Mary: A Nursery Story for Very Little Children

Nurse had a holiday indeed! She began by pushing the new carriage herself, just to make sure that baby would not be frightened. But frightened – no, indeed; the little lady chuckled and crowed, and was as happy as could be. So then nurse let Leigh push it for a while, and then Artie, and then even Mary for a little bit, though not for very long, as, though it was beautifully light, it was tiring for her to stretch up her arms, and of course she was too small to see in front if the road was getting at all rough, or if there were stones or ruts to get out of the way of.

And then nurse told Emma, the under-nurse (I think I have forgotten to say that “Little Sarah” was not big enough to help with Dolly, so a new under-nurse had come), to push it for a while – not that Leigh and Artie were not most eager to do so, but nurse wanted to make sure that Emma pushed it carefully, for there are two ways of doing even such a simple thing as pushing a perambulator, though you might not think it. And Emma was rather a silly girl, though she was very good-natured.

“Now, we’se all pussed it except Fuzzy,” said Mary. She was dancing along holding nurse’s hand and feeling very happy and safe. For, to tell the truth, she was often a little frightened of the doggie knocking her over if she was walking along alone or with only Artie. “Poor Fuzzy!” Mary was always very affectionate to Fuzz when she felt herself well protected; “don’t you think, nursie, he’d like to puss it too? If Leigh made him walk like a bear,” – for walking like a bear was one of the tricks Leigh had taught Fuzz, – “on his two behind legs, and then put his two before legs on the pussing place; don’t you think he could do it a little, nursie dear? And then we’d all have took turns?”

Nursie laughed at Mary’s funny idea.

“I’m afraid Miss Dolly and the perambulator would soon all be in a heap on the road if Fuzzy was to have a try at pushing,” she said.

And Fuzz, who always seemed to know when they were talking of him, came close to nurse and looked up wistfully in her face with his bright sweet eyes as if he would say, “I’m rather afraid so too.”

Leigh gave him a pat.

“Pushing the p’rambulator,” he said. “No, indeed. You know something better than that; don’t you, Fuzz?”

And Fuzz wagged his tail as much as to say, “Yes, indeed; Leigh knows what I can do. But we’ll keep our secret.”

No one paid any attention to what Leigh said however; no one had any idea there was any secret to keep.

So the little party finished their walk very happily, and returned home greatly pleased with the new perambulator.

It was about a fortnight later that something happened which I must tell you about.

All this time Leigh kept on patiently with his training or “breaking-in” of Fuzz. Whenever he had a chance of getting off to the stables alone, for half an hour or so, he harnessed the dog to the remains of a cart that I told you of, and drove him up and down the paths. No one but the stablemen and the gardeners knew about it, and they only thought it was a fancy of the boy’s and never spoke about it.

And Leigh told nobody – not even Artie – of what he had got in his head.

He kept saying to himself he wanted to “surprise” them all, and that if he told Artie every one would be sure to hear of it.

“And I must manage to try it first without nurse fussing,” he thought. “She’d never believe it would do. She’s so stupid about some things.”

But at the bottom of his heart, I think he knew that what he was meaning to do was not a right thing for him to try without leave from the grown-up people, and that it was the fear of their stopping it much more than the wish to “surprise” everybody that made him keep his plan so secret.

So he said nothing, but waited for a chance to come.

And before long the chance did come. It does seem sometimes as if chances for wrong things or not-right things come more quickly and more surely than for good things, I am afraid. Or is it, perhaps, that we are more ready to catch at them?

Now I must tell you that Emma, the under-nurse, was not a very sensible girl. She was more taken up with herself and her dresses and chattering to whoever would listen to her than with her own work and duties; and she was very fond of calling nurse old-fashioned and fussy and too strict, which was not right. She spoke of her in that way to Leigh, and made him fancy he was too big a boy to be treated like a nursery child, which was very mischievous. But she was a good-natured girl, and she was what is called “civil-spoken” to nurse and to the other servants, so nurse hoped she would improve as she got older, though she found her lazy and careless very often.

Just about this time, unfortunately, poor nurse sprained her ankle. It did not make her ill, for it was not very bad and soon began to get better, but it stopped her going out walks for two or three days.

The first day this happened was one of the afternoons that Leigh had Latin lessons with a tutor, so only Artie and Mary went out a walk with Baby Dolly in the perambulator and Emma pushing it.

