The Boy Next Door.

BY

ELEANORA H. STOOKE.

S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO.

4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W. I.

MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN

First published September, 1911

Frequently reprinted

CONTENTS.

Chap.

I. THAT DREADFUL BOY

II. TIM'S REVENGE

III. KITTY INTERVIEWS TIM

IV. MAKING AMENDS

V. A SPOILT PLAN

VI. CONCERNING THE COVERED BASKET

VII. KITTY'S ACCIDENT

VIII. KITTY IS MYSTIFIED

IX. GENERAL BEWILDERMENT

X. SNIP INTRUDES

XI. KITTY ASKS FORGIVENESS OF TIM

XII. TIM ENTERTAINS

XIII. A REGULAR BRICK

XIV. CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I.

THAT DREADFUL BOY.

"KITTY, fetch the rake from the tool-house, will you?"

"All right," responded Kitty; and dropping the fork with which she had been at work moving up the earth in her garden-plot, she hastened to do her brother's bidding.

Kitty and Bob Glanville were "putting in a morning gardening," as Bob would have expressed it. They were both enthusiastic gardeners, and had been allotted a few yards each in the long strip of ground which stretched at the back of the semi-detached villa in the small provincial town where they lived. And it being the Easter holidays—it was at the end of April—they had plenty of time to devote to tilling their respective garden-plots, and were enjoying their labours in anticipation of the fine show of flowers they would have later on from the seeds which they were now sowing. Kitty, who was a nice-looking little girl of ten years old, with blue eyes and fair, curly hair, was two years her brother's junior, and being extremely good-natured she allowed him to order her about, and rarely thought of refusing to do his will. Bob was very fond of his sister; but he presumed on his seniority in many ways and expected always to take the lead.

Kitty having procured the rake returned with it to her brother. "Bob," she said, "there's a boy next door—at Mr. Shuttleworth's."

"I know," Bob answered laconically. "I saw him arrive yesterday with a big portmanteau. He came in a cab with Mr. Shuttleworth."

"Then you may depend Mr. Shuttleworth met him at the station."

Mr. Shuttleworth was an elderly bachelor of studious habits, who lived next door. Being of a reserved disposition he had little to do with his neighbours, though sometimes he exchanged a few words with Mr. and Mrs. Glanville if they happened to be in their front garden when he was in his, and he always nodded to the children when he met them. Neither Kitty nor Bob remembered Mr. Shuttleworth ever having had a visitor before, and they had lived next door to him for several years now.

"Bob, I wonder who the boy can be," said Kitty, as her brother took the rake from her hand. "I saw him watching us from Mr. Shuttleworth's dining-room window. Such a very ugly-looking boy he is, with red hair, and green goggly eyes, and a snub nose, and a big mouth. He grinned at me."

"And did you grin back at him?" asked Bob with a laugh.

"No, certainly not," Kitty responded loftily; "as though I should do that! He's gone now," she added, with a furtive glance at their neighbour's house. "Oh," she exclaimed in accents of intense astonishment, a moment later, "why, there he is, staring at us over the wall! He must be standing on a ladder, I suppose."

Bob paused in the midst of raking his flower-bed smooth and looked at the wall which divided the two back gardens of the semi-detached villas. It was a brick wall of about six feet in height, and at the present minute the head and shoulders of a boy were visible above it. He had been watching the two young gardeners intently; but when he perceived they noticed him he looked a trifle embarrassed, and his freckled countenance deepened in colour.

"Yes, he must be on a ladder," Bob agreed. "The idea of his spying on us like that! I shall take no notice of him!"

"Nor I," said Kitty; and she turned her attention to her garden again; but she could not refrain from glancing at the partition wall frequently, and every time she did so there was still the ugly boy watching them.

"Do you think he wishes to speak to us?" she suggested to her brother at length. "Shall we ask him if he wants anything?"

"Most certainly not," Bob responded. "I call it cheek his perching himself there; if I spoke to him I should tell him so."

Meanwhile the boy next door—Tim Shuttleworth—who had come out in hopes of picking an acquaintance with his neighbours, saw that, though they had observed him, they had no intention of speaking to him, and was consequently disappointed. Although he had only arrived on a visit to his uncle, Mr. Shuttleworth, on the preceding day, time was hanging heavily on his hands already. At breakfast his uncle had told him he might go where he pleased and do exactly as he liked, and had remarked that no doubt he would find his own amusements—adding that there were young folks in the next house he could play with, but he had evidently not thought of introducing him to them. And then he had shut himself up in his study, leaving his nephew to his own devices.

