Book: Austin and His Friends

F >> Frederic H. Balfour >> Austin and His Friends




Having disposed of the education question thus conclusively, it
occurred to Austin that it must be about time for tea; so he struggled
to his legs and turned his footsteps homeward. Just as he arrived at
the house he met Lubin outside the gate with a wheelbarrow.

"Off already?" he asked.

"Ay," said Lubin. "I say, Master Austin, there's something I want to
tell you. I see a magpie not an hour ago!"

"A magpie? I don't think I ever saw one in my life. What was it like?"
enquired Austin.

"Don't matter what it was like," replied Lubin, sententiously. "But it
was just outside your bedroom window. You'd better be on the
look-out."

"What for?" asked Austin. "Did it say it was coming back?"

"'Tain't nothing to laugh at," said Lubin, nodding his head. "A magpie
bodes ill-luck. That's well known, that is. So you just keep your eye
open, that's all I've got to say. It's a warning, you see. Did ye
never hear that before?"

Austin's first impulse was to laugh; then he remembered the dancing
goose, and the rain which followed in due course. "All right, Lubin,"
he said cheerfully. "I'm not afraid of magpies; I don't think they're
very dangerous. But I _have_ heard that they've a fancy for silver
spoons, so I'll tell Aunt Charlotte to lock the plate up safely before
she goes to bed."

As he had expected, Aunt Charlotte was much pleased at hearing of his
encounter with Mr Buskin, who, she thought, must be a most delightful
person. It would be so good, too, for Austin to see something of the
gay world instead of always mooning about alone; and then he would be
sure to meet other young people at the performance, friends from the
neighbouring town, with whom he could talk and be sociable. Austin, on
his side, was quite willing to go and be amused, though he felt,
perhaps, more interested in what promised to be an entirely new
experience than excited at the prospect of a treat. He wanted to see
and to study, and then he would be able to judge.

"By the way, Austin," said his aunt, as they were separating for the
night a few hours later, "I want you to go into the town to-morrow and
tell Snewin to send a man up at once to look at the roof. I'm afraid
it's been in rather a bad state for some time past, and those heavy
rains we had last week seem to have damaged it still more. Be sure you
don't forget. It won't do to have a leaky roof over our heads; it
might come tumbling down, and cost a mint of money to put right
again."

Austin gave the required promise, and thought no more about it. He
also forgot entirely to tell his aunt she had better lock up the
spoons with particular care that night because Lubin had seen a magpie
in suspicious proximity to his window. He went straight up to his
room, feeling rather sleepy, and bent on getting between the sheets as
soon as possible. But just as he was putting on his nightgown, a light
pattering sound attracted his attention, and he immediately became all
ears.

"Rain?" he exclaimed. "Why, there wasn't a sign of it an hour ago!"

He drew up the blind and looked out. The sky was perfectly clear, and
a brilliant moon was shining.

"That's queer!" he murmured. "I could have sworn I heard it raining.
What in the world could it have been?"

He turned away and put out the candle. As he approached the bed a
curious disinclination to get into it came over him. Then he heard the
same pattering noise again. He stopped short, and listened more
attentively. It seemed to come from the walls.

A shower of raps, rather like tiny explosions, now sounded all around
him. He leant his head against the wall, and the sound became
distincter. This time there was no mistake about it. He had never
heard anything like it in his life. He was quite cool, not in the
least frightened, and very much on the alert. The raps continued at
intervals for about five minutes. Then, seeing that it was impossible
to solve the mystery, he suddenly jumped into bed. At that moment the
raps ceased.

For nearly an hour he lay awake, wondering. Certainly he had not been
the victim of hallucination. He was in perfect health, and in full
possession of all his faculties. Indeed his faculties were
particularly alive; he had been thinking of something else altogether
when the raps first forced themselves upon his consciousness, and
afterwards he had listened to them for several minutes with close and
critical attention. No explanation of the strange phenomenon suggested
itself in spite of endless theories and speculations. Could it be
mice? But mice only gnawed and scuttled about; they did not rap. It
was more like crackling than anything else; the noise produced by
thousands of faint discharges. No, it was inexplicable, and he
wondered more and more.

Gradually he fell asleep. How long he slept he didn't know, but he
awoke with a sensation of cold. Instinctively he put out his hand to
pull the coverings closer over him, and found that they seemed to have
slipped down somehow, leaving his chest exposed. Then, warm again, he
dozed off once more and dreamt that he was at the pool of Daphnis with
Lubin. How cool and blue the water looked, and how lovely the plunge
would be! But when he was stripped the weather suddenly changed; a
chill wind sprang up which made his teeth chatter; and then Lubin--who
somehow wasn't Lubin but had unaccountably turned into Mr
Buskin--insisted on throwing him into the water, which now looked cold
and black. He struggled furiously, and awoke shivering.

