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                         SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS.


[Illustration:

  “_Squib flung himself upon the dog, and threw his arms about his
    neck._”

  Page 17.
]




              SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS ❧ BY E. EVERETT-GREEN


 LONDON, EDINBURGH,
 AND NEW YORK
 THOMAS NELSON
 AND SONS

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                               CONTENTS.


                      I. “THE ODD ONE,”             9

                     II. GOING AWAY,               28

                    III. THE CHALET IN THE HILLS,  47

                     IV. THE LITTLE GOAT-HERD,     65

                      V. COMRADES,                 84

                     VI. HERR ADLER,              102

                    VII. HAPPY HOURS,             124

                   VIII. A WONDERFUL WALK,        148

                     IX. A STORY AND A FAREWELL,  175

                      X. A MOUNTAIN STORM,        204

                     XI. PLANS AND PROJECTS,      221

                    XII. FAREWELLS,               238

                   XIII. GOING HOME,              256

                    XIV. CONCLUSION,              272




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


 “SQUIB FLUNG HIMSELF UPON THE DOG, AND THREW HIS ARMS   _Frontispiece_.
   ABOUT HIS NECK,”

 “SQUIB LISTENED WITH A STRANGE SENSE OF FASCINATION,”                68

 “BREATHLESSLY ONE BOY WORKED AND THE OTHER WATCHED,”                 94

 “DOWN, DOWN, DOWN—WITH A CRASH, AND A BANG, AND A                   169
   ROAR!”

 “SEPPI DREW SQUIB’S HAND DOWN UPON THE HEAD OF MOOR,”               254

 “SQUIB’S BROTHERS AND SISTERS REJOICED OVER THE PRETTY              283
   GIFTS HE HAD BROUGHT THEM,”




                         SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS.




                               CHAPTER I.
                             “THE ODD ONE.”


That was the name Squib went by in the nursery and in the household—“the
odd one.” Not exactly because of any personal peculiarities—although he
had a few of these—but because he had no especial brother or sister
belonging to him, and seemed to stand alone, whilst all the others could
be paired off together.

Norman and Frank were big boys, away at school most of the year, near to
each other in age, and always together in the holidays. Philippa and
Molly came next, and were girls, devoted to each other and to their
family of dolls, and even more devoted to the live dolls in the
nursery—the little twin sisters, Hilda and Hulda, whom nobody knew apart
save themselves and the nurse. But Squib had no brother or sister to be
bracketed with him. The baby who came next in age to him had died in
infancy, and was only a dim memory to the brother just above him in age.
So he had always been, as it were, “the odd one” of the family, although
his sisters were very fond of him, and never refused him a share in
their games when he wanted to join in them.

But Squib did not care for dolls, and his tastes lay amongst things
beyond the walls of nursery or schoolroom. He wanted always to be out of
doors when not busy with his lessons for Mademoiselle (for so far he had
not gone to school, but had been taught with his sisters in the
schoolroom); and his pursuits were not of a kind to be attractive to the
dainty little ladies, Philippa and Molly, or to find favour in the eyes
of nurse, who reigned supreme over Hilda and Hulda. So Squib got into
the way of amusing himself in his own fashion, and took his name of “the
odd one” with great equanimity.

Squib was not his real name, as I suppose I need hardly say; it was a
nickname given him by his father some years before my story begins, and
it had stuck to him ever since. His real name was Sydenham, and he had
been called Syd for a time, till Colonel Rutland had hit upon this other
appellation.

And the reason for this was a habit of Squib’s which amused his father a
good deal. The child had a way of sitting perfectly still and silent for
a very long time in the room, not speaking, even when spoken to, until
some exhaustive mental process had taken place, after which he would
suddenly “go off,” as his father expressed it, and talk rapidly and
eagerly for several minutes straight on end; then having thus relieved
his mind and delivered himself of his thoughts, he would relapse into
dead silence until ready for the next explosion. And so his father
called him “Squib;” and Squib he became in time to the whole household.

It was commonly whispered about the place that Squib was the Colonel’s
favourite amongst his children. Colonel Rutland was not a man who had
taken a great deal of notice of his sons and daughters as they appeared
upon the scene. He was a busy man, having a large estate to order, being
a magistrate, churchwarden, and guardian of the poor-law, and having
social duties to attend to as well. He was a most devoted husband; and
people used to say that never was there a happier couple than he and
Lady Mary, his beautiful wife. He was proud of his fine young family in
the aggregate, but did not notice the children very much individually,
until one or two small incidents brought Squib before his eyes.

The first of these was a severe altercation which he chanced to overhear
between the child and his nurse when Squib was five years old. He was
walking through the shrubberies one morning when the sound of