From the dining-room window Tim had taken stock of the next door garden, and of Kitty and of Bob Glanville with their lemon-and-white fox-terrier, Snip, in close attendance upon them; and seeing that Bob was about his age and that Kitty looked a merry, nice little girl, he had thought how pleasant it would be for him to know them. Accordingly he had procured a short ladder, which he had found hanging against the tool-house wall, and had taken up a position where he could overlook the next door garden. He had seen Kitty call her brother's attention to him, and had observed them whispering together, and he deemed it almost unsociable for them not to speak.

By-and-by Snip trotted up the garden path nearest the partition wall, and suddenly paused, sniffing the air in a suspicious manner. Then he looked up and caught sight of the stranger; but instead of barking at him, he seated himself on his haunches and contemplated him with a world of perplexity in his brown eyes, into which there gradually crept the loveliest possible canine smile.

"Good doggie," Tim murmured. "You're a jolly, friendly little chap." And Snip wagged his tail and wriggled with excitement, every nerve in his body on the twitch, for he liked the voice which addressed him, and he liked the countenance of the next door boy, which did not seem ugly to him at all.

"Look at Snip," said Kitty in an undertone. "The boy's speaking to him, and he's quite pleased."

"Little sniveller!" exclaimed Bob. He immediately called to the dog to come away; whereupon Tim made a grimace at him and descended the ladder in haste.

"What an impertinent boy!" cried Kitty. "But I don't think it was nice of you to call Snip away like that; he was doing no harm, and it seemed rather rude, I thought. I know you didn't mean it to be so," she added hastily, noticing that her brother's colour had risen.

"The fellow had no right there at all," Bob replied. "If any one was rude, he was. He is evidently full of cheek. Did you see what a face he made at me?"

"Yes, and didn't he look ugly?" cried Kitty, smiling at the remembrance of the distorted countenance which had disappeared so suddenly on the other side of the wall. "I wonder if he is a relation of Mr. Shuttleworth's, and if he will stay long?"

"You'd like to know all about him, wouldn't you, Kitty?" her brother said, laughing. "You wouldn't be a girl if you weren't curious."

"Boys are curious, too, only they never will own it," Kitty retorted.

"Some are," Bob admitted. "That red-headed chap is, I should think, or he wouldn't have looked at us over the wall like that."

Tim Shuttleworth watched the young folk next door constantly during the next day or two, for they spent much time in the back garden; but he always kept behind the lace curtains in the dining-room, and did not try to attract their notice again. Their doings interested him exceedingly. Sometimes they would place Snip on the wall to watch for cats, and on one occasion the little dog hunted one of his natural enemies all about Mr. Shuttleworth's garden, around the house, and out into the road. No one would have been more shocked and horrified than the two young Glanvilles had Snip really caught a cat; but he had never done so, and it was most unlikely he ever would, so his mistress and master saw no harm in permitting him to enjoy his little game, though they had several times been told by their father not to encourage him in his favourite pursuit.

Tim knew his visit to his uncle was to be of long duration. He was the eldest of several children, and as his father was only a clerk in a bank in Dublin, his home was a comparatively poor one. During the winter he had had a serious attack of pneumonia, and when his uncle had written and suggested that he should spend the summer with him in England, at the small country town where Mr. Shuttleworth had lived for many years, his parents had promptly accepted the invitation; for the doctor who had attended him during his illness had declared that a thorough change of air and scene, and an absence from school for a few months, would be to his ultimate benefit. Tim had known but little of his uncle up to the present, having only seen him on the rare occasions when he had come on a visit to Dublin, and when he found out how thoroughly engrossed his relative was in his books and his studies, he was dismayed at the prospect of the months of loneliness, he feared he must look forward to. If only the children next door would seek to

know him! But he realized that they were not prepossessed with his appearance, and he was too shy and too proud to make any overtures of friendship to them, and determined to find his own amusements, as his uncle expected him to do.

