The House of Arden - E. Nesbit (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) 📗

drawbridge,” said Edred, in tones of awe; “and there’s a moat, look⁠—and it’s covered with cat-ice at the edges.”

There was, and it was. And at the moat’s far edge, their feet fast in the cat-ice, were reeds and sedge⁠—brown and yellow and dried, that rustled and whispered as a wild duck flew out of them.

“How lovely!” said Elfrida. “I do wish Arden had a moat now.”

“If we found out where the water comes from,” said Edred practically, “we might get the moat back when we’d found the treasure.”

So when they had crossed the moat, and felt the frozen dew crackle under their feet as they trod the grass, they set out, before photographing the castle, to find out where the moat water came from.

The moat, they found, was fed by a stream that came across the field from Arden Knoll and entered the moat at the northeast corner, leaving it at the corner that was in the southwest. They followed the stream, and it was not till they had got quite into the middle of the field, and well away from the castle, that they saw how very beautiful the castle really was. It was quite perfect⁠—no crumbled arches, no broken pillars, no shattered, battered walls.

“Oh,” said Edred, “how beautiful it is! How glad I am that we’ve got a castle like this!”

“Our castle isn’t like this,” said Elfrida.

“No; but it shall be, when we’ve found the treasure. You’ve got the two film rolls all right?”

“Yes,” said Elfrida, who had got them in a great unwieldy pocket that was hanging and banging against her legs under the full skirt. “Oh, look! Where’s the river? It stops short!”

It certainly seemed to. They were walking beside it, and it ran swiftly⁠—looking like a steel-grey ribbon on the green cloth of the field⁠—and halfway across the field it did stop short; there wasn’t any more of it⁠—as though the ribbon had been snipped off by a giant pair of scissors, and the rest of it rolled up and put by safely somewhere out of the way.

“My hat!” said Edred; “it does stop short; and no mistake.” Curiosity pricked him, and he started running. They both ran. They ran to the spot where the giant scissors seemed to have snipped off the stream, and when they got there they found that the stream seemed to have got tired of running aboveground, and without any warning at all, any sloping of its bed, or any deepening of its banks, plunged straight down into the earth through a hole not eight feet across.

They stood fascinated, watching the water as it shot over the edge of the hole, like a steel band on a driving-wheel, smooth and shining, and moving so swiftly that it hardly seemed to move at all. It was Edred who roused himself to say, “I could watch it forever. But we’ll have it back; we’ll have it back. Come along; let’s go and see where it comes from.”

“Let’s photograph this place first,” said Elfrida, “so as to know, you know.” And the Brownie clicked twice.

Then they retraced their steps beside the stream and round two sides of the moat and across the field to Arden Knoll, and there⁠—oh, wonderful to see!⁠—the stream came straight out of the Knoll at the part where it joined on to the rest of the world⁠—came out under a rough, low arch of stone that lay close against the very lip of the water.

“So that’s where it came from and that’s where it goes to,” said Elfrida. “I wonder what became of it, and why it isn’t at Arden now?”

“We’ll bring it back,” said Edred firmly⁠—“when we find the treasure.”

And again the Brownie clicked.

“And we’ll make the castle like it is now,” said Elfrida. “Come on; let’s photograph it.”

So they went back, and they photographed the castle. They photographed it from the north and the south and the east and the west, and the northeast and the southeast, and the north-north-west⁠—and all the rest of the points of the compass that I could easily tell you if I liked; but why be wearisome and instructive?

And they went back across the hollow-echoing drawbridge, and past the soldier, who had now polished his helmet to his complete satisfaction and was wearing it.

There was a brief and ardent conference on the drawbridge; the subject of it, breakfast. Edred wanted to stay; he was curious to see what sort of breakfast people had in the country in James the First’s time, Elfrida wanted to get back to 1908, and the certainty of eggs and bacon.

“If we stay here we shall only be dragged into some new adventure,” she urged, “I know we shall. I never in my life knew such a place as history for adventures to happen in. And I’m tired, besides. Oh, Edred, do come along!”

“I believe it’s ducks,” said Edred, and he sniffed questioningly; “it smells like onion stuffing.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” said Elfrida; “that’s for dinner, most likely. I expect breakfast for us would be bread and water. You’d find we’d done something wrong, as likely as not. Oh, come along, do, before we get punished for it. Besides, don’t you want to know whether what Cousin Richard said about the cricket was right?”

“Well, yes,” said Edred, “and we can always come back here, can’t we?”

“Of course we can,” Elfrida said eagerly. “Oh, come on.”

So they climbed up to the twisty-twiny, corkscrew staircase, and found the door of the room where they had slept under the wonderful white coverlets that now were coats. Then they stood still and looked at each other, with a sudden shock.

“How are we to get back?” was the unspoken question that trembled on each lip.

The magic white coats cuddled close round their necks. There was, somehow, comfort and confidence in the soft, friendly touch of that magic fur. When you are wearing that sort of coat, it is quite impossible to feel that everything will not come perfectly right the moment you really,