”

CHAPTER II.

The next day was a very wet one; and Aunt Lucy, coming up into the schoolroom in the morning as she invariably did, even during the holidays saw a most extraordinary collection of baskets standing on the floor, in front of a small fire of sticks blazing away in the fireplace.

There was a large covered market basket, a fish bag with a skewer through the top, and a small japanese basket, with a lid which was kept in place by the poker and tongs laid carefully over it.

The baskets were all occasionally agitated from within; and Aunt Lucy found on enquiry that they contained the guinea-pig family, who having been flooded out of their usual quarters by the rain, had been brought in to a fire by Bobbie to be dried!

“I really object to these animals in the house!” said Aunt Lucy, trying to be severe; but Bobbie’s face was so pathetic, she did not order them to be taken out at once, as she had at first intended.

“As soon as they are dry you must move them away, Bobbie,” she continued; “I have had quite enough trouble with Jack’s. I can’t have the house turned into a menagerie.”

“Really, Aunt Lucy, you needn’t mind Habbakuk and Funnel they are so very well behaved. I have been debillerating whether I ought to bring in Pompey, because his hair streams out but he did look so cold and mis’rable, I thought you wouldn’t objec’.”

At this moment a housemaid came up to say there were visitors in the drawing-room.

“It is your two uncles from India,” said Aunt Lucy, taking Bobbie’s reluctant hand. “They have come on purpose to see you, so you must leave the guinea-pigs for a minute Jerry can stay with them, and come down as soon as you return.”

Bobbie departed groaning, while the under-nurse good-naturedly made up the fire, and began to dry the guinea-pigs with an old duster.

In a few minutes Bobbie returned, his fat round face red with the exertion of scrambling upstairs, his brown eyes sparkling.

“What are they like?” enquired Jerry, who was not fond of visitors, as Anne brushed at her curly hair, and tried in vain to flatten it to the nursery regulation of smoothness.

“Oh, two middle-aged, light gentlemen,” replied Bobbie carelessly. “One gave me a shilling to buy a guinea-pig, so now I’m quite safe in telling James to bring them on Friday.” And Bobbie seated himself before the fire with Habbakuk and Funnel on his knees, and rubbed away at them vigorously.

Jerry retired downstairs, but reappeared in a very short time rushing into the room again like a whirlwind.

“What do you think the uncles have promised us, Bobbie?” she cried excitedly; “guess the most beautifullest thing you can possibly think of!”

“Guin ” commenced Bobbie, and checked himself hastily.

“Certainly not!” said Jerry, with decision. “I said I must run up and tell you, you’d be so wild with joy; it begins with a ’P’ but it isn’t ‘pig.’ Now guess again.”

“Prawns, p’rambulators, prongs, pastry,” commenced Bobbie rapidly. “Well, none of those are very nice except pastry. I can’t think of anything more, Jerry, you must tell me.”

“Pantomime!” said Jerry, triumphantly; “next Saturday! what do you say to that?”

Bobbie’s eyes twinkled. “With preserved seats, like we had last time! Oh, splendid!” and he began to caper about the room with delight.

“Well, this has been a day!” he exclaimed, as he sank down, quite exhausted. “What a lot for my diary! I’d better write it out at once, before I forget it.”

A large book, interleaved with blotting-paper, was disinterred from the play-box, and Bobbie sat down before it solemnly.

The greater part of this book was filled with minute accounts of what time its owner got up, and went to bed, what pudding he had for dinner, and what lessons he learnt; but on this occasion the entry assumed such large proportions that it spread right over the next day, and was wandering into “Friday,” when Bobbie suddenly remembered the tea-party, and that room must certainly be left for that!

Jerry, looking over his shoulder, when he had finished, read the following, adorned with many blots and smudges:

“Had sutch a da lite gentlemen who turnered into Unkels (’You mean, “turned out to be uncles,"’ corrected Jerry) came And gave me 1 shiling for the brown ginny-pig I acepted with thanks they are goin to tak us Jerry and me to the pantermine and tea at Mrs. Funnels on Fryday (not the Unkels but nurs).

“P.S. Plenty mor to say but no rume. cant put the puding to-day.”

CHAPTER III.

One of Bobbie’s and Jerry’s greatest treats was to have tea at the cottage on the edge of the park, where old Mrs. Funnel presided over a table covered with cakes and home-made delicacies.

She always liked them to appear in good time; so punctually at four o’clock on Friday, the invited tea-party consisting of “Old Nurse,” in a crackling black silk, Jerry in spotless frilled cotton, and Bobbie in a white sailor’s suit, bristling with starch and pearl buttons made their way through the little garden of the Funnels’ house, and rapped importantly on the door with the end of nurse’s umbrella.

Mrs. Funnel, who had been awaiting the summons, welcomed them heartily; and Bobbie was relieved to see on taking a cursory glance at the table that besides the usual array of good things, there was a covered dish, which meant, as he knew by experience muffins.