Accordingly, he selected a sunny spot in the back garden—which was almost a wilderness, for Mr. Shuttleworth did not care for flowers, and bought his vegetables—and began to turn up the soil. It was hard work, for the ground had long been neglected, and the tools he found in the tool-house were blunt and heavy; but he persevered. He would have a garden of his own, he decided, which should rival those of the children next door; and at length he succeeded in getting the earth in fairly good condition, and planted it with the seeds of nasturtiums and mignonette and other hardy annuals which he purchased with his own pocket-money.

There came a night when Tim went to bed greatly pleased with the result of his finished labours; but the next morning he found they had been all in vain, for on going into the back garden after breakfast, he discovered that some animal—a dog, presumably—had been scratching and digging holes in the ground he had prepared so carefully for the reception of the seeds.

His indignation was intense; and fetching the ladder from the tool-house, he placed it against the partition wall, climbed it, and looked into the next garden. There were the sister and brother, their attention fixed on the contents of a big box which they had placed against the wall, and near them was Snip, his nose covered with earth.

Tim's wrath burst bounds as he regarded the trio, and he poured forth a volume of angry words, his Irish accent growing more and more pronounced as he proceeded, in which he accused Kitty and Bob of having deliberately put Snip in over the wall to destroy his garden. He vowed vengeance upon them, and at last, overcome with rage, he shook his fist at them and then abruptly quitted the scene.

"What a dreadful boy!" cried Kitty, who had turned quite pale. "What can he mean by speaking to us like that? What can Snip have done?"

"Destroyed his garden, he said," responded Bob. "I didn't put Snip over the wall, though. If he's been in there, he went by himself. My, what a temper that fellow has! I believe, as you say, he's a dreadful boy."

CHAPTER II.

TIM'S REVENGE.

A SECOND survey of his garden did not lessen Tim Shuttleworth's indignation in the least; and too angry to endeavour to repair the mischief done, he marched into the house and took up his position behind the lace curtains in the dining-room, through which he kept a watchful eye on the Glanvilles' back garden, his mind full of wild plans for revenge.

What could there be in the box which had been placed against the partition wall, Tim pondered? It had not been there yesterday; but that it contained something very attractive was evident, for Mr. and Mrs. Glanville, and the cook, and housemaid, and later the boot boy, all visited it one by one.

"I expect they've been given some potting plants," Tim decided at length. "Yes, that must be it, for they've put the box against the sunny wall. How would they like it, I wonder, if someone else's dog came into their garden and dug big holes in their flower-beds? I've a great mind to make a complaint against them to uncle; but no, I won't be a sneak. I'll find some way of paying them out myself."

Later in the morning—which was cold and windy for the end of April—Tim went for a stroll in the town, and as he walked up the main street feeling very lonely, and longing for congenial society, he encountered Kitty and Bob coming out of a sweet shop, followed by Snip. He gave them one swift glance in passing, and noticed that Kitty, who had turned rosy red, was pretending not to see him, and that Bob was regarding him with eyes which twinkled humorously. It flashed upon him that his exhibition of temper had caused the other boy amusement, and the knowledge only made him more angry. He felt it was adding insult to injury to laugh at him; and when Snip, evidently recognising him, obtruded himself on his notice by jumping against him, he gruffly told him to get away.

"Come here, Snip," commanded Bob, in a voice which betrayed merriment. "Come here, sir, im—mediately!"

So Snip, looking decidedly crestfallen, turned his attention once more to his young mistress and master; and Tim went on, his head held haughtily, his hands thrust deep into his trousers' pockets.

"Don't you think we ought to have told him that it was not our fault that Snip did harm to his garden?" asked Kitty of her brother, glancing over her shoulder at Tim's retreating form. She spoke rather indistinctly, because her mouth was full of sweets.

"What! After the way he spoke to us?" cried Bob. "Not likely. Let the fellow think what he likes."

"It doesn't seem right to let him think what isn't true, though, does it?"

"I don't see that it matters."

"No, I don't know that it does." Kitty agreed, as usual coming round to her brother's way of reasoning. "How crossly he spoke to Snip, didn't he? Poor little Snip, he meant no harm."