There was not a rag upon him. Again he stretched out his hand to feel
for the clothes, but they had disappeared. Instinctively he threw
himself out of bed and flung open the shutters. The moon had set, and
the first faint gleams of approaching dawn filtered into the room,
showing, to his amazement, the bedclothes drawn completely away from
the mattress and hanging over the rail at the foot, so as to be quite
out of the reach of his hand as he had lain there. What on earth was
the matter with the bed? Was it bewitched? Who had uncovered him in
that unceremonious way, leaving him perished with cold? No wonder he
had dreamt of that chilly wind, numbing his body as he stood naked by
the pool. Had he by any chance kicked the coverlet off in his sleep,
as he engaged in that dream-struggle with the absurdly impossible
Buskin-Lubin who had attempted to pitch him into the dark water?
Clearly not; for that would not account for the sheet and blanket
being dragged so carefully out of the range of his hands, and hung
over the foot-rail so that they touched the floor.

Such were the thoughts that flashed through his mind as he stood
motionless by the window, with wide open eyes, in the chill morning
light. Suddenly a rending, bursting noise was heard in the ceiling.
The crack widened into a chasm, and then, with a heavy thud, down fell
a confused mass of old bricks, crumbling mortar, and rotten,
worm-eaten wood full on the mattress he had just relinquished,
scattering pulverised rubble in all directions, and covering the bed
with a layer of horrible dust and _debris_.




Chapter the Sixth


Had her very life depended on it, old Martha would have been totally
unable to give any coherent account of what she felt, said, or did,
when she came into Master Austin's room that morning at half-past
seven with his hot water. She thought she must have screamed, but such
was her bewilderment and terror she really could not remember whether
she did or no. But she never had any doubt as to what she saw. Instead
of a fair white bed with Austin lying in it, she was confronted by the
sight of a gaping hole in the roof, something that looked like a
rubbish heap in a brickfield immediately underneath, and the long
slender form of Austin himself wrapped in a comfortable wadded
dressing-gown fast asleep upon the sofa. "Bless us and save us!" she
ejaculated under her breath. "And to think that the boy's lived
through it!"

Austin, roused by her entrance, yawned, stretched himself, and lazily
opened his eyes. "Is that you already, Martha?" he said. "Oh, how
sleepy I am. Is it really half-past seven?"

"But what does it all mean--how it is you're not killed?" cried
Martha, putting down the jug, and finding her voice at last. "The good
Lord preserve us--here's the house tumbling down about our ears and
never a one of us the wiser. And the man was to 'ave come this very
day to see to that blessed roof. Come, wake up, do, Master Austin, and
tell me how it happened."

"Is Aunt Charlotte up yet?" asked Austin turning over on his side.

"Ay, that she be, and making it lively for the maids downstairs.
Whatever will she say when she hears about this to-do?" exclaimed
Martha, with her hands upon her hips as she gazed at the desolation
round her.

"Well, please go down and ask her to come up here at once," said
Austin. "I see I shall have to say something, and it really will be
too much bother to go over it to everybody in turn. I've had rather a
disturbed night, and feel most awfully tired. So just run down and
bring her up as soon as ever you can, and then we'll get it over."

"A pretty business--and me with forty-eleven things to do already
to-day," muttered the old servant as she hurried out. "True it is that
except the Lord builds the house they labour in vain as builds it. He
didn't have no hand in building this one, that's as plain as I am--as
never was a beauty at my best. Well, the child's safe, that's one
mercy. Though what he was doing out of his bed when the roof came
down's a mystery to _me_. Talking to the moon, I shouldn't wonder. The
good Lord's got 'is own ways o' doing things, and it ain't for the
likes of us to pick holes when they turn out better than the worst."

Meanwhile Austin lay quietly and drowsily on his couch piecing things
together. Seen from the distance of a few hours, now that he had
leisure to reflect, how wonderfully they fitted in! First of all,
there had been that sudden outburst of raps just as he was stepping
into bed. That, evidently, was intended as a warning. It was as much
as to say, "Don't! don't!" But of course he couldn't be expected to
know this, and so he could only wonder where the raps came from, and
get into bed as usual. Then, the instant he did so the raps ceased.
That was because it wasn't any use to go on. The rappers, he
supposed, had benevolently tried to frighten him away, and induce him
to go and sleep on the sofa at the other end of the room where he was
now; but the attempt had failed. So there was nothing for them to do,
as he was actually in bed, but to get him out again; and this they had
succeeded in doing by dragging all his clothes off. Now he saw it all.
Nothing, it seemed to him, could possibly be clearer. But who were the
unseen friends who had thus interposed to save his life? Ah, that was
a secret still.