Jeptha, in his Sunday coat, with a red geranium in his button-hole, looked cheerfully conscious of his own splendour; and his wife’s little wrinkled face beamed with kindness and hospitality.

“Jim can’t get away yet, I’m sorry to say,” she said, “but he’ll be in afterwards. Sit down, all of you, please. Draw up to the table, ma’am!”

Bobbie deposited his dog-skin gloves carefully in his hat, and seated himself solemnly, trying to keep his eyes off the plum cake, for the sake of good manners.

“This bread’s a bit heavy, mother!” remarked Jeptha, grappling with a large loaf in the centre of the table.

“I don’t know how that can be,” replied Mrs. Funnel cheerfully. “It rose enough.”

“Then it must ha’ sat down again!” said Jeptha. “It’s that worritting oven, ma’am” turning to nurse; “I assure you we do have a time with it sometimes.”

The tea began merrily, and just in the middle of it the door opened, and James Seton’s sunburnt face looked in. He carried a basket which Bobbie pounced upon eagerly, for he knew it contained the long-expected guinea-pigs.

Behind Jim stood a little woe-begone creature in a ragged dress, her head covered by a large crumpled sun-bonnet. The tears were rolling down her face, and in her hand she held the bottom of a broken glass medicine bottle.

“Look here, grandmother,” said Jim, “I picked up this unfort’net little mortal just outside the Lodge gates. She’d been into town to buy some lotion for her sick mother, and she went and fell up against a stone, and smashed her bottle; and now she’s in a terrible state of mind about it.”

The little girl was still crying bitterly; and Bobbie, who was very tender-hearted, furtively wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and looked hard out of the window.

“Sit you down, child, and have some tea. You’re fair worn out with misery,” said Mrs. Funnel kindly. “After that we’ll think of what’s to be done. How much did the medicine cost, child?”

“Two shillings,” said the child, with a fresh burst of sobbing.

Bobbie discovered, to his great annoyance, that two large tears had fallen down his own cheeks out of sympathy; and at the same moment he seemed to feel his little wash-leather purse growing so large, that he almost fancied in another moment it would burst out of his pocket.

Exactly two shillings were in it the price of the bottle of lotion, or of two of Jim’s guinea-pigs! Which should it be?

“If only I hadn’t bought Maria’s collar last Monday, I could have got you a bottle easily,” cried Jerry, in great distress. “I’ve only twopence-halfpenny left, but do take it. Oh, you poor little girl, I am so sorry for you!”

Bobbie felt very guilty, and his money seemed to weigh upon him like lead. He watched the attractive brown guinea-pigs who had been let out of their basket gambol about the parlour. His mind was a chaos.

Suddenly he snatched out his purse, and thrust the two shillings into the little girl’s hand, before she could say anything.

“Get the medicine, please,” he said, in a gruff voice. “I don’t want the guinea-pigs, thank you, Jim.” And opening the door hurriedly, he darted off across the park towards home.

CHAPTER IV.

“I do think it was one of the goodest things I ever heard of,” said Jerry confidentially, as she drove with one of the “light gentlemen” to the pantomime.

She had just finished an account of Bobbie’s heroic sacrifice of the day before; and as Bobbie himself was following in a hansom cab, with the other uncle, it was quite safe to relate the whole story without fear of interruptions.

“He wanted those guinea-pigs dreadfully,” continued Jerry, “and he gave everything he had to the poor little girl. He cried horribly about it, though. He was literally roaring when we got back from Mrs. Funnel’s tea, though he went and hid himself so that we shouldn’t know; but nurse said his blouse was quite damp!”

“Shall we go round on our way back, and order Bobbie some new guinea-pigs, as a surprise?” asked Uncle Ronald, who had listened to the story with all the respectful sympathy expected of him.

Jerry gave a shriek of delight. “Oh, how lovely! May I choose? I know just his favourite colours.”

As Bobbie took his usual stroll into the stable yard on Monday morning, he was astonished to see Jeptha approaching him with a large box on a wheelbarrow.

“Summut for you, Master Bobbie. Come by rail; and there seems to be a deal of moving about and squeaking a-goin’ on inside!”

Bobbie unfastened the covers with feverish haste; and there was a hutch such as he had never even dreamt of, with a row of four little eager noses sticking out between the bars.

A label hanging to the wire said, “From the two light gentlemen.”

“Well now, Master Bobbie, if ever I saw the like of that!” cried Jeptha admiringly. “Why, they’re all a-sittin’ as comfortable as you please, in a kind of a Eastern palace.”

Bobbie, who was almost delirious with delight and excitement, ran in to fetch Jerry.

“Oh, Jerry, come out!” he cried. “The light gentlemen in a splendid blue cage with red stripes, come by train! And such guinea-pigs! Just the kind I wanted two long-hair. Oh, I do think this is the splendidest day of my life, and as long as I live I won’t never forget it!”