A Reputed Changeling | Page 6

gateway, where Sedley looked to get his revenge among his
fellows, he found his shoulders free, and heard "Ho! ho! ho!" from the
top of a wall close at hand. All the more was the young people's faith in
the changeling story confirmed, and child-world was in those days even
more impenetrable to their elders than at present.
Changeling or no, it was certain that Peregrine Oakshott was the plague
of the Close, where his father, an ex-officer of the Parliamentary army,
had unwillingly hired a house for the winter, for the sake of medical
treatment for his wife, a sufferer from a complication of ailments.
Oakwood, his home, was about five miles from Dr. Woodford's living
of Portchester, and as the families would thus be country neighbours,
Mrs. Woodford thought it well to begin the acquaintance at Winchester.

While knocking at the door of the house on the opposite side of the
Close, she was aware of an elfish visage peering from an upper window.
There was the queer mop of dark hair, the squinting light eyes, the
contorted grin crooking the mouth, the odd sallow face, making her
quite glad to get out of sight of the strange grimaces which grew every
moment more hideous.
Mrs. Oakshott sat in an arm-chair beside a large fire in a wainscotted
room, with a folding-screen shutting off the window. Her
spinning-wheel was near, but it was only too plain that 'feeble was the
hand, and silly the thread.' She bent her head in its wadded black velvet
hood, but excused herself from rising, as she was crippled by rheumatic
pains. She had evidently once been a pretty little person, innocent and
inane, and her face had become like that of a withered baby, piteous in
its expression of pain and weariness, but otherwise somewhat vacant.
At first, indeed, there was a look of alarm. Perhaps she expected every
visitor to come with a complaint of her unlucky Peregrine, but when
Mrs. Woodford spoke cheerfully of being her neighbour in the country,
she was evidently relieved and even gratified, prattling in a soft
plaintive tone about her sufferings and the various remedies, ranging
from woodlice rolled into natural pills, and grease off the church bells,
to diamond dust and Goa stones, since, as she said, there was no cost to
which Major Oakshott would not go for her benefit. He had even
procured for her a pound of the Queen's new Chinese herb, and it
certainly was as nauseous as could be wished, when boiled in milk, but
she was told that was not the way it was taken at my Lady Charnock's.
She was quite animated when Mrs. Woodford offered to show her how
to prepare it.
Therewith the master of the house came in, and the aspect of affairs
changed. He was a tall, dark, grave man, plainly though handsomely
dressed, and in a gentlemanly way making it evident that visits to his
wife were not welcome. He said that her health never permitted her to
go abroad, and that his poor house contained nothing that could please
a Court lady. Mrs. Oakshott shrank into herself, and became shy and
silent, and Mrs. Woodford felt constrained to take leave, courteously
conducted to the door by her unwilling host.

She had not taken many steps before she was startled by a sharp shower
from a squirt coming sidelong like a blow on her cheek and surprising
her into a low cry, which was heard by the Major, so that he hastened
out, exclaiming, "Madam, I trust that you are not hurt."
"Oh no, sir! It is nothing--not a stone--only water!" she said, wiping it
with her handkerchief.
"I am grieved and ashamed at the evil pranks of my unhappy son, but
he shall suffer for it."
"Nay, sir, I pray you. It was only childish mischief."
He had not waited to hear her pleadings, and before she was half across
the Close he had overtaken her, dragging the cowering struggling boy
in his powerful grasp.
"Now, Peregrine," he commanded, "let me instantly hear you ask the
lady's pardon for your dastardly trick. Or--!" and his other hand was
raised for a blow.
"I am sure he is sorry," said Mrs. Woodford, making a motion to ward
off the stroke, and as the queer eyes glanced up at her in wondering
inquiry, she laid her hand on the bony shoulder, saying, "I know you
did not mean to hurt me. You are sorry, are you not?"
"Ay," the boy muttered, and she saw a look of surprise on his father's
face.
"There," she said, "he has made his amends, and surely that may
suffice."
"Nay, madam, it would be a weak and ungodly tenderness that would
spare to drive forth the evil spirit which