The Cuckoo Tree (13 page)

"But ma'am—I am sure that it is all a plot."

Dido wished that some of these people would go away, so that she could talk to Lady Tegleaze in private.

"Who would plot against me—and why, pray?"

"Colonel FitzPickwick—" began Dido, but at that moment the Colonel himself entered the room. Seen in daylight his hair and mustaches were so white that Dido wondered if he dipped them in bleach; they formed a decided contrast to the whites of his liver-brown eyes which were a blood-veined mud color; his teeth, when he showed them, looked as if inside somewhere they must be labeled "Best Staffordshire porcelain."

"Dear lady—who speaks of me?" he said, coming forward.

"What news?" Lady Tegleaze demanded. "What news of my grandson?"

"He will appear before the magistrates at ten tomorrow; my cousin Fritz presiding; let us hope that as it is a first offense, Fritz will be lenient; ten years in Lewes Gaol, perhaps, rather than a life sentence in Botany Bay."

"Oh, what difference does it make to me where he gets sent?" Lady Tegleaze said pettishly. "Or for how long? The main thing is that we lose the heirloom. When I think of
the trouble I have wasted in rearing that child—and all for this! Stupid, ungovernable boy! Well, I wash my hands of him—I wish now I had kept the other instead."

"Other?" twittered the mouselike Cousin Wilfred, evidently much startled. "What other, Catherine?"

"Why, surely you remember that there were twins? Or rather, triplets, but one died at birth. Sannie brought the other two from Tiburon when their parents died. But I said that it wasn't to be expected that I should have the trouble of looking after
two
grandchildren; one would be quite enough work; so I kept only the boy."

"And I said, princessie-ma'am, two-baby twins bring always bad, bad luck in family, almost as bad as three-baby; better get rid of one, better keep boy, just."

"Good gracious! Mean to say you just
disposed
of one?" mumbled Cousin Wilfred, really shocked.

And Dido thought, "Well! I alius did say she was a queer old trout but, ask me, that's downright heartless! Fancy tossing out your own grandbaby like summat you'd give a rag-and-bone man."

"Oh well, Sannie said she'd find a home for it somewhere, in an orphanage or something; you'll just have to find it again now, Sannie, and double-quick too, now Tobit's no use to me."

"That's not easy," said Tante Sannie, wrinkling her leathery, monkeylike forehead under its sparse silvery hairs. "Not easy, that! Who know, who know where that baby be now? Far, far away, daresay; cost a much, much money to find her. Hundred, t'ousand pound."

"Well, the money'll have to be found somehow," snapped Lady Tegleaze. "FitzPickwick, you'll have to arrange it. Sell one of the chimneys—or the portico, that's made of marble, isn't it?"

Dido, meanwhile, had been struck by a blinding flash of inspiration. Without pausing to listen to anything else she turned hastily toward the door, noticing two faces only on her way: Gusset's, full of reproach at her supposed desertion; and that of Colonel FitzPickwick who looked as if he had received an utterly staggering blow; his jaw had dropped in disbelief, his large porcelain teeth stuck up like Dapple's, and he was directing a look of pure fury at Tante Sannie, who took no notice whatsoever.

Back at Dogkennel Cottages, Dido briskly approached that of Mrs. Lubbage. It was unlit, as before, and the door was locked. When she tried it, the little voice buzzed in her ear:

"Beware! This is a hoodoo lock."

"Oh, be blowed to that," thought Dido impatiently. "If old Sannie and Mrs. Lubbage are hoping to squeeze a thousand quid out o' Lady Tegleaze before they'll produce Tobit's sister, they're liable to be pretty riled with me anyways, sposing I spile their game; busting the old crone's witchlock can't make matters much worse, I reckon."

She found a lump of rock and gave the ramshackle door a vigorous thump; it burst inward.

From up above an alarmed voice cried, "Who's that?"

"Cris? It's me—Dido!"

She walked into the kitchen—which smelt even worse than on her last visit—and looked up. Framed in the black square of the loft opening was a pale, scared face.

"I thought it must be people coming to duck Auntie
Daisy," breathed Cris. "She said once that some day they will do. But, Dido, you won't half catch it when she finds you here! And so shall I! Breaking down the door, too—didn't her hoodoo lock work on you?"

"Yes, a bit," said Dido, crossly rubbing her hands. "My fingers tingles as if I'd been pulling stinging nettles. But I don't believe in such stuff! Anyways, come down, Cris; I wants to talk to you."

"Where's Auntie Daisy?"

