Why doesnt Cousin Gervase list for a soldier? Osy had asked one day as he sat by Sir Giles. Why should he list for a soldier? asked the old gentleman; though Dunning grew pale, and Lady Piercey looked up with a sharp Eh? not knowing what treason was to follow. Dunning knew what had been said on that subject in the servants hall, and divined that the child had heard and would state his authorities without hesitation. Because said Osy but then he made a pause his mothers eye was upon him, and, perhaps, though he had not the least idea what she feared and probably in childish defiance would have done that precisely had he known, yet this glance did give him pause; and he remembered that he had been told not to repeat what the servants said. The processes in a childs mind are no less swift than those of a more calculating age. Because, said the boy, lingering, beginning to enjoy the suspense on all these faces, because it would make his back straight. Mamma says my backs straight because the sergeant drilled me when I was a lickle, lickle boy.
And the dear child is as straight as a rush, my lady, said Parsons, who was, as so often, arranging Lady Pierceys work. She, too, was grateful beyond measure to little Osy for not repeating the talk of the servants hall.
And what are you now, Osy, cried Sir Giles, with a great laugh, if youre no longer a lickle, lickle boy?
Im the king of the castle, said Osy, tilting at Dunning with the old gentlemans stick. Bedone, you dirty rascal; lets play at you being the castle, Uncle Giles, and Ill drive off the enemy. Bedone, you dirty rascal; det away from my castle. Ill be the sentry on the walls, said the child, marching round and round with the stick over his shoulder for a gun, and Ill call out Who does there? and Whats the word and Ill drive off all the enemy. But there must be a flag flying. He called it a flap, but that did not matter. Mamma, fix a flap upon my big tower. Here, he cried, producing from his little pocket a crumpled rag of uncertain colour, this hankechif will do.
But thats a flag of truce, Osy; are you going to give me up then? said the old gentleman.
Well not have no flaps of truce, said Osy, seizing Sir Giles red bandana, for I means fightin and they shant come near you, but over my body. Here! Tome on, you enemy! Osys thrusts at Dunning, who retreated outside a wider and a wider circle as the little soldier made his rounds, amused the old gentleman beyond measure. He laughed till, which was not very difficult, the water came to his eyes.
I do believe that mite would stand up for his old uncle if there was any occasion, said Sir Giles, nodding his old head across at his wife, and trying in vain to recover the bandana to dry his old eyes.
These were the sort of games that went on in the afternoon, especially in winter, when the hours were long between lunch and tea. When the weather was fine, Osy marched by Sir Giles garden chair, and made him the confidant of all his wonderings. What do the leaves fall off for, and where do they tome from when they tome again? Does gardener go to the market to buy the new ones like mamma goes to buy clothes for me? How do the snowdrops know when its time to come up out of the told, told ground? Fortunately, he had so many things to ask that he seldom paused for an answer. Sir Giles laid up these questions in his heart, and reported them to my lady. He asked me to-day if it hurt the field when the farmers ploughed it up? I declare I never thought how strange things were before, and the posers
that little un asks me! cried the old man. Lady Piercey smiled with a superior certainty, based upon Mangnalls Questions and other instructive works, that she was not so easily posed by Osy. She had instructed him as to where tea and coffee came from, and taught him to say, Thank you, pretty cow, thus accounting for his breakfast to the inquisitive intelligence. But there was one thing that brought a spasm to Lady Pierceys face, especially when, as now and then happened, she hid the little truant from his mother, and saved Osy from a scolding, as he nestled down amid her voluminous skirts and lifted up a smiling, rosy little face, in great enjoyment of the joke and the hiding place. Sometimes as she laid her hand upon his curly head with that sensation of half-malicious delight in coming between the little sinner and his natural governor, which is common to the grand-parent, there would come a sudden contraction to her face, and a bitter salt tear would spring to her eye. If Gervase had a child like that to be his fathers heir! Why was not that delightful child the child of Gervase, instead of being born to those who had nothing to give him? It was upon Margaret, who had not a penny, that this immeasurable gift was bestowed. And no woman that could be the mother of such a boy would ever marry Gervase! Oh! no, no a barmaid, to give him a vulgar brat, who, perhaps . But the thoughts of angry love and longing are not to be put into words.