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LITTLE FOLKS:

_A Magazine for the Young._

_NEW AND ENLARGED SERIES._

CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED.

_LONDON, PARIS & NEW YORK._

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

[Illustration]




A LITTLE TOO CLEVER.

_By the Author of "Pen's Perplexities," "Margaret's Enemy," "Maid
Marjory," &c._

CHAPTER XVI.--IN LONDON.


[Illustration]

"What is the meaning of this--this gross outrage?" stammered
Grandpapa Donaldson, growing very red and angry. "By what right do
you molest peaceful travellers? Go on, my dear," he added, addressing
Mrs. Donaldson. "You and Effie go on; I will join you directly."

"We will wait for you, father," Mrs. Donaldson said, in a sweet,
pensive voice. "What do these gentlemen want?"

"You cannot leave the carriage, madam," one of the men said, placing
himself firmly against the door, and drawing a paper from his pocket.
"I hold here a warrant for the apprehension of John and Lucy Murdoch,
who put up last night at the 'Royal Hotel' at Edinburgh, and engaged
a first-class compartment by the Scotch morning express."

"You are making a mistake," Mrs. Donaldson said quietly. "Our name is
not Murdoch."

"A mistake you will have to pay dearly for!" the old gentleman cried
irascibly. "It is preposterous, perfectly preposterous!"

Elsie stood by, listening with all her ears, quite unable to
understand the meaning of this strange scene, any more than that old
Mr. Donaldson was evidently very annoyed and angry about it. When the
words "John and Lucy Murdoch" fell on her ear, she gave a little
start, for Meg's remarks came back to her mind, filling her with
curiosity. Fortunately, no one was observing her, and her momentary
confusion passed unobserved in the gloom of the carriage. Not for
worlds would she have betrayed Meg.

"Effie dear," Mrs. Donaldson said sweetly, "have you the book
grandpapa gave you, and my umbrella?"

"Yes, mamma; here they are," Elsie returned, as readily as she could.
Never before had it seemed so difficult to bring out the word
"mamma" naturally.

It was the answer that Mrs. Donaldson wanted.

"Then we are quite ready," she returned. "Please do not detain us any
longer than you are obliged," she said haughtily to the man who held
the carriage door; "my little girl is very tired."

"Sorry for that," the stranger said, eyeing Elsie curiously. The
officer had been examining the various items of luggage, peering
under the seats, taking stock of everything. They seemed a trifle
undecided about something, Elsie thought.

When the man had completed his search, he turned to Elsie. "What is
your name, my little girl?" he asked kindly, but with his eyes fixed
upon her face.

"Effie Donaldson," Elsie replied, not daring for Duncan's sake to
speak the truth.

"How long have you known this lady?" he asked.

"It is mamma," Elsie answered, slowly and timidly, "and my Grandpapa
Donaldson."

The man said a few words in a low tone to the other, and then turned
again to the old gentleman.

"I am sorry to be obliged to detain you," he said, more respectfully
than he had hitherto spoken. "My directions are to take into custody
a lady and gentleman travelling from Edinburgh in a specially-engaged
compartment. The little girl is not mentioned in my warrant, but I
regret that she must be included. No doubt you will be able to set it
straight. I advise you to come quietly, and then no force will be
used."

"Come quietly, indeed! I refuse to come at all!" the old gentleman
exclaimed. "You are exceeding your authority, and will get yourself
into trouble. Read me your warrant."

Elsie listened silently while the officer read out something about a
lady dressed as a widow passing under the name of Thwaites, and a
gentleman, calling himself her brother, who had left the "Royal
Hotel" that morning, and travelled to London in a specially-engaged
carriage. This perplexed Elsie very much, for she remembered what Meg
had said of the gentleman she had been told to call Uncle William,
"then he passes himself off as her brother, and he's her husband all
the time," which seemed strangely like what the man had just read,
except for the name Thwaites, which Elsie had never heard.

"Why, it's most absurd!" the old gentleman cried. "The only point of
similarity is that of my daughter being a widow. You have not the
slightest ground for identifying us with the description you hold."

"Nevertheless, I am compelled to take you before a magistrate, where
you can explain to his satisfaction," the officer replied firmly,
drawing from his pocket some strange instruments, looking like clumsy
bracelets, with heavy chains linking them together.

Mrs. Donaldson uttered a faint scream, and sank back on the carriage
seat. The man, without a word, proceeded to clasp them on Mr.
Donaldson's wrists, while the old gentleman fumed and stamped about
the carriage.

A signal brought up several porters and the guard of the train, who
crowded round the door, eager to see the exciting scene.

"Take this child in your arms and keep before me," one of the
officials said in peremptory tones to a porter, who lifted Elsie up,
and stood in readiness, while the "fairy mother" and Grandpapa
Donaldson were assisted to alight.

"That's a queer go!" said the guard, eyeing the old gentleman with a
broad stare of astonishment. "It was a gentleman looking quite
different that got in the train at Edinburgh."