Nurse spoke a great deal to Emma about being very careful, and not going near the field where the bull was, and not crossing the little bridge which was soon going to be mended, and about several other “nots.” And Emma listened to what she said, and that day all went well. Artie and Mary trotted along very peacefully, and now and then, when the road was smooth, Emma let them push baby for a little bit, and baby cooed and crowed when they talked to her. They went near the Perrys’ cottage and they met all the children – Janie as usual carrying the baby, Comfort pushing the old wicker carriage with the two other babies, and staring away at the open book in her hand at the same time, so that Janie had to keep calling out every minute or two to warn her where she was going. Ned was not with them, that was the only difference. For Ned was beginning now to do a little work out of school hours.

The Perrys all came to a stop when they met the other party.

“How do you do?” said Mary and Artie politely. “How do you like our new p’ram-bilator?”

“It do be a beauty, Miss,” said Janie.

Poor Janie looked tired and hot, though it was not a warm day; the baby was growing heavy.

“Law,” said Emma, “I’d never carry that child if I was you. Why don’t you put it in the cart and make one of the others walk?”

“Law” is not a pretty word; but Emma was not very particular when she was alone with the children.

“Comfort’d never get her reading done if she had to look after Sammy walking,” said Janie. “And I’d have to push the carriage if the dear baby was in it.”

“Where’s Ned?” asked Artie. “And why doesn’t he pull the carriage?”

Emma stared.

“Law, Master Artie – ” she was beginning, but Janie, who did not seem at all surprised at the question, for of course she had seen Ned’s attempts to make a horse of himself, answered quietly —

“It didn’t do – not so very well, sir, and it gave me a turn, it did, to see Sammy and Bertie a-tumblin’ about, and all but overturned. No, ’tweren’t no good; so Ned, he’s give it up.”

“What a pity!” said Artie and Mary together, “isn’t our p’ram-bilator nice, Janie?”

“’Tis indeed, the wheels is beautiful and the springs,” said Janie, as she stood watching, while Artie pushed it up and down, to let her see how it went; while even Comfort took her eyes off her book for a minute or two to join in, the admiration. “And Miss Baby do be getting on finely,” the little nurse-sister added.

“You’ve not come our way for a good bit, Miss,” said Comfort to Mary. “It’s a nice road past the cottages and on to the wood – so smooth, I can go on reading all the way. No need to look to one side nor the t’other.”

And then the Perrys moved on, with a curtsey from Janie, which she managed with some difficulty on account of the fat baby, and a kind of nod from Comfort, as she let her eyes drop on to her book again.

That evening at tea, Mary and Artie told Leigh and nurse about meeting the Lavender Cottages children, and how tired poor Janie looked.

“Isn’t it a pity Ned couldn’t dror the carriage?” said Artie.

“Draw, not dror,” said Leigh. “How vulgar you are, Artie. No, I don’t see that it could do much good to Janie, for somebody’d have to drive, and so she’d still have the baby to carry. The big sister should take turns with her.”

“Yes, indeed,” said nurse. “That’d be much better than nonsense about harnessing boys. It’s a wonder those children weren’t driven into bits, that day you told us of.”

“Oh, but Ned was so stupid,” said Leigh. “He hadn’t got proper reins, and he fastened the rope in a perfectly silly way. I could show him how to do it properly. In Lapland, you know, nurse, and in some other country, even dogs pull carts quite nicely.”

“They must be a different kind of dog from ours then,” said nurse. “I know dogs used to turn the spit with the meat to roast it before the fire, but they were a queer kind, and I suppose they were trained to it when they were little puppies.”

“Yes,” said Leigh, “that’s it. It’s all the training. It’s no good unless you begin to teach a dog while he’s a puppy.”

He did not say anything more just then; but that evening he said to Emma that he was going out a walk with the little ones the next day, as he would not have any lessons that afternoon.

“I suppose nurse won’t be able to go out to-morrow,” he added.

“No, not till the day after, if then,” said Emma. “But never mind, Master Leigh, I’ll go any way you like to name, and we’ll have a nice walk, if it’s a fine day.”

“I hope it will be a fine day,” said Leigh.

