The wizard's cave

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS.

THE coach rolled away from the door of Tudor Hall. The large schoolroom, tenanted only by two small boys crouching close to one of the windows, looked bare and grim.

It was raining so fast that they could not go into the playground. The dusty roads and scorched gardens of the London suburb needed rain badly, but what cared the boys for that? The downpour swelled the sense of wrong which filled the bosom of the elder, Marmaduke (generally known as Duke) Bryden, a well-grown boy of twelve, for this was "breaking-up day," and these boys had seen their schoolmates depart gleefully for home while they, having no home, were to spend their holidays at the schoolhouse.

"It's a horrid shame," ejaculated Duke Bryden, not for the first time—"a horrid shame! That's just what it is, and I don't care who hears me say it!"

As there was no one save themselves in the large room, the boast seemed unnecessary.

"It's not any good to say it," replied Noel, his brother, a slight, fair boy about eighteen months younger. "It does not alter it; we've gone through it before, and we know what it's like. Mrs. Tapson isn't half bad when we're the only boys she has to look after. Do you remember when we went to the sea?"

"Of course I remember it," Duke said. He had indeed a far clearer recollection than Noel of the summer when their parents took them to Deal, yet it was the younger boy who loved to brood over the vague, sweet memory of joyous days.

Since then, through their father's untimely death, the boys' lives had wholly changed. Their home was broken up and their mother obliged to take a situation. A friend offered to pay for the boys' education. He was a well-to-do man and kindly disposed towards the little fellows, but he had a large family of his own, and his wife could not be troubled with strange boys in the holidays.

The brothers had ceased to talk, and were moodily watching the steady downfall of the rain, when the door opened and a stout, middle-aged lady looked into the room. It was Mrs. Tapson, the matron who took charge of the boys at Tudor Hall.

"Come away, boys," she said cheerily. "Tea is ready. You must be weary of moping there by yourselves, and I am tired enough with turning out drawers and packing boxes. I am thankful that breaking-up day does not come often. It would not take many such days to break me up."

"She does not look as if she would break easily," Noel whispered to Duke as they followed her along the passage which led to the housekeeper's cosy room at the back of the house.

Duke's brow cleared as, on entering, his eyes fell on the dainty tea-table. The sight of a dish of fine cherries and a home-made cake, such as appeared on the school-table on Sundays only, afforded him consolation.

The boys had enjoyed their tea and wore feeling in better spirits when the heavy knock which announces the postman resounded through the house. Noel ran to fetch the letters, and came back with an excited air, for he had found amongst them a letter addressed to Mrs. Tapson in his mother's handwriting.

"I guess it's to say that she's going to send us a box," he remarked to his brother; "but why did she not write to us about it?"

"Here you are!" said Mrs. Tapson, who had opened the envelope. "There's a letter for you inside. It's addressed to you both, so you cannot quarrel over it."

Eagerly the boys took the folded sheet, and, both trying to open it at once, tore it across ere they did so. Then, putting it together with some difficulty, they read the following words:—

"Egloshayle, July 31st."

"MY DEAR DUKE AND NOEL,—It has pained me so to think that you would have to remain at school while the other boys were enjoying themselves at the seaside or in the country, that at last I screwed up my courage and spoke to Mr. Torrington about it. He and his brother are going to Switzerland for a month on account of Mr. Alan's health, which does not improve. While they are away their rooms are to be thoroughly done up, so I shall be busy looking after painters and whitewashers, yet I dared to ask Mr. Torrington if he would mind two little boys coming here for a fortnight."

"'Nothing venture nothing have' is a good old saying. I am thankful now that I ventured, for Mr. Torrington took it better than I could have expected. He does not like boys, and he looked frightened at first, but ended by giving me permission to have you here for the whole of the month he expects to be away. I had to promise that you would behave very well and do no mischief in house or grounds. I am sure I can trust you to make good this promise."

"I can fancy how you will look when you read this. You do not need to be told what a joy it will be to your mother to have you here. You will enjoy this lovely place and the beautiful wild Cornish coast."

"I am writing to Mrs. Tapson to tell her about the train and to ask her kindly to see you off. Mr. Torrington and his brother leave on Saturday morning, so I shall be ready to welcome you on that evening. Now do not let yourselves get too excited on the journey and don't lean too far out of the window and lose your hats. When you reach the station there will be a coach waiting to bring you and your luggage on here. When the coach draws up at the Golden Lion, near Egloshayle, you will see me. Till then much love from—"

"Your mother,"

"ELIZABETH BRYDEN."

The boys were wild with delight at the news brought by the letter.

"Cornwall is ever so much better than Scotland," said Duke confidently, "and I certainly would not change places with Jack and his girl cousins."

"Is it as nice as Deal?" asked Noel.

"As nice!" repeated Duke scornfully. "Deal isn't a patch upon Cornwall. Don't you remember hearing mother talk about the broad sands where we can build castles, and the rocks and caves?"

"Caves!" echoed Noel. "Do they go a long way back, and are they dark inside?"

"That's what we shall have to find out," said Duke. "Oh, I wish we had known about it sooner, we might have saved up bits of candle."

"But I'm glad we've only to wait till Saturday," said Noel. "Only two more days and then we shall be there! Isn't it scrumptious!"

"I wish I had known sooner," said Mrs. Tapson; "I'd have had all your things nicely washed and mended. Your mother kindly says it does not matter; but I like to send everything in order."

The boys could not see that this was of the least consequence. They did not cease talking of Cornwall till, at a later hour than usual, Mrs. Tapson sent them to bed, and then they carried the thought of that beautiful county into their dreams.