"Are you quite certain of that?" the officer asked him.

"I'm pretty certain. They, as near as possible, missed the train. I
was just starting her when they came flying across the platform. I
caught sight of them with the little one between, being jumped almost
off her feet. They couldn't have more than got in when we began to
move."

"You didn't look into this compartment at any of the places you
stopped at, then?" the officer asked.

"I caught sight of the lady and the little girl once as I passed
along the train at Carlisle," the man replied. "I don't remember
noticing the gentleman, but I fancy he was asleep, with a large silk
handkerchief over his head."

"Name and address, please?" the officer said, drawing out a
pocket-book, in which he wrote quickly a few lines.

The lady and gentleman were then conducted across the station, one of
the officers, who were both dressed quite plainly, walking on either
side of them. They attracted very little attention as they passed
quickly on, only the people close at hand turning to stare. In less
than two minutes they were inside a cab, one officer accompanying
them inside, another taking his seat on the box.

After a jolting, uncomfortable drive of some distance, they passed
through some gates into a great courtyard, which seemed to be
surrounded by a huge dark mass of buildings. Here the officer sprang
out and helped them to alight.

Some other men in uniforms came out of a doorway and crowded round
the prisoners. The officer who accompanied them gave some directions
concerning Elsie, to which she was listening, and trying in vain to
understand, when Mrs. Donaldson burst out sobbing, exclaiming wildly,
"Will you part me from my child? Anything but that! Do what you will
with me, only let my child be with me. She will perish with fright.
Father, I implore you, do not let them be so cruel! Effie, my
darling, do not leave me!"

Elsie tried to move towards her, but was held firmly by the hands of
one of the policemen. She was dreadfully frightened and bewildered,
and would have clung to Mrs. Donaldson, had she been allowed, in her
dread of facing new and unknown terrors.

But not a chance was given to her. She was quite helpless in the
strong grasp that held her firmly, though not harshly. Mrs. Donaldson
began to catch her breath quickly, as two men caught hold of her arms
and began to lead her along, while the one who had charge of Elsie
led her away in another direction. The next moment Elsie heard a
piercing scream, and turning her head, saw what, as far as she could
make out, appeared to be the resisting, struggling form of the
unfortunate "fairy mother" being carried into the hall by two men.


CHAPTER XVII.--IN A STRANGE PLACE.

Elsie was presently delivered into the hands of a woman, who asked
her, not unkindly, whether she wanted food. Elsie was much too
fatigued and perturbed to think of eating, so the woman told her she
must undress herself and go to bed. She was taken to a large bare
room where there were other children asleep in small hard beds. One
was apportioned to her, and the woman stood by while she undressed.

Elsie wondered very much what sort of place this could be, and why
Mrs. Donaldson had not been allowed to take her with her. She puzzled
her head over it in vain. Only one thing was clear: that both her
companions had been brought here against their will, and were very
angry about it.

Perhaps Elsie would have thought more about her own discomfort and
loneliness if her mind had been less exercised about Duncan. She
wondered what had happened to him after she had been parted from him
by that shameful trick of the wicked "fairy mother." How angry and
indignant she felt when she thought of it! Had Duncan wanted her?
She seemed to see him lying up in that dark, stifling garret,
perfectly still, on the dirty, unwholesome bed. She crept up and
touched him. He was cold and dead. Then her mother came in, with
grannie and Robbie following in slow procession behind. They were
dressed in beautiful white robes like angels, and as they passed to
the bedside they each in turn looked at her with stern, reproachful
eyes. Then her mother lifted Duncan in her arms and carried him away,
closing the door after them, and leaving her quite alone. They had
seen her, but would have nothing to do with her.

She started up and rubbed her eyes, scarcely able to believe she had
not seen those faces. Then she peered timidly round the room, and
gradually recollecting all that had taken place, knew that it was a
dream.

After an uninviting breakfast of dry bread and water gruel, she was
placed in a cab by one of the men who had accompanied them from the
station on the previous night.

To Elsie he looked like a gentleman, and not unkind. After some time
she ventured to ask timidly where they were going.

"Well," the man said, looking rather perplexed, "it's rather hard to
explain; but you're going to see a gentleman who wants to ask you a
few questions; and if you don't tell the truth, all I can say is I
shouldn't like to stand in your shoes."

At this Elsie was very frightened, for if the gentleman happened to
ask her about Mrs. Donaldson, and such things, she dared not tell the
truth.

She was anxious to know whether the "fairy mother" would be there;
but she was afraid to ask, for if she called her "mamma," perhaps
this man might know she was saying something untrue, and if she
called her anything else she might get to know it, and send word for
Duncan to be turned into the streets. Elsie was terrified beyond
measure. She was too frightened to say a word, so she kept quite
silent.