And the next morning, quite early, before his lessons, he took Fuzz a regular “exercising” up and down the long avenue leading to the stables at the back of the house – cart and all – the dog had really learnt to go pretty well. But then a rough little wooden sledge, on wheels, is a very different thing from a beautiful new perambulator with a sweet baby sister inside it.

Chapter Thirteen.

Brave Janie

At dinner that day there was some talk of nurse going out to walk with the children.

“Oh do come, nursie dear,” said Mary. “It are so much nicer when you come too,” and baby cooed up in nurse’s face for all the world as if she were saying “do come,” too.

“I’d like to, dearly,” said nurse. “But I think I’d better rest my ankle one day more, and then I hope it will be quite well. I feel quite ashamed of having been so stupid about it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Artie. “It was the carpet’s fault for being loose.”

“And mine for not seeing it and getting it fastened,” said nurse. Though really I think it was more Emma’s fault, for she had charge of the passage where nurse had tripped and fallen.

“I think you’d much better wait another day,” said Leigh gravely.

And nurse said to herself that Master Leigh was very thoughtful for his age.

But Leigh had a reason of his own for not wanting nurse to go out with them that day, and if he had let himself think about it honestly he would have seen that his dislike to nurse coming showed that he was not doing right. But all he would allow to himself was “Nurse is so fussy.”

“If we could put you in the p’ram-bilator, that would be nice,” said Mary. “But I’m afraid it wouldn’t be big enough.”

“Of course not, you silly girl,” said Leigh rather crossly. He did not want the perambulator spoken of, for fear nurse should say something about not playing any tricks with it. But Mary stared at him. She could not understand why he was so cross.

It was again a very fine day for October. And as soon as they could be got ready after dinner the children set off for their walk.

“I’ll follow you in a moment,” said Leigh, as they were waiting at the side door into the garden while Emma got out the perambulator.

“If you go slowly down the drive I’ll make up to you. I’m going to fetch Fuzzy.”

Mary’s face fell. She was frightened of the dog, you know, when nurse was not there for her to walk beside, for Emma only laughed at her. “I wiss poor Fuzzy wasn’t coming,” she said. “Rubbish,” said Leigh, and then he said more kindly, “You needn’t be frightened of him, Mary, you’ll see. He can’t knock you down to-day;” and then, as he ran off, he cried back to Emma, “If I don’t catch you up in the drive, turn to the right. We’re going round by the smithy and the Lavender Cottages – it’s the best road for the p’ram-bilator.”

No one paid much attention to what he said, or they might have wondered what he meant, for there were plenty of good roads for the perambulator. Mary kept as close as she could to Emma and baby, and every now and then she looked round over her shoulder for fear of Fuzz coming full bang upon her in his affection, and knocking her down. But till they had got some little way along the road there was no sign of him or of Leigh.

Suddenly there came a whoop and cry from behind them. Mary caught hold of Emma’s skirt, and in another moment Leigh rushed past them, “driving Fuzz,” he would have said, though it looked more like Fuzz dragging him. The dog had his harness on, and Leigh was holding the reins and shouting to him.

“I’m taking it out of him,” he called out, “just to quiet him down. Doesn’t he go well?”

It was certainly a comfort to Mary to see that Fuzz was not loose; and in a minute or two, when the pair came back again, running more slowly, she left off trembling and began to laugh a little.

“Doesn’t Fuzzy go just like a little pony?” she said. “Hasn’t Leigh taught him cleverly?”

Then Leigh showed off all he had trained the dog to do. He made him walk quite slowly, and then run, and then stop short when he called out “Woa-wo-a, now; gently, old man,” till they all admired it greatly.

“He’d soon learn to pull a cart,” said Emma.

“He can pull a cart, that’s what I’ve been teaching him for,” said Leigh. “He could draw the p’ram-bilator beautifully.”

“Law!” said Emma, “could he now, really?”

“Of course he could,” said Leigh, “as soon as we get into the lane I’ll let you see. The road’s nice and smooth there.”

Mary clapped her hands. She thought it would be lovely. But Emma did hesitate a little.

“Are you sure it’s quite safe, Master Leigh?” she said.

“Safe, of course it’s safe,” said Leigh. “But if you’re afraid you can hold on behind just like you’re doing now, and then you can stop us going faster than you like.”