"Up at Tegleaze Manor."

Encouraged by this, Cris jumped lightly down.

"Why did you let on you was a boy?" Dido snapped out.

"I—I—Auntie Daisy said I must, always. For
goodness'
sake don't tell her you found out," Cris gasped, looking frightened almost to death.

"That'll be all right—don't you worry. What's your real name, then?"

"It is Cris—Cristin. She said if anyone got to know, she'd put a freezing spell on me, so I was shivering cold to the end of my days. She can too—she did to old Mrs. Ruffle at Open Winkins."

"Rubbidge. Mrs. Ruffle probably had the ague. Now, listen, Cris—I've lots o' things to tell you. But there's no time to lose, so you come along o' me, and I'll explain as we go—agreeable?"

"Go where?"

"I'd as soon not say till we're farther along," Dido said cautiously.

"Supposing Auntie Daisy comes back?"

"I don't reckon she will jist yet."

"I can't go without asking Aswell!"

"Oh, croopus," Dido thought. But she felt some sympathy for Cris—plainly the unusualness and suddenness of her arrival had thrown the girl into such a state of fright and indecision that she was almost paralyzed. She stood trembling, huddling the ragged sheepskin jacket around her thin shoulders, her huge dark eyes fixed hauntedly on Dido.

"All right, go on, ask Aswell then," Dido said patiently. "But I think we'd best get outside, hadn't we? Shouldn't think Aswell'd fancy coming into a murky den like this."

They went out into the little weedy front yard, dark now, and misty; Cris sang or chanted her curious rhyme:

"Dwah, dwah, dwuddy dwuddy dwee—
I can't see you but you can see me—"

Dido perched on the yard wall. Cris stood with her eyes shut and hands stretched out. There was a long pause, of expectation and strain; then Cris gave a short sigh.

"It's all right. Aswell says I ought to go."

"Well, so I should hope!" Dido muttered to herself, but aloud she merely remarked, "Come along, then—can you trot? That's the dandy—" catching hold of Cris's hand. She had stabled Dapple, who had certainly done his part for the day, before coming to find Cris.

The two girls ran along the chalk track at a steady pace, and Dido said,

"Right, listening, are you? Now, Cris, do you know what twins are?"

"Brothers and sisters the same age?" Cris said doubtfully.

"That's it. Now, how'd you feel, Cris, sposing I was to say you had a twin brother nobody'd ever told you about?"

There was a long silence. Then Cris's voice came hesitantly out of the dark.

"Could you say that again?"

Dido said it again.

"Dido?"

"Yes, Cris?"

"Do—do you mean that I really
have
got a brother?"

"Yes, Cris. His name's Tobit. He's in pokey at the moment, but we'll get him out someways."

"Pokey?"

"Jail. Prison."

"Why?"

"Someone fadged up a tale against him o' summat he hadn't done."

"I've got a brother called Tobit." Cris was trying over the words to see how they sounded. "I have a brother. Do you know—everything seems
warm
all of a sudden. As if the air was warm and I could swim in it like a fish. I've got a brother," she said again.

"Hey, hold on!" Dido became a bit anxious. "He's jist an ordinary boy—not an angel!" Leastways he's not all
that
ordinary, she thought; but anyway I reckon Cris would
take to him if he had three legs and a sword on his snout.

"Now, there's lots more to tell you, Cris, so pay attention; that ain't all by a long chalk."

"What else?" But Cris sounded vague as if, in spite of Dido's caution, her attention was not fully engaged.

"It's like this. As well as Brother Tobit, you've got some grand relations up at Tegleaze Manor. Old Lady Tegleaze is your granny. And there's Cousin Wilfred. They're a-going to be right pleased to see you," she added thoughtfully, "acos now Tobit's been in jug he's lost his right to the luck-piece. At least I spose he has; jail's jail, even if it's on a skrimped-up charge."

"Lady Tegleaze is my grandmother?" Cris murmured dazedly.

"That's right. Mind, don't go running off wi' the notion that life up at Tegleaze Manor is going to be everlasting sherry cobbler and larks on toast—it ain't so. Lady T has gambled away all her dibs on the races. But at least it'll be a whole heap better than life with Mother Lubbage. You won't have to lurk up in the loft and live on spud scrapings. And old Auntie Daisy'll hatta treat you civil from now on."

"Sannie's there," Cris said, half to herself. "I'm scared of Sannie."

Dido frowned. She too had thought about this.

