The Adventurous Seven | Page 4

ready to take the very shortest way of
getting rid of the bother of looking after us," she said to herself, with a
soft little laugh which rippled through the dark room and even made
itself heard in the other room across the passage where the four boys
were sleeping; and Rupert, who had been having bad dreams because

his lame foot was hurting rather badly, smiled in his uneasy slumber
and straightway drifted off into a more profound repose, from which he
did not wake until the misty September dawning crept over the wide
plantations of beech and larch for which Beechleigh was famous.
CHAPTER II
The Deputation
It was well for Nealie Plumstead that she could mostly laugh in spite of
troubles, for her life had been shadowed by a great disaster which had
brought in its turn a battalion of cares, worries, and responsibilities.
Until she was almost twelve years old life had been one unbroken
happiness. She had been at the head of an ever-increasing nursery, and
she had governed her small kingdom to the very best of her ability.
Then had come a cloud of black trouble, the exact nature of which she
did not understand even now, only vaguely she had gathered that it was
something professional.
Then Ducky, whose name was Hilda Grace, had been born, and the
dear mother had sunk out of life, leaving a distracted husband and
seven children to mourn their loss.
Following this came the long journey from the busy manufacturing
town, where they had always lived, to Beechleigh and the home of
Miss Judith Webber. Dr. Plumstead had come with them to see them
safely settled, but on the day that Ducky was one month old, he had
kissed them all round, in a heartbreaking goodbye, and had set off on
the voyage to Australia.
Sometimes he used to write to Aunt Judith and send her money for the
children's keep, when he had any to send; but he almost never wrote to
his children, although they simply pelted him with letters of the most
affectionate description.
Two years ago, however, a great weakness had fallen upon Aunt Judith;
she could write no letters nor do any business at all, and another

nephew of hers, a Mr. Runciman, undertook the administration of her
affairs.
The seven hated him in a hearty, downright fashion, for he always
made himself as disagreeable as possible to them, and certainly seemed
to resent their existence.
It was soon after Aunt Judith had been taken ill that a letter coming
from Australia, directed to Miss Webber, had been opened by Nealie in
all good faith, for she never supposed that her father would write
anything to her aunt that she might not read; but to her dismay she
learned that the numerous letters of the children, instead of bringing
pleasure to the heart of the exile, gave him so much pain that he begged
Miss Webber not to let them write to him, because it reminded him too
sadly of all that he had lost in the past, and was missing in the present.
It was such a sad, dreadful sort of letter that Nealie had cried herself
nearly blind over it, and then had gathered the others for a solemn
council. The elders had no secrets from the younger ones, so Billykins
and Ducky had as much to say on the subject as their seniors; and in the
end it was resolved that Nealie and Rupert should write a letter to their
father and tell him that they would worry him with no more letters until
he expressed a desire to have them.
A year and a half had passed since that time, but although the children
watched for the mails with pathetic eagerness, there had come no letter
from their father for them. He did not write to Aunt Judith either, after
he had been told how ill she was; but he wrote to Mr. Runciman
sometimes, they knew, because Mr. Runciman had spoken of having
letters from him.
This long silence would have made them very miserable, if it had not
been that they were so sorry for him that it never occurred to them to be
sorry for themselves. They had each other, but he was alone, and so, of
course, he was to be pitied.
Inspired by the great idea, the seven woke in riotous spirits next
morning, which not even the near prospect of an interview with Mr.
Runciman could daunt, although he was quite sufficiently formidable at

close quarters to make any ordinary person afraid.
Rupert and Rumple cleaned the boots, while Nealie and Sylvia got
breakfast ready, the three juniors having to make themselves useful in
any direction where help was most needed.
They had all learned