The lane, when they got into it, ran almost straight to the cottages. Leigh meant to pass them and come home by the smithy, for he wanted Yakeman to admire him driving Fuzzy. There was a hill to go down, as you may remember, from the cottages to Yakeman’s, and I do not know how Leigh meant to manage there. But as things turned out he did not get so far as that.

The little party stopped when they had got some way down the lane, and Leigh began to fasten Fuzz to the perambulator. He had got everything ready – for he had secretly tried it before, and he had straps of the right length which he brought out of his pocket. Mary and Artie stood admiring his cleverness, but Baby Dolly was not pleased. She wanted to go on, and of course she did not understand what they were all stopping for. So she began to cry. Poor little girl, what else could she do?

“P’raps she’s cold,” said Mary. “It are raver cold standing still.”

“Cold, Miss Mary, oh dear no,” said Emma. “She’s that wrapped up she couldn’t be cold. But she’s very fractious to-day; she was crying and fretting all the time nurse was dressing her. Nurse spoils her – if she were my baby I’d be a bit sharper with her.”

“Poor Dolly – dear Dolly,” said Mary, going up to her little sister and trying to sooth her. “Don’t cry – Dolly’s going to have a beauty drive and go so fast.”

“Get out of the way, Mary,” shouted Leigh. “We’re just starting, don’t you see?”

He held the reins in his hand and ran back behind the perambulator. Then he made Emma take her place as usual, holding the bar – not that there was any need for her, he said, but just to make quite sure of Fuzz not running away – they were a funny-looking party, Emma between the reins and Fuzzy wagging his tail in his hurry to be off. Dolly left off crying and stared about her, wondering what it all meant.

“Gee-up, old fellow,” said Leigh, Emma giving a little starting push at the same time, and off they went, Mary and Artie at each side, breathless with excitement.

At first it seemed all right. They went slowly, and Fuzzy did nothing worse than stand still every minute or two, and look over his shoulder to see what was behind him. The first and second times he did this Leigh only called out, “All right, old fellow – gee-up then.” But when it got to the third and fourth time Leigh grew impatient.

“Get on with you, you stupid fellow,” he shouted, cracking the whip he held.

And poor Fuzzy, meaning no harm, not understanding what all the unusual noise and fuss were about, did the only thing he could – he did “get on.” He started off, running as fast as he could, and that was pretty fast, for the carriage was very light and Emma was pushing – she could not have helped pushing as she was holding the bar and running. And for a minute or two she laughed so that she could not speak. The silly girl thought it was such fun. And seeing her laughing, Leigh thought it was all right and laughed too. But – on went Fuzz, excited by the laughter, and thinking he was doing all right, till – at the corner where the lane they were in crossed another lane or road, wider but much rougher, and full of deep cart-ruts – instead of keeping straight on he turned sharply round, for some doggy reason or other, and rushed, still at the same speed, along this road to the right.

“Fuzz,” shouted Leigh, tugging at the left rein. “Fuzz, wo-a then, wo-a.”

“Stop, stop,” screamed Emma.

But it was no use; in another instant Emma, already panting with running and laughing, found herself flung off as it were, and Leigh, a moment after, lay sprawling at full length on the road, the reins torn out of his grasp, while Fuzzy in the greatest delight rushed on, on – the perambulator after him, swaying from side to side; and, oh dear, dear – sweet baby Dolly inside!

Mary and Artie were some little way behind, but when they came up, this was what they saw: Emma sitting on the road crying and rubbing her arm, Leigh tearing along as fast as he could go, and a small dark thing far in front of him, bumping up and down among the cart-ruts, and swinging from side to side, as if every moment it would tumble over, or else be broken to pieces.

Mary stood still and screamed. Artie ran on at once, shouting at the top of his voice, though I do not quite know what good he thought that would do. And then Mary ran after him and left off screaming, which was sensible. Indeed, I think both of them showed more sense than silly Emma, though she was grown up and they were little children. For what could be less use than to sit on the ground crying and rubbing her bruised arm?

But somebody else – somebody none of them was thinking of at all – showed the most sense of any one.

The Perry children were coming along a field-path at one side of the road – it was dry weather, and the path was pretty hard and smooth, so Comfort and the old wicker perambulator got on pretty well with Janie and the baby beside them of course – when the sound of Leigh’s shouts came across the hedge. Janie had quick ears and still quicker wits.