"Well, we just got to find a way to put a damper on that old spider monkey. And, whatever you do, Cris,
don't
you go eating of those Joobie nuts; you lay off em."

"Will I have to stay up at the Manor always, now?" Cris
was sounding more and more doubtful.

"Now, Cris!" Dido began scoldingly. In her heart, though, she was uncertain enough. Would Cris be happier up at the Manor with all those funny old things? But
surely
it was better than life at Dogkennel Cottages?

There was another pause, then Cris sighed again.

"Aswell says I belong there."

Thanks a million, Aswell, Dido commented inwardly. You're a real pal.

Five minutes' more trotting and they reached the Manor. Dido walked in without knocking. No one was about; she guessed that everybody was still assembled upstairs.

"Come along; this way. Crumpet, Cris, don't gawp so—you'll hatta get used to the place."

She led Cris over the marble paving, up the stairs, and then turned in the direction of Tobit's room. "Here, this won't take but a moment and I reckon it'll help—"

Rummaging in Tobit's untidy apartment she found several of his black velvet suits.

"Put one o' these on, it looks to be just your size. Lawks, gal, you're nought but skin and bone, it surely is time we got you outa that old devil's clutches. Now, where does the boy wash?"

Investigating, Dido found a dressing closet and washstand with pewter basin and ewer. She soaped a cloth and briskly scrubbed the inattentive face of Cris, who had found the picture of the three children and was standing riveted in front of it.

"That's
Aswell!
"

"You said you'd never seen Aswell," said Dido, buttoning cuffs.

"No, but that's how I imagine him."

"
It's you.
Here, look at yourself—" Dido wheeled her to face the looking glass over the mantel. Cris gazed in astonishment.

"Is that me? I never saw myself before."

"Croopus, Cris, you ain't half got a lot to learn," Dido muttered, hard at work with a molting silver hairbrush. "Right! We're ready, come along."

She led Cris through the maze of passages to Lady Tegleaze's room.

The conclave was still assembled, but now something mysterious was going on. Sannie and Mrs. Lubbage, evidently at the request of Lady Tegleaze, were doing a bit of conjuring. Another pewter washbasin had been filled with what looked like ink. Sannie had lit a lot of incense sticks which, stuck about in egg cups and toilet jars, were filling the room with white choking smoke. Frill, Pelmett, Gusset, the doctor, Cousin Wilfred, and the Colonel were standing in a ring looking nervous and ill at ease; Lady Tegleaze still reclined on her couch; Mrs. Lubbage was gazing into the basin of ink while Sannie chanted foreign words in a shrill unearthly tone.

"Ah, now I begins to see clear," Mrs. Lubbage was saying, as Dido poked her head around the door. "Yes, I can see a face. Yes, it be the face of your granddaughter Cristin, my lady...."

"Where is she?" Lady Tegleaze asked eagerly.

"Wait a minute—wait a minute—the driply mist be a-thickening again. Ah, now 'tis clearing. Cristin be a turble long way from here, my lady—over hill and dale, over bush and briar, over sand and swamp and sea. Far, far away, she be; 'twill cost a power o' money to fetch her home."

"Now,
that's
a funny thing," Dido said, stepping in briskly and dragging the nervous Cris behind her. "I'd a notion she was no farther away than right here, and it'd cost nothing at all to fetch her!"

Three things then happened simultaneously: Lady Tegleaze shrieked, Colonel FitzPickwick let out a fearful oath, and Mrs. Lubbage, startled almost out of her wits, upset the basin of ink, which poured in a black flood all over the carpet.

"My granddaughter!" Ignoring the fact that her lavender satin was trailing in the ink and that her wig was awry, Lady Tegleaze rose, swept forward, and enveloped Cris in a bony embrace from which the latter, looking somewhat taken aback, freed herself as soon as she could.

"Knavery! Arrant deception! Dear lady, do but think! What possibility can there be that this come-by-chance brat could be your grandchild? It is a piece of bare-faced imposture!" Colonel FitzPickwick had recovered and strode forward, casting looks of rage at Sannie and Mrs. Lubbage.

"Imposture?" snapped Lady Tegleaze. "Nonsense! Look at the child's face. Besides—look at the dog."

The dog Lion, who would go to no one but Tobit, was standing on his hind legs, with a paw on each of Cris's shoulders, crying with joy, and licking her face with a large blue tongue. She put her arms around his white furry neck and hugged him back.

"Pity I washed her face," Dido thought regretfully. "It would a been prime to have it come plain when the dog licked it. Never mind, she's
in,
that's the main thing."