Meanwhile, Tim having reached the corner of the street, looked back and saw that the Glanvilles were not going home, but had turned down a side road leading in the opposite direction. A sudden, malicious thought flashed through his mind, which caused him to turn and hastily retrace his footsteps. On his arrival at his uncle's house he went immediately to the back garden, and, armed with a spade, he mounted the ladder, which he had left against the wall, and peered cautiously around the Glanville's garden. No one was in sight, and, being assured that he was unobserved, Tim leaned over the wall, the better to view the box beneath; and then, with the aid of the spade, he tried to lift the lid, but failed in the attempt. However, it did not matter what was inside, he told himself; if it was something breakable so much the better.

For a few minutes Tim hesitated, his conscience telling him he was about to act very wrongly; but the remembrance of the grievance, he believed he had every right to cherish against Kitty and Bob nerved him to do that which he afterwards bitterly repented having done. And, with a vigorous shove from the spade, he overturned the box with a jerk, descended the ladder hastily, and hurried back to the house, his feelings those of mingled fear and exultation—fear lest he might have been seen after all, and exultation because he believed he had now scored off the next door children.

When uncle and nephew met at the mid-day meal that day, it occurred to Mr. Shuttleworth to ask Tim how he had spent the morning.

"Oh, I've been in town," Tim answered, flushing, "and—and in the garden. I don't think much of the shops here, Uncle John; they're not to be compared with ours in Dublin."

"No, of course not. You must remember this is only a small country town—not to be compared in any way to 'Dublin's fair city,'" Mr. Shuttleworth replied with a smile. He was a tall man with stooping shoulders, and near-sighted eyes which peered at Tim very kindly through spectacles, and he was very clever; but with all his cleverness, he did not understand children, which was a pity for Tim. "Have you spoken to the young folks next door yet?" he inquired.

"Oh, yes," assented Tim, trying to respond in a careless tone. "I've spoken to them; but I don't think much of them, Uncle John."

"Dear me. Why not?" There was surprise in Mr. Shuttleworth's voice.

"They're stuck-up," Tim asserted, after a moment's reflection.

"Stuck-up? You astonish me. I don't know much of my neighbours, but Mr. and Mrs. Glanville seem pleasant people to talk to, and the children—though I have never spoken to them—always struck me as being well behaved. They go to school, I believe; but I suppose it is holiday-time now. Don't you think you'll be friendly with them, then?"

Tim shook his head decidedly, and his uncle dropped the subject, telling himself that perhaps his nephew, like himself, preferred his own company.

As soon as Mr. Shuttleworth had returned to his study, and the servant had cleared the table, Tim took up his post at the window, on the alert to see what would happen when Kitty and Bob paid their next visit to the back garden. It was less cold than it had been earlier in the day, and the wind had gone down, so he opened the window, and it was not long before he heard voices, and the sister and brother appeared, the former carrying something very carefully in a saucer.

Tim's heart beat unevenly as he watched the children. As he had anticipated, they made straight for the box, and great was the consternation depicted on their faces when they found it had been overturned.

"Oh, Bob, what can have happened?" cried Kitty; and the listener at the window caught a note of alarm in her voice. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"

"Don't be frightened," Bob answered reassuringly. "It's only upset; I'll soon put it right. I hope a dog hasn't been here; it wouldn't have been Snip, anyway, for we warned him off, and he quite understood. Oh, be careful, Kitty! You're spilling the bread and milk all over your frock."

"Never mind," broke in Kitty hastily. "It's an old frock, and—oh, Bob, do be quick and see it's not hurt."

Bob had set the box right side up by this time, and was trying to open the lid; but it had become jammed, and it took him a few minutes to prise it open with his pocket-knife.

Tim now saw that the front of the box had been knocked out and a piece of wire netting put in its place, and that he had not been able to see from the top of the wall. He began to feel anxiety as well as curiosity to ascertain what the box contained. Was it something living—some animal? It might be a pet of some kind, and that would account for Kitty's saucer of bread and milk.

Bob had succeeded in opening the box now, and he and his sister were bending over it, their fair, curly heads close together. A strange quietude seemed to have fallen upon them, and when a minute later they stood upright and looked at each other, Tim observed that the colour had fled from both young faces, and that the tears were rolling down Kitty's cheeks. At length Bob spoke in a voice which sounded rather husky.

"I say, don't cry like that, old girl!" he said kindly. "I'll go in and ask father to come out and look at it." And he rushed off into the house.

Meanwhile Kitty stooped over the box again, and took therefrom something white, which she cuddled in her arms and wept over in bitterest grief.