At last they arrived at a building where many people and some
policemen were standing round the open doors. They passed this
entrance, however, and went round to another. Her companion then
conducted Elsie through some passages into a great bare,
close-smelling hall, where there were a good many people waiting
about, and some policemen with their hats off, which made them look
much less terrible than they did in the streets, Elsie thought. She
was too bewildered and frightened to look about her, and see what the
place was like. The gentleman at her side took her hand, and led her
forward. She heard some one say, "Bring a chair or a stool, and let
her stand on it;" and, looking up, she saw an old gentleman with
white hair sitting at a table, at the end of which was another
younger gentleman, writing.

The gentleman with the white hair bent over, and spoke to her. "What
is your name?" he asked.

Elsie hesitated, looking up with an appealing glance at the officer
standing by her side. Then when the question was repeated, she
stammered, "Effie Donaldson, please."

"Ha!" said the old gentleman. "Effie Donaldson, is it? Do you know
what an oath is?"

"Yes, sir," Elsie timidly replied.

"Now you must take your oath," he went on, "that you will answer me
truly whatever I ask you; and I hope you understand that if you tell
a falsehood after that, you will not only be doing a most wicked
thing, but that you can be kept in prison for it."

Elsie began to tremble violently at this dreadful warning. She took a
swift glance round, to see if Mrs. Donaldson or the old gentleman
were anywhere near, but could see nothing of either.

The officer who had accompanied her, and stood by all the time,
seemed to understand.

"They are not in court," he said, in a low tone. "Just you speak the
truth, and you'll be all right."

He then handed her a Bible, which she was told to kiss; and he said
some words which he bade her repeat.

"That is the Bible," the old gentleman at the table said solemnly,
"and you have sworn by that sacred Book that you will speak only the
truth. Bear in mind what an awful thing it would be to tell a
falsehood after that--ten times as wicked as any other falsehood. Now
tell me who the lady and gentleman are who were in the train with
you."

Elsie trembled violently. She tried to think what to say, but could
find no answer. There was Duncan on one side, that terrible warning
the gentleman had given her on the other. She tried to say "I do not
know," but was so afraid that that too was a falsehood, that the
sentence died on her lips.

"Speak up," the gentleman said.

It seemed to Elsie as if ages elapsed while they stood waiting for
her answer. She was conscious of nothing but the man standing by her
side, and great silence everywhere, which let her hear the rushing
sound in her ears and the beating of her heart. At last the
magistrate spoke again.

"Tell me, is the lady your own mother?"

Another question--worse than the first.

"You must answer," the magistrate said, sharply; "and quickly too!"

"Oh, I dare not!" burst from poor Elsie's frightened lips. "They will
kill Duncan if I do!"

Then in a moment she knew she had said too much. In her fright she
had not seen the meaning of her own words.

"Who is Duncan?" the white-haired gentleman asked kindly.

"My brother," Elsie answered, with a big sob.

"Where is he?"

"In Edinburgh; and he's dreadfully ill," Elsie answered, forgetting
every other thought in her anxiety for Duncan, and the generally
bewildered state of her mind.

"Is he with his mother?"

"Oh, no! he's all alone, unless he's in the hospital. I don't know
quite where he is, only they promised he should go to the hospital."

"Who promised?"

Again Elsie was silent; she could find no answer to that question.
The gentleman did not seem angry, but asked another.

"Where is your mother?"

"Which one do you mean, please, sir?" Elsie asked, in a moment of
utter bewilderment.

"Then the lady who was with you yesterday is not really your mother?"

"No," Elsie faintly admitted. She could hold out no longer against
the questioning, but was feeling very much like you all do when you
are playing at "old soldier," and, try as you will, at last the "Yes"
or "No" pops out unawares. She, too, was very frightened and
confused, which you would not be.

"Come, we are getting on now," the old gentleman said, kindly. "Do
not be frightened. Did this lady tell you to call her mamma?"

"Yes, sir, but--I must not tell you anything."

[Illustration: "SHE WAS PLACED IN A CAB" (_p. 259_).]

"And she is not your mamma, then, after all?"

"No."

"Are you frightened of her?"

"Yes," Elsie exclaimed, with a quick, fearful glance round.

"Now, I promise you that she shall do you no harm, if you tell me the
truth. How did you come to be with her? Just tell me how it was."

The old gentleman spoke with great assurance and kindliness, but
still Elsie could not cast off the spell of fear Mrs. Donaldson still
held over her. She had an almost superstitious belief that the "fairy
mother" would find a way to work out her threats. For all she knew,
she might even now have sent that message to Edinburgh which was to
seal Duncan's fate.

After the very mysterious incident that had happened in the train,
for her to know that Elsie had disobeyed without hearing the words
she had spoken seemed not only quite possible, but very likely
indeed.

The gentleman saw Elsie's hesitation, and spoke sharply again. "If
you are obstinate, we shall have to use other methods to make you
speak. Have you ever been in prison?"

Elsie