“Someat’s wrong,” she cried, and she plumped the baby into her sister’s arms. “Now hold he,” she added, and for once Comfort had to leave off reading – indeed the flop of the baby made her book drop to the ground – and get it into her head that the care of her three baby brothers was her business for the present, while Janie flew to the gate, which she scrambled over or crept under, I am not sure which, in less time than it takes to tell it, and found herself in the middle of the road.

Leigh was some little way off still; but nearer than he, and coming nearer every instant, was something else which made even Janie’s stout little heart rise up to her mouth, as she afterwards said. It was the perambulator from the Hall, the beautiful new perambulator, banging and dashing along, dragged by something that looked just then very like a little wild beast instead of a well-disposed tame doggie. And yet it was only looks, for Fuzzy was in the best of spirits, quite pleased with himself, and thinking that Leigh’s shouts only meant he was to go faster and faster.

But Janie had not time to think anything. She only saw that the perambulator was not empty; she only took in that it must be stopped. She would not have been frightened, even if she had thought the dog was mad, for she was very brave. But she knew that her voice would have no power over him, and she made her plan in a moment. Just as the wildly excited dog came close to her – luckily just then he was going pretty evenly – she threw herself in his way, which made him slacken his pace, and then, somehow or other, she got hold of the edge of the carriage, holding on to it with all her strength, and she was very strong for her size. And then – what happened exactly she could not tell – I fancy Fuzzy must have given a bound forward to get rid of this troublesome interruption to his grand race – but before she knew where she was they were all in a jumbled-up heap on the ground, Janie, Baby Dolly, perambulator, and dog – Fuzzy barking loudly; baby, Janie was thankful to hear, crying and roaring, but, as far as the small sister-nurse could make out, unhurt.

She had got her safely in her motherly little arms by the time Leigh came up. The first thing he did was to seize hold of the reins which had been dragging behind, for after a glance had shown him that the baby was in good hands, Leigh’s next thought was for the new perambulator.

“She’s not hurt?” he exclaimed.

“No, no, sir. I think not,” said Janie. “She fell soft – right atop of me, Master Leigh. Hush, hush now, Miss Baby dear. Don’t ’ee cry. There’s Miss Mary a-coming along. Hush, hush, my dearie.”

And in surprise at the strange voice, and pleased by the sweet tones, Dolly actually did leave off crying. She opened her eyes wide, and by degrees a smile – a real smile – crept out of her mouth, and brightened up all the little face, still shining with tears. So that when poor wee Mary, all out of breath, and white with fear for her darling sister, came up to the little group, Janie was able to say, while Dolly stretched out her hands in welcome —

“She’s not hurt, Miss Mary, dear. She’s not hurt.”

Leigh by this time had unfastened Fuzz, and set the perambulator on its legs, or wheels, again. He was all trembling; and though it was not a hot day of course, the drops were standing out on his forehead. Wonderful to say, the perambulator was not broken or spoilt.

“Oh Mary,” said Leigh. He could scarcely speak. “Oh Janie, I don’t know how to thank you.”

Janie opened her eyes. It had never come into her head that she had done anything to be thanked for. But she was, as I said, very sensible.

“Master Leigh,” she replied, “I couldn’t a’ done less – that’s nothing. But I can’t think how Mrs Nurse could a’ let you do such a thing.”

“Nurse is ill; at least she’s hurt her leg,” said Leigh. “It’s Emma that’s with us.”

“Then she oughter be ashamed of herself,” exclaimed Janie, as if she was nineteen and Emma ten, instead of the other way about. “What’s the good of a big person to look after children if she’s as silly as them. I beg your parding, Master Leigh, but this ’ere precious baby’s had a narrer escape, and no mistake.”

Janie was hot with indignation and fright.

“But you tried yourselves, Janie,” said Leigh, feeling rather small. “Ned harnessed himself to – ”

“That was quite different,” said Janie. “And I told you the other day as it hadn’t turned out a good plan at all. I’m sure if I’d had any notion you were thinking of such a thing, I’d have – ” she stopped, then went on again, “But you’ll never try such tricks again, now, will you, Master Leigh? And you’ll go straight to your dear mamma as soon as you get in and tell her all about it.”

“No, I’ll never try it again, I promise you. And of course I’d rather tell about it myself, Janie. You won’t, will you? They’d be making such a song of it all through the village.”