Then footsteps were heard outside, and in bustled Aunt Charlotte, with
Martha chattering in her wake. Austin raised himself upon his
cushions, and then sank back again. "Lord save us!" cried Aunt
Charlotte, coming to a dead stop, as she surveyed the ruins.

"It's rather a mess, isn't it?" remarked Austin, folding a red
table-cover round his single leg by way of counterpane.

"A mess!" repeated Aunt Charlotte. "I should think it _was_ a mess.
How in the world, Austin, did you manage to escape?"

"Well--I happened to get out of bed a minute or two before the ceiling
broke," said Austin, "and it's just as well I did. Otherwise my
artless countenance would have got rather disfigured, and I might
even have been hurt. You see all that raw material isn't composed of
gossamer----"

"What time did it occur?" asked Aunt Charlotte, shortly.

"The dawn was just breaking. I suppose it must have been about four
o'clock, but I didn't look at my watch," replied Austin. "I was too
cold and sleepy."

"Cold and sleepy!" exclaimed Aunt Charlotte. "And the house collapsing
over your head. You seem to have had time to pull the bedclothes away,
though. That's very curious. What did you do that for?"

"I didn't," replied Austin.

"Then who did?" asked Aunt Charlotte, getting more and more excited.
"I do wish you'd be a little more communicative, Austin; I have to
drag every word out of you as though you were trying to hide
something. Who hung the bedclothes over the footrail if you didn't?"

"I can't tell you. I don't know. All I know is that I found them where
they are now when I woke up, and I woke up because I was so cold. Then
I got out of bed, and a minute afterwards down came all the bricks."

"Do you mean to tell me----" began Aunt Charlotte, in her most
scathing tones.

"Certainly I do. Exactly what I _have_ told you. Why?"

"Do you expect me to believe," resumed his aunt, "that somebody came
into the room when you were asleep, and deliberately pulled off all
your bedclothes for the fun of doing it? Am I to understand----"

"My dear auntie, I am not an idiot, nor am I in the habit of perjuring
myself," interrupted Austin. "I saw nobody come into the room, and I
saw nobody pull off the clothes. If you really want to know what I
'expect you to believe,' I've already told you. I might tell you a
little more, but then I shouldn't expect you to believe it, so what
would be the good? It seems to me the best thing to do now is to send
for Snewin to take away all this mess, move the furniture, and mend
the hole in the ceiling. If once it begins to rain----"

"Oh! You might tell me a little more, might you?" said Aunt Charlotte,
bristling. "So you haven't told me everything after all. Now, then,
never mind whether I believe it or not, that's my affair. What is
there more to tell?"

"Nothing," replied Austin. "Because it isn't only your affair whether
you believe me or not; it's my affair as well. Why, you don't even
believe what I've told you already! So I won't tax your credulity any
further."

Aunt Charlotte now began to get rather angry, "Look here, Austin," she
said, "I intend to get to the bottom of this business, so it's not the
slightest use trying to beat about the bush. I insist on your telling
me how it was you happened to get out of bed just before the accident
occurred, and how the bedclothes came to be pulled away and hung where
they are now. There's a mystery about the whole thing, and I hate
mysteries, so you'd better make a clean breast of it at once."

"Had I?" said Austin, pretending to reflect. "I wonder whether it
would be wise. You see, dear auntie, you're such a sensitive creature;
your nerves are so highly strung, you're so easily frightened out of
your dear old wits--"

"Be done with all this nonsense!" snapped Aunt Charlotte brusquely.
"Come, I can't stand here all day. Just tell me exactly what took
place--why you woke up, and what you saw, and everything about it you
remember."

"Dear auntie, I don't want you to stand there all day; in fact I'd
much rather you didn't stand there a minute longer, because I want to
get up," Austin assured her earnestly. "I awoke because I had a horrid
dream, caused by the cold which in its turn was produced by my being
left with nothing on. And I didn't see anything, for the simple reason
that the room was as dark as pitch. Is there anything else you want to
know?"

"Yes, there is. Everything that you haven't told me," said the
uncompromising aunt.

"Very well, then," said Austin, leaning upon his elbow and looking her
full in the face. "But on one condition only--that you believe every
word I say."

"Of course, Austin, I should never dream of doubting your good faith,"
replied Aunt Charlotte. "But don't romance. Now then."

"It's very simple, after all," began Austin. "Just as I was getting
into bed a strange noise, like a shower of little raps, broke out all
around me. It went on for nearly five minutes, and I was listening all
the time and trying to find out what it was and where it came from. At
the moment I had no clue, but now I fancy I can guess. Those raps
were warnings. They--the rappers--were trying to prevent me getting
into bed. They didn't succeed, of course, and so, just as the ceiling
was on the point of giving way, they compelled me to get out of bed by
pulling all the clothes off. If they hadn't, I should have been half
killed. Now, what do you make of that?"

"I knew it must be some nonsense of the sort!" exclaimed Aunt
Charlotte, in her most vigorous tones. "Raps, indeed! I never heard
such twaddle. Of course I don't doubt your word, but it's clear enough
that you dreamt the whole thing. You always were a dreamer, Austin,
and you're getting worse than ever. I don't believe you know half the
time whether you're asleep or awake."

"Did I dream _that_?" asked Austin, pointing to the bedclothes as they
hung.

"You dragged them there in your sleep, of course," retorted Aunt
Charlotte triumphantly. "I see the whole thing now. You had a dream,
you kicked the clothes off in your sleep, and then you got out of bed,
still in your sleep----"

"I didn't do anything of the sort," interrupted Austin. "I was wide
awake the whole time. You see, auntie, I was here and you weren't, so
I ought to know something about it."

"It's no use arguing with you," replied Aunt Charlotte, loftily. "It's
a clear case of sleep-walking--as clear as any case I ever heard of.
And then all that nonsense about raps! Of course, if you heard
anything at all--which I only half believe--it was something beginning
to give way in the roof. There! It only requires a little
common-sense, you see, to explain the whole affair. And now, my
dear----"

"Hush!" whispered Austin suddenly.

"What's the matter?" exclaimed Aunt Charlotte, not liking to be
interrupted.

"Listen!" said Austin, under his breath.

A torrent of raps burst out in the wall immediately behind him,
plainly audible in the silence. Then they stopped, as suddenly as they
had begun.

"Did you hear them?" said Austin. "Those were the raps I told you of.
Hark! There they are again. I wish they would sound a little louder."
A distinct increase in the sound was noticeable. "Oh, isn't it
perfectly wonderful? Now, what have you to say?"

Aunt Charlotte stood agape. It was no use pretending she didn't hear
them. They were as unmistakable as knocks at a front door.

"What jugglery is this?" she demanded, in an angry tone.

"Really, dear auntie, I am not a conjurer," replied Austin, as he sank
back upon his cushions. "That was what I heard last night. But of
course _you_ don't believe in such absurdities. It's only your fancy
after all, you know."

"'Tain't _my_ fancy, anyhow," put in old Martha, speaking for the
first time. "I heard 'em plain enough. 'Tis the 'good people,' for
sure."

"Hold your tongue, do!" cried Aunt Charlotte in sore perplexity. "Good
people, indeed!--the devil himself, more likely. I tell you what it
is, Austin----"

"Why, I thought you weren't superstitious!" observed Austin, in a tone
of most exasperating surprise. Three gentle knocks, running off into a
ripple of pattering explosions, were then heard in a farther corner of
the room. "There, don't you hear them laughing at you? Thank you, dear
people, whoever you are, that was very kind. And it was awfully sweet
of you to save me from those bricks last night. It _was_ good of them,
wasn't it, auntie dear?"

"If all this devilry goes on I shall take serious measures to stop
it," gasped Aunt Charlotte, who was almost frightened to death. "I
cannot and will not live in a haunted house. It's you who are haunted,
Austin, and I shall go and see the vicar about it this very day. It's
an awful state of things, positively awful. To think that you are
actually holding communication with familiar spirits! The vicar shall
come here at once, and I'll get him to hold a service of exorcism. I
believe there is such a service, and----"

"Oh, do, do, _do_!" screamed Austin, clapping his hands with delight.
"What fun it would be! Fancy dear Mr Sheepshanks, in all his tippets
and toggery, ambling and capering round poor me, and trying to drive
the devil out of me with a broomful of holy water! That's a lovely
idea of yours, auntie. Lubin shall come and be an acolyte, and we'll
get Mr Buskin to be stage-manager, and you shall be the pew-opener.
And then I'll empty the holy-water pot over dear Mr Sheepshanks' head
when he's looking the other way. You _are_ a genius, auntie, though
you're too modest to be conscious of it. But you're very ungrateful
all the same, for if it hadn't been for----"

"There, stop your ribaldry, Austin, and get up," said Aunt Charlotte,
impatiently. "The sooner we're all out of this dreadful room the
better. And let me tell you that you'd be better employed in thanking
God for your deliverance than in turning sacred subjects into
ridicule."

"Thanking God? Why, not a moment ago you said it was the devil!"
exclaimed Austin. "How you do chop and change about, auntie. You can't
possibly expect me to be orthodox when you go on contradicting
yourself at such a rate. However, if you really must go, I think I
_will_ get up. It must be long past eight, and I want my breakfast
awfully."

The day so excitingly ushered in turned out a busy one. As soon as he
had finished his meal, Austin pounded off to invoke the immediate
presence of Mr Snewin the builder, and before long there was a mighty
bustle in the house. The furniture had all to be removed from the
scene of the disaster, the bed cleared of the _debris_, preparations
made for the erection of light scaffolding for repairing the roof, and
Austin himself installed, with all his books and treasures, in another
bedroom overlooking a different part of the garden. It was all a most
enjoyable adventure, and even Aunt Charlotte forgot her terrors in
the more practical necessities of the occasion. Just before lunch
Austin snatched a few minutes to run out and gossip with Lubin on the
lawn. Lubin listened with keen interest to the boy's picturesque
account of his experiences, and then remarked, sagely nodding his
head:

"I told you to be on the look-out, you know, Master Austin. Magpies
don't perch on folks' window-sills for nothing. You'll believe me a
little quicker next time, maybe."

For once in his life Austin could think of nothing to say in reply. To
ask Lubin to explain the connection between magpies and misadventures
would have been useless; it evidently sufficed for him that such was
the order of Nature, and only a magpie would have been able to clear
up the mystery. Besides, there are many such mysteries in the world.
Why do cats occasionally wash their heads behind the ear? Clearly, to
tell us that we may expect bad weather; for the bad weather invariably
follows. These are all providential arrangements intended for our
personal convenience, and are not to be accounted for on any
cut-and-dried scientific theory. Lubin's erudition was certainly very
great, but there was something exasperating about it too.

So Austin went in to lunch thoughtful and dispirited, wondering why
there were so many absurdities in life that he could neither elucidate
nor controvert. He decided not to say anything to Aunt Charlotte about
Lubin's magpie sciolisms, lest he should provoke a further outburst of
the discussion they had held in the morning; he had had the best of
that, anyhow, and did not care to compromise his victory by dragging
in extraneous considerations in which he did not feel sure of his
ground. Aunt Charlotte, on her side, was inclined to be talkative,
taking refuge in the excitement of having work-men in the house from
the uneasy feelings which still oppressed her in consequence of those
frightening raps. But now that the haunted room was to be invaded by
friendly, commonplace artisans from the village, and turned inside
out, and almost pulled to pieces, there was a chance that the ghosts
would be got rid of without invoking the aid of Mr Sheepshanks; a
reflection that inspired her with hope, and comforted her greatly.

"You know you're a great anxiety to me, Austin," she said, as,
refreshed by food and wine, she took up her knitting after lunch. "I
wish you were more like other boys, indeed I do. I never could
understand you, and I suppose I never shall."

"But what does that matter, auntie?" asked Austin. "I don't understand
_you_ sometimes, but that doesn't make me anxious in the very least.
Why you should worry yourself about me I can't conceive. What do I do
to make you anxious? I don't get tipsy, I don't gamble away vast
fortunes at a sitting, and although I'm getting on for eighteen I
haven't had a single action for breach of promise brought against me
by anybody. Now _I_ think that's rather a creditable record. It isn't
everybody who can say as much."

"I want you to be more _serious_, Austin," replied his aunt, "and not
to talk such nonsense as you're talking now. I want you to be
sensible, practical, and alive to the sober facts of life. You're too
dreamy a great deal. Soon you won't know the difference between dreams
and realities----"

"I don't even now. No more do you. No more does anybody," interrupted
Austin, lighting a cigarette.

"There you are again!" exclaimed Aunt Charlotte, clicking her needles
energetically. "Did one ever hear such rubbish? It all comes from
those outlandish books you're always poring over. If you'd only take
_my_ advice, you'd read something solid, and sensible, and improving,
like 'Self Help,' by Dr Smiles. That would be of some use to you, but